First stop is the popular island of Poros, a few miles south of Methana. We anchor alongside the Greek navy’s cadet academy. The raw recruits spend a lot of time standing on the parade ground in the hot sun dressed in an unsuitably dark uniform. From time to time they shout ‘ena; deo; tria!’. We wonder if the heat’s got to them, or maybe they’re showing they can count. One afternoon they donned lifejackets and took their place at the oars of a whaler to learn how to row. Watching them try to pull together was very entertaining - it was never like that at HMS Raleigh!
Poros is a sophisticated sort of place where Athenians come for the weekend and holidays. A bit like Salcombe where almost every house is a second home or holiday let. Loads of charter boats come here too.
While we were out enjoying an ice-cream one evening, we noticed a couple of beefy men walking up and down the quay openly carrying automatic weapons. What on earth was going on? Minutes later a monster superyacht, the O’Mega (which we find on Google is for charter at a cool half a million euros a week!) drew up alongside.
No-one could tell us for sure who was onboard, but the word on the street was it was the president of some Middle East country. Whoever it was, it seemed an excessive way for someone to visit Poros for a meal.
There was a northerly F4 to get us down to Ermioni at the top end of the gulf of Hydra. We’re wise enough now to know that what would be a nice fresh breeze in the English Channel can be a bit of an ogre here as it kicks up big waves. So it was a good move to keep the mainsail under wraps and fly the yankee on its own. The narrow channel between the islands at the entrance to the gulf of Hydra gave us a bit of an adrenalin rush. As we were rolling down the swell with the wind behind us we hit the wash of two gin palaces going the other way, which made us lurch all over the place. As we wrestled with the helm to stay on course, a fast hydrofoil suddenly appeared around the corner, gunning towards us at 40 knots. Who says sailing is relaxing? Once we’d turned into the gulf the swell eased and our heart rate returned to normal.
To start with we berthed bows-to on the quay in the small harbour at Ermioni. Bad move. The strong gusts off the hills dislodged our kedge and we had to re-berth stern-to using our bow anchor. The eight people who helped us didn’t know they were witnessing a miracle - Makarma going astern in a cross wind into the narrow space between two boats. It was a messy manoeuvre going backwards and forwards until we were straight but we managed it in the end.
Two traditional windmills and a sewage farm dominate the approach to Ermioni harbour. The town is touristy but not unattractive and is serviced by a regular fast ferry from Athens.
The weekly produce market happened to be taking place on the day we were there. We bought fat bunches of green and purple grapes and a 5 litre container of local rose wine. Cathy stocked up on some cheap knickers.
With no wind anywhere for a while, we’re forced to motor the 14 miles on to Porto Heli, where the Edwards, our friends from Bovey, are due to join us next week.
We had thought about exploring some of the little coves up the Argolic gulf, but two things have made us change our mind. Most critically, Leighton’s sinus has been troubling him and the rest will do him good. But also the bay here scores top marks as our ideal anchorage. It has excellent shelter from all directions, no swell, loads of space and sticky mud holding.
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