Saturday 12th September - Valtou Bay, mainland Greece

Soundtrack: The distant bleating of goats and the tinny sound of their bells clanging gets our attention, and sure enough, there’s the shepherd on a quad bike herding his flock home at nightfall. We can’t remember when we’ve found ourselves in such a wild and unspoiled spot as here in Valtou Bay, just north of the commercial port of Igoumenitsa. The sound of ships’ hooters carries across the hill - an incongruous sound as the pool we’re anchored in is completely landlocked.

High Point: Our first bows-to landing on a public quay, our bows pointing straight into the terrace of the Central café in Mourtos. It took ages to decide what we would do and how we’d do it, but it worked well first time - we’re very proud of ourselves! Our Aussie friend the little Flook is proving an effective kedge.

Leighton's high point: I can now read Greek! Having purchased a children's Greek "Learn the Alphabet" picture book I can now read and transliterate! Now all I have to do is learn what the words mean. I'm progressing on that front as well, and people are even responding when I say things to them...but it is still all Greek to me for the moment.

Low Point:
A sudden thunderstorm over Lakka one evening brings strong gusts that cause havoc in the anchorage. We’re anchored in the innermost part of the bay, which is also the most sheltered. We’re not there particularly for the shelter but because we wanted to be close to the wifi antenna on the town hall ashore. In the squall at least half a dozen boats try and anchor close to us, and it’s quite a job to stop them dislodging our anchor in the process.

Passage notes:
“You’ve been Lakka’d!” Phil calls out to us one morning, as we walk back to the quay from the shops. We immediately understand what he means. Several days have gone by and we’re still in Lakka. The harbour is so delightful, the laid-back atmosphere of the village is so beguiling, that we’re finding it hard to leave. Phil says it’s nothing new - Lakka’s charm is infectious and most people succumb to it sometime or another.

As we row ashore for ice-cream after supper one evening, we’re hailed by Brian and Joyce and invited to join them aboard Tusk for a glass of wine. They’ve sailed round the world in their snug 31’ Golden Hind, which is anchored astern of us in Lakka. They are matter-of-fact about their achievement, but it goes to show you don’t have to have a large boat or flash equipment to cross oceans - it may be slow but you get there in the end.

We finally shake ourselves free of Lakka’s attractions and sail 12 miles across to the mainland to Sivota Mourtos, a small harbour tucked inside the lee of three wooded islands. There we get the boat checked in with the Greek port police, and receive this enormous document, a DEKPA, which is our obligatory cruising transit log, getting not much change out of 50 euros in the process. We’re supposed to get it stamped at a harbour at least every 30 days so the authorities can keep track of us. We’d tried to get one in Gaios on Paxos, but they said they’d run out of the right forms. The Mourtos police reckoned their colleagues on Paxos just couldn’t be bothered to do all the paperwork.

At Mourtos we book the fuel truck to come and fill the diesel tank which is down to its last 120 litres after the long passage from Sicily. And Tomas the waterman unlocks the quayside tap so we can top up the water tanks. So……street legal; refuelled (plus Leighton’s changed the fuel filter) and rewatered, we’re all ready to explore this fantastic cruising ground for the weeks that remain this season.

From Sivota Mourtos our first hop is north up the mainland coast for some 8 miles to Valtou Bay. It’s thoroughly pleasant motoring in the flat calm. That changes when the engine revs falter half way up. We quickly take the mainsail cover off - we are getting lazy! - but the engine recovers almost immediately. We’re worried we’ve taken on a tankful of bad diesel, but on reflection we reckon that some air got in the system when Leighton changed the fuel filter, and it’s now cleared.

Valtou Bay is a deep inlet tucked behind a row of hills that form a peninsula little more than half a mile wide. There’s nothing here apart from some rusty corrugated iron farm buildings and a ramshackle wooden jetty. It’s the perfect place for some peace and quiet away from the tavernas and flotillas.

In the late afternoon, we go for a walk across the peninsula to the beach watching the thunder-clouds build over the mountains that stretch northwards into Albania. On the way back to the boat we say hello to a guy who’s given up shore life altogether. Mike sails his Beneteau singlehanded in the Med for the summer in the northern hemisphere. Then he goes to New Zealand to live aboard his other boat for the summer down under. He has the look of the hermit in Monty Python about him.

An area of wetlands to the north of us is a perfect habitat for wading birds, and - so the pilot says - otters. We spend a morning in the dinghy paddling along the shallow waterways that wend their way through the marshland in search of wildlife. We see herons, egrets, bitterns, curlews and several kingfishers. But sadly there’s no sign of otters.