Family on board

After living alone on board most of the summer I was really looking forward to having children and grandchildren on board for a while . First to arrive by ferry from Athens was my oldest son, Philip, his wife Henriette and daughter Olivia.

Aquarella is moored a few hundred yards from the shore opposite Poros. There wasn't room in my little dinghy for all of us plus baggage so I thought it safer to park the dinghy as near as possible to Aquarella's mooring and take them from the ferry quay by public waterbus across the sound, walk along to where I'd tied the dinghy then take separate trips with baggage and passengers over to the mooring.
Safety on public transport has much to be desired in Greece though and the water buses are clearly no exception. The wooden motor launch with a very powerful engine and 23 passengers on board was sailed across the densely trafficked sound at full speed by a 10 year old!
My 7 year old granddaughter commented dryly " Good that it wasn't a two year old"

After pottering around the sheltered waters of Poros bay for a few days we set out for the open sea and sailed to Vathi on the volcanic peninsular of Methani. I was nervous about taking the boat into harbour for the first time, until now I had only stayed at anchorages. Aquarella has a long keel which means she is very difficult to reverse with. My husband always took her to the quay bow first, after dropping the stern anchor 20 meters away. I had always stood on the foredeck with the mooring lines ready to jump ashore.
Now I sent Philip and Henriette up front with the lines, ready to fender off the other boats and jump ashore.
When we passed the breakwater into the tiny harbour I wished I had chosen a bigger space to practice my first harbour manoeuvre. There was very little room to turn the boat so when I was too slow to get into a slot between the other boats I turned round and went out again. I took a deep breath and made a new attempt. This time I reacted faster, checked the sea bottom for other anchors and chain, dropped the stern anchor in line with the slot and took Aquarella slowly to the quay. Apart from getting my foot tangled up with the fast running anchor line, all went well and I let out a sigh of relief.
It was a beautiful little harbour so we stayed a couple of days. When the harbour master came to see the ships papers he asked to speak to the captain. I said "thats me" and he said " congratulations!" and from then on only addressed me as "Lady"

Aquarella in Vathi after the other boats had left. 

Philip and I talked a lot about how I could take the boat into harbour single handed in the future and we agreed it really is a problem when you can't be in the cockpit to manoeuvre the boat, drop the anchor, let out the anchor line and be on the bow to throw lines ashore and tie up at the same time. In theory it should be possible to use the autopilot to keep the boat on course, let the anchor line run out by itself, put the engine into slow ahead and go to the bow to throw the lines ashore and hope there's someone there to catch them and help tie up. An alternative could be to land onto another boat, with fenders in between, and pull Aquarella alongside it towards the quay. In practice there would probably and suddenly be a strong cross wind to sabotage any attempt to make an elegant arrival. The thing is, you never can know.

We sailed from there around the Saronic Gulf stopping at anchor in Epidavros and Korfos then had exhilarating sailing with good wind over to Perdika on the island of Aegina. Perdika is a small, idyllic fishing harbour with little room for yachts but I thought I'd try my luck again at squeezing in. We arrived in the early afternoon before the usual rush hour of arriving yachts and there was plenty of space at the outer end of a jetty.

Again it took a second attempt before I got it right and the anchor line was rather diagonal to the jetty but I pretended it was my intention. Perdika is a beautiful harbour with colourful houses ( in fact about 25 restaurants) around the crystal clear waters of the small bay. We stayed a couple of days there before the return voyage to the mooring on Poros. On the way we ran into a pod of dolphins and took time to sail around them backwards and forwards to get a closer look and take some photographs. I was so happy to be able to share this wonderful experience with my family. It's far better than wide screen or flat screen.

The 2 week trip with my family was a great success, I gained a lot more experience, and in spite of all the cuts and bruises, lost items over the side, wasp stings, mosquito bites and sunburn we had a wonderful time together.

Sailing to Poros

I had anticipated sailing the 30 mile trip from Porto Heli to Poros alone but when a couple of good friends, Mike and Sam, offered to come along I readily accepted the kind offer. Not only are they very competent sailors but they had also sailed this particular route many times before, and apart from that they are very enjoyable company. The weather was perfect for the trip with calm seas and just enough wind to fill the sails. The ten waypoints I had programmed into the navigator turned up one after the other right on track. So it was a very relaxing trip. On arrival at Poros they helped me tie Aquarella on to a mooring buoy that some of their friends had kindly let me use while they are away sailing in the Ionian.

The mooring is quite a distance from Poros itself which lies on the other side of the sound. This means I'm dependant on my dinghy with the outboard engine to get backwards and forwards to the town.

The evening after my arrival I was invited to a get-together of British expats at a cafe there. It was late and very, very dark when I started off in the dinghy for the trip back. It's not easy to navigate diagonally across the sound in almost constant collision course with the countless caiques, car ferries, high speed craft and arriving flotillas of yachts and catamarans. The amount of traffic is only a little less at night. There is a speed limit of 4 knots here but the high speed ferries and hydrofoils charge all the way in to the harbour at 32 knots!

Half way across, the engine started coughing. In the light of my miners lamp I could see the cloud of black smoke surrounding me as I came to a standstill. Grabbing the oars before I started drifting backwards I put as much strength as I could into every stroke. Finally, completely exhausted I arrived back at the boat drenched to the skin in sweat and salt water.

Next morning I rowed a short distance to the nearest jetty in search of a mechanic. 

I had suspected the impeller (that takes cooling water in) was damaged. The mechanic I was recommended to had his workshop nearby in a house that looked like it had only just survived the last earthquake. 

I was right, not about the earthquake, but about the impeller. Of the 6 rubber paddle wings only 2.5 were left. The bits of rubber that had broken off were firmly lodged in the cooling system.

After a couple of hours the engine was repaired and assembled with new parts.

The guy asked me what oil mixture I had put in the tank and I had to admit I wasn't quite sure. I explained that it was always my husband who had looked after it, but he died. 

The guy then laughed! I don't know what was funny but I paid, took the engine and left.

My sense of humour doesn't stretch that far.

I was angry but thinking about the situation afterwards, I came to remember this quote:

Laughter gives us distance. It allows us to step back from an event, deal with it and then move on.

- Bob Newhart

(Now I know the oil mixture is supposed to be 100/1 for the 2 stroke engine.)

Electricks

Even though Aquarella is a sailboat she is quite dependant on her engine for getting in and out of harbours and to charge the batteries for all the electrical installations on board. The solar panels I have can keep them charged to a certain extent but as the outdoor temperature rises day by day, the fridge is demanding more and more electricity to keep the food cold. I buy 4 bottles of frozen water for 1€each, twice a week which helps but even so the batteries are struggling to keep pace. I use solar lamps in the cockpit and cabin after dark and a solar charger for my ipad but that only gives it about 25%, I have to top up the rest via the cig lighter contact from the boat' s own batteries.
So every third day I start the engine and let it run for an hour or two.
The other day when I turned the key - it just said "click". Tried again, " click" again. "What on earth is wrong now " I said ( no I didn't, I said something worse which can't be published here)
I checked the connection switches, they were all on. I opened the engine room hatch, looked down at all the wiring and closed it again because I hadn't a clue at what I was looking at. Then I opened "The boatowners illustrated electrical handbook" ( kindle version) which devotes a lot of time to Ohms law but says nothing about Sods law. Another ebook I have says " If you are in any doubt about what you are doing- don't do it" So I didn't.
I had just invested in 3 more 74 ah, maintenance free batteries. That meant that all 5 of the 8 year olds were now renewed this season so the problem couldn't be there.
I turned the key and pressed the starter again- " click".
I looked at the boats wiring diagram, which was all greek to me ( sorry about that)
The likelihood of me ever being competent and confident as a boat electrician is about the same chance as someone suddenly becoming a dot-com millionaire without even knowing where the dot is.
I have to admit I simply have no idea.
If you can imagine the car you normally drive having an electrical failure, so you screw off the whole dashboard to expose all the wiring behind it. Where would you begin ? Well you wouldn't, you'd just drive to the nearest garage. But on a boat, help is not always anywhere nearby so you are supposed to know what to do.
I don't.
Finally in desperation I wiggled all 3 red connection switches backwards and forwards (one called start, one called service and one called connect) I know the batteries are parallel connected so I presume they work together as a team.
Back to the key and the start button for one final try before ringing the boatyard.
YES!!! it started. THAT simple!
One of them, probably the one called start, had apparently been pushed a tiny wee bit out of place by all the junk I have in the space beside the switches.

The Queen and I

Of all the 80 odd boats anchored and moored in this bay there are only two with varnished teak and mahogany brightwork.  One is the royal yacht, given by  former King Constantine of Greece, to his wife Queen Anne Marie on her 60th birthday.

 The other is mine. 

The Mediterranean sun  is so harsh it acts almost as a blow-lamp on anything varnished, causing it to crack and peal off in just a few months. So most boat owners prefer to leave any teak details grey and untreated. My boat's toe rail happens to be mahogany so it can't be left without varnish. I cover it up in winter time and at the beginning of every season I scrape, sand and patch up any damaged bits, varnish them 6 times and then give three strokes over all the rest. I've found out that instead of  standing or kneeling and  leaning precariously out over the side of the deck, I can do the whole job from the dinghy. This requires very calm weather so I won't be bouncing up and down balancing with brush, turps, rags and a full tin of varnish. Woe betide anyone who charges past with a motor boat at full speed kicking up a small tsunami enough to tip everything over, including me.

One boat that really did take the consideration of gliding very slowly past was in fact "Afroessa"  the royal yacht. I always give a  little wave to every boat that passes at close quarters so I waved my brush at the woman on deck  that I had eye contact with. She waved back with a smile. It was only afterwards I realised it was HM Queen Anne Marie. 

As we have some small things in common, we are both boat owners and both born the same year, we have both lived abroad most of our lives, the Queen in exile, myself by choice. I couldn't help thinking of our very different lives and how being born a princess and later becoming Queen doesn't make that much difference in the long run. Both she and I are human after all and we have both had our share of happiness and sorrow, very good times and very hard times, success and disaster. 

But as Eleanor Roosevelt once said:

A woman is like a tea bag- you never know how strong she is until she gets in hot water.

Never give up

The other day when other boats had left, leaving me plenty of space to manoeuvre, I decided to take a short sailing trip. I slowly engined out and rolled out the genua. At first I thought I'd just go across the bay to get a change of scenery but well out there I carried on out to the open sea between the mainland and the island of Spetses.  

The feeling of freedom can't be described. It was beautiful, but I didn't want to venture too far though as the wind was getting up. Turning around I found a  lovely spot in the clear waters of the mouth of the bay. After dropping the anchor in 4 meters of turquoise blue heaven, I  went for a swim. This was what I had dreamed of doing for months, in fact I felt a surge of happiness for a moment. If only Max could have seen me now. 

After lunch and a nap the wind got stronger so I decided to wait until it died down a little before attempting to return to the busy anchorage on the other side of the bay.

Just then an elderly Danish guy came rowing over from his boat. " Can one of you help me get my anchor up?"he asked "I'm not strong enough to manage it alone"

"I'm alone too,"  I said " and I'm not sure I'm strong enough either" ( I had seen he didn't have an electric windlass)

"Never mind, - sorry I asked" he grunted and rowed off. He turned round and shouted " How can you manage such a big boat if you're not strong?"

I had a bad conscience then of course and decided to do what I could to help.

When  I went over to his boat in my dinghy I got a better look at him and could see he was way over 80.  

I told him , if it was a matter of  running the engine and steering the boat while he looked after the anchor then I could help. But he looked at me and said " No, that won't do, you're just as old as I am!"

Thanks for that!

Then I offered to take my dinghy over to another anchored yacht and ask for help.

When I got over there the english boatowner  replied:

" Oh no , not him again! - never mind, I'll go and help" which he did. 

After a lot of time and effort his anchor was finally up. Then he  inched his boat slowly forward and only 10- 20 meters further on  he dropped it again! I don't know what difference he thought it made.

In the early evening I returned to  the muddy waters of the town anchorage again after a  lovely refreshing and enlightening day.

Several days later I could still see his boat in the distance on the other side of the bay. I wondered if he was alright and if he could call for help if he needed it.

Today he passed me in his boat as he arrived at the buoyed area I'm now in. He had apparently engine trouble and was taken on tow by the boatyard's dory. 

I hope people don't tire of helping this guy.

I also sincerely hope nobody ever takes it upon themselves to tell him it's time to stop sailing, - and who would have the heart to do so ? He doesn't do any harm and he's probably much happier pottering about in his boat than he ever would be on dry land. He keeps fitter too with all the fresh air and exercise involved in living aboard.

Somebody once said - " Riding out a storm at sea is no challenge at all compared with spending your last years in an old peoples home"

Perhaps he's doing the right thing.

Learning

This is the image I see on my Anchor Alert app. The yellow blobs show where the boat has been all night. When Aquarella passes the outer red ring which indicates the limit I have set (length of chain) the alarm goes off. It sounds like a fog horn with bronchitis. Nearly all  the other boats you can see are moored to permanent mooring buoys.

After several very windy nights without sleep, wondering if my anchor would hold, I decided to hire a mooring buoy from "Franks Yacht station" here in Porto Heli for a few weeks. This means the boat is securely tied up with minimal risk of anything happening. I'm still free to go sailing whenever I want and I have the buoy to return to. I can also leave the boat if I need to be ashore for any length of time. The fee for the buoy includes the facilities at the yacht station/ boatyard including a shower and washing machine.

I was a little nervous going to pick up the buoy for the first time but the guy from the boatyard was there to help and he directed me in as if Aquarella was a Boeing 787.

The following day I took my washing ashore in the hope I could get it all done in an hour or so. 

I got back to the boat 9 hours later after a very enjoyable day.

The machine was occupied when I came and the queue of bags of washing was long. Behind a row of old boat toilets filled with blooming geraniums a group of people were sitting drinking wine at a long table under a tin roof . "Come and join us, they said" so I parked my bag of washing in the queue and sat down with them to wait.

They were all boatowners and introduced themselves. After a short time it was clear that several of them were in the same situation as myself. Marie-Louise from Germany lost her husband two years ago and has been sailing her 42 ft catamaran ever since. Mike, also from Germany lost his wife last December and is now on board his yacht with his brother Ralf. Susie from England lives aboard her catamaran on the yard together with her sick husband.

So suddenly I didn't feel so sorry for myself anymore and it was great meeting new friends with so much in common. We drank wine and talked for hours. I asked Marie Louise about how she tackles eating alone on board. She told me how she makes a special effort to prepare good food for herself and lays a nice table with a glass of wine and sits down and enjoys it. At restaurants she thought it hard at first and felt conspicuous. So to avoid other peoples stares she surrounded herself with a book or newspaper, mobile phone or ipad, whatever. But now she doesn't need this barricade anymore, it's very much a matter of your own attitude and getting used to your new situation, she said. If a waiter shows you to a table that doesn't suit you, tell him to find you another one or leave!

I really admired her determination and attitude and felt strengthened by it myself, or maybe it was the wine. 

She gave me some more tips too.

When I told her how I anchor by letting 10 meters of chain out and running back to the helm to reverse slowly. Then I run forward again and let 10 more out, run back to the helm, reverse and so on.

She said: "Don't ever run!" if you run , the chances are you will fall and theres no one there to pick you up.

That was good advice.

Then I heard about the technique she uses for returning to her mooring buoy. It's not easy to aim the boat to a tiny buoy in a cross wind with other boats at close quarters. As soon as you stop,the boat starts to drift so you don't have many seconds to tie up.

She ties an inflatable canoe to the buoy with a long line before she leaves. On return this gives her a longer scope and a much better chance of picking up the line with a boat hook .

I hope this will work for me, I don't have an extra canoe in my locker but a large fender with a long line might do the trick.

This afternoon I was invited on board Lillybelle from Scotland owned by George and Chris.

Chris showed me how to tie the highwayman's hitch, something I can use a lot when I need a strong knot that can easily and quickly be released with a single tug.

They say you are never too old to learn.

I'm learning new things every day. 

Most of all I'm learning to survive, physically, practically, emotionally and mentally.

Table for one.

As a daily reminder of the recent loss of my husband, dinner, eaten alone, is one of the saddest. It all starts in the supermarket where the portions you can buy are either"for two" or "for four" . The fridge on the boat is only small which limits the amount of leftovers I can keep. So every other day, as yet another reminder, I throw Max's portion away.
When I'm eating I usually play some music or watch the news on my ipad, more as a distraction than a consolation.
One evening, just for a change and a treat I decided to step over the hurdle of going into a restaurant alone.
Why not, I thought, there are always a number of men sitting alone at a restaurant, watching football on the telly.
When I got there all the tables I could see were ready laid for four but I sat down at one with a view over the harbour so I could keep an eye on my boat.
Groups and couples who arrived long after me were greeted and given a menu. I was ignored.
I waited.
At last, when the waiter had nothing else to do, he came and asked me if I was waiting for somebody.
When I told him I wasn't, he showed me to a smaller table with a nice view of the fridge. The good thing was that, having my back to everyone else, they couldn't see the look on my face, it might have spoiled their meal.
I ordered dinner but needless to say, I didn't enjoy it. I just ate half of it as fast as I could, paid and took the dinghy back to the blessed solitude of my boat.
I don't think I'll try that experiment again. I don't want people to feel sorry for me and I don't want special attention, I just want to be treated as a normal human being.
Perhaps I'm not.
This situation is not anything specially related to the Greek attitude to women, I've experienced the same thing at home.
Just when you think none of the other customers have noticed , the waitress comes along and asks very loudly : ARE YOU ALONE? Then everyone turns round, stares, and I feel like something the dog brought in.
My mother in law experienced the same when she was widowed in Finland twenty years ago. I thought times had changed but it must have something to do with our "culture".