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FΔΩRΡΕEΑEΝ T A KE ON E
Another Side of Boatyard Life KARIA LESCHKE
My husband and I have been restoring a steel sailboat at Ionion Marine since 2003. Our boat is next to a water filled ditch, called avlaki in Greek, that runs between Ionion Marine and Cleopatra Marine. Last year, all the bushes and trees on our side were cut down. We were sad to loose the shade and colorful oleander but it has turned out to be wonderful. Now when we're up on the boat we can see down into the water. The reeds and oleander have grown back somewhat and white roses, blackberry and, I think, myrtle bushes are blooming. There is so much wildlife there. There are tiny minnows that jump when startled, many kinds of frogs with big bubbles that balloon up on their cheeks when they croak to give us a loud chorus during most of the night and sometimes during the day. Birds love the bushes on both sides swooping chirping and singing. There are many water turtles of different sizes from 2 inches across to one big one that must be about 12 inches. There are a few water snakes, lots of colorful dragon and damsel flies, butterflies and we saw fireflies blinking through the bushes in the middle of May. I think the minnows are eating the mosquito larvae so there aren't many mosquitos. Tortoises have a passage that takes them up and down alongside the boat. At the beginning of May this year, while we were unpacking the boat, we saw what looked like an otter. We see otters all the time in the waters around Victoria BC where we are from. A week later, having had a good look at it, I looked up water rat online. There were some photos of the exact creature but no information. It has big yellow/orange front teeth and small ears way at the back of its head. It swims around diving and eating plants from the bottom of the pool and the reeds from beside it and it dissapears into the brush at the side of the pool. One day some friends who were visiting us from Germany suggested that it might be a Nutria. Online I found the exact creature: Nutria or Coypu, originally from Brazil, where they are breed to be eaten, and brought to Europe and Asia for their fur. Apparently they have become a nuisance in Europe. We have seen two at the same time in the avlaki. So, having to work in this dusty boatyard for the whole of our three months here, never going into the water, has been made much easier because of having the avlaki and all its wildlife beside us.
The Ionian Travel, yachting and lifestyle magazine for the Ionian Islands and adjacent mainland Greece.
Vol. 5, Issue 4 – August 2014 Publisher and Editor Barbara Molin Advisory Board Yannis Dimopoulos Justin Smith Layout Ryan Smith Advertising advertising@theionian.com www.theionian.com
We make every effort to ensure the accuracy of each issue. However, we cannot be held liable for any errors or omissions. The contributors' opinions are their own. Printed in Greece.
Is it hot or is it hot?
Editorial
And the only way to keep cool in the Ionian is to stay close to the water. This shouldn't be too difficult and our stories this month show you how. Andy James writes about his favourite beach on Lefkas Island in, In Praise ofAgiofili Beach, while Maddie Grigg shares a lovely celebration that if you hurry, you might be able to catch on August 10, in Paleokastritsa on the west coast of Corfu Island (where it's cool). And what would a life on board be without an occasional unnusual visitor. Read about it in Another Side ofBoatyard Life by Karya Leschke. Our cover this month is Old Man in Kinopiastes by Andy. Happy reading... ≈≈_/)* Barbara Molin
IN PRAISE OF AGIOFILI BEACH
ANDY JAMES On the south coast of the unspoiled island of Lefkas, Vassiliki Bay is famed as one of Europe's top windsurfing hotspots. For those seeking an active holiday, other options include sailing, mountain biking, sea kayaking and snorkelling. But even the most adventurous, or their families, may wish to give their adrenaline a break from time to time. Where better to relax than on one of several world-class beaches nearby? The most famous of these is Porto Katsiki, frequently
listed as one of Europe’s top-ten. Forty minutes by car from Vassiliki, or less by taxi-boat, this stunning west-facing beach boasts white sands, sparkling waters and a dramatic backdrop of pale cliffs. The car park and several tavernas are above the beach, which is reached by steps. Alternatively, Egremni is just north of Porto Katsiki. Accessed by over 350 steps from the car park and café, or by boat, this spectacular beach is backed by high chalky cliffs studded with vegetation, and faces a turquoise sea. While a little harder to reach due to the steps this, and its length, make it less busy than its famous neighbour. I recommend Agiofili, a small perfect beach just 3 km around the headland south-east of Vassiliki, to which a ferry operates from Vassiliki harbour. However there is also a footpath, and I found the one-hour’s walk one calm, hot, morning, to be a delight. Following a shower the previous evening, the air was heavy with the aroma of damp undergrowth and I was accompanied by many butterflies, white, yellow, brown and black, relishing the sunshine. The footpath reaches the beach atop low cliffs at it’s right hand end. From here the view is picture-perfect. The crescent sweep of pristine white, little more than 100 metres long, focuses the eye to the sea, an aquamarine gem calmed by a rocky outcrop. Such is the sea's transparency that swimmers appear to hover above the seabed. Spotted with vegetation and wildflowers, with large rocks and boulders below, the pale cliffs amplify the sound of waves lapping the shore. The few yellow and blue parasols and loungers, some occupied by suntanned bathers — some temptingly free, add to the impression of idyll. They invite an hour or two to be spent in their company, soaking up golden sunshine,
gazing into the bay, contemplating cooling dips among small silver fish. Once on a lounger, or relaxing on the warm pebbles, attention naturally focuses on the bay. The sea’s hue drifts from palest turquoise through deeper shades to sapphire; its vibrant blueness emphasised by a solitary yacht, riding at anchor in a gentle swell, brilliant-white hull and deck gleaming in the midday sun. In the distance, Ithaki and Kefalonia shimmer in the horizon's haze. There is no bar or restaurant here. No amusement arcade. No car park. Just nature at its finest: warm sunshine, a white smooth-pebbled beach, calm limpid waters, and gentle sea breezes to temper the heat. Those who choose Agiofili above the more famous beaches nearby, do so from a love of simplicity, unspoiled beauty, and a sense of escape.
The Wonderful Varkarola in Paleokastritsa MADDIE GRIGG
In Paleokastritsa, parking was at a premium. We sauntered down to the Apollon restaurant overlooking the main beach and were shown to our table, which we had been advised to book well in advance. It was early yet, the sun still warm in the sky. But, already, people were beginning to stake their claim on spots on the beach, with towels, picnic chairs and rugs. In the centre of this pretty crescent-shaped bay, the water slowly rippled around the base of a stage set into the water. Children swam around it while, on the shore, sound checks echoed across the bay. As darkness fell and the sun went down, an early evening planet illuminating the sky, the road between our table and the sea became thronged with people. There were stalls selling candyfloss and cheap-looking toys, popcorn and sweetcorn, with bright white lights strung up over each one. Gypsies walked by with great bunches of garish balloons. From around the promontory, a red light glided into the cove, accompanied by mandolins and the stirring voices of the Corfu Choir. The boat, complete with rigging, fixed sail and a trail of red smoke, came in slowly towards the shore. Carefully, the captain brought the vessel to the back of the stage and the choristers climbed off, one by one, before assembling in formation. They reeled off Greek song after Greek song, including the oft-played Kerkrya, which comes from the 1972 film I Komissa tis Kerkyras (The Countess of Corfu). Their repertoire over, the choir said farewell, climbed back on their boat and sailed off singing around the headland. Then it was time for the members of the dance troupe from Krini, a village up in the hills between Paleokastritsa and Angelokastro, to cavort around the staged in traditional costume. They danced the way only Greeks can, with energy, elegance and great joy. There was a short lull, with the sounds of people, invisible now in the darkness but packed like sardines on the beach, chattering in Greek, English, German and Italian. And then it came.
A flash lit up the bay as group of small boats, bearing red lights and trailing smoke, came closer, their crimson reflections on the water flowing outwards in ever-increasing circles. They were led by a large rowing boat, with a billowing sail painted with a great eye. Its oars moved in time to the pulsating chord progression of Vangelis’s score for the film Conquest ofParadise as the silhouette of a man standing on a raft came into view. Clouds of red smoke filled the air when the rousing music reached its crescendo. Poseidon, god of the ocean, arose from the depths and a great battle ensued, with the man being thrown into the water after his raft caught fire. It was a story I knew so well. The mythical hero, Odysseus lands, naked and exhausted, on the shores of Scheria, the home of the Phaeacians. He surprises the young princess, Nausikaa, who is taking a break from doing her washing on the shore and is playing ball with her handmaidens. In Homer’s tale, Nausikaa takes Odysseus home to her parents, the gentle King Alkinoos and Queen Arete. At Paleokastritsa on that August night, Odysseus and the maidens made their way along the shore to the stage, where the hero proceeded to tell the story of the things that had happened to him since leaving Troy ten years earlier. And then the king gave him a boat so he could sail to his kingdom of Ithaca, where he would be reunited with his patient wife, Penelope, and his son, who had been waiting for him for twenty years. The boatmen and divers of Paleokastritsa turned the myth into the most stunning, poignant, surreal, magical and memorable tourist attraction I have ever seen. But it was not over yet. The music changed to poignant oboe and then the skies lit up with white rockets exploding over the bay in a firework display that went on for ages. With music ringing in our ears and our meal over, we joined the crowds and made our way to the car, glad we had decided to make Corfu our home, if only for a year. This year’s event takes place on 10 August.
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