Corinth

Photos:
The wall we are pinned against during the storm.
Bridge over Corinth Canal



24 October 2008 – Corinth

We have a 38.5 passage in front of us today and plan to spend the night in Corinth Yacht Harbour before going through the Corinth Canal tomorrow – Saturday.

We pick up some 20 knot gusts of wind coming off the hills on our port side so put a reef in the main as it goes up and roll out the headsail to the first of 3 markers Richard has put on it. It is comfortable sailing as we accelerate in the gusts on the calm water and we make good time past the headland and lay across to Corinth, but the wind soon falls away and the motor comes on – of course around 11.00 am. On we go with the sound of the motor purring us through the calm sea.

Around 3 pm and as the headland in front of Corinth comes into view, I am pottering around below when Richard calls out to me “Pippy, we have a gale coming towards us!” I laugh in disbelief until I see his face which has me up on deck in seconds, to see a sea of white churned up water off to port and it is coming our way! We decide to get the main down which has been strapped in while we motor and my heart is in my mouth as we quickly drop it and I drag the head down the mast and get it zipped away into its lazy bag. I feel like I am taking ages as I struggle with the zip and I dare not look at what is heading our way, but am waiting to feel the first signs of it on my bare legs.

By the time it hits us, we are pretty well organised with everything above and below decks packed down – probably 5 minutes later. We look at each other in surprise as the first gust is only 15 knots, soon to be 20 knots and gusting aft of the beam. It really looked more like 50 knots from a distance and would have been in NZ conditions. The sea state changes instantly to short sharp waves, fairly steep. We give it another 5 minutes to see if there is any more wind coming and then hoist main and genoa and have a wonderful sail past the headland and in to Corinth Harbour - a huge open bay, flanked on the northern side by a range of high mountains, which have a marked influence on the way the wind behaves.

We are not absolutely sure if there is going to be room for us in the tiny yacht harbour so it will be interesting if we have to find somewhere else in these fresh conditions, however, as we round the breakwater, we see with some mixed relief a space against a wall and a figure beckoning us over to take our lines. With fishing boats, buoys and mooring lines everywhere, there is nowhere else to go, but the wind blows us hard against our fenders on the rough concrete wall – the stranger fends the bow off as I run for extra fenders from the other side of the boat. It is not ideal and furthermore the depth sounder is reading 1.75 m. We have a waterline depth of 2 m; the instrument measuring depth is around half a meter below the water line, so we are really pushing it being here and Richard is somewhat concerned, but the wind has us pinned there for now. Also, it is a mud bottom and we may have stirred it up a bit as we came in, so may be getting an inaccurate reading. The pilot book says it should be at least 2m.

Our stranger turns out to be a rather eccentric Cornish fisherman who has lived in Greece for many years. He assures us we will have enough depth and he knows the harbour so we are somewhat reassured. He says “Much larger boats have moored here and been fine”. However, Matelot is literally bouncing off the fenders on the disturbed sea coming through the gap into the harbour. We pour ourselves a drink and sit in the sun keeping an eye on things until an hour or so later when the wind eases and Matelot settles down enough for us to take a quick walk across the quay into Corinth city, which is a delight – lots of really interesting shops and cafes and prosperous friendly people. We do a quick walk around and take some shopping back to the boat to find her sitting in complete calm. We do not notice any change in the water depth.

By now it is around 7 pm and we are hungry. Our Cornish friend (Cap’n Stuart) has given us directions to a great fish restaurant which is “not too expensive”, so off we go. We find him sitting there holding court in his old felt hat which comes down around his ears and frames a long scraggy beard and blue Cornish eyes. He entertains us with his seafaring stories while we are dished up with a wonderful meal of mezze, grilled sardines and Dorado with plenty of bread, lime juice and olive oil. During our meal, Stewart and Ann from Scotland (sailing a Bavaria 44), walk in and we are all introduced. We are having an excellent evening until we notice that the wind has suddenly returned with renewed ferocity.

We extract ourselves and get back to the boat, finding to our horror that we have to leap down off the quay as the water level has dropped considerably. A few seconds confirms our worst suspicions – we are touching the bottom occasionally as she bounces around in the screaming gale. There is usually very little tide in the Med, but we manage to work out later that the wind has possibly caused a tidal surge, which is a common occurrence.

The group in the restaurant are confronted with Richard moments later as he races back there to try and find out if we can expect it to go lower. Soon we are surrounded with willing helpers including Stewart and Ann and Cap’n Stuart and lots of suggestions as to what we can do. Cap’n Stuart announces to me that “We are going to move you.” I say (..gulp…!) “Where to??” He says: “Over there by that fishing boat”. I look away into the darkness and see a small patch of wall behind an old wooden North Sea fishing boat, looking barely big enough for half of Matelot. I look in the pilot book and there are rocks shown at one end of the gap where the sea is foaming in from outside the harbour. For the second time that day my heart is in my mouth. I certainly don’t want us to go there and anyway, we are very reluctant to untie Matelot in these conditions and desperately try to think of a better course of action.

In the meantime Stewart and Ann (who we have only just met!) go back to their own boat, getting very wet as the sea is coming over the sea wall, and bring us back a lead line and a coil of rope which has more shock absorption in it. They generously suggest we could tie up to and alongside their own boat, but with the wind howling, we would be hard pushed to get Matelot off the sea wall and turned around in the small space available.

The lead line soon brings our solution as Stewart tests the depth all around us and it appears we have deeper water right off our stern. We manually pull the boat backwards on her springs so we are just deep enough. Her aft quarter is protruding into the gap at the end of the sea wall, but we are not hitting the bottom any more. Cap’n Stuart has been away on his bike in the meantime and comes back and announces that the water will not go any lower according to the local experts!

Richard stays on boat watch and orders me to bed to get some rest. I am not sure I can sleep but do drop off. It must be around 1.30 am when I wake up and feel Richard climbing in beside me and note that the wind has stopped howling. When we wake up after 8.30 am, all is calm and beautiful again. In the light of day, sunshine and calm waters we are able to untie and carefully ease ourselves through trailing mooring lines on to the opposite sea wall where we tie up alongside with plenty of water under the hull and plenty of room. The wind which comes up again later in the day blows us off, rather than on to the wall – we are safe and comfortable. We look across at the mountain range towering over the bay and feel very small.

25 October 2008

We share a glass of wine with Stewart and Ann who invite us to supper on board their boat that evening. We have made some more friends and are very happy to share an evening with these lovely people who helped us so much despite having only just met us. We spend a warm and happy few hours with them before swapping contact details and heading back to Matelot.

This contact with other people helps to keep the malaise at bay which creeps up on me when I am in a world for too long with just us and people who speak another language. It is strange and I am almost ashamed to admit it but I do get a little crazy without contact with my own kind. Richard as usual is fine and very stable and well adjusted! How like a man!

26 October 2008 - Sunday

I walk across to the bakery early and get bread fresh out of the oven. By the time I am back in sight of the boat, Stewart and Ann are throwing off their lines and I climb up on the sea wall and wave to them as they head west. We contact Corinth Canal Control and get permission to passage through. The light NW breeze blows us gently off the wall and we get our bow around and over the random buoys and mooring lines without using the propeller.

In no time we are circling, waiting to be called through the canal and are told there is a 40 minute delay. Just time to have our last breakfast on this side and I pop open a delicious fresh pomegranate, watching the juicy pink pearls mingle with our Greek yoghurt and muesli. By the time we have eaten and just started coffee, we are called through and follow a freighter into the massive cut in the land. It is a freezing cold morning and for the first time we have our woollen sailing jackets on. Thirty minutes later and we are on the other side being relieved of E184 for the transit. Having been there we can appreciate the massive cost of the upkeep of this waterway. There are some places where the original walls are still in place but also evidence of many massive slips in the sandstone coloured walls.

We are greeted at the eastern end by a gusty breeze which bangs us up against the quay. With boats in front and behind it is a mission to get off the quay and we leave Corinth behind with a couple of new scratches in the gelcoat.

The Saronic Sea opens out in front of us and soon we are enjying a broad reach downhill towards Nissos Aigina and Angistri.