Vathy, Itaki to Frikes, Itaki
May 19
Yup,I went there. I'm not proud but somehow it seemed appropriate.
We left Vathy for the 15 mile trip to Fiskardo on Sunday. Obviously by the title of this entry we didn't get there. About an hour into the trip the wind dropped to jump-off-the-deck-and-swim-in-the-middle-of-the-sea speed. As luck would have it, this happened right at the entrance to the bay at Frikes - a small village with a nice little harbor where we could tie to the quay. Fiskardo would have to wait another day.
Frikes is exactly what I had pictured Lost Animal Farm Island would be. The tiny bay was lined by about half a dozen small tavernas, shops and quite possibly the best supermarket ever. If you thought Fairway had it all, you'd be wrong. The supermarket caught my eye first but the 2 Euro Alpha Happy Hour was a quick second.
While Francis & Erika took care of some boat things I headed off in the direction of the arrow pointing to the village of Stavros two kilometers away. Stavros, even smaller than Frikes, sits atop one of the peaks in the middle of Ithaki. Apparently there's a special area for ghost motorcyle riders and they're not quite sure what time it is but there are some spectacular views so it was worth the climb.
Despite the questionable time of day in Stavros, I made it back to Frikes in time for the start of Happy Hour. The owner of the bar joined us and with a soundtrack of quite possibly the greatest 80's mix ever, filled us in on the mysteries of ordering coffee in Greece. Somehow, even though we had ordered the same thing in three different places each time we had received something totally different. Unfortunately he cleared it up only by telling us to order a Freddoespresso - which is what we had been ordering - so I guess we'll continue to enjoy coffee surprise.
Frikes, Itaki to Sivota, Lefkada
May 20
Another day, another destination that is not Fiskardo - which has become our white whale. And yes, I'm as surprised as you are that I've writen a blog that references both Homer and Moby Dick. No worries though, I'm pretty sure the educational portion of the story has come to an end.
Frikes to Fiskardo is a mere nine miles but even though we could actually see Fiskardo in the distace, it's nine miles we just weren't meant to travel. We were taking the wind right on the nose - to the point where it was actually moving us backwards - so we pulled a 180 and turned towards Sivota in the southeast corner of Lefkada.
The harbor at Sivota painted a pretty good picture of what these bays are like in the summer: a crowded parking lot. The large quay was already almost filled with boats tied stern-to and many of them were bareboat charters... basically rental cars but boats. I'm not sure what the requirements are to charter your own boat but unfortunately, as we would soon find out, tying to the quay isn't one of them.
While Francis got things settled, Erika and I checked out the waterfront. We were happy to see "Free Showers for Customers" as common as free wifi on the sandwich boards outside the bars and restaurants. So maybe Leonardo in Argostoli wasn't that odd after all. We were at the far corner of the bay watching the parade of new arrivals when it really struck us how full the place was. We got back to the boat just in time to see the result of the mix of too many bareboat charters and a crowded harbor.
The first sign of trouble: The boat entering the harbor had three guys on deck who were all wearing matching blue and white striped t-shirts. That is never anything but bad.
The second sign of trouble: The charter company employee directing them into an open slot a few boats away from us.
The skipper was backing towards the wall way too quickly and they were dropping the anchor way too slowly and way too late when a wind gust took them. In a bit of a panic the captain quickly throttled forward (they had been going in reverse) and then they started drifting out of control off to the side - dropping anchor chain all over the place and dragging the chains of three boats (including ours) along with them.
World War III nearly erupted when the striped shirt-guys' boat started drifting right towards a German boat on our right. The German captain, I'd guess in his 60's and wearing a way-too-small bathing suit, was out on the bow yelling at them in German with his two words of English repeated over and over at increasing levels of anger: "Go away!! Go awaayyyy!!! Gooooo A Waaayyyy!!!"
By now the charter company employee was in a dinghy trying to reign in the runaway boat. Unfortunately his outboard kept stalling so he started drifting too. That's when two guys from a large Spanish boat anchored mid-harbor jumped in their super-powered dinghy and joined the effort. They sandwiched their dinghy between the German boat and the striped shirt guys.
There was a little gap between us and the Polish boat to our left and that was a good thing because their anchor chain had been dragged so much that they started drifting parallel to the wall - coming within a few feet of us. The screaming German was now joined by three angry Polish men. I stood at the ready armed with a fender to hold them off.
Now the question was, how long before we started drifting? We shifted the rest of our fenders to the corner most in danger if we began moving. Not about to join the chorus of screaming, there was really nothing more we could do.
A growing crowd was gathering on the quay and it seemed everyone had advice on what to do next. The charter company employee had figured out his outboard issue and was directing the hapless crew to just let the anchor run all the way out so it was no longer attached to the boat and couldn't cause anymore damage. Once that was done, the Spanish boat escorted the anchorless mess further into the harbor.
All the while the German guy hadn't stopped his screaming and now looked like he might attack the employee, a Brit whose only response was, "Right. I understand you're angry but I don't understand a word you're saying. We'll be back in a bit to sort out the mess." And with that he was off.
The excitement over, we (and by we I mean Francis and Erika) assessed the situation and realized that our anchor was no longer in position to hold us securely. We couldn't lift the anchor and re-set it because it was 15 meters deep in a tangled mess with the Polish and the anchor cut from the runaway. Without any other options we tied up side-to.
Chaos aside, Sivota was great and to help get over the afternoon's events we went for a few Alphas. As luck would have it, our last stop of the night, a place that may or may not have been called Pirate Bar but which at the very least had a pirate flag and a comfy hammock, also happened to be the last stop for the striped shirt crew - and yes, they were still wearing their matching shirts.
After a quick reminder that they nearly crushed us, they informed us they'd be picking up the rest of the drinks. And with that, all was forgiven - if not forgotten.
For some reason, the first thing that popped into my head when seeing these fools (said with a smile because they really were fun) in their matching shirts was The Inbetweeners - because somehow anything ridiculous and British comes back to The Inbetweeners.(yes, they were Brits - from Leicester - so Arlo beware!) Of course, I told them of the resemblance and with that, we were fast friends. Cindy & Mags, it took seconds before one of them compared it to the boating disaster on the field trip to Swanage. All that was missing was sending up the flare, punching the fish and the strategically placed sock. And here's the kicker... turns out one of them grew up with the guy who plays Will. And you'll be happy to know that the guy who plays Simon is apparently exactly like the character (although I'm guessing without the fashion show mishap).
Next stop... Not Fiskardo.
We Are Never Ever Ever Getting... to Fiskardo
Monday, May 20, 2013
Sívota, Ionian Islands, Greece
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