Must needs leave!

We've been sitting at Syros for over a week now. Syros is a beautiful example of Cyclades towns at their best. It's the capital of the Cyclades, and shows its pride by being clad all over in white travetine marble.

Marble streets of Syros

Syros had really appealed to us, even putting on a tall ships show, and a public opera.

Tall ships in town

Another beautiful tall ship

However, the port is large and very very rolly. We were anchored off the town pier, with 2 stern lines and 2 spring lines to the dock. With a large swell which consistently rolled in day after day, the boat was crashing in that peculiar 5 pointed rhythm that people living at anchor know only too well. Boom crash crash, jerk... wait an unspecified interval.... Boom crash jerk crash jerk. You get the idea.

The Boom Crash Opera set-up

We needed to leave, but the meltemi had really set in, winds were 40 knots plus just outside the port breakwater. After 5 days of patiently waiting for a weather window which did not come, we decided that 'Must needs leave', we just had to move along.

So, heart in mouth, we set off for Mykonos. We left very early to try and catch the reduced meltemi winds. An old greek salt told us that the meltemi follows the sun, blowing harder as the sun waxes, and fading (slightly) as the sun wanes.

Rising sun hovering on the horizon 

A slightly stressed Megan at dawn.

This sail proved to be pretty okay. Winds were a consistent 25 knots, gusting to 30. We managed Pavlov just fine, and arrived in Mykonos 7 hours later. Then our fun began. The 'new port' in Mykonos is a concrete wasteland, completely unfinished. With the wind gusting to 40 knots in the port, we managed to pin Pavlov onto a lee pier! Ouch, some small gouges to our newly repaired Pavvie!

With much manual labour, lots of warping lines and 'interesting thinking', we managed to turn the boat 90 degrees so that we were stern to the pier, not completely pinned to it. Just as we got settled, a newly arrived boat also pinned themselves where we'd just vacated. In their attempts to extricate themselves, they put their anchor through Pavlov's hide. Ouch 2!  We settled for an on the spot redemption of 200 Euro's (none of us wanted to face insurance nightmares again).

We recuperated for a day in Mykonos, but really wanted to leave. We were again in a very uncomfortable anchorage, not really able to sleep with the crashing and banging. Mykonos is 'The Byron Bay of Greece', its a young person's party town. Not our idea of fun.

So, Must needs leave... struck again. We warped out of Mykonos and headed for Ikaria. Now the fun really began. We had stepped into the jaws of the Meltemi monster. We were managing quite well on the 55 nautical mile sail. The winds were hitting 40 knots and a lot of green water was coming over the bows. I was becoming hypothermic, so we managed to strip off our wet clothes and put on full wet weather gear, while I never let go of the wheel. (I should explain, that Otto, our autopilot, has deceased. Or at least, deceases periodically with rebirth to occur at an unnamed future time interval). The seas were very lumpy and confused, about 3-4 metres. I needed to hand-steer continually to keep the boat on course, and prevent us from taking too much water on board.

So we were managing just fine, until the last 12 miles. By this time, we were in the lee of Ikaria, a high mountainous island. I'd assumed that the lee of this island would provide shelter from the meltemi. Wrong!, the wind screamed in gust up to 50 knots off the land. We finally couldn't sail and needed to motor into this wind. The seas were steep and really confused. The bows kept being blown off course by the wind. We were making about half a knot. It took us 3 hours to go 5 miles. It was just on dusk that we pulled into another Boom Crash Opera mooring in the very small harbour of Kirikos on Ikaria. 

Megan was really fearing for her life on this sail. We thought we'd lose the bimini, the wind was getting under it and the framing started to fail. The wind was strong enough to drive spray from the sea, it was very difficult to see because of this salt spray. It was a very hard slog, continually trying to keep the bows on course, creeping painfully to our place of refuge. Some cruisers on shore were watching our painfully slow progress, and were on hand to help us dock. Much appreciated as we were bone weary and salt infused by this time.

One day of recover, and we departed again, en route to Samos. This time, we only had 30 knots gusting to 35 under the cliffs of Fournia. After 50 knot winds, these now feel like a gentle zephyr. So here we are, anchored out in the harbour of Pitagoria. The meltemi has started its siren wail again, but our anchor is dug deep. We are cosy within Pavlov and there is no Boom Crash opera dock to set up its 5 beat counterpoint. Turkey is 1 mile away. We made it out of the meltemi zone. Hurray for us!

Escape to Syros

If you've been following our adventures, you'll know that Pavlov has been going through hard times, washed up on unfriendly shores.  We've spent a total of 5 weeks in Sousaki and Lavrio trying to repair the boat. We ordered a gear box that arrived in 10 days instead of 2. Our mechanic left in the meantime. We installed the gearbox on our own, a 12 hour blood, tears and sweat ordeal, only to discover that it was faulty and leaking ATF at a great rate. We removed gearbox, ordered another and began again. We became gearbox experts. We had workmen completing insurance repairs on the fibreglass and teak. We battled with immigration authorities to allow us to remain in Greece beyond our expiring visas. We appealed to the Australian Embassy when the Greek authorities wanted us to just 'fly home' for 3 months. It took a flood of tears from Megan for them to understand the Pavlov is our home. Everything seemed to break on the boat all at once. New generator, new chain, new anchor, new windlass, new transmission, new drive plate, new teak capping, new fibreglassing, new shower pump, outboard repaired. Parts of the new windlass, just installed, had to be returned due to the chrome falling off. Another bus trip into Piraeus. Hassle after hassle.

Main port, Ermoupolis in Syros

Well, all of that, touch wood, is NOW OVER! We have escaped the confines of Lavrio to Syros. We had a spanking good sail in the strongest winds we've ever sailed in on Pavlov (Force 6 on the Beaufort Scale), we had 2 reef's in the main, flying just the staysail and were still hitting 8 knots. We just flew away from Lavrio!

Megan at the main port.

Cruising in the Cyclades was great. The islands can be beautiful, offer many different experience from the touristic chaos of Santorini to the unspoilt treasures of Folegandros. None of these prepared us for the reality of mainland Greece. Attika (the area comprising Athens and its surrounds) is a state in decline: the populace can be down-hearted, rude and abrupt. They blame politicians for everything, including rising taxes, but no-one pays tax! The public spaces are uncared for, unkept and covered with graffiti. There is no evidence of any central planning. Public infra-structure seems to be failing, not maintained or not working. Evidence of the financial crisis is everywhere. There are frequent demonstrations and rallies as people protest their predicament. Salaries are being slashed, taxes are rising. We felt trapped in this unhappy land, helpless and unable to leave.

Picturesque bathing spot

Some-how, even though our spirits were ebbing low at times, we managed to complete each trial and challenge. We tested the motor and our work. It seemed unbelievable, but we were finally ready to leave. The meltemi had been blowing 40 knots for the previous week, we were pleased to see a manageable sailing window of Force 5 - 6 was blowing on Sunday (14th July), so we threw our dice into the air and departed Lavrio.

Marble paved streets

As soon as we'd docked in Ermoupolis, the difference in tone and style from the mainland was striking. The town was elegant and beautiful. The streets were filled with interesting shops with a mixture of tourists and locals thronging around. There was a free opera in progress in the town square. People felt alive and happy! So did we!!

Overlooking the town.

We climbed (and it was a righteous long climb) up to a church that hovered above the town (typical God spot). The view from the top was stunning. We could see Mykonos and Delos, Naxos and Tinos spacing out into the blue Mediterranean distance.

Church above the town.

Inside the god spot.

Church iconography

Wow, we were delighting in being tourists again. Just walking around looking at stuff. It felt great after the grind of boat maintenance and mindless bureaucracy we'd been suffering. We just drank it all in.

View from the top

View out to sea.

Its time to celebrate. The wheels are back on the Travelling Pavlov Roadshow. We have guests arriving in a few weeks and we need to get back to the Turkish coast. So into gear and off we go.

Pavlov in Ermoupolis port

Pavlov's wounds have been healed, notice the new glasswork and nice new teak around her gunwales, new cleats and fittings.

Pavlov renewed.

We're back on track and our spirits are lifting. Bring it on, we say, bring it on !!!

Living a Kaffka-esque drama

Michael, Megan's son, visited us on the boat recently, and got to spend an exciting 10 days with us, based in Lavrio (poor attempt at humour). He was reading 'The Castle' by Franz Kaffka. In this book, the protagonist, known only as 'K' stuggles to gain access to the mysterious authorities who rule the town, for unknown purposes.  Kaffka's writing introduced notions of bureaucracy, alienation, anomie and existential dread into common parlance.

This book seemed to be an eerie prognostication of our current predicament. If you've been following our story, you'll know that we've had a series of mishaps, that led us to seek remedy in mainland Greece. We spent several weeks in Sousaki, and now we are laid up in Lavrio, a major Greek port outside of Athens.

We were to have our engine repaired by Dave Hartley, a british mechanic we met down in Crete. Dave spent several days on our engine down in Sousaki, flushing out the gearbox (which had run for several days dry of lubrication) and replacing the drive plate. We tried the gearbox out on a trip to Agina and Epidavros, and it was still problematic. Dave eagerly announced that our gearbox was stuffed and we needed a new one.

We duly ordered a new one, and was told it would arrive in 2 days. Dave could replace it in a day, and by magic, everything would be right in the world and we could leave Greece as planned.

Well, 2 days turned into 10 days, the gearbox sat in Milan inexplicably for days. We took a trip to the Greek immigration authorities to enquire about a visa extension, as our Schengen visa was in danger of expiring. Well, call me 'K', our visit to the Castle had begun.

First, we were interrogated by several of the office staff, who finally announced that the only authority who could rule on our case would not be in the office until next Monday. We wait, we see the authority. More frantic Greek discussions. Next, a young body builder with a natty frontal bum-bag (cock-bag? , if you'll excuse the vernacular, it will have relevance later in the tale), asks me to jump on his bike, and we high-tail it to the port police. The port police tell him that the 'correct way' for us to remain in the country, is to have a marine surveyor certify that our boat is unseaworthy. The Australian Embassy would then be notified, and they would then have to certify that the boat was then repaired to Australian flagged standards. By the way, this procedure would cost us thousands of Euro's.

Next the immigration police ask us for a letter from our mechanic, certifying that the boat is detained due to mechanical failure. Our British mechanic writes such a letter, on his company letterhead. However, the immigration police can't accept this letter because there is no official tax number, nothing to prove that our mechanic is a mechanic. The plot thickens, days pass, our mechanic is worried about being pursued for tax fraud.

Finally, the immigration authorities come up with a solution. We must go to the Australian Embassy, and they will sign a statutory declaration that we will make, certifying that our boat is broken down (which is pretty easy to see, since it doesn't have a gearbox at the moment). So, our body-building, ripped jeans and muscle t-shirt immigration police office commandeers a police car (unmarked, broken down with lots of things not working) and drives us to Athens (about 1 hour journey each way). He drives the entire journey at 160 kph (the top speed of the little police car). We ask him about speeding, and he said that no-one bothered about it, including the police, as the courts were too busy to process any of the fines.

We checked into the Embassy, and we noticed that George (we were on first name terms now) had to open his little 'cock bag' (the previously mention front slung bum bag) and take out his Glock 9mm pistol and check it in with security before entering the Embassy. Yes, even the immigration officers (who are also gun-toting police) carry arms, and our gonad-fuelled body builder was packing real heat down there!

Finally, we pay the Embassy, we pay the immigration police and 'Hey Presto', we are granted a 1 month visa extension.

We wait some more days, and the gear box that was promised to arrive in 2 days, finally appears after 10 days. However, in the meanwhile, our mechanic announces that he must return to England. He's going for 6 weeks for urgent medical treatment. I wish he'd told us that before we embarked on rebuilding the transmission. None of the work he was doing is finished, so he palms it out to a variety of unknown characters, including a new mechanic who speaks no English and is not available for another week or two! Mechanics are rare birds in the technological wasteland of Athens.

Getting desperate now, the gearbox finally arrives. Megan and I do all the research we can, and decide that we must do this ourselves. After a herculean 12 hours of labour, we get the gearbox into the boat. We start the engine, it runs!!. Huzzah, our worries are over. And then we notice a steady drip of ATF transmission fluid from the gearbox. We tighten the bottom drain plug, we replace the aluminium washer with a copper washer, all to no avail.

We had noticed that the packaging of the gearbox was oil-stained with light machine oil. It appears that the storage lubrication had leaked out from this drain plug. There was a manufacturing defect in the gearbox. Unbelievable angst!!

So, mustering again our courage, and wondering what the universe was trying to tell us????, we spend another day, pulling the gearbox out, and packaging it to return it to the UK. We had to buy another gearbox, as they would not ship out a replacement until they'd received the old box back, and that would exhaust our time in Greece.

So here we are, the clock is ticking. The new new gearbox is in transit somewhere, the immigration police are driving like maniacs packing heat in their sporrans, we have become practiced gearbox mechanics and soon to be Greek illegal refugees.

Life sure is interesting these days. Megan asked what I wanted for my immanent birthday. I said, 'to spend it in Turkey!'.