Sailing in Greece: Kythnos

We didn’t get to board the boat until 5 pm so I had plenty of time to second and third think the wisdom of signing up for two weeks on the Aegean Sea. The more I looked at Marla, the smaller she seemed. Constant reassurances that she was a ‘big’ boat did little for me. Big is relative.

We’d made a trip to the local supermarket in Lavrio and stocked up. A grocery bill of €450 seemed massive and maybe we did get carried away by the figs and blue cheese, not to mention the beer and wine and spirits to stock the galley. We’d be eating well.

The boat has four double cabins, one with two bunks, and a small single. Dismay doesn’t begin to describe the sinking feeling I got when I saw ours. I knew I was partial to space, but I hadn’t quite realised how much I hated the lack of it. My enthusiasm for the venture was decreasing with each shallow breath. Two long weeks stretched out ahead of me as I realised that life on the high seas quite possibly wasn’t my thing.

I spared a fleeting moment for pity for the group of youngsters I’d seen wheeling their 20kg hard-shell suitcases to their boat knowing they’d spend their week or fortnight tripping over them as there is minimal storage. Soft bags are the only way to go. We all travelled with carry-on bags only – we read the instructions.

Lavrio doesn’t sleep. The nightclub across the water spun its last disc at 6 am. I’ve had my fill of Greek pop music and can still feel the bass reverberating. Space and sleep are two things I have a new appreciation for.

There are rules, too. So many rules. What to do. What not to do. Where to poop. Where not to poop. Everything has a different name. Simple nomenclature like the blue rope or the yellow tie is not a thing. My head spun with all the explanations. Even a simple question of how fast we were going warranted a detailed explanation of speed above ground, speed through water, wind speed.

I have a limited capacity to remember things these days. There’s a limit to what my brain can store. The best I could do was figuring out port from starboard – if there was a glass of port on the table, I’d leave it behind. Port is therefore left.

I spent time checking myself, swallowing the temptation to say downstairs instead of below and upstairs instead of on deck. By the end of the fortnight, I’ll have a whole new vocabulary.

We had planned to set sail the day we got the boat but by the time the final checks had been done, it was too late. Sunday, we headed for the island of Kythnos, about 100 square km in size and a coastline of about 100 km. It has anywhere from 70 to 99 beaches, depending on what you read. And it looks like many of them are inaccessible by road. At first glance, it’s a barren, rocky place, more brown than green. Accessible by ferry from the port of Pireaus, it’s within easy access of Athens and therefore popular with the locals as a weekend getaway spot. That said, we didn’t anchor near a town so I have no first-hand experience of a ferry sighting.

Some of our fellow sailors were in different rigs.

We headed for the most popular spot, Kolona Beach. Others had had similar thoughts. We found anchorage and spend a lovely afternoon swimming and SUPping before heading ashore in the dinghy to have a closer look at the tiny St Luke’s Church, which sits on the hill overlooking the bay.

The Kolona restaurant has a monopoly when it comes to food and drink. Everything runs on their time and there’s little point in getting upset. My advice? Make a reservation for an hour before you’re ready to eat and bring your credit card. Being the only gig on this particular sand bar comes with a price.

There’s more to Kythnos. Picturesque villages. Roman baths. And the miraculous icon of our Lady said to have been painted by the apostle, Luke. Next time.