Travel diary. Sailing through the Aegean Islands.

Sailing between these mostly unknown islands.

 

26th May 2004. Athens - Paros
With an Alitalia flight sponsored by Gino arrival in Athens in the late morning. A strong wind blows from the north and the plane bounce and fluctuates in landing, so you clean some molesta imagination. The new Athens airport is about forty kilometers from the city, but because of the ongoing work on the Olympics bus takes over an hour and a half to get to Piraeus. The state of progress of works and sports street we would say that in less than three months (the Olympic Games begin August 15) nothing is finished. But I bet that these Greeks I will win the bet.
Embarkation at Piraeus with the semi-fast vessel occurs at 17.30. Assist with nice attention to the parade of islands held in front of me. The Cyclades! How many times this name fascinated me in the past without having ever seen! Only available in the Aegean, that the very name evokes, it made me think of pearls as a necklace. And the ideal center of the circle is Delos, the island sacred to Apollo and Diana. Despite all our wanderings among these pieces of land I have not yet visited Delos, it prevents me almost a reverential fear for his pagan sacredness.
I telephoned to Mary Aliprandis, my "Hotels" Naousa of communicating the time of arrival. He said that would be coming to take me in Parikia, the port, with his car. Really nice, especially since arriving at 22 with almost an hour late.
The room that I spent is the same employed by Isabella and Marcus last year. Small, friendly and inexpensive enough dear. But mostly you will find here the smell of the sea carried by the wind of the north always tense, here in the Aegean. Naousa is deserted. In this time of the tourist season has not yet begun. Ceno lonely in my old tavern in the port. It's cold and you are good inside.
Then to bed. Tomorrow I expect a boat to work.

May, 27th. Naousa (Paros)
I wake up and again before you open your eyes I feel the breath of the reed Meltemi. The sea is sparkling in small, short waves that make it unattractive. After a year of separation I feel I have little "Marine". I need to take back possession of the boat and the salt.
With a rental car taken by Mary, who is a sort of factotum, organize an fro between Monastiri Naousa and Gattadapelare where I waited for so long. Port on board luggage and carry-over laundry to wash. This year I will wash all the coperteche expect this event for several years. Mary, you always, has offered to do it with your washing machine. A real wealth of opportunities that Mary Romanian-born Greek by marriage, married with a daughter in Italy and another in Athens. Always cheerful and helpful as can often be the only fat people.
Of course, the engine of a tender left Janni for repair is not ready. Spare parts brought from Rome are not enough. After a year of e-mail correspondence and repeated assurances that everything would be OK for my return Janni has not done anything. But this is Greece, you do.
The boat is rather untidy. It is now ten years that has left its berth on the Tiber and was able to devote no more than four to five days of maintenance every year. Would need a good face lift inside and outside and some serious intervention electrical. I may, however, only a minimum guarantee of security and reliability.

May, 28th. Naousa.
A day like yesterday dedicated to the work. I continue to take dirty linens to Mary and reporting to clean. Among the extraordinary purchases, there is a new battery. The wind is always tense.

May, 29th. Naousa.
Now waiting for Gino to launch Gattadapelare. I continue to put in place what I can. The avvolgifiocco is blocked again and I have to disassemble the mechanism. But now I know how it works. I mounted the bilge pump that I had brought from Rome to proofread calmly.
The sea is still rough and not very inviting.


May, 30th. Naousa.
I asked Petrus, the owner of "karnaio" to launch the boat tomorrow. Impossible, he said. Tomorrow and the day after are days of great celebration and no one does not work. We have to wait. But not all the setbacks were completely negative. We leave for the cruise two days in June so that the "girls", Elke and Gerlinde, have time to visit Naousa.
In the evening arrive Titti and Alfredo. But it does not meet until tomorrow. Gino arrives by ferry of the evening I'm going to take in Parikia with Maria (even her) with his car. I'm happy to revise my companion in adventures and explorations. A few weeks ago we were guests in Barcelona for a weekend. A fresh memory, which has helped to make even stronger our friendship. Dinner at the port and goes to sleep. Tomorrow, give the room to the "girls" and then withdraw to sleep inside Gatta.


May, 31st. Naousa.
Gino do with the final preparations. Purchase a second battery. I want to stay tranquilcon putting the engine. It's part of my nightmares sailors imagine that the engine does not start at a time of emergency. It 'true that courses in the Center of Caprera Velico have done all the maneuvers in all weather condition and only ever to sail, but we were always at least four well-trained crew. With Gattadapelare much more demanding of the school Dehler, are never in sufficient numbers to operate safely in conditions of emergency. So long live the engine and shame the devil.
Meet the "cuginastra" Titti and Alfredo who are "fallen" in a hotel in Naousa high.
The day spent on the beach of sunbeds Monastiri. And 'this very pleasant spot, well sheltered from the wind (which today has dropped in intensity) and a nice restaurant run by Claudio, a Neapolitan radicatosi here. Claudio Although we already know how to park guests, (and only ever eat Greek salad) welcomes us with the usual Southern heat.
Mary lends her car to collect and Elke Gerlinde arriving at the port of Parikia. Arriving by ferry in 21.30. Dinner with all the usual tavern Naousa harbor and then to bed. Gattadapelare us, Gino and I, in its stable position on the ground.


1st June 2004... Naousa.
Today it launches. While the "girls" take the sun on the beach Gattadapelare slips, lying on the sled of the yard, in blue and calm sea. The wind is totally absent, just as like the "girls". This is not the first time their arrival Poseidon makes this gift.
In the afternoon take the boat to all'attracco Naousa. Are placed close to Janni and there
we wander through streets of Naousa up at dinner.

2nd June. Naousa-Antikaros. 23 miles.
Finalmente si parte! Cambusa we did in preparation for a picnic on the beach of Antikaros. Fish to do the fire and moonlight. Our crew is composed of four members: the famous "girls" (Woe to call otherwise) Gino and myself. Titti and Alfredo Amorgos to reach us by ferry. Emerge from the bay of Naousa with weak wind which strengthens slightly in the channel between Paros and Naxos. We aim straight at the temple of Dionysus, which is situated on an artificial peninsula in the north of the port of Naxos. The channel at this point is six miles wide and the wind to favor us, comes from the north. It shall, therefore, to reach to below the temple and then go down along the west coast. At the close, the wind is stronger now comes from the south-west. He is hauled large, almost abeam and proceed without stress. The sea is moved every time we cross the channel between the islands that form a small archipelago here, but the waves are low and not cause any discomfort.
We leave the island of Karos on our left, we see at the bottom and double Koufonisia the southern tip of Antikaros. In this way we enter the narrow channel between the island and an island that faces east. We fund the still being careful with the chain length: not short dispatch that not too much that will take us on the rocks when fortunale. And 'the third time that still here. The first time with Marzia, four years ago we passed an adventurous night of time attentive to every gust of wind that pushed us to the sides of the channel. Even last year, with Gino, put a second afforcata yet. But perhaps our precautions were always exaggerated, and the current keeps the boat in the middle. Freddino ago and it is windy. Renounce to descend on the beach and we arranged with the grill on the stern. The wind turns the charcoal as a source. A trail of sparks like the tail of a comet, is moving away from Gattadapelare and disperses in the looming darkness that is now swallowing the mountains of Amorgos Savonarola toward the south ..
Dinner made by the light of a lamp oil and a tasty and certainly exceptional. We are the only guests at these places, except that the fisherman, we know, he lives on top of the hill. The sky is full of stars, the absolute silence. Tomorrow will show the "girls" the house of the French. They have heard so much talk that the expectation is high. It is vaguely sees the cliff, not far from us, and melancnonica abandoned.

3rd June. Antikaros - Amorgos. 6 miles
Descend to earth and visit the house. Now the signs of degradation are more evident and the state of stability is compromised. We enter with caution in empty rooms, where, however, we find traces of recent visitors, perhaps Spanish or French who have stayed. Our imagination is on. Perhaps the heirs of the old misanthropy have returned to visit the property or perhaps they are tourists here for alternative capitati case. They left some notes in French and Spanish in a book that Gino requisitioned for itself. The aura of mystery that surrounds this building and the owner accompanies us throughout the visit. We are curious to know more, but we do not know who to ask if not to the scattered remains of the works for a stay more comfortable and things abandoned. Here the wing to slide, with another boat on rough scrostata and that seems about to fall into the sea, beyond the scaffolding that supports the photovoltaic cells. Inside a rusted hand pump for water intake to the complaint softness of city life.
We move on the beach that the current format has sull'isolotto face and spend some 'time to swim and enjoy this spectacle of land and water conscious of the uniqueness of this day.
Comes a German boat in the Strait free passes between the island and small island where we had felt was too low for Gattadapelare. We were wrong because we had also mentioned not to continue. So we learned that the switch is free and will keep them at the next opportunity. If there will be.
Around 11 head and let Antikaros on Amorgos. Weak wind from the south-east, the sea calm, the transfer is nice. Moored in Katapola and we now look for a scooter to get to the monastery of Chozoviòtissa before the meeting closes with Titti and Alfredo case by case basis. They arrived the day before the ferry back to Paros and instead continue to Astypalea. Too difficult to reach this island which is connected with the Dodecanese better than with the Cyclades. We salute without reciprocal commitments to review and go up to Chora, the small capital of this island. We walk in the white silence of lonely streets in search of ancient tracks. The imagination helps us to transform the severe church perched on what was the acropolis in the Temple of Athena drawn. From here the goddess had a wide view over the sea to the west, towards the city dedicated to her. She confidently turned the ancient inhabitants of this and other islands in times of discouragement Today on the opposite side of the mountain another look at the temple from the blue Aegean, another woman of God has conquered the hearts of these Amorgos residents choosing which place to retreat to anger escaping the iconoclasts who wanted to destroy his image.
The scene that opens once the watershed is again amazing. The coast, high and steep, down to three hundred meters before incontare the "deep blue". Not by chance is there that was shot on film of the same name. The sun reflecting off the sea that seem endless if it were not for the profiles of ITALY and distant islands of Astypalea, Anafi, Ios and Santorini from east to west close this immensity that breeze caresses drawing above lunate ripples in slow motion.
Let motorcycle climb the thousand steps (which are not: ah! These guidebooks!) To reach the monastery. But our girls are not dressed appropriately and not let us enter. Gino little bad for me and for that we have already visited the holy place, but our companions there are some 'bad. As we rest, sitting lazily on a wall overlooking the sea that leaves its transparency to see three hundred meters below, a pope comes out of the low solid wood door that closes and protects the entry and offrendomi aromatico pretext seized a twig for 'attacking us during the speech. It almost seems like a hermit with his long beard and his black cassock maculata old dirt. E 'una figura dry and hieratic, which gives the feeling of being almost in the odor of sanctity, but it certainly smells of goat. Without ever addressing the Lord tells us to be Ukrainian and living here twenty-seven years. It also indicates where the "modern" toilet. I am Turkish, no water and are usually frequented by goats that spread throughout their olives dung. The intention is good, but the aim is lacking.
Returning to Katapola Chora we stop to buy the bread to dry typical of these places very suitable for stropicciarci over the tomato and be eaten in the boat while the vessel seasoned with olive oil and garlic .. A variant of crunchy panzanella locally and equally tasty.
Dinner at a small tavern and you go to the couch.

4th June. Amorgos - Astypalea. 55 miles.
The alarm clock is a little 'sharp. The boat next to us leaves considerable confusion and difficulty, forcing us to have it at arms distance. Having freed the anchor that has engaged our chain, finally takes off and allows us to go and have breakfast at the cafe in the port.
Today you go to Astypalea, Stampalia of the Venetian, the first, west of the Dodecanese, near exclusion, occhieggiante in Rhodes, ignored by the sisters closer to the ideal center of the Aegean, on Delos.
Mollar mooring in almost no wind (we are protected by the mountains that block from the south-west) decided to dub the western tip of Amorgos and then point to the south-east. Just outside the wind from Amorgos and strengthens us to reef the mainsail and genoa. Also now more clearly comes from the south and on the first head Gino Santorini on a goal that seems more secure and easily accessible in case of the wind bracing. But at dell'aspra island Anidros (l ' "Dry") return to Astypalea consider as our final goal, and virando, change the board. The wind, meanwhile, has decreased in intensity, so, when towards sunset, we arrive at the coast of the island is completely absent. The Chora of Astypalea, also dominated like that of Patmos from the gray mass of a fortress, stands in front of a sun king descends.
There is a real port, just a pier for the arrival of the ferry which is already occupied by the side of a sailboat. Berths around the corner holding rather loose and away from the building because there is a strong undertow that makes our dance Gattadapelare.
Meanwhile we reached with Veronica Santiago. I think it is necessary to present these two new characters who suddenly appear in the diary of this day, Veronica is a friend of Gino Anafi who want to visit and take advantage of our passing. The meeting is not, therefore, random and was organized by our coming first in Greece and preceded by a few phone calls organizzative. Santiago, however, a random encounter at Veronica. All together, there we go to dinner at a local beach. Above us, clinging to the crest of the mountain, the village, the Chora, the white in the dark incipiente.

5th June. Astypalea.
The night is spent tossed by the backwash that has been increasing with each passing hour. The other boat is in an awkward position; moored to English salt and falls at the edge of the quay by the fenders squeak about to burst with every wave. When the situation becomes untenable we see them starting to go towards a group of islands a couple of miles upwind. We are protected by the pier, with two peaks on the ground and anchored downwind. Dance a lot, but there are problems with friction. With some acrobatics, admirable especially in women crew descend to earth to go and explore the island. With an off-road rental go to the country and take a path that shows us that Veronica and will lead us towards an isolated beach. Shortly after the asphalt gives way to hard and let us wrap from the bucolic and pastoral. The steep terrain around us and gliding towards the sea are bare. What the ancient Greeks called "the canteen of the gods" today a vegetation of low thorny bushes and bearings, oregano and other herbs. The sides of the mountains are cut by ravines whose longitudinal modest coolness oleanders bloom. The color of the flowers stands out as the carmine lips opened up, the smile, the beauty of the place. The air is scented with the sun and the Mediterranean, full of buzzing bees and the sound of the bells of the goats that we observe from a distance with their eyes disturbing and suspicious. When we come to the beach, pebble and shaded by tamarisk sparse, there are a couple of tourists who, like us, have gone so far in search of serene atmosphere.
Later it goes back to Chora for a visit to the castle of the Querini diruto that signoreggiarono here for three hundred years. The castle is closed and will remain standing just outside the walls. From the crest of the country, dominated by the ruins of five windmills, there is the underlying group of houses that make up Skala, and our boat that all'attracco waves. It seems safe, but when we return from far away that one of the mooring rope was broken and Gatta, bound and dall'ancora survivor from the top of the stern, it was close to shore. The motion of the backwash is increased and the position became untenable. We run to save our boat. Gino on this occasion also, like many others before him, sacrificed to Neptune on his cellphone. Needless to diving and recovery of the instrument.
On the advice of the locals decided to find a shelter set Maltesana, a cove with a couple of miles further east. While the "girls" are on track Gino in the car and I left the pier and face a well-trained mare to find shelter for some small islands and the coast, with two rocky propaggini spans the set.
Berths at a pier almost all occupied by local fishing boats and a sloop flying a French flag. For caution before moor from English filiamo twenty meters of a little 'outside in order to secure an escape route in case of the wind, changing direction, it pushes against the pier.
Cala Maltesana offers a good shelter and can be considered the only docking Astypalea quiet, at least among those coming to the homes. The bay on the bottom has a long sandy beach with some houses. There is a real country, but inland buildings become more dense and there is also a grocery store. To go to Chora, which is eight kilometers, we use the machine with which the "girls" we have now reached. The road winds along the north coast by climbing and descending the hills to the sea. Not encounter any traffic. The island is shaped like a butterfly and as close to the coast are a few hundred meters. In the village we take a coffee in a nice room where the owner is a 'landed on the Italian case some years earlier to Astypalea and remained here for his choice of life.
We return to our base and we eat them in the tavern of the place run by a nice fat Greek and enterprising.

Spends the night quiet, very different than last. The backwash does not enter into the set and we fell asleep listening to the slight lapping sea which is imprisoned between the boat and the pier.

6th June. Anafi - Astypalea. 34 miles.
The French, well informed, we are announcing sea force 6-7 and 15-20 knots of wind. Gino offers to return the car to where we Skala with Gattadapelare on board. At Maltesana haul from the sea is a much less form of the past and we are more optimistic forecasts. Anafi to know that we will not find more than a little behind and protected with waves from the west will be difficult to maintain the mooring. The alternative is to continue for another 15 miles to Santorini where in recent years has been realized, finally, a marina. But we would not want to lose the landing Anafi. We are curious to know just touched by this alternative tourism, occasionally reached by ferries and sparsely populated. For everyone, and especially to Veronica, not able to visit this island that carries within it the charm of a millenarian fantasy would be a cause of bitter regret that a cruise until now satisfying all the expectations that we had made during previous months.
Gino are awaiting us on the pier with two bags of supplies. He bought, he says, even the best weather forecast: four sea and wind at 10 knots. With this information, encouraging the take off and head west.
After a few hours of quiet navigation Anafi behold, the 'enlightened'! Us away from showing up in a cape that night of the storm appeared in the light of a flash, the Argonauts spent yearning for a landing.
On the ridge of the mountain, just before the crest, a white shrine seems ready to slide on the steep side of the mountain and dive into the sea.
Hours motor sailing along the southern side of the island and reach, finally, a cove protected from the west and an artificial reef with a short and high pier suitable only suitable for the berthing of ferries. There is no possibility of mooring ground. Filiamo anchor "appennellata", that is enriched by a second iron to two meters from the main chain. There is a 'wave that comes around the tip of the cliff and we do not want to take risks in case of worsening of the time. Basically all'insenatura indeed little deeper, there are a few houses and a tavern. Descend to earth with the tender .. The engine is out and it is necessary to counter the force of the wind rowed vigorously.
For Anafi is a public service that connects the inevitable Skala, the village to the sea, with the usual Chora, the village at the top. E 'represented by a bus that climbs up bends unprotected and that seems suspended in air, Below us the line of the coast, the houses, our boat depart every curva.Il travel is short and ends on a open space just outside the first houses in the country. Skala is not great, a short road leads to a lookout closed between the remains of a windmill and a church. We meet a few people. The view is wonderful. Around us the immensity of the sea is interrupted only by the profile of some islands and the distant line of Santorini that is .... miles. Gattadapelare view here seems to be small and abandoned in the bay. Along the way the country is facing a couple of small shops and a couple of tavernas. On the veranda of one of these dinner with lots of small portions of those tasty foods that are characteristic of the eastern Mediterranean cuisine while in front of us and the sea is shown in its blue grandeur. The hostess is friendly and cheap dinner. At the end gives us a jar of honey uncontaminated.
Phone call to the driver who led us into the country to bring us back to Skala town by bus. But things go here otherwise. In a small community the concept of public is confused with that of the staff. At 23 past leaves us on the dock without going further compensation.
Anafi, stay in our memories as a strip of land out of time; world away from that which is worked up in our lives, forgotten island of humanity in which relations between men are still not built solely on convenience.
Gattadapelare us to the wheel, as a hospitable home living. ready to resting using the damped waves arriving from the cliff that protects the small bay from the west. But aboard the boat we find that receives the waves and the transverse rollers annoying. We then an anchor at the stern to force the hull to remain aligned with the direction of the sea and pitching moderately.

7th June. Anafi - Santorini. 25 miglia

The weather remains beautiful. Moderate wind and sea. We do breakfast on the ground. We are the only guests at the bar / tavern. When dispatched to the still head to Santorini we are torn by conflicting feelings. The excitement of reaching the island more beautiful and mysterious Aegean is mixed with nostalgia for the small and unknown Anafi slowly away behind our stern.
The French set Maltesana we confirmed that Santorini was made a navy. We know roughly where you are and so head to the south-west of the large brackets of land that constitutes the island.
Santorini mysterious and legendary. Perhaps the mythical Atlantis mentioned by Plato. Perhaps because of the disappearance of the Minoan civilization. Certainly the apocalyptic explosion of the volcano not passed unnoticed by the inhabitants to the peoples of the Mediterranean shores. 3500 years ago. The giant waves, high more than sixty meters, swept the island and destroyed the villages and cities, ports and campaigns that overlooked the sea.
Let's look closer to the coast and with it the signs of a holiday that stone for its emptiness with the drama of distant events that have shaped the island and living in our expectations for demanding travelers.
The marina, which arrive in the early afternoon, after a navigation quiet, takes the form of a circular crater. A happy solution that blends in and draws the geological configuration of the landscape. We do not find large crowds of boats. Most of them are represented by small vessels and fishing boats. Moored in complete tranquility of the wind and descend to the ground. Except me, who are here for the second time, my traveling companions are eager to go and discover this island they both felt. We find an inn on the coast just above the marina and a telephone to obtain a car rental.
Oia is one of the countries of Santorini. Along with that Thira is the capital if they are clinging to the edge of what was the crater of the volcano. The houses, small, white, devices in the sun in the afternoon if they are poised sull'abisso. Three hundred meters below the sea there. It occupies the cavity left by the mountain, inside emptied by leakage of lava, collapsed and sank to hundreds of meters into the depths of the Aegean. The panorama before us, while walking slowly through streets of Oia, is a beauty that leaves stunned. The remains of the crater formed in front of us another island, Thirasia, to the west that seeks to enclose the basin of the indigo-blue sea. Almost at the center of the circle of black earth and the rock of flint Neo Kammen points out, with its funnel, the god of the forge is still on.
At the end of the country the land. Several people gathered here, sitting on walls or tables of the bar and expect the sun dissolve In water.
We go back to Thira drive along the western side of that, gentle slope, allowing the pursuit of agriculture and settlements infrastructure. The road cuts the foot of the mountain that was incurred by the overlap in different periods of lava and ash, so that the colors of the earth changes from gray to red, from black to greenish as in a messy palette of a painter titanic.
The streets of Thira are those of any country where mass tourism has killed the spontaneity of the people. We are the very antithesis of sincerity or of Anafi Astypalea. Stores, shops, follow each other by exposing all the same things: souvenirs, postcards, costume jewelry, scarves. We could be in Taormina, or Capri or Mykonos, or Portofino or elsewhere where you will find the summer holiday and we do not notice the difference. We must go out by the appearance on the streets and landscape of this island to experience a feeling of great astonishment, a motion that we marvel sacred silence. The same feeling proven before the Great Canjon or in the face of the rocks of Monument Valley.
The evening was windy and cool. Eat in a restaurant with a view and we return to base. The ladies at the hotel, Gino and I in the boat. Veronica leaves us tomorrow

8th June. Santorini.

The ruins of Akrotiri, the Cycladic buried Pompeii by the eruption that pulverized the ancient island, is protected by a corrugated tin roof and look more at a subway construction site than an archaeological site. But it is fascinating just for the sake of their preservation. The set is chaotic and disturbed by the physical security of the artefacts. The famous frescoes that were found are in the city museum. Before coming here we accompanied Veronica at the airport. It 'been a good traveling companion, cheerful and adaptable. It 'the first sign that our cruise is changing. The "girls" no longer continue the journey. After taking the way back from there flying Vienna and Rome. Gino and I have to face three days of sailing with the wind against. But this was to be expected between now and the wind direction is back to normal is, that is, from the north and for days has expired from the south-west, impede, rather, the case that we have done so far.
Spend the hours of the morning walking through the alleys of the village and visiting the two museums of Thira. The exhibits are few, but beautiful and interesting. Especially the frescoes of the blue monkeys and fisherman. The figures are affecting lives and for their modernity. The style is the same as those found in Crete in building cross: body slender, slender vine, and girls have hair on the neck wound and malicious falling in curls on his forehead.
Find an apartment in the center of the village overlooking the caldera. The price is moderate, and we are excited about the panoramic terrace, just for us. Seated at a table with a glass of iced uzo in hand, waiting for the sunset with enchanted eyes. Remain silent while the stupid light in the twilight. Around us, from the terraces near and far, above and below ours, we live moments of encounter and reflection, joy and melancholy, of celebration. The magnificent landscape created by each of those states of mind. Santorini will remain an indelible memory.
Then, the prosaic and reemerges overbearing end the evening with a "trunks" of spaghetti with tuna sponsored by Gerlinde.
Comes time for greetings. Our cruise continues, but the "girls" are being abandoned on this island. Maybe one day our pilgrimage to the Aegean will be the subject of an epic drop and this will be sung by a future Homer. Perhaps here too, as Naxos, built a temple in memory of the incident.
Departing by car to our boat we have, however, the feeling that the "girls" were not so unhappy to remain.

9th june. Santorini - Folegrandos 22 miglia

We start to the 10th Wind from the north, initially moderate, but almost bow. And 'our intention, once dubbed the southern tip of the island, entering the caldera and go under the house of the lord. A small deviation which we must give up because the wind strengthens significantly, and we should make too many edges. Thus, the telephone and direct our intentions towards Folegrandos to beat gait with wide and wind 13-15 knots. Initially the pace is nice, but with the progress of the day, the sea becomes rough and because of the leeway we have to increasingly orzare. Freddino ago and the last miles were hard. Tired and cold, finally, we enter the bay at the bottom of which there is a pier for docking, we are happy that we no longer face the sea.
We have a few moments of anxiety because of the sail-yet who refuses to work at a time when we must make room for a ferry on the way, but finally pulling a sigh of relief and we enjoy those moments of relief every sailor knows that after a hard day's wind: sitting in the cockpit, and supported with cushions, look around, sipping something.
Folegrandos is facing tourism for a short time and at this season few people you meet. These are travelers looking for beautiful and peaceful places, little inclined to the life that you come across in Mykonos or Santorini. The island is barren. Not seen even a bush. The square of Chora, which arrive in hitchhiking, it's the only place shaded by some sturdy trees. The country is nice and originates from an ancient castro of Venetian origin. All this without true rather shops with the usual souvenirs and lived off the premises. The men sitting outside the tavern and speak out loud. The window frames are vividly colored, some are large vase to decorate the doors of the houses, which were also painted with colors clear and strong. We do a brief walk through the alleys and lonely there on a cliff face. Below us the sea is biancheggiante of ochette and far out into the other islands. Tomorrow is going to Ios north-east of Folegrandos. It must be that from our position there is, in the dark of night iincoombante after Sikinos. Dinner in a simple tavern and we return to port with a small bus. Gattadapelare patient is waiting for us as always, along with two other sailboats and a menacing, gray unit of Hellenic Navy.

10th June. Folegrandos - Ios. 18 miles
Weather always beautiful. Little wind. Before leaving at a time of Ios we give again a look at Chora. Yesterday there was little light to make nice photos. Today we must not walk many miles and want to take it easy. Then lounge around until lunch and after eating we go back on foot to Skala. This is done four kilometers of asphalt road in almost total absence of traffic, listening to belati goats and chatting among ourselves of things without weight. Relaxed and happy with our experience. But Gino is under the influence of a malevolent bill that strikes him in the same subject: the mobile phone. After having thrown in a sea of Astypalea (unintentionally, it is clear) has left the new one, the subject of extensive studies and experiments newspapers, the tavern where we had lunch. E ', therefore, forced to turn back when we had almost reached the goal. Only by continuing the journey accompanied by belati.
Let Folegrandos, The wind from the north is weak and we are moving towards the north-east. So to beat a large, very pleasant. For fear of being Sikinos shelter from the pass over. We do well because the wind remains weak throughout the afternoon. The coast of Sikinos is also barren. Sail very close and we enjoy the passing scenery semisdraiati in the cockpit talking about the more and less.
Approaching Ios and with age of the afternoon the wind increases, but now we take the downwind because deep into the creek at the bottom of which is the port we Sikinos scapular and rest a while '. Inside the bay the wind was pretty tense, but with the sea flat filiamo gently to eight knots. Berths at a pier in front of a couple of restaurants. This I was not ever dream of. The reason for this lack of interest does not so indicate, but I have imagined as: tourist and quite devoid of a genuine offset the flattening of sales initiatives. Going up for Chora, which we reached by bus, passing in front of shops, discos, piano bars, which do not inspire us. What we are trying to roam in our seas and islands of Greece, we do not exist. And then a little 'cold.
We go back to the port to eat in a restaurant, that we prefer the simpler of solitary taverne calls. The night was calm.

11th June. Ios - Sifnos. 30 miles

It starts at noon. We have made the knowledge of an American boat next to us. They are a young couple. They bought the boat in Turkey and they are returning to the United States. A nice long trip ahead of them and a nice fast boat. In fact, a good start 'time after us, and we reach that we have moved less than ten miles from Ios. Engaged in a brief, pointless challenge by focusing all our hopes in our seafaring skills. For some miles we tenergli head, as long as they do not agree to do more. Then we see them cut off our route, and relying on them, surely depart.
As always in the wind is moderate. Navigating to beat, ever closer because of the leeway. The mood is, as always, good and chat without hesitation and with the complicity of a friendly unassuming that year after year has been strengthening in the sharing of common experiences and love for the sea. In the afternoon the wind strengthens lot. The wind power unit is damaged for a long time and "on demand", we estimate the wind speed in 15-20 knots. Before us is a sea of ochette that biancheggiante crashed right to mascone splashing angrily. Feel cold. We have also put the engine to tighten even more wind, but moving very slowly, with the feeling of being still. The port chosen, known last year with Marzia, seems ever closer. When, finally, we enter nell'insenatura do not find that quiet refuge that I expected. The gusts of wind off of us down to earth with a tender rowing. Four other boats have done our own choice. All remain on board.
Dinner and we talk in the cockpit until the tiredness of the day urges us not to close it.

12th June. Sifnos - Paros (Naousa). 33 miles

This morning the creek where we found refuge yesterday seems more serene. The wind has stopped completely and the sun finally warms us a little '. The two headlands that enclose the bay open to the south, thus ensuring a protection order lifted by the Meltemi, but because of the low cost wind blew yesterday evening with unpleasant dell'insenatura inland gusts. We have lost the taste for roaming. That of today to the final stage and on it lies the thought of returning home. We start early with the feeling that it is today, a shift engineer. We greet with some sadness mixed all'impazienza to close, finally, the path that boat this year Aegean we love so much and these islands are everywhere when our eyes turn around There's a flash of wind. Only the engine for five hours. Antiparos, Paros then parade in front of us. Several ferries entering and leaving the port of Parikia, forcing us to remain on alert until, dubbed the tip of the west bay of Naousa, dominated the building of the lighthouse, we enter at midday in the Gulf. The head of the village and marina berths at the usual place, beside the boat Janni.
Finally no longer cold. The summer seems to be entered today in the sea of Greece.

13th June. Naousa
Gino prepares to leave. He made the bags and they were landed. E 'reappeared Michael greek modern, with its good humor and his good-natured sfottò on Gattadapelare. We leave on the bench while I manage not to "Carnaio, the site where the boat will be tomorrow for his winged summer rest, perhaps a year; chissà.
Spend several hours on the beach of Monastiri pending boarding Gino for Athens. The goodbyes are always sad when he spent a happy time. Are even more difficult when it is backed by the memory of the sea, these islands, these atmospheres that are created only here, here where nature, history and myth are fused into a single, fascinating array ..

14th June. Naousa

Gattadapelare is again dry, away from the dangers of infiltration. Rests, disarmed, its support of wood, in the Mediterranean sun.
The leave with regret. I will board the night in Mary. Naousa today is beautiful, warm at last.

15th June. Naousa - Athens - Rome

With the fast ferry will leave the 11 Parikia. E 'windy again. The Meltemi has taken a strong blow. We do the slalom among the Cyclades embarking and disembarking tourists until a Rafina, on the north coast of Attica. Bus, plane and car. I am again at home. Today, ten years later from when this travel is by sea began, the pleasure of sailing is strengthened nourished by these experiences and memories. I can sum up how I feel in four words: happy, but not sated.
Gattadapelare, patient, on his beat invaded by the wind, I am sure, agrees.