20th August - Trizonia, gulf of Corinth

It feels good to be on the move again at last. We hope to escape the high season crowds by heading south from Nidri, and indeed once past the island of Kastos, we left all but a few boats behind us, so we're in high spirits. There's hardly a sail to be seen. In a brisk westerly F4, we romped towards the Dragonera and Echinades islands, bound for Port Panteleimon on the mainland. We pick our way past the fish farms into a sheltered inlet to anchor. Although it’s a bit gusty, the whitecaps stop at the entrance.

We are the only boat in the anchorage at Port Panteleimon – that makes a change!
There’s a price to be paid for the seclusion though. The water’s too murky to swim in because of the fish farms nearby, and there’s a distinct whiff of fish in the air. We’re not complaining - it’s a beautiful and peaceful spot and we have it to ourselves. Come evening, the breeze drops and a flock of shaggy goats wander in single file along the shore, grazing on the dry scrub as they go.

We spend the next night anchored in the large shallow bay to leeward of Nisos Petalas in the Echinades islands. It’s a convenient stopping off place en route to the gulf of Patras which makes it a bit like a motorway services without the services. Our pilot mentions a cave in the cliffs here, so we go ashore to scramble the 300 feet or so up the rocks to explore inside. We’re sorry to disturb a roosting hawk that flies out of the cave as we reach it.
Once inside, we realise it’s huge and extends a long way in, but we haven’t brought a torch so can’t see much. Judging by the smell, it’s a popular sheltering place for the local goats. The view from the entrance out over the wetlands and mountains beyond is spectacular.


Rounding the south of Oxia island it feels good to turn east again for the first time since we arrived in Greece last year. A brisk breeze pushes us into the gulf of Patras towards Messalonghi. The harbour lies 2 miles up a dredged canal with salt flats on either side. At the entrance there’s a cluster of wooden houses on stilts that used to be fisherman’s huts and are now holiday homes.
The heads of swimmers bob about in the narrow channel and they appear unconcerned as we have to motor close by them. There’s a new marina in Missalonghi, but we opt to anchor outside in the large harbour with a handful of other boats.

Ashore we go in search of traces of Lord Byron. The famous romantic poet was helping the Greeks fight for independence from the Turks, but died of fever here in April 1824. We found out all about it during a visit to the town’s museum.
We reflect on the power of celebrity and good PR. Byron obviously attracted attention by dressing up in some outlandish outfits he’d had specially tailored in Albanian or Greek style.

Leighton is intrigued to find a collection of redundant military planes parked in a dusty corner. Missalonghi harbour is home to two loggerhead turtles and a dolphin, and which were a delight to see. Imagine our horror when on passage to Patras we passed a dead turtle in the water with what had killed it hanging out of its mouth – a plastic bag.
It’s one thing reading about what plastic bags do to marine wildlife, but to see what one did for this poor turtle really upset us.

The westerly wind had got up by the time we arrived in Patras, and our berth in the small marina gave no shelter from the swell. We rolled horribly all evening (we had to gimble the stove to cook supper) and all night. So it was a big relief to spend the next day ashore, when we took a trip to the Sanctuary at Olympia, the site of the first Olympic games. It was blisteringly hot but the many trees there gave welcome shade, allowing us to take our time to explore the whole site – a feast of ruined classical temples and secular buildings, as well as an athletics stadium that you could run races on today.
We cooled off later in the museum. The classical ruins of Olympia would definitely have appealed to Byron, and it’s surprising to think that excavations didn’t start here until fifty years after his death. Here are a few pictures to give you a flavour of the place.





Ferries come and go all day and night in Patra harbour, and we’re not used to the bright street lights and traffic noise of the city. Once we’ve stocked up on food and water, we’re happy to leave.

We tend to set off at midday at the earliest to make the best use of the afternoon sea breeze. Leaving Patra was no exception, but there was not a breath of wind the whole way. We motor under the spans of the Rio bridge, the longest cable stayed bridge in the world which marks the boundary between the gulf of Patras and the gulf of Corinth.
The bridge also lies on the site of the battle of Lepanto, the last sea battle fought with oared galleys, when Venice’s galleons powered by sails proved themselves clearly superior to the Turkish galleys.

We needn’t have worried that Trizonia wouldn’t come up to expectations. It’s an absolute gem. Popular with liveaboards and cruisers, the half finished marina occupies a natural harbour in a rural setting. We tie up alongside the concrete hammerhead of one of the pontoons. It’s good for swimming, walking, there’s no traffic, and while provisioning is limited, you can order fresh bread every day, and there are a couple of fish tavernas on the quay facing the mainland. What more could you possibly want?