“If there were no grace and no kindness, conversation would be useless, and nothing we do would matter. Listen to the new stories that begin every day. If light were not beginning  again in the east, I would not now wake and walk out inside this dawn.” – Author: Rumi

 

I’m often blessed with waking up and welcoming the new day with the dawn of the sunrise. It’s a quiet and peaceful time. Whatever has transpired the day before evaporates like the dark of night fading with the rising sun. The light ushers in a new beginning, new opportunities and new adventures, and the occasional chaos. 

Our adventures in the Mediterranean have been overwhelmingly excellent. We breezed along the coast of Spain and Italy, loved the distinct and charming Balearic Islands, hopped over to Sardinia and Corsica, and made an unplanned stop in Albania. We were in awe exploring the Greek ruins and standing in the shadow of the Parthenon.

I’ve been so swept up in the constant move to get through the Med that I have been remiss in keeping up with my blog posts. Between making videos, and taking and posting photos and stories, it’s difficult to get everything done. I also finished writing a new novel. I’m looking to get it traditionally published so this project has consumed my time as well. 

Curses and Blessings in Greece

 

Sailing in this part of the world has been very different from other regions. There is so much paperwork checking in and out of every new country. Greece is the worst with paperwork. They charge money for each month you sail here. They have a log that you have to present to each major port you enter. It’s an hour-long process at every major port looking at the same set of papers, grilling you endlessly, then finally rewarding you with a stamp in your log that says, “yeah, you were here.” Finding the port office is often difficult and they keep odd hours. The whole process is tedious. They don’t make it easy.  

The wind in Greece is another force to be reckoned with. It never blows as forecasted, except when a particularly strong front is coming through. The winds are fierce, fickle, and unpredictable. Case in point. We were sailing around one island with all our sails up. The wind totally died. It went from the 20s to 2 knots as we rounded the corner. We could see wind up ahead so we left our sails up and slowly drifted forward. Suddenly, we reached a gap in the mountainous hills beside us.

I was on the phone with my daughter when the wind hit. It had funneled through the gap and we were instantly hit with a violent gust in the 30s. From zero to 30 in a second had disastrous results. 

I was thrown to the floor, grabbing on to anything I could hold on to as our boat got knocked down sideways. I screamed to my daughter, “Have to go! Emergency!” and hung up the phone. Dan was trying to turn the boat up into the wind so we could take in the sails. Unfortunately, we were passing close to the shore. Turning into the wind meant we would run aground onto the rocky shore. 

There was a lot of struggling and chaos as we tried to get our boat righted and the sails reduced. Meanwhile, I could hear the breaking of glass below in the cabin. Horrible noises of things having been dislodged and flying around the cabin ensued. 

I have learned to stow everything securely before every sail. What I can’t account for is when cans get slammed against the cabinet doors so violently that the door breaks open and spills the contents onto the floor. Today’s case was two jars of spaghetti sauce that broke free and shattered when they hit the floor and all the cans and dry goods piled on top. After we struggled with the sails and things managed on deck, I looked below deck. Broken glass, and greasy sauce, were all over my floor. The cans and other deviants had rolled through the sauce and were having a field day spreading as far and wide as they could all over the cabin. They were just spreading the fun.

Needless to say, the cleanup was extensive. Since we walk barefoot in our cabin, I had to explore every nook in cranny for glass shards. Even as hard as I tried, Dan and I picked embedded shards of glass out of our feet for the next week.

This is why some days, that sunrise is so important. I need to shed these incidents, move beyond and focus on the good. We feel so blessed to have seen the sights we have, like the incredible ports like Bonifacio, traversing the historic and amazing Corinth canal, experiencing the little-known but breathtaking beauty of Albania, and standing in the shadow of the Parthenon. 

I feel a bit schizophrenic at times. We have these amazing days where we are in awe and wonder at the world around us. Then other days are spaghetti sauce days. For example, our two basic necessities are our anchor chain and our electric motored windlass that winds the several hundred-pound chain in and out of our boat. Anchoring safely is so important. A friend of ours, his anchor didn’t hold and his boat washed ashore and sunk. We are very aware of the consequences. 

We spent almost 2 grand last year buying a new anchor chain. It was a horrible experience. It costs us weeks of delay, and several headaches with shipping failures, only to get the chain we didn’t order. We took it anyway because we were being forced to leave the marina where we were picking it up and we knew getting it replaced would be another nightmare. One year later, it was already beginning to rust horribly.

This was one source of contention, how and where to get a replacement. Then, the unthinkable happened, our windlass gave up on life. Purchasing and installing a new system would mean modifications to the deck of the boat. The price of a new windlass and installation would be well over 5 grand. Not in the budget. Just like that, our pleasant cruise through the Med turned into a heartbreaking dilemma.

We can manually pull the anchor up and down. However, if there are strong winds or currents, not even Dan is strong enough for that task. Getting new parts shipped to us to fix the windlass was moot for 2 reasons. One, they don’t make this model anymore, the second, have you ever tried to get something shipped in Greece or Italy? (Cue the canned laughter.) Even when they tell you something is being shipped, it’s really on backorder and will be several more weeks. The potential to wait over a month for a part in either of these countries is extremely high. Been there, lived that.

We were despondent, to say the least. We limped into a harbor in Greece where we saw on our sailing website Navilly, that there was a family-run repair shop. It was a long shot, but they had a mooring ball outside their business which was inside a safe harbor. We tied to it and prayed for the best. It didn’t look good at the onset. No one spoke English. Through Google translate, we asked the local chandlery (boat store) how to contact the repair shop. The nice man made a phone call. In broken English, he said something about a man meeting us tomorrow at 9 AM.

The next morning, we went to shore and found a man and his son waiting with their tool bag. The father spoke very little English. We dinghied them to our boat and explained we needed the windlass removed and repaired. Dan had tried to remove it himself to see if he could repair it, but it was stuck fast.

Long story short, this man and his son had the windlass off in a half an hour. They opened the contents and found the inside of the windlass covered in oil and the pieces inside were broken. He tried to explain that he could clean it up but it would be impossible to order new parts. He said he would do his best. We drove the men back to shore and contemplated our alternatives. There were very few.

The next day, the man called and said to come to his shop. It was a mere 24 hours later. He had the motor shiny and looking like new. He sent someone, somewhere, to get a part for it that he had tracked down against all odds. He fabricated from scratch a new part that couldn’t be ordered. It was truly a miracle, but we had our windlass back for 600 euros. 

This man was an angel, so polite and gracious. He dropped everything to make things right and get us on our way. We still had the anchor chain to replace, but even that had a happy ending.

We pulled into the Olympic Marina to take a flight to Turkey. We have heard from everyone we know whose been there it is a “must visit”. We had planned on sailing there on our initial itinerary. Inflation there has risen 800% this past year, getting there is now problematic. 

We decided to find a cheap flight and fly in so we didn’t miss the experience.

Istanbul was one of our favorite cities we have visited thus far on our journey, but that is a story for another day. We loved it. What is important is that as we were getting ready to leave the marina, we saw a rusty trashcan outside a sailing charter business. In it, was what looked like a brand-new anchor chain. Dan and I looked at one another and thought, “what are the odds?”.

We didn’t have time to inquire about it before Istanbul, but when we returned, I immediately found a man working at the business and inquired about the chain. He explained that the chain had never been used. It was an extra. It had been sitting in the barrel for over a year. He was willing to sell it to us at a very reasonable price. 

What are the chances of finding exactly what we needed in a rusty barrel on the side of the road? Pretty good apparently. For a mere 740 euros, half the price of the chain we bought last year and longer than the one we purchased, we had ourselves a new chain, with no shipping, waiting, or headaches. Win-win, and win.

 

The Trials Continue

 

Unfortunately, we did bring a nasty cold/flu home with us from Istanbul. Dan caught it first just as we had to drag and install the new anchor chain. He persevered even though he was feeling ill. We got the chain installed and the new one to the dumpster, via dollies and a lot of sweat and labor, but it did him in for a few days. I thought I escaped but I was wrong. 

Our time in Greece is limited by the number of days on our sailing visa. We have to be out by September, 30th. After a visit to a few more islands, we ended up in Milos. Gorgeous island! We had to set out for Crete to check out of the country and line up for the next leg of the journey, a 4-night passage to the island and country of Malta. I came down with the flu the day before our 75-mile day sail to Crete. 

We got up at 6 AM. Dan promised I could stay in bed and sleep for most of the trip after we pulled up anchor and got the sails out. I took some vitamins before we left not knowing that the sea state was going to be a lot rougher than forecasted. Taking the meds on an empty stomach was probably not a good idea, but mix that with rolling waves and wind in the 20s, and our boat was tossed around like a toy ship in a bathtub. 

It didn’t take long for nausea to hit. The problem was that every time I got sick, I had to drag myself out of bed. The boat was healing so much that the rail was almost reaching the water. I had to pull myself uphill to the toilet and hang on for dear life as I got sick. It would have been humorous if not so excruciatingly uncomfortable.

Dan was a champion. We left at six and pulled into Crete around midnight. He sailed 16 hours single-handed, no meals, just a few snacks in heavy wind and seas. I heard the motor turn on and knew we had arrived in Crete. I was feeling much better but feeling a bit like a limp dishrag. I walked up to the cockpit and helped get the sails down. We had a few miles to motor, but the starlit night was gorgeous, and as always, we were thankful for another safe passage. Until… the engine suddenly died.

The wind was sheltered by the island so sailing was not an option. We were less than a mile from a rocky shore. We had no engine. We were in dire straits. Dan picked up the radio and called for rescue. No answer. We don’t know if our radio signal was not working or if everyone in Crete goes to bed at midnight, even the Crete Coast Guard. After several attempts, it was apparent we were on our own, and no one would come to our rescue.

We sprang into emergency mode. We launched our dinghy which was strapped to deck for the passage. We got it into the water and had to lower the engine on in the dark and lapping waves. It was a challenge, especially for my depleted reserves. We tied the dinghy to the side of Equus and prayed that it would be strong enough to guide us out of the dire situation.

At first, it appeared we didn’t have any steerage even though the dinghy was moving the boat. We spun in a circle. Dan yelled that this was not going to work. We were out of options. We traded positions, I got in the dinghy and Dan steered Equus. We finally found status quo and were moving forward in the right direction. We only had a mile separating us from the deep channel we were in, to the safe and secure harbor in which we could anchor.

Traveling at 3.2 knots, it seemed to take forever to putter through the inky black night and toward the harbor. We had to navigate between shore and a small island that had a channel we could pass through. To go around would take 5 times as long but we didn’t know how reliable our steerage was at this point. One small deviation and we would be on the rocks. Eager to get to the harbor, our stamina gone, we took the chance.

It was pitch black, with no moon. I remember looking up at the stars, feeling the warm air as I sat alone in the small dinghy pushing our 43 ft. boat through the darkness. Despite all odds, we were persevering, and it felt good. My mom always says, “God doesn’t give us more than we can bear”. I actually had a smile on my face as I was proud that we pulled together and were once again overcoming adversity. We are becoming experts!

We finally arrived and I used the dinghy to position the boat so Dan could drop the anchor. He raced down into the cockpit and brought up the remote to run the windlass. He untied the anchor and pressed the button. Nothing happened. We had noticed dark stains all over the bow of the boat and couldn’t figure out where they had come from. Had the newly fixed windlass been damaged on the trip? The consequences were unthinkable. I began to think that the wisdom of my mother might be wrong. There would be no coming back from a broken windlass. 

Dan raced back and forth a few times between the cabin and the bow. Nothing seemed to work. He disappeared one last time and came up proclaiming that the windlass was working, the chain was just jammed. I jumped out of the dinghy and ran below and wedged myself into the chain locker. Sure enough, the rough passage and put the chain in tangles. I worked the chain up through the hole, disentangling it as it crept through. 

A few minutes later, we had a hundred feet out and were safely anchored. 

The mess on the deck, we determined after, was most likely the result of an oil spill that we had sailed through during the day. Taking a deep breath, we retreated, mentally and physically exhausted to our cabin. Dan had a whiskey; I was thankful to be drinking a glass of water and not vomiting. It was now 2 AM.

I’m writing this blog post as Dan has the engine in parts in many pieces spread around the boat. We are praying that the problem was bad fuel. He found large pieces of sludge in the filter, the liquid around the filter is dark black and filled with sediment. He is a miracle worker when it comes to fixing anything mechanical that is broken. I imagine in a few hours our engine will be working and we can continue to the next port in Crete where we can check out of Greece. I’m saying a prayer that this will be the case. 

So much has transpired these last two months. It would take a book to tell all the tales. I guess I better get started on our memoirs. Now that my novel is completed, I will try to be better at updating our adventures!

Thanks for following. Your support is important to us in so many ways. 

Dan and Alison
Captain and First Mate –  S/V Equus