Facing fears and losing fish

You win some you lose some

Hey ppl! Hope life is good. Heard the weather is a bit crap in the UK. Don’t worry, we’ve had the odd shower in Greece too (although admittedly interspersed with quite unrelenting sunshine). Last week, we even experienced our first storm of the trip, which coincided with the arrival of our pals Alec and Charlotte. Alec, you may recall, joined us on our maiden voyage - and it rained then too. All a little suspicious if you ask me. 

Anyway, the storm was actually quite dramatic - me diving into the sea at precisely the moment an enormous bolt of lightening shot down from the sky. After some deliberation about whether or not I was in grave and imminent danger, Alec did a quick Google to discover that during a storm the sea basically becomes a bathtub into which old Zeus could chuck a hairdryer at any moment.

Small wonder Charlotte is terrified of the water - and, indeed, most other things. “I really would prefer never to step foot outside my house,” she revealed one night over dinner. “I’m quite literally scared of everything, including leaving my front door.” Quite why she was so eager to come on the boat is a mystery. But eager she was. So, she and Al booked last-minute flights to the small Sporades island of Skiathos (home of the loos with the views) (which makes more sense if you’ve read this post), where we picked them up right from the beach. After some celebratory margs (literally any excuse to show off my lime juicer), we headed to town for a traditional Greek dinner (by which I mean we had a gyros), rounding off the evening with an ice-cream and a touch of plane spotting - Skiathos being a hot spot thanks to its waterside runway. 

I like planes as much as the next person, but really I’m more into ferries these days. So, the following morning, we embarked on the 55 nautical mile journey up to Skyros - land of the epic ferry arrival (see below vid for deets). Arriving at its main port is an exhilarating event. Boats are required to moor “stern to” (reversing so that the back is parallel to the dock). This is tricky in a tight spot - but the Skyrians have a secret weapon: Harbourmaster Costas. No sooner had we cruised into the bay, he was zooming towards us, using his motorboat to push the Turtle’s nose into position. Before we knew it, we were in, and Costas was back on land - zooming off on his three-wheeled scooter, leaving us to wonder whether we’d imagined the whole thing (we hadn’t) (I don’t think).

Feeling buoyed by this interaction, Al went to the shop for essential provisions (stuff to make G&Ts) using his best foreign holiday voice (saying everything exactly the same, just slower and louder) to ask the owner whether she had any grapefruit in stock. She eyeballed him quizzically, so he resorted to Google Translate, taking great pains to pronounce the correct Greek (γκρέιπφρουτ - obvs), receiving nothing more than a vacant stare in return. Then, just as he’d given up, he spotted one in the fridge and pulled it out. “Ah,” said the owner. “Grapefruit.” 

Things recovered quickly when we saw a poster saying DISCO SHOWER (WITH BUBBLES) 7PM -8PM. Naturally, we were most intrigued, so marched off to the shower block to investigate. Lo and behold, we threw open the door and were greeted with a disco light, bubble machine and speaker blasting Chaka Khan (plus a semi-naked German man performing his nightly ablutions). Just when I thought this island couldn’t get any better!

After a quick pitstop at the clifftop bar to celebrate the ferry’s safe arrival, it was off to the chora (hilltop town) with its white-washed streets, buzzy restaurants and abundance of shops selling wafty linens. Al and Chaz said it was “exactly like Mykonos would have been 20 years ago” which is about the highest complement you can bestow on a Greek town (although the Skyrians probably wouldn’t see it that way).

Still, the next day we were up and out of there - cruising to Lavrion on the mainland, a solid 12-hours away. Luckily, alongside a cocktail of sea-sickness medication, Charlotte had brought an Arroword (the GOAT of crossword books), so time positively flew by. There was also much excitement when the lads hooked a mahi mahi - a highly prized tropical fish. But it slithered off the lure just as they were about to pull it onto the deck. The heartbreak was palpable (seriously, if you thought last night’s Euros loss was bad..).

I, meanwhile, was secretly pleased as we already had a freezer full of bonito, which we cooked up that night using friend KP’s special recipe (fry garlic and tomato puree, add tinned toms, capers and parsley, then poach the fish in the sauce, serving over spaghetti: vg). Such a feast deserved only the finest televisual accompaniment, so we loaded up Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again on the mini-projector - feeling like we may well have actually died and gone to heaven. 

The next day, exhausted from our recent exertions (singing along/sobbing to Fernando), we decided to channel our energy not into sailing but rather eating crisps, watching footie and having in-depth discussions about maritime haircare (no joke given all the salt water and sun exposure let me tell you). We also played quite a lot of Bananagrams. Charlie won two rounds and me one - but it was a moral victory for Charlotte, who kept saying things like “while three-letter words are technically allowed, it really is poor play.”

Refreshed after our day of rest and relaxation, we had just one simple six-hour sail to Hydra to go. Or so we thought. It was, in fact, extremely choppy, with waves crashing over the sides for good nauseating effect. Poor Charlotte spent most of the journey clutching the table and heavy breathing, sort of like she was in labour. Admittedly I wasn’t much help as I’d been fully sucked into the Arroword vortex by this point and spent most of the time furiously scribbling down answers, occasionally barking things like “CAPITAL OF SENEGAL?” or “JAGUAR CAR OF THE 1960S?” when I got stuck.

Mercifully, we were in Mandraki Bay (just around the corner from Hydra town) by lunchtime - feeling extremely smug for having beaten the crowds. But before we could head off for a celebratory pina and some fried zucchini, Charlotte had one very important thing left to do. 

Given her phobia of the sea/leaving her front door/everything in general - she had never before jumped off the back of a boat. This being her last day on board, she knew it was time to - quite literally - take the plunge. It took a lot of courage and some very gentle coaxing, but once she’d done it once she couldn’t get enough - even branching out into star jumps and cannon balls.

Seriously, ppl! Let this this be your sign to #FEELTHEFEARANDDOITANYWAY - it might lead to an awful lot of fun (although I would draw the line at swimming during an electrical storm).