Into the Saronic Gulf

We'd taken quite a beating the last few days in the Cyclades, what with falls down the companionway, being uprooted in the middle of the night, sea rescues and failing engine transmissions. During this time, we were constantly experiencing F5 - F6 winds, which are a feature of the Cyclades. There is a 'racetrack' of wind that curves through the Aegean, down the middle of the Cyclades and then splits either side of Crete. We thought we could do with some respite from all this, so we departed from Kea and took a long reach westward deep into the Saronic Gulf.

Tranquil anchorage in Epidhavros

We ended up at Epidhavros, a sail of 55 nautical miles. Now out of island culture, we had come to rest on the Greek mainland.

Crowded port at Epidhavros

The municipal dock was very crowded with flotilla and charter boats all rafted up 2 and 3 deep. We opted to escape from the madness and spend a few days in  a tranquil anchorage in the adjoining bay.

The Amphitheatre at Epidhavros

Epidhavros is famous for having one of the best preserved amphitheatres in Greece. This amphitheatre has extraordinary acoustics, I could hear Megan perfectly when she whispered at the centre of the stage. Remarkable, as I was on the top tier of the amphitheatre, which can seat an audience of 12,000.

I could hear Megan's whispers perfectly from here!

So, being a pair of larrikin Ozzies, we decided to test the acoustics. Megan and I started singing a rendition of Rolf Harris's 'Tie me Kangaroo down, Sport". When Rolf sings this, he accompanies it with a 'wobble board', a 1 meter square sheet of masonite. So to mimic the wobble board, I had to sing 'A wubba wubba wubba'. Of course, when singing such a lyric, its kind of natural to mime the movement, to jiggle (and in my case, wobble) a little (or a lot).

Acoustical theatrics of the tour guides... apparently ok.

Wobble board impersonators ... immediately banned!

Deb and Pete, our partners in Wobble board crime

All of a sudden, whistles were blowing, and uniformed security guards were rushing to the scene. We were a bit oblivious, caught up in our performance. They were frantically yelling 'No Dancing, No Dancing'. We were effectively silenced. Obviously, it was okay for tour guides to demonstrate the acoustics of the place, but 'Tie me Kangaroo down' , along with wobble board impersonation was a bit beyond the pale. I think our British friends were mortified, and immediately disowned us.

Superb condition of the amphitheatre.

The site was also home to the Asclepius, the god of medicine. There were fine ruins of a medical centre and a temple.

Asclepius, God of Medicine

Prototypical hospital in ancient times.

Sympathetic reconstruction of temple walls.

Statuary described using serpent bites to heal. One wonders if the cure was worse than the ill.

Statuary from the site.

The healing centre

Enough of this rest and relaxation, and cultural adoration... it was time to get down to business. We had a hurt boat that needed to be fixed: a new generator and windlass to be fitted, the fibreglass and teak damage to be repaired and a transmission to be rebuild. Hi ho, its off to work we go. So we upped anchor and sailed the 20 miles to Sousaki, an industrial wasteland on the edge of Athens. There was an abandoned boat yard here where we could get some repairs done.

We soon had the trusty Brommies out, there was no civilization in sight, so we had to ride many kilometers for necessities. We crossed the Corinth canal on the way.

Corinth canal

Looking around us at this model of urban decay and hinterland neglect, we both wondered, where on earth have we washed up now?

Is it Flotsam or Jetsam... nevertheless washed up!