It's called Character building!

Kythinos Port

All night I had found it difficult to sleep. The wind was up and fortunately Steve had pulled us further off the dock. Kythnos port is usually quite a sleepy place. We had visited a village during the day. We planned to leave the next morning to sail to Kea. By the 11 June we needed to be near the boat yard adjacent to Corinth canal to get the new generator. So tonight was to be our last in Kythnos.

During the night I moved from bed to bed. The wind had increased.  I got up at least three times to check the lines. All seemed fine for us. Our neighbours to starboard were less prepared. They were in a 29.2 ' Jeanneau, a Sun Odyssey rather like Papalagi, the boat we had chartered in 2011. They were nudging against the dock. On one of my "vigils"  I saw them trying to pull off the dock. They then went to bed. The boat was still against the dock . The wind was strengthening. Our lines were straining.

At 2am I again poked my head out of the cockpit. I was horrified to sea the Jeanneau leaving the dock and was being blown our way. I screamed for Steve as I tried to hold the boat off. His bimini was not a good hand hold. His bow was pushing against our starboard side. Steve raced up on deck and we managed to fend it off.

I watched as the Jeanneau was jostled around by the wind, seemingly  pilot -less. The skipper seemed to have no control. They cavorted in the sea near us and turned 180 degrees to face us. What was wrong ? Why hadn't they hauled in their anchor and made away?

They've caught our chain! No sooner had I said this, they appeared stuck, then  careered wildly towards the boat to port, a 43' Lagoon. I screamed to the Lagoon crew to wake up , or else they would find a rather small boat ramming their starboard hull. It seemed ages before they appeared on deck, apparently bewildered by all the commotion.

As the Italians on the Lagoon tried to fend of the Jeanneau we realised that we had a bigger problem. They had snagged our chain and were now dragging our anchor from about 30 metres off the dock to around 4 metres to port, right where they were cavorting with the Lagoon.

 Steve was trying to keep Pavlov off the dock. Our port stern crashed into the concrete dock. The crunching was loud and forceful. Steve yelled for me to fend off. I raced from the bow to the stern grabbing a fender to try to protect Pavlov. Part of our teak cap strip and chunks of gelcoat revealed the fibreglass beneath.

The Italians yelled to us to get off. They managed to get our anchor released.  Pavlov was swinging to port in the wind , towards the Lagoon. Longer lines were  found and thrown to some gallant Australians who had arrived to offer assistance. Steve planned to straighten Pavlov and try to escape from the dock. He had managed to haul in our chain and anchor. All this was done in his underwear and I had on a sarong. The bruises took a few days to come out.

As Pavlov straightened he yelled to drop the lines. I pulled them in to avoid our new rope cutter on our propeller shaft. We motored off the dock. The Jeanneau had anchored further out. We too would anchor and wait until morning to confront the skipper of the Jeanneau, and get his info for our insurance.

Our next problem was that the chain was knotted. We did anchor but could drop little chain. Steve had hurt his hand falling down the companion way so I tried to beat it into shape. Finally it unknotted. It was 5 am. All this had begun in earnest at 2am.

We were exhausted but as soon as we could be brought up the anchor and pulled alongside the ferry dock. After dealing with the Frenchman, we took off for Kea. But that story is for another blog.

the next morning- near the scene of last nights drama

God Spots

We're in Milos, in the northern Cyclades, cooling our jets waiting for a weather window to cross into the Saronic Gulf.

Small jetty at Pollonia, Milos

So, as usual, we took an exploratory trip around the island, this time by motor scooter and by our trusty Bromptons.

Quay side street, Pollonia

White volcanic cliffs at Sarakinia

Fjord-like inlet at Sarakinia

I've started to wonder about the distribution of churches in the Greek Islands. Sometimes, its like there are more churches than there are inhabitants. Often, churches are located in places that are impossible, or at least very difficult, to access.

Fishing village church

'Top of the hill' church in Plaka

Isolated promontory church

I've come to realize that the churches aren't built to accommodate parishioners' needs to meet and worship. They seem to hark back to more animist times, where places of worship were located at 'spiritual sites'. I've come to call these places 'God spots', where people must have felt some immanent spiritual force that they felt called for the construction of a church.

Another lonely promontory, a God spot?

Headlands with majestic views, high inaccessible places, harbours where the earth meets the sea, steep imposing valleys.... all these places seem to hint at higher things, other planes. They all seem to be adorned with churches, all vie for attention as competing God spots.

Spot the God Spot

Is this a harking back to earlier times when the spirits of the earth, wind, sea and fire needed propitiating? Is there an echo of the temple  at Delphi, where the priestesses could commune with the gods through the sulphurous fumes?

Distant view to a church from the Chora on Milos

The fumes were said to issue from a cleft created by the stream of blood from the murdered Python. Python was meant to be an earth spirit, main claim to fame was raping Leto while she was pregnant with Artemis and Apollo. Python was then conquered by Apollo and buried at Omphalos (the navel of the world).

A more accessible church... for the masses?

So, perhaps our churches and temples on 'God Spots' are echoing this theme of places made sacred by their juxtaposition with natural features that stand out: mountains, cliffs, the inaccessible, the lonely and isolated.... somehow closer to God.

Fishing village on Milos

We've always loved the simplicity of Greek fishing villages, but on Milos, these were really brought to life: simple colours and astonishing locations, right in the lap of the sea.

Tender by the back door

Stunning locations, perched on the sea's steep edge

Fishing village church.

Absolute sea front!

All this sea living made us hanker to experiment with some more sea-food cooking for ourselves. Our first experiment with white-bait on Crete was not a huge success, so I decided to take on a few octopus for size. We bought two large specimen from a fisherman on a boat just along from us in Milos.

Preparing the catch

Many years ago, my father, who was an avid spear fisherman (that's the underwater variety) used to catch abalone on our annual vacations on the wild and untamed south coast of NSW. While fresh lobster were boiling in a 44 gallon drum on the beach, and drummer and grouper fish were being grilled on open-air barbecues, the kid's job was to pound heck out the the abalone, which was incredibly tough to eat if not so treated. I'd heard that octopus was improved by the same treatment.

Beat that octopus

Our Belgium friends Eddy and Hilde were surprised that we had to bludgeon our catch to death in such a brutal manner.

Pavlov departing Milos for Kythnos

But as much as we loved Milos, we had to make tracks. We have a date with a mechanic in Sousaki in the Saronic Gulf. Pavlov's generator has died, and Megan has demanded a new windlass that won't cause her to have a heart attack every time we anchor. So we must make some miles, and head out of the Cyclades and into the heart of Greece.

Beach side restaurant in Kythnos

Halfway on the Pathway ....

We were sitting quietly in the marina at Agios Nikalaos, when the peace was suddenly interrupted with the loud call "Aussie, Aussie, Aussie...". Yes, our guests from Australia, my mother and sister, had arrived and were announcing their presence with the native galah bird-call.

Aussie, Aussie, Aussie

We had travelled down from a week at anchor at Spinalonga lagoon to meet them, and were extremely pleased that they had made the long journey from Australia, via Athens, to our little anchorage in Crete.

Kritsa, a Cretan village

Crete is a long way from the Cyclades islands where we'd been cruising, it is the most southern and eastern point of Greece that we intended to visit. So in that sense, it was 'halfway on our pathway' through Greece. It was the nadir turnaround point. We'd made a long overnight sail to get here, and would make an even longer sail, bucking the prevailing winds to leave. But that's not the point of the title....

A gaggle of galah's?

Crete is not really a sailing destination, its long coastline does not offer much in the way of sheltered bays or protected anchorages. So we indulged in the luxury of a marina berth for 6 nights, and decided to explore Crete by car.

Southern wing of the 'Palace' of Knossos.

First point of call on our circumnavigation was Knossos. By now, Megan and I have seen a great many ancient sites, and are somewhat jaded. However, Knossos was distinctly different in two ways, which created interest for us.

View to central courtyard

Firstly, it was organized around the point, rather than the line. Roman ruins, such as Ephesus in Turkey, and the Forum in Rome are organized around the prototypical street, a straight line. There is a sense of the main promenade, a thoroughfare, a processional axis, that the rest of the town accretes around.

Processional street-like quality of the Forum in Rome

There is often a feeling that grand events, such as an army or an emperor arriving, was accompanied by a processional march through the town. Shops, alleys, public buildings, dwellings all sprout from this main axis. Same idea in Greek ruins, such as Heiropolis atop the travertine pools in Pamukkale. The organization is around the central line,  the street.

Rectalinear organisation of Fastos

Knossos, from the much earlier Minoan civilisation, was organized differently; around a point. The central feature of the ruins both at Knossos and Fastos is a quadrangle. The proto-cities of the Minoan culture appeared more around being somewhere, rather than going somewhere. It may represent an evolution in the meme behind the city, from looking inwards to a center of control, to looking outwards, on the way to somewhere else. From contraction to expansion. Anyway, it makes a good story.

Courtyard structures at Knossos

Pithoi, large Minoan storage containers.

Pithoi, with Megan as scale factor.

 It also lead Arthur Evans, the primary archeologist, to postulate the idea that Minoan culture centered around a Palace, with a ruling monarchy. This lead to speculation that some 'rooms' were the King's or Queen's throne room, along with a whole supposed organizational structure.

The supposed 'Queen Room' at Knossos

A Minoan column?

This led to my second observation regarding Knossos, concerning the way in which archeology has evolved. Knossos has a level of reconstruction that is really the creation of Arthur Evans. It feels like his particular fantasy has literally concretized the interpretation of what Knossos was.

An idealized re-creation of a Minoan column

Faux wood beams have been reconstructed from concrete, walls replastered and columns rebuilt.

The 'Kings Room'

Whole temple edifices have been reconstructed. But is this really how Knossos, or Fastos was organised? Megan, with her historical background, has commented on historiography: the study of the process of recording history. In Evan's time, with wild and exotic stories of ancient civilisations such as Eygpt, it seemed proper to paint the entire picture, fill in the details. But now, in an age more sensitive to nuanced interpretation and detailed examination of data, it feels gross to present the ancient city as Evan's imagined it.

Extreme reconstruction!

A particularly contrived example of reconstruction

Whole temple reconstruction

Original limestone fragment with Evan's imagined container.

It feels like Evan's interpretation has been forced on Knossos for all time, and it feels fake and forced. I prefer later reconstructions, such as Ephesus, that may rebuild fallen structures to 'sketch' what the environment may have been like.  I did enjoy some of the reconstructed Minoan artworks however!

Minoan painting

Reconstructed Minoan painting

 From Knossos, we travelled to Rythimon. We planned to take a photo of Phoenix, the boat belonging to our friends Jennifer and Mathias, so that we could email it to them. We thought they were still in the USA, caring for Mathias' father who had taken ill. It was a great surprise when we found them at home. They had just arrived the previous day.

The photo of Phoenix we thought we'd take

Surprise, look who's home!

High point was the harbour in Chania, on Crete's north eastern shore. This old port was intriguing and full of atmosphere. It was enough just to sit and breath it all in.

The port at Chania

Lighthouse at the port in Chania

Another view of the harbour

Chania also illustrated another layer of Cretan history. Crete was home to the first civilization in Europe, but it has successively been host to Greek, Roman, Byzantine, Venetian and Ottoman invasion. Of these, Chania has superb examples of Venetian architecure from 1205 to 1665. In this time, it was known as the 'Kingdom of Candia'.

Venetian style narrow windows and doors.

More Venetian windows and doors

The dominion of Crete by the Venetians, ceded to it after the partition of Byzantine following the 4th Crusades, exposed it to Renaissance art and architecture. Best known exemplar may have been the artist El Greco. Influences from this period seemed plentiful in the gorgeous architecture around Chania.

Round Venetian columns supporting the building.

From Chania, we travelled down the wild southern coast, through tortuous roads that followed the mountains tumbling into the sea.

Southern coast of Crete

View of the southern coast.

Galah's in the mountains!

We stopped at an old Venetian castle at Fragokastello that had a tale of a battle fought against the Turks. In 1828, it served as a fortification for Epirote chief Hatzimichalis Dalianis. After his death, the Turks blew up the castle, and according to legend, the bodies were never buried. The myth now is that every year on 18th May, the anniversary of the battle,  the "Drosoulites" wake up, and their shadows crawl up the walls of the castle to disappear through the gates of the castle. Who said Cretans weren't superstitious.

Castle Frago, built 1371 AD.

Are there ghosts of past warriors lurking in those shadows?

But the title for our story comes from the town of Spili, in the middle of the southern coast.

Dreaming of higher things?

My mother, bless her cotton socks, is somewhat of a Christian believer, in contrast to the stark atheism of Megan and myself. So I couldn't resist making a jibe on this sign, that gave the directions to the 'Pathway to the Holy Spirit'. It is the kind of spiritual road-map that could only exist in Greece.

And here is the blessed road itself.

Stairway to Heaven?

Our happy seeker, with joy in her heart, prepares for the ascent.

The Pilgrim prepares for the ascent.

So that was our little tour of Crete. Halfway on the pathway?  But do we really know the final destination.....

The village of Spili.