Well, we made it to the mainland. The Peloponnese is 3 peninsulas, kind of like 3 teats on an udder. We made it to the middle teat day before yesterday. The day before that we did 50 nm just to get to the west end of Crete. I cut the dock lines from the inner harbor of Rethinon on Crete around 0630 (with Ruth's help) and mostly motored all morning. By the afternoon a nor'wester filled in and we beat our way to the point where we could crack off. As soon as we cracked off for the downhill slide to our anchorage, the wind died! So the motor came back on. The anchorage was spectacular. The rock formations. It was only about 6-8 meters deep all around. One big table top. Except near a point where it got to 1-2 meters. If it hadn't been for Will looking down and saying "Hey, Papa, I can see the bottom." we mighta run aground!! I dunno. All I know was that my depth meter was losing altitude quickly. We got to 1.1 meter (4') under the keel before I was able to get it to turn around.

The next day we awoke to a 9-10k easterly and got out of the anchorage around 0630 again (again, with Ruth's help on the anchor). I set the kite single-handedly while Ruth was down below and Will was sleeping. It was a close reach, so we were on our side. We were pulling 8 - 9 knots consistently, but Ruth wasn't doing so well. She curled up on the cabin top under the dodger and laid down to wait it out. We cranked out so many miles that we sailed past our intended anchorage when we got there at 1400, and Will and I decided to just keep on going to the mainland -- another 30 nm beyond. By that time the wind had clocked to the SE and we were broad reaching and Ruth had regained her composure. But an hour or two after we decided to "go for it", the wind died and we ended up motoring the rest of the way. We found a nice, natural, protected harbor and set the hook about 12 hours after we started. We did about 73 nm in 12 hours. Not a bad run. Since last fall we were only used to going 30-35 nm each day, these last 2 days showed that if we needed to, we could track some miles. I am anxious to make up for some lost time and 'see' the Med -- see it as best as one can in the 6 months that he has; which isn't really 'seeing' it at all! But that is what we got to work with.

Another bonus was the 30-35# "tuna" we caught before we reached the mainland. Not sure what it is -- chime in if ya know. But tuna is "chicken of the sea" -- all the bigger fish that we catch are one form of tuna or another (at least, in my book). So now we have dinner fixings for awhile and I can puff out my chest as "the great provider" for my family! Actually, the tuna fish sandwiches we had yesterday (leftovers from the night before) were the best tuna fish sandwiches I think I have ever tasted!

The next day (yesterday) we left anchorage later. After the long day the day before, I let Will sleep in. Finally, at 0830 (!!!) I couldn't take it anymore and fired up the engine. Will emerged from his room at about the same time and helped with the anchor. We turned the corner on the anchorage and were greeted with a 20k NE! Yikes. No problem: the first 3 miles were downwind before we had to turn the point of one of the teats and head into one of the bays. But I wondered about the next 50 miles after that -- would they be upwind? We got around the point none too soon under a reefed main and the motor and started up the bay for Kalamata -- olive capital of the world -- about 50 nm into the bay.

I figured being in the lee of the shore would provide some protection; plus there wouldn't be any fetch to build waves up. I was right about the waves, but there is no such thing as a "lee" in Greece. The back side of these hills/mountains is merely a runway for the winds to build up momentum before they hit the water! Fortunately we were far enough off of shore not to get the worst of it. But it was still nasty. After breakfast we hung out a double-reefed jib to go with the single-reefed main and were doing 7's and 8's on a screaming reach.

Then we hit a gap in the mountains and the wind piped up from 0k to 20-30k with gusts to 35k. Just like that. One moment we are motorsailing under a full jib and the reefed main, and the next we are pinned on our ear in a full gale. But this time it was a full reach and I just left it all alone to see what would happen. What happened was that the boat started ripping along at over 9 knots sustained! It was a wild ride. And to see the wall of water that can be pushed by a 20,000# boat going over 9k is really something! But I knew it was pushing the boat hard and I didn't want to do that for too long to our home, so we backed off after about 15 min. But for those 15 min., Will and I had these big shit-eating grins from ear to ear!! We were totally out of control and loving every minute of it! Ruth didn't seem to care. She was down below with her head stuck in the oven crying "Hail Mary" every few minutes, so she had no idea what was going on up above!! Our knot meter pegged out at 10.6k top speed, so that was cool -- getting into double digits.

After we passed the gap, the wind abated a bit and came more from the stern. We riding these big rollers and Ruth popped her head out of the companionway to let Will and I know she had delayed her decision to commit suicide. So that wind continued for another hour or so until I got this great idea that we could fly a spinnaker. Now talk about a bonehead move! I mean, the wind has been clocking from 575 different directions all day and I somehow magically figure out we can carry a spinnaker for more than 23 seconds! But up I bounded on to the foredeck to set the kite. But not before I tripped over one of the lines holding the dinghy down. That resulted in me leaving a sizeable chunk of my left foot and leg on the non-skid -- the sailing equivalent of a raspberry. No blood developed (yet), so I just peeled off the layers of skin, mumbled a few expletives to no one in particular, and continued with my mission.

Life was good after that...for a few seconds. Then in the middle of our Scrabble game the spinnaker starts looking "funny". I run up forward to find out why and discover that we are in the middle of a 180 degree wind shift. We perform what I affectionately refer to as "the modified inside gybe". Normally when we gybe, we bring the spinnaker around forward of the forestay. But not this time. On no. This time we just tack the dang thing like it was a jib -- the sail comes across between the forestay and the mast and fills out on the other side of the boat. Will has the old sheet and is hanging onto it while I clear the other sheet and hook it onto the sail so we can sail like regular morons instead of American morons!

We get that mess all sorted out, get back to our Scrabble game, and another 5 minutes -- and 3 wind shifts -- later, I am saying "to hell with it" and dousing the friggin' kite. What a mess. We spent the next 2-3 hours doing some form of sailing, I am not sure what or which. The wind kept shifting all around. It wasn't like there was no wind. We were getting 10k. It is just that we were getting 10k from 5 different directions in the space of 5 minutes so we didn't know what to do next! Finally, totally exasperated, I admitted defeat, furled the jib, fired up the "iron genoa" and headed for Kalamata (which in itself required a significant altering of our course since by this time we had spun so many circles we didn't know where our next port actually was!!

We arrived in Kalamata -- olive capital of the world -- around 5-ish. There is a marina there, but I am too cheap to want to spend money at a marina. Besides, I have spent enough time in marinas the past few months that I am just fine on the hook. So we motored over to the commercial harbor. This harbor is used by the fishermen and freighters (one of which arrived at the same time as we did and is anchored off waiting his or her turn.) The outer harbor is similarly walled and protected but we couldn't figure out where to Med-tie or anything so we dropped the anchor in the middle. I figure it is easier to ask for forgiveness than permission and I figure someone will come and tell us to move when they want us to leave. In the meantime we have a prime-time location where we can go ashore to take check out (in no particular order): Yanmar mechanic, groceries, laundry, water, showers, and limestone (as part of Will's Chemistry lesson).