04/08/2012, Kassiopi, Corfu
Saturday
There's something about Kassiopi that keeps drawing us back. There's Vivi and her family at the wonderful Theofilos Apartments (In the Telegraph's top twelve for Corfu - there's an accolade for you: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/travel/hotel/36517/Corfu-hotels.html), of course, who convinced us years ago that there is no place like the Ionian and no place in the Ionian like Corfu. Then there's the harbour which, although it provides limited shelter, means the cooling breeze is as good as being at anchor but with all the advantages of stepping straight ashore.
There are the views from the castle and the sunset on the walk around the headland. There's the variety of restaurants so if you want quality dining, traditional Greek or pie and chips it's yours. It can be pretty noisy, of course, but the fact that we always feel like we're on holiday here ourselves means we tend to join in the hubbub.
You could do a lot worse than Kassiopi and, no, this is not an advert or tourist information. It's what we like. Don't just take our word for it, though. Ask Helena Bonham Carter and Tim Burton who we spotted here last night. Yes, really.
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01/08/2012, Kassiopi
Wednesday
After dithering around in Vroulias Bay waiting for non-existent wind to materialise, the skipper's frustration gathers.
A HUGE catamaran with fenders dangling approaches.
"He won't be able to get in there."
"There's another catamaran coming OUT!"
"If he gets in there we won't stand a chance."
Skipper takes over the helm. Engine revs go up from 1500 to 2000.
"He's still eating up the land. He's racing us!"
Engine revs go up to 2500.
"He's definitely racing us."
"He's French. He'll give up."
Catamaran flying French flag forces way into harbour ahead of us taking up three spaces. We manage to squeeze into the last (least protected) spot on the breakwater next to him.
"Bonjour."
Bemused expressions on faces of catamaran crew.
"Well, if I'd know he was Italian...."
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it sounds as though you are having a hard time of it , not knowing where to park you boat.
31/07/2012, Vroulias
Wednesday
The wind that had been forecast for so many days finally arrived on Monday. A constant, hot blast of air from the land, it felt like we were sitting in front of a fan heater on full, something we really didn't need with temperatures in the upper thirties. The setting of the sun did little to relieve the stifling atmosphere particularly down in the cabins which seemed to radiate with a dry heat that took the breath away. It was well after 3am before the boat had cooled down enough to sleep below deck. All this and dragging anchors, too, but thankfully not ours.
Our original plan was to head for Kassiopi today but the weather forecast remained changeable although with decreasing winds. Instead we headed for the large open bay of Vroulias just around the corner from Kassiopi to assess just how settled the weather was actually going to be. Much as we love Kassiopi, our experience last year of the harbour becoming untenable has left us very wary of going in there unless conditions are perfect (see 'The Domino Effect' 27/06/2011).
In Vroulias the largely unprotected bay was allowing the wind to come in straight from the sea. Bliss! It was only about a force 4 and it was cool! We're also the only occupied boat in the bay and, so far, there's been no music blaring out from either of the tavernas. As the wind died down the swell became much more apparent. Not just the bow waves from the ferries but a persistent rolling motion from the disturbed channel beyond the bay.
This morning we await weather developments. One forecaster is predicting a force 5 from the east (not a good direction for Kassiopi) so we'll wait to see if that materialises or not before lifting the anchor. There are clouds and a possibility of rain, even a thunderstorm, apparently. In the meantime we'll enjoy the cool and the quiet. The only sounds here at this time of the day (9am) are the waves rolling the stones on the shore and the dog who barks at passing cars.
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29/07/2012, Kalami
Sunday
After spending just the one night in Corfu town we are now back in Kalami. As in every bay we've visited since coming up to the northern Ionian there is a single bar blaring out amplified music into the early hours. I suppose it must attract the customers or they wouldn't do it but it really does wreck the sleepy village atmosphere of these places. Even with the road noise and airport Corfu town was quiet in comparison. Having said that, Kalami remains a pretty, almost idyllic, spot.
After gradually toping up the water tanks, Himself decreed that I could do one bucket load of washing, rinsing only once. So I now have clean underwear and sweet-smelling bed linen. The sheet survived.
The perished gas hose proved to be a red herring and it was actually the cylinder that was leaking. Luckily we had a spare so a normal cooking service has resumed.
After several days of more humane temperatures, even a bit of cloud at times, someone has turned the thermostat up again. We spend our days trying to stay cool with a combination of swimming and ice cream (me) / Mythos (Neil). We swim to the beach (quite an achievement for my exercise-starved limbs) and sit in the shallows with the land based holiday makers.
The force 5's that have been forecast for the last 4 days have failed to materialise but with a force 6 pending for tomorrow we will remain here to sit that out before heading for the settled weather harbour of Kassiopi. Let's hope it really is settled.
And finally, for those wanting to know these things, yes, the exhibitionist in Corfu town was still there, all blue ensign and anchor ball but no knickers. And to prove me wrong and show I shouldn't make sweeping statements, Kalami has revealed (in all his glory) the first Italian nudist we've seen in two years. For some reason, however, he merely swam in the buff (to make sure all the families on the beach had a good view, presumably) and put his swim shorts back on in the cockpit. Oh, yes, we could clearly see all. The Italians don't mind being up close and personal when they anchor. Oops - another sweeping statement.
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as why they have then s loud , I think the plain is to sto people from sleeping so they go off to the bars
27/07/2012, Corfu Town
Friday
With a bit of wind forecast and rapidly running out of water, we left Corfu town and headed for Kalami. The plan was to go via Gouvia marina, top up the fuel tank and, incidentally of course, the water tanks as well. Although Basil Fawlty's sister was happy for us to refuel, she switched off the water hose mid flow to hurry us out of the way for the big mobo and his thirsty tanks. Bet he gets enough water to wash his windows. Thankfully, the excellent White House tavern at Kalami let us fill our jerry cans and top up a bit at a time.
Kalami is one of our favourite anchorages. A beautiful, deep water bay with a blue flag beach, four tavernas, two bars and a few shops (the best bread rolls in Greece), it is also somewhere those in the know come back to for their summer holiday year after year. We'd have been happy to linger there ourselves until the weather settled into something suitable for Kassiopi.
Our plans were thwarted again when I got the occasional whiff of something unpleasant. Naturally, I initially blamed Neil - well, he has developed some rather scuzzy habits this summer - then his towel, crispy and unwashed (a bit like its owner). When neither of them proved to be the source, of that particular pong at least, it finally dawned on me I was smelling gas.
Inspection of the gas bottle revealed a perished rubber hose making cooking that night impossible :) and a return trip to the gas shop in Corfu town a necessity. So here we are again. And very nice it is, too.
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24/07/2012, Corfu Town
Tuesday
There's a hole in my sheet. Worn tissue paper thin, unwashed and decidedly smelly it, never-the-less, remains in situ. For over three years now it has been laundered first thing in the morning, dried in the sun and wind then returned to the bed at night. It has given noble service.
Of course, we should have done something about it sooner. One to wash and one to wear is hardly extravagant. But, you see, it's custom made, fitted to the peculiar shape of a forecabin. Wider at one end than a King Size, narrower than a crib at the other it is beyond my needlework skills (the most loathed subject on the school timetable - well, after PE) to replace myself. Most live-aboards would be pretty disgusted at my ineptitude, most women my age I should think.
So there the holey sheet remains. I will attempt to wash it, most delicately, by hand, when we have a ready supply of water and are enough away from neighbours for the spectacle of it hanging from the Genoa to spare my blushes. Oh, the embarrassment.
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