Bye bye, Nikea

Bye bye, Nikea

Date: Monday, September 16, 2024. 1149Z
Location: 38°41'26.4N, 20°41'58.7E — Vlicho, GR

It is now Monday morning, September 16th, Nikea is on dry land, and we are packing up the car. Our flight isn’t until next Saturday (21st) but we’ve had enough of storms and crowded ports.

Our time in Sivota came to an end. We said we’d leave after two days, which was yesterday. We also came to the conclusion that when the yard opened on Monday morning (today), we would lift out. It hasn’t been the most enjoyable of our trips to Nikea and to Greece, and in many ways, it feels like the end of an era. The forecast for the next week shows another series of systems and in all likelihood we would have to spend the week, dodging gales. We come here for the sailing and a relaxing holiday. If we wanted to constantly stay in front of weather systems, while doing anchor watch in the rain, we’d just stay at home in Ireland.

In the short time I’ve been coming to Lefkas and the Ionian, the number of boats seems to have doubled. Now, it is essential to constantly call ahead and plan your route so you are assured of a quay wall or pontoon. It takes the fun out of it. The towns seem to love flotillas. What’s not to love, I suppose? Ten or fifteen boats arrive in a group, they all eat in your taverna, and they’re gone the next day, to be replaced by another group. Those of us sailing on our own, are squeezed out. I once arrived in Kalamos and some guy (not Greek) told me the entire quay wall was “reserved” for his flotilla. Needless to say, I wasn’t impressed. Mind you, George dealt with it magnificently, as you would expect.

There does seem to be a worldwide problem with over-tourism, and I’m as guilty as anyone. Residents in tourist destinations in Italy and Spain have started to object quite vocally. That’s before ever you consider the carbon footprint of all these charter flights. We have definitely enjoyed our time in the Ionian, and I won’t say we will never return, but as it stands right now, we’re not jumping up and down in anticipation of a return. It’s also quite expensive in many places. Sure, if you’re off the beaten track in Greece, everything is very affordable, but it is still a costly destination if you’re eating out in these high-tourism locations. Our beloved Office restaurant in Vlicho has closed down, too. Probably a casualty of the pandemic.

Anyway, we said we would leave Sivota on Sunday, and that’s what we did. We were hoping to tie up alongside the pontoon beside the yard, but that didn’t work out - someone else had the same idea. Our inshore (starboard) neighbour left, first thing. The guy in charge of the pontoon for Stavros had a system. He launched his inflatable, tied a line to their bow, and as they motored straight out, he acted as a bow thruster, swinging their bow hard to port. On our starboard side was a 46 foot monohull and across from them was an enormous catamaran. We needed to come out sharpish, and turn hard to port, to motor between the two boats. However, even if we could have squeezed between their bow rollers and anchors, we would have fouled lazy lines on both sides. Luckily, the catamaran was leaving at 3PM, so we decided we would skip out after them.

We decided it was a good time for showers and laundry, so off we went. We were barely through the drying cycle when word came that the catamaran was leaving. However, the fly in the ointment is that another catamran was motoring up the channel and planning on taking their slot. In other words, leave now, or stay for another day. Usually, I would declare that Neptune was forcing our hand, and we should stay another day. However, we had decided on the lift-out, and had already booked an apartment in Lefkada, so we rushed back to the boat. I was first on board, not waiting to help retrieve the clothing. I fired up the engine, and started preparing for departure. I was grateful for the fact I had no-one either side, and the pontoon opposite was only lightly occupied. The helpful pontoon guy was busy untying lines, when I had to stop him, as I was short a couple of crew. I could see them sauntering back, slow as you like, carrying the mostly-dry laundry. I tried to attract their attention and let them know we would be departing within the next few seconds! They jumped on board, I released the starboard line completely, popped into forward gear, dropped the lazy line, and sheeted out the port-side line. The boat swung nicely to port, and I was able to release the last remaining line while having a decent heading out between the pontoons. I will say this for Sivota - it’s great for practicing your mooring technique.

Once again, we were heading to Vlicho, this time hopefully to occupy the pontoon. It is reserved for boats which are lifting out, as it is right in front of the slipway. We couldn’t imagine anyone else was lifting out, so we figured it would be empty. Not the case. As we didn’t have to be back in a hurry, it seemed like a great time to do some sailing in the immense bay south of Lefkas. As Martin hadn’t really done a lot of helming under sail, this was a great opportunity to have him experience the visceral thrill of a large sailboat under power of the wind. Up went the main, and the headsail. We headed south west, away from the Meganisi Strait, which is where we needed to be. No matter! The Strait could wait! Secretly, I remembered the boats which had sailed north on our way down, under headsail alone, flying along in the southerly breeze in the channel. Unfortunately, however, the wind was now from the north, so we would once again have to beat upwind to get to Nydri and on to Vlicho.

We sailed around for an hour or so, and finally decided we would head north up through the Meganisi Strait. The plan was to furl the headsail, but motor-sail up the channel. Then, once we were north of the island of Meganisi, we would unfurl the headsail again, and do some more sailing. A last fling, if you will. As the wind was straight down the channel, we hardened up the main, and began motoring up the channel. Now, all the boats heading south were able to enjoy the breeze. We had just started up the channel, when a very strong gust hit us from the south. It was a squall, of sorts. The wind swung around 180 degrees and doubled in strength. The main was fully sheeted in. It ripped the main sail all the way along the foot, leaving the sail blowing up against the shroud. I strongly suspect that the main is as old as the boat, which is around 40, give or take. It was toast. It ripped like tissue paper. We swung around to the new windward direction, and dropped the main onto the deck. A new main for a Beneteau First 345 runs between €1,500 and €3,300 depending on the sail quality. We had hoped that the local sailmaker might have been able to do something with it, but we weren’t optimistic. Generally, if a sail rips on the seam, they can fix it. If it’s a small rip in a panel, they can patch that or even replace the panel. When the sailmaker finally saw what was left of the sail, and the quality of the remaining panels, he declared the patient dead on arrival.

We motored sombrely back to Vlicho, and had to anchor as the pontoon was occupied. Another night at the Vlicho Yacht Club. At this stage, we should have just booked a room beside the club.

This morning, I took the dinghy ashore to arrange a lift-out. As it turns out, they plan these things a long way in advance and it isn’t as ad-hoc as I had assumed. We had not notified them because it was a Saturday when we decided to lift-out, and assumed no-one wanted text messages on a Saturday, regarding some or other boat wanting to be lifted out. Rabbit came to the rescue and persuaded them to lift us out. The catch was that they had just lifted out two boats, and we were next! The second boat was just being dropped into her winter position in the yard, and they were insistent that if we were ready by the time they got back to the slipway, they’d lift us out. Otherwise… I rushed back to the boat to find breakfast was under way. Once again, our tranquil day was interrupted by having to deal with a rushed timetable. We fired up the engine, lifted the anchor, put out fenders and lines, and motored to the pontoon. We were on the hard, within fifteen minutes of them agreeing to lift us out.

And so began the laborious and dirty work of preparing the boat for winter. We dropped the anchor and all the chain onto the ground, supporting it on a forward support, so it wouldn’t sit in the mud and wet. We dropped the headsail, ran the outboard engine until the carburettor was empty, and so on. We loaded up the car, and as I write this, we are about to drive to Lefkada to find that apartment. We are discussing a road trip to Vassiliki to go scuba diving, a touring trip around Lefkas, and perhaps a trip to the Nydri waterfall.

We came as late as practically possible, to avoid Greek heat and busy ports. Instead, we found inclement, stormy weather, and busy ports. I can’t help but wonder if this is the end of an era, aboard Nikea.

Dermot Tynan's Picture

About Dermot Tynan

Part-time sailor, full-time procrastinator. Software Engineer, Writer, Film-maker. Interested in all things cloud, sailing, autonomous systems and robotic sailboats.

Galway, Ireland https://intothemystic.eu