From Paul Franson's Travel Tastes

14 Days in the 12 Islands

A sailing experience in Greece's little-visited Dodecanese Islands

by Paul Franson

If you idea of hell is 14 days on a small boat with nine people you don't know, you can stop reading now. If, on the other hand, you want to hear about one of the best vacations I've ever had, read on.

I had just separated from my wife after a short, unfortunate marriage, and needed to get away. A long-time sailor who had recently sold his boat after ten years partly because of spousal pressure, I really wanted to sail in a warm climate, but didn't have the time on inclination to find a group of friends and charter a boat. In fact, my experience with such trips has been sour. People who commit to go cancel at the last minute, casting a pall over the trip financially as well as leaving you short handed.

As I was browsing CompuServe, however (actually on a posting forwarded from the Internet), I came across an intriguing short ad: "Come sail with us in the Greek islands," is all it said. (Now there's a whole section with beautiful color photos available at http://mail.eskimo.com/~dianee/index.html)

I responded, got more information by electronic means, and eventually a brochure came. It was attractive and professionally crafted, but had the Australian address crossed out in favor of one in Seattle. Curious, I called and eventually reached the organizer of the trip, Diane Edwards, an enthusiastic English woman living part time in Australia, Seattle and Greece.

Diane, who I later learned was 32, chartered a boat each summer in the Dodecanese Islands off the Turkish coast, then found people to share the cost (and make a little for herself). The boat was a Greek-built Dromor Triton 48; since then, she bought her own 52-ffot boat, and will continue to run her trips in the future on a similar basis.

Diane charters from Kalymnos Yachts, Ltd., based, naturally, on Kalymnos, a relatively small and unspoiled island just north of Kos, a popular destination for English tourists that isn't spoiled, but it certainly is getting ripe.

I'd wanted to sail in Greece for some time, and my research always led me back to the Dodecanese, the so-called 12 islands (Though any way I count the islands, there are more or fewer than 12!). Just off the Turkish coast, these islands are thoroughly Greek in spite of efforts by repeated rulers to charge their language, culture and inclinations. They only became part of Greece in 1947, having lived under Italian rule from the breakup of the Ottoman Empire in 1918 until then.

The Dodecanese are relatively poor, dry islands. They aren't as picturesque or chic as some of the islands like Mykonos or Santorini and they don't have many Classic Hellenic or older archaeological sites like Delos or Crete. But they also don't have as many tourists! And the islands were reasonably close together, making sure that there was plenty of time to see the islands instead of just traveling between them.

The price was also right, little more than $1000 for two full weeks, with food and incidentals extra, of course. A love boat it isn't.

With some trepidation and foreboding, I cashed in some of my frequent flyer miles that got me to Athens and booked a flight from there to Kos to meet people I didn't know for an adventure that could be a disaster; I later learned that the last crew had kicked one woman off the boat part way through the cruise!

Any flight from California to Athens would be tiring, but this one was pretty pleasant, a consequence of trading in enough miles to garner business class on TWA, an airline that is really trying harder.

Unfortunately, or fortunately as it turns out, there was a 14-hour layover in Athens. The flight got in early in the morning, but there wasn't a flight to Kos until 10 at night. Strange scheduling, but it did leave time to check out the must sights in Athens.

Checking my bag for surprisingly much at the surprisingly small international airport in Athens, I took the inexpensive bus into town, a short ride partly along the sea.

Once in town, I checked at the hotel where some other members of the crew were staying, but they had checked out for the early flight to Kos.

Then it was straight for the Acropolis. No matter how many pictures you've seen of the Parthenon and other ruins on the Acropolis, you simply can't appreciate it until you've been there in person. It was a warm day, verging on hot, in late June, but manageable.

After hours spent on the ruins, I had my first Greek lunch in a small outside cafe - I don't think I ate a meal inside in the whole time I was in Greece - and wasn't disappointed even though it was a touristy place. What else but a "country" (Greek) salad, souvlaki rice and wine? It was a combination I never tired of, partly because the tomatoes were always so good and every place had its variation on the theme.

I also received my first surprise, for even in Athens at a tourist place, it was very cheap. I soon learned to love that aspect of Greece, particularly after hearing the horror tales of the dollar's fall from grace. At least it was still in grace in Greece.

Little sleep and hours of walking around in the hot sun convinced me to have a beer at the main square, Plaki, before heading back to the airport late in the afternoon, and I was soon joined by a nice Greek buy who bought his own beer and seemed to want to practice his English and talk about California. It was only after he invited me to go to another, air-conditioned bar that I realized that he thought I might want to relax with one of his girls! - for a small price, of course!

Regaining my composure, I hopped on the bus and headed back toward the airport, getting off early to enjoy one of the many beaches on the way back. Then dinner at the airport, reading and napping, and off to Kos.

First stop: Kos, London South

Arriving in Kos about midnight, I grabbed a cab with another guy. There weren't too many since most visitors seemed to arrive in large groups, often in chartered planes. I was exhausted and thought the cab driver cheated me until I later realized how cheap the long trip from the airport into Kos town was.

I had reservations at the Hotel Astron right on the port, or at least I thought I did! Through some mix-up, I had no reservation, but fortunately, they had a room. It was a perfectly adequate place, clean, modern, with a pool and breakfast for about $40 per night. And even though the Playboy Disco next door was in full operation, nothing could have kept me from sleeping at that point.

In the morning, I checked for my elusive fellow travelers, but they had left earlier. I helped myself to the strange hybrid breakfast many Southern Europeans think the English eat, reminding me that American breakfasts are either better or more nutritious (but usually not both) than their choice.

The meal was sweet corn muffins, white rolls, bologna, tasteless pre-sliced cheese, cold hard-boiled eggs, Tang-ish orange-colored liquid and the weird bitter but thin coffee.

Fortified for the day, or at least the first half of it, I set out to explore the town. I had come in a day early to get acclimatized - well, because that was the only way I could get there with my free tickets, to be honest.

Kos is an almost land-locked port, seriously picturesque with the boats stern to the quay, and a large Crusader-era castle dominating the Southern arm. There were many cafes along the waterfront, and enough real fishing boats to convince me that the place hadn't gone completely touristy even though there were an awful lot of T-shirt shops and signs in English, not to mention all the fast-food shops that advertised fish and chips.

Kos is the only island we visited that had any large classic ruins, the famous Asclipieion complex, a major healing center. Since I'm a bicyclist and it wasn't very far, I rented a bike and took off.

Unfortunately, it was a heavy one-speed bicycle and the site was all uphill even though it was only about 3 miles away. Huffing and puffing, I stopped at the small Turkish town Platani on the way, pretending to read the menus of the many small cafes on the square while I caught my breath.

If it seems odd to have a Turkish town on a Greek island, it's interesting to remember that the Ottoman Turkish Empire ruled these islands for centuries. Eventually, most of the Turks were expelled from the islands and the Greeks from the mainland. Oddly enough, most of the inhabited islands are Greek, even Megisti, a tiny island a mile off the Turkish coast 70 miles from the closest Greek island, Rhodes (It was the setting for the delightful light-hearted comedy, Mediterraneo.

There are Turks here and there, however, as in Platani, and their food is everywhere, but generally not credited to the former and hated rulers. Much of the food we consider Greek really comes from Turkey, although the Armenians claim it as their own, too.

Continuing on, I finally reached the impressive ruins, which held Greek and Roman temples, living quarters, hot baths and other facilities. From the site, you could look across to Turkey's long Bodrum peninsula only a few miles away, and at two islands I would soon visit, Kalymnos and Pserimos.

I learned a lesson there that I won't soon forget when I travel. There was no water available, which is why all the Greeks and European tourists always have a liter or half-liter of water with them. I was quite thirsty by the time I made it back to Platani, ready for lunch. Along with a salad, I had some taramasalata, a delicious appetizer of mashed potatoes and bread, oil, garlic and fish roe. Then iman biyaldi, eggplant baked in oil, tomatoes, onion and garlic. Though hardly a dieter's choice, it is delicious and I had variations a number of times.

Beer seemed more in order than wine (even though I also ordered water - they don't drink tap water, and I like bubbles anyway), so I got what they had, Greek-made Heineken. I've never understood the appeal of Heineken. Whether made in Greece, Holland or the Dutch Antilles, it had an off taste to me.

Greek-made Tuborg is also available in some places. I never once saw Greek Alpha or Fix during my trip, but having had them before, that's okay.

Back to the hotel for a short nap, then I caught up with the two elusive fellow crew members, two women from Seattle, Raiti, a United flight attendant originally from Norway, and Marge, a technical writer. Like me, both were in their early 50's, but young as you would expect from someone who takes a vacation like this.

We explored the town more, finding the tree under which Hippocrates supposedly taught, though the father of medicine probably lived a millennium before the tree sprouted, the ancient marketplace and city plaza (agora),parts of the old town from different eras and a perfectly restored small amphitheater obviously used for modern events. A special treat was a restored Roman villa, obviously owned by a very wealthy and successful family. Its layout, with open courtyards and bathing pools, could be transplanted here for genteel living, only adding slightly more modern bathroom and cooking facilities.

It always seems jarring to find these antiquities all jumbled together with later and even modern buildings, and in Kos, you can move from Greek to Roman to early Christian to Medieval to Crusader to Turkish to Italian to modern architecture in a few blocks.

Kos has many elegant as well as tacky shops, the better ones slightly back from the waterfront in their own section. I'm not much of a shopper, particularly when I'm looking forward to staying on a crowded boat for two weeks, but there were plenty of interesting possibilities. Especially attractive were the pottery, art and sculpture and jewelry. I saved my shopping until later, and instead concentrated on looking.

I always enjoy seeing how the local people live, so visited the market in town. The produce was superb, as it always is in Mediterranean countries. I think there must be a law against unripe, tasteless tomatoes there; I only wish they'd pass it here.

There was plenty more to see on Kos, but I ran out of time.

That night, Raiti and I dinner at a tourist cafe - Marge was too exhausted - but made it an early night since we were tired, too. I had fish, which was okay but not much more. Kos isn't famous for its food, and in fact, most of the tourists stay in big hotels out of town where meals are often included, reducing their incentive to eat elsewhere.

The next morning, Sunday, was embarkation day, and when I walked down to breakfast, I found a motley crew of tired travelers at a table on the hotel's front patio. There had to be our crew, and they were.

It was an odd mix, but ultimately worked well. Including captain Diane, there were five men and five women. But other than me, the guys were all under 30, and women over. Half worked at Microsoft, but amazingly, they didn't talk shop or form a clique as you'd expect.

I mentioned Raiti and Marge. Diane and Kristen were in their early 30's, and Kristen, a real doll, unfortunately was there with her very nice boyfriend, John. Both work at Microsoft. Neal was an intense product manager, also from Microsoft, and he came with instructions from his co-workers to relax or not come back. Mark and Raman, high school buddies, were the kids of the group at 24. Both were clever, almost too much to take on a small boat. How many people can recite uncounted Monty Python routines by rote, for example?

The last member of the crew was a last-minute addition, Christy, a versatile 40-ish boat bum who had sailed a great deal and had worked at a winery and cooking school in Italy. We later called here Christy Valentine, as you'll see.

We soon loaded up the boat, bought supplies and headed out, Diane having a strong aversion to Kos and its harbor.

A little about the boat. It was fine for cruising, with plenty of berths, two heads with showers plus one on the stern, roller-furling jib and main, and all the other goodies. It sailed well, though we unfortunately didn't get much chance to find out the first day.

Our first stop was the harbor of Vathi on the island of Kalymnos about 20 miles away. Unfortunately, the wind was both strong and on our nose, and we had to motor most of the way to get there in any reasonable time. It was a wet, cold and pretty miserable trip.

Most of the people aboard weren't very experienced in sailing. Diane and Christy certainly were, having made cross-Atlantic crossings among other sailing, and I had 30 years of sailing and had just sold a 38-foot boat after ten years. Two of the guys were long-time Hobie sailors, and transferred their sailing skills well.

The others probably wondered if they were crazy to have spend money to be so uncomfortable. I certainly didn't enjoy it, particularly since I hadn't brought any foul-weather gear, or even any warm-enough clothing. It's Greece in the summer, right?

We skirted by the island of Pserimos on the way, and I'm sure the crew would have mutinied and stayed there the whole two weeks if Diane has told us there was a delightful, sheltered port there. But she didn't, so we continued on to Vathi.

As we approached Vathi, we saw the first of a sight we'd see again and again among these islands: a tiny islet with a church on it. All inaccessible, they are typically used only a few times a year by the local people.

Entering the harbor with relief as the seas and wind died, we discovered a long fjord with high walls and a cluster of buildings at the end.

The visiting boats, really too many for the space, were stuffed together along one side of the harbor.

As you may know, in the Mediterranean, as well as many other places, the usual way to moor is not in a slip, but backing up to the dock, held only a foot or so away by an anchor dropped from the bow as you back in.

It's a tricky maneuver under any conditions; in practice, there's usually wind blowing the wrong way, other boats too close together, and rocky or deep bottoms or other anchors or chains where you need to put yours.

Diane took the helm, as she always did when we moored, and shoehorned us in a tight space hanging on the concrete pier. I was happy to let her take charge, and I suspect even the testosterone-y young guys were, too.

We soon learned how hospitable the inhabitants of these small islands were. Even though charterers moored and anchored in the wrong places, sometimes taking the spots used by fishing boats and running into them, the fishermen were tolerance, often helping out and moving to another place instead of making a fuss. They often helped out, towing people of showing them where to go pleasantly and without expecting anything for their trouble.

The same can't be said for the workers on the many day tripping boats out of Kos, which take tourists on "Three islands in one day" tours. I guess I can't blame them, but they were rude and even dangerously aggressive, as were the skippers of the many ferry boats that connect the islands.

Our port in the storm: Vathi

Once things settled, we celebrated by hopping ashore to explore the town.

It didn't take long. Vathi has four open-air tavernas, one small hotel, a few shops and a few houses.

There was a taverna (which is a restaurant, not a tavern as we know them) right by our boat, but for some reason, Diane had some type of feud with them, so we went into town to the taverna that turned out to be one of the two eating experiences of a trip with many memories of much food and drink.

Popy's sits on the quay, with vines overhead and greenery all around. We mostly had beers - Diane being English, couldn't understand our obsession with cold beer and thank goodness the Greeks are civilized and keep theirs cold.

It was soon apparent that Diane knew the family that ran the taverna well, especially Adonis, the young man who seemed in charge of the guests.

Popy's also had a shower, and some of us showered to get the sea water off. Water is very scarce in all these islands, and showered were precious and dear, but we didn't want to use up the stock on the boat, either. We had to top off here and the water was very expensive - once we found the surly boy who opened the tap for us.

We finally felt like we were really on a cruise, and dinner that night at Popy's was a good start for the trip. It was typical of our meals, in ambiance, food, drink and cost, but every place was distinctive in spite of the similarity.

First, we had appetizers. Always. Since there were ten of us, we usually got an assortment. Among them were familiar horiatiki salads and tomatoes and cucumbers (not much lettuce), dips like tzitziki (yogurt, garlic and chopped cucumbers), hummus (chickpea dip), tamasalata (fish egg dip mentioned before), skordalia (mashed potatoes with garlic and oil) and baba ganouj, then grilled octopus, fried squid, plain feta cheese, spanokopita (spinach and feta turnovers), wonderful French fries (made with very unhealthy fat, I suspect), grilled peppers, potato croquettes, fava beans, olives, and, of course, fresh bread.

The bread was different everywhere we went, ranging from long baguettes to rolls to round loaves, even familiar rectangular loaves that looked (but didn't taste) like Wonder bread. We never saw the flat round pita bread most of us associate with Greece except at the gyros stands in touristy Kos and Athens, in fact.

For main dishes, the most common choice were simple grilled whole small fish or fish steaks, grilled pork, swordfish, beef or lamb souvlaki (shish kabob), grilled pork chops or lamb chops and roast chicken or lamb.

Sometimes there was food prepared that morning for lunch, a bigger meal than dinner for most Greeks. We were welcome, even encouraged, to go into the kitchen to look over the food, which was useful since not everyone spoke English and Greek is a tough language to pick up like Spanish or Italian. There were often stews, mousakka (eggplant with tomato meat sauce covered with a béchamel and baked, iman biyaldi, peppers, onions or eggplant stuffed with a rice and meat mixture, and, sometimes, the classic stuffed grape leaves, dolmades.

The tastiest dolmades are vegetarian, made with rice, onion, garlic, oil and some other stuff. Popy's Mom makes the best ever. Smaller than we normally see, they're covered with yogurt and feta to bake. Unfortunately, they're a lot of trouble, so we had dolmades only occasionally and had to order them in advance to make sure the restaurants had them.

A word about the wine and other liquid refreshments. A few people had a taste for retsina, the resin-flavored white wine, but not me. Supposedly, the Greeks first learned to like it out of necessity in the early days when they sealed their goat skins with pine resin, but I haven't been served wine from a goat skin recently, and that's fine with me.

The other wines were bottled whites and reds, light and perfectly drinkable, but never outstanding. The same can't be said for the Greek national drink, ouzo, a vile clear anise-flavored liquor that turns milky when mixed with cold water the way they drink it.

Better is their brandy, of which Metaxa is the best-known brand. It comes in different varieties and is a bit sweeten, quite unlike cognac. It's good though, particularly with a coffee on the side. You couldn't mix the two, for the deadly Greek coffee comes in tiny cups complete with the grounds and vast amounts of sugar.

The famous Greek sweets like baklava seem to be eaten mostly alone, not as desserts. On the few occasions we could manage to eat anything after our meals, it was usually fruit or cheese, once in a while a custard or pudding.

We ate like this every night of the trip, but didn't really eat that much of any one thing, so I don't think anyone gained weight. Our wallets didn't lose weight, either. A typical meal like this cost about $10 including the drinks. In fact, the only bad meal I had was at an Italian restaurant on Patmos, and it had San Francisco prices. That reminds you of the traveler's creed: Always eat local food and never eat "foreign" food except in England, where there the situation is reversed.

After the big meal and long day, we all crawled into our bunks, except for Diane, who didn't have her own place to sleep since she gave the crew cabin to our last-minute addition, Christy. Diane had offers of alternatives, but instead slept on the curved dinette, or on cushions on deck or in one of the hammocks we soon took to erecting.

The wind didn't die the next day. We never got agreement on whether it was a real meltemi or just a big blow, but whatever it was, we didn't want to be out in it, particularly sailing right into its throat.

We had plenty of time, so we stayed at Vathi another day and played relaxed tourist. We took advantage of the time to swim, climb the cliffs and mountains around, and walk up the long valley a few miles. It's an agricultural area, with plenty of lemon and olive trees, plus fresh vegetables and grapes growing everywhere. It's considered a wet island, but that's only in comparison to its nearby sisters. It's really very dry.

One of the mysteries of Greece is that there are goats and sheep all over the islands, and very few pigs, but lamb is expensive and pork is cheap. Apparently the pork is imported from other countries, but it's just as well that they don't serve it much after seeing all the cute lambs and kids everywhere.

There are some interesting caves near the port, one of which was a secret Hellenic school during the Italian occupation, when they tried to make everyone speak Italian. Someone must not study history, for every civilization that has tried to conquer Greece has been more influenced by it than the reverse, I think (including the ancient Roman ancestors of Mussolini).

Off to the Italian ghost

The next day, we sailed off to Leros, the next island North. It was about the same distance away, and though the wind was still ahead of us, it was a bit lighter, and we sailed, tacking quite a way out of the way by some uninhabited islands to get to our destination, Pandeli.

Pandeli is a small fishing harbor that's quite well protected. High on the hill above it was a huge Crusaders' fortress, and the main town itself was also on top of a hill. This was obviously done early in history to discourage pirates, but also helps develop your leg muscles.

Leros is a strange island. It has a magnificent natural harbor, Lakki, on the opposite end of the island, but people don't go there. It was the headquarters of the Italian fleet during the occupation, and consists of big Neo-Deco buildings facing the water, many containing restaurants set for diners who never come. It also contains a number of mental institutions, another reason for it's bad reputation.

The Greeks still mostly to the crowded north end of the island around a big bay, Alinda, that looks like it should be protected, but is actually very open and rough.

On Leros, we rented little 50-cc motorbikes and toured the island, great fun as long as you don't slide off one as I did later. Diane, who's quite an athlete and in great shape, got a serious bike, compelling one of the macho young guys to try to emulate her.

Our first destination was up the hill to the old fort, a dramatic and interesting site from which our boat looked like a toy in the small harbor far below. Of course, when we realized that two of the women had walked up, we felt so guilt that we gunned our motors and moved on.

One of the strong memories of Leros is the World War II bunker at the south end o the island, by the dump. Now used as a goat pen, it overlooked a tricky channel with a number of islands between Leros and Kalymnos, a channel we were to negotiate later glad to have seen it from high above.

Most of our party grabbed some snacks, too. Greeks make great ice cream and though I'm not a big fan of it, preferring to drink my calories, they scarfed it down wherever we went.

In addition to touring, some of us took the bikes far north past the end of the road to a local nude beach, where once again I learned that I should lose weight before vacations and to watch out for the sun in tropical climates. The water is colder than I expected, so that wasn't much help, either.

Nudity is illegal in Greece, but no one seems to bother you as long as you're discreet and stick to isolated areas. Topless bathing is the norm for tourists, however, but it's a bit rude in the beaches and on boats close to town. Most of the sailing tourists, by the way, are Northern Europeans, especially Germans and Swedes. Raiti even found a few Norwegians to talk to in Norse, though most of the visitors spoke perfect English.

On Leros, we anchored out, so quickly discovered that our inflatable dinghy had a split seam between the side tubes and the floor. As soon as we got it, we got a few inches of water in the bottom, not a dangerous problem, but a very annoying one. Leros is a fairly big port, so we looked for seam glue or even duct tape to no avail. We had to get used to wet feet - and care with supplies.

There were four or five tavernas right on the beach in Pandeli, and we ate at one where waves literally lapped at our feet as we sat at the table in the sand they had found when we showed up without a reservation. Pandeli was a "cat" ports, unlike Vathi, which had dogs, and we almost had to restrain Diane from taking one especially winsome kitten along with us.

There are a lot of dogs and cats on these islands, and apparently few low-cost spay-and-neuter clinics. The islands are also poor, and the people have to make an annual living in the summer months, leaving little for Tender Vittles and Alpo. I understand that the cats are left alone because they help keep the rodents population in check, but many dogs don't make it through the long, tourist-less winters.

There was a bar in Pandeli that wouldn't be out of place in California, with its combination of locals and tourists, singles and couples, with a smattering of unruly groups like ours thrown in the mixture. There was also a disco , and though I didn't try that, Christy and Diane did, the deadly duo, did and reported good pickings, I think.

Lonely Agathonisi

Our next destination was Agathonisi, a lonely speck of Greece 20 miles away from sister islands and with a very small population including a small military detachment.

Though it looks like the longest voyage on a map because it's straight and not near other islands, it was actually a delightful and fast sail, a tight reach all the way.

Entering the small harbor, we tied up to the mole, only to be warned that the "Delfin" would be there soon and we should be prepared to leave quickly. Sure enough, in a few minutes, a tiny image appeared on the horizon, soon to turn into a hydrofoil up on its stilts like a giant water bug. We cast off, and were waiting patiently (ha!) for it to leave when another boat came in and tried to take our place. Fortunately, the informal port captain, Giogios, is a friend of Diane's (who isn't) and saved our spot.

Since there wasn't a shower at Pandeli, some of us headed for the recommended taverna, which had a few rooms to rent in back. Like most of the bathrooms we encountered, this one had an unpleasant smell, but I showered and left, not realizing until the inhabitants returned that I was using a room occupied by someone else.

Dinner that night was noteworthy primarily because Giorgios, who owns the taverna, wouldn't let me have any beer or wine until I drank some ouzo. At least he didn't charge me for the disgusting potion.

This was the first island with very limited selection. What kind of grilled fish do you want? Fortunately, that was fine with me, and they did have some souvlaki and chicken to grill, too.

The next morning, Mark and I huffed up the hill to the little village or Chora, which like the others, had a hilltop location. The tiny place didn't even seem to have a taverna, though it did have the local version of a Safeway, or should I say a 7-11, with one can, bottle or box of each of the few things in stock. They did have Coca Cola, however, a morning necessity for people raised in the South.

The military post was a bit ominous if tiny, and it seemed even more so when I later read that Greece was claiming all the ship lanes in the Aegean and placing Exocet missiles on some islands. I can't help wondering what the Greeks expect the Turkish ships and traffic to do, fly?

Fortunately, the Turkish-Greek situation isn't hot at present, but could interrupt at any time, particularly with all the other disturbances nearby. No one would benefit, of course, but that doesn't seem to matter. Many Greeks believe that if they don't keep a certain population on the islands, the Turks will take them over. I don't believe that's true, but the Greek government does subsidize the people who live on the islands with ferry and other services, water and even electricity from solar panels. The latter seems to be most important for satellite television reception, which we discovered since the soccer World Cup was on while we were there and that's a big deal in Greece.

Lipsos: Home of the blue church domes

Heading back West, we sailed to _______ a tiny uninhabited island on the way to Lipsos where we went ashore to explore, swim and sun. It was quite hilly, giving us a chance to climb and look over the blue Aegean Sea and the islands near and far.

After a few hours, we moved into Lipsos, a small island known primarily for its 42 blue-domed churches. The story is that the islanders painted the churches blue and white, the Greek national colors, of course, to annoy the Italians who occupied the Dodecanese. At any rate, it's a pleasant but undistinguished place compared to some of the more interesting islands nearby.

We had dinner at Vasilia's, one of the place where you had to pick out your food in the kitchen. This was as close to eating inside as we got, sitting on a porch overlooking the bay. We were there on a Saturday night and it was interesting to see the interchange between the local people, there being few tourists on the island.

The next morning, we followed the guide books to find some special cinnamon rolls in a tiny bakery down an obscure street. All I needed was the Sunday Chronicle and some orange juice to make it seem like home...

The only cloud at Lipsos was a huge German power yacht that took off the next morning, dragging all of the other anchors into a pile that took much effort to untangle. Sad to say, the German sailors and other tourists tended to live up to their stereotypes, making us cringe when we were addressed, "Guten tag."

Patmos: The "Mecca" of Greek Orthodoxy

It was only a short trip to the next stop, Patmos, one of the most revered sites in Christianity. Here St. John received his Revelation, and though many people wish he had made it a little clearer, it certainly has spawned a lot of discussion since then.

There's a church over the cave where he wrote, but more impressive is the mountain-top village or chora with the monastery of St. John at its top.

We grabbed a spot on the tiny pier in Grikos, a bay south of the main port of Skala. Skala, unfortunately, has heavy traffic from ferries, fishing boats, and cruise ships, making it a less-than-attractive alternative. There are some hotels at Grikos, one where the only couple aboard fled for at least one night of privacy.

We also had the bad and expensive Italian meal in Grikos, though the company was excellent. I think we almost acquired a lovely extra passenger, a British model, though that might have created a civil war aboard.

Here, as on Leros, we stayed an extra day, giving us a chance to rent motorbike again. They were almost a necessity to get up to the top of the mountain; it would have been a long hike. The monastery was interesting, a brown structure towering above the whitewashed old village around it. It has a magnificent exhibit of exquisite jewels and religious objects such as chalices and ikons, but we weren't allowed to see much else since it's a "working" site. It being Sunday, the town was almost closed and I had trouble even finding a Coke.

Later, we took the bikes way out to another secluded beach, stopping at a popular beach bar for snacks. At the private beach, I stayed in the shade while the others baked.

Later that day, I dumped my bike in slippery sand in a sharp curve in the road. It was ironic since I had taken a helmet to protect my bald head, apparently the first person ever to do so at the rental shop from their reaction.

I wasn't seriously hurt, but scraped up my knees, palms and ankles and bled profusely. I was worried about infection, but everything healed very quickly probably because of the sun and salt (ouch) water. With the visible bandages on my feet and hands, I must have appeared to be a weird religious fanatic acting out the Crucifixion.

The town of Skala was probably as developed as any we visited, having many shops, a bookstore with books in English, and lots of people. There was certainly more to do than we had a chance to do, but that was true even on the smallest inhabited island we visited, our next stop, Arki.

Arki - baby of the litter

Arki, a short sail from Patmos, has a population of only 27 (plus the four small donkeys we saw alternately carrying loads of light straw and big Greeks). But it was July the 4th, and all of us but the captain. We were ready to party!

Arki has two taveras, and no one went to one of them. Instead, everyone went to Manoli's, which actually had a waiting line while the other taverna 100-ft. away sat empty. The menu was great for those people who can't make up their minds: "Do you want the grilled fish or the pork souvlaki?"

Manoli ran a delightful place even if it had satellite TV powered by a solar panel to watch the World Soccer Cup from the Bay Area that was then on. I wanted to get away, not see a ball game from home. In early forays, Mark and I met first three tourist women staying there on this island without even a store for a month. They were obviously dingy to do this, and I suspect they weren't very interested in men, so we moved on to an absolutely beautiful young Dutch girl who was clearly interested in Mark. Anxious as an 24-year-old is, he lost interest when he realized that the strong and unpleasant smell at the table wasn't from the sea.

We all partied hard, and since we couldn't find any other Americans to join, and no other Brits to insult, thoroughly disgusted the well-behaved Scandinavians and Swiss there that night. We also insulted the Germans, but that's okay. They lived up to their stereotypes everywhere we went.

We ended up at Manoli's house, which I was told was a delightful, modern place with an impressive sound system. I was there, but decided discretion was better than digressions so went back to the boat and crawled into one of the hammocks. By then, most of my crew mates were encouraging me to sleep on deck anyway due to snoring I didn't know about. The other boats kept trying to get me to return to my cabin.

This is where free-spirited 40-year-old Christy picked up the moniker Christy Valentine. The 19-year-old Greek guy was cute, but I understand that when she went back to stay with him for a while at the end of the cruise, the myth of the 19-year-old Greek guy was soon dispelled.

By then, we were on the way downhill with the trip. The winds were generally pretty good and in the right direction, and the boat performed well. We did have to motor more than I like, but I'd far rather motor than flop around.

Leros again

From Arki, we went back to Leros to pick up some more provisions and eat another great meal. Does that sound familiar? At Leros, like about half the places we went, we had to use the dinghy to get ashore, and we were starting to get rather annoyed about it filling with water whenever we used it.

Clearly, there had to be some dinghy cement on the island. It was full of boats, including inflatables, and had some marine stores. We did finally find some cement, but couldn't get it to work. Never found duct tape, either. Remember those for your voyage.

We were starting to get a little melancholy by then. Everyone really was getting along well in spite of minor irritations. It would have been better to have a couple fewer people aboard, but I'm not sure who would have been banished if we had taken a vote - perhaps me!

A return to Kalymnos and a sunken village

From Leros, we snaked through the narrow channel, fighting headwinds and one of the few currents we encountered. That sounds dramatic, but we did break down and fire up the engine rather than try to be macho with a fairly lazy green crew and roller furling mail and jib.

The sails worked fine, but you don't expect too much in windward sailing from a charter boat. I'm used to furling headsails, but the roller main was nice, neat and convenient - unless you let it get away, and then it got jammed, normally only at bad times, like when we were going downwind into a tiny harbor with no shelter or room to maneuver.

We curled around the Northeast point of Kalymnos, then about halfway down the Western side (we had previously been on the East at Vathi). There, in a fairly narrow channel lies a sunken city between the main island and Telentos, a mountainous island that broke away in a devastating earthquake in 554 AD We couldn't see anything, but it was eerie to be floating only a little distance above the buildings and ghosts.

We anchored in the channel close to the ferry path, and at least once, two of our female crew flashed the ferry, much to the delight of its male passengers.

From there, we retraced our route back north to Emborio, a small and isolated town at the very end of the long road from the settled part of the island. We were able to tie up to a small dock and many of the crew climbed a very steep hill to investigate some of the historic caves above the town. My ankles were still rather sore from my tumble on the motorbike, and I felt lazy, so sat this one out. I was charged $4 for using a chaise lounge on the beach, however. That was the only time I was ripped off on the whole trip.

There were about five tavernas at Emborio, and we did well as usual. Next door to our choice was a small but new modern store where we got makings for lunch the next day. Among there offerings were plastic bags of dried oregano the size of pillows. And the stuff is a weed!

In the harbors of Kalymnos are many fish farms, a very good sign, both for the local economy and for the availability of fresh fish for the future. I'm sure that the fish that struggle taste better, etc., but it's nice to know that there is some new industry in these islands. There aren't exactly a lot of high tech factories there.

The next day, we went around to the main port of Kalymnos, home port for the Georgia II. Diane, an excellent sailor, had a terrible time setting the anchor in the crowded port under the eye of a paranoid woman on a German boat who was apoplectic if anyone got within 10 meters of her craft. There, Diane restocked and traded linens for the next crew, and we were rushing to cast off for the fuel dock that was about to close when a pleasant fuel truck driver pulled up to our boat and made life easy.

Kalymnos port isn't particularly pretty, but I'd like to have at least looked it over. The island is one of the few that still has a sponging industry, and it also has lost of impressive modern sculpture around the town, one famous one not surprisingly of Poseidon.

The tiny delight of Pserimos

From there, we headed to Pserimos, a small island part way back towards Kos. It's a delightful sheltered harbor, and pleasant after the tourist day trippers leave. We had a pleasant time watching both the goats and the local people.

There, Mark helped a single-handed sailor with no motor recover his fouled anchor, but he did so just in time. We left our slot with the ferry about to turn us into a crunchy fender.

From there, back to Vathi. Since it wasn't far, we sailed even though it was rough and upwind. It's amazing the different wind conditions that pop up around the islands.

We had our special last dinner at Poppy's. I'm sure it was excellent - I

do remember some of the best dolmades I've ever eaten - but the tasting of different varieties of Metaxa brandy may not have been a great idea in retrospect. Never had Three Star? Be glad.

Then a leisurely downwind sail, then motor, back to Kos harbor. We could have stayed another night on the boat, but I lusted for privacy and a shower, so returned to my $40 hotel next to the Playboy Disco. (Everything else was full, mostly with groups, so it was fortunate that I had a reservation).

We went out together one last time that night, this time to a horrible restaurant, perhaps the norm on Kos. Then we explored the night life. There was plenty. Next to the old Classical ruins is a bar section that must be the world's largest singles' market. You couldn't even tell where one bar ended and another started, the noise inside them was deafening and no one seemed over 24. Fortunately, it was quieter outside, and as usual, the drinks were cheap.

The next day, most of the crew split, Diane and the new crew sailing off North, the others mostly heading back to the States. Three of us took the very expensive ($50, where $5 would be more typical within Greece) trip to nearby Bodrum in Turkey.

Bodrum has a harbor full of beautifully maintained wooden sailing yachts, many for charter, and a magnificently restored Crusader's castle. The latter was definitely a high point of the whole two weeks to me. Unbelievably, prices were even cheaper than Greece (50 cents for a beer, $3 for a whole lunch), and there were some excellent bargains in the many tourist shops.

The Turkish merchants and restaurant owners were good-naturedly aggressive about hustling us, but not unpleasantly so. They're very likable people, just like the Greeks. It's just a shame that they can't get together to cooperate for the tourist trade, if for no other reason.

It's very difficult to sail from one to the other, and obviously, almost everyone who sails three miles from Turkey wants to visit there and try another culture, too. The bay around Bodrum is a great sailing region on its own, in fact, even though the Greeks got all the inhabited islands (and most of the others).

The next day, it was a long trip back home, but with excellent memories. But when I got back, I suddenly realized that no once had a seen a Greek dance or seen anyone break a plate - on purpose, at least.

Well, that's on the agenda for next time, perhaps on a chartered boat of my own, even though the crew couldn't be any better.

- end -

(c) copyright 1997 by Paul Franson

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