Week 6: Poros to Agistri (15nm)

Sailing was very much limited this week to our return journey from Poros to Agistri where we left Serenity alone for the first time so that we could complete a quick trip back to the UK. Laura flew home first to get her British Citizenship, which left me with a few days for some boat jobs (aided by lessons from The Martian) before I joined her for the long weekend – hopefully the boat is still there when we get back next Monday!

Building sailing karma in Agistri

We left Poros and although Laura wasn’t flying for two more days we decided to head straight back for Agistri since we liked it so much there. Perfect conditions meant we had our fastest sail yet (averaging 7.5 knots) and I think it could have been higher; however, Laura had requested that I keep the boat flat enough for her to write her blog post on the way and so I reined Serenity enough to keep the laptop on the table. When we arrived, our previous space was still open and the conditions were unchanged from last time, which made parking very straightforward. We were the first boat in and so Laura had to jump ashore with the lines; her confidence is clearly growing as she threw herself at the jetty from well over a metre away relying on her gymnast skills to ‘stick the landing’ and stay dry.

We were the only boat around when we arrived, hence Laura’s need to jump ashore with our lines. But, normally, if other sailors are around when you are mooring, it is customary to give them a hand and catch their lines as you always appreciate the help when it is the other way round. This is a great example of the sailing community’s mandate to actively help each other out, which is strongly grounded in a pay it forward / karma belief system (we are a superstitious lot). So, when I then saw another boat coming in to a empty spot on the other end of the quay, I automatically headed over to help at what is normally a 30 second job.

Unfortunately for this skipper, he was about to experience a series of compounding errors that would lead to a 40 minute ordeal and a number of mechanical failures that could have been avoided – I’ll need to give a bit of background first for the non-sailors in our audience. The wind was blowing fairly strongly from the side, which causes the bow to drift when you are reversing (typically towards other boats, rocks, etc). The recommended approach to dealing with this is to ensure that you have enough speed to counteract it, but for holiday makers on unfamiliar boats this requires a hefty dose of nerves / skill. Most modern boats now have an alternative in the ‘bow thruster’, which is a propellor mounted sideways near the front that can push the bow in either direction. These systems draw massive amounts of electricity and so you need to be judicious in using them to avoid damaging the batteries. Serenity First has a bow thruster, but I was fortunate to be taught by some old school instructors to never rely upon them for a mooring, and then you’ll have an ace up your sleeve on the inevitable occasions when things go wrong…

So the skipper dropped his anchor and started reversing, too slowly to hold a straight course and so he was forced to repeatedly use the bow thrusters. As he approached the jetty, he spotted a line in the water that was getting close to his propellor and tried to change course, but because his speed was low he didn’t have enough steerage. His bow thruster was at the wrong end to help him with this situation and the line duly became wrapped around the propellor.

This wasn’t the end of the world as the boat was now held securely at the front (anchor) and the back (propped line) and so there was plenty of time to put things right. However the stress of the moment (understandably) led him to dive into the water to free the line without putting a plan in place for when it was free. The line came off quickly and the boat immediately started swinging towards a line of fishing boats. By this point a small crowd of spectators had gathered who unhelpfully started shouting incoherent advice / warnings to the boat.

The skipper sensibly decided to abandon the mooring attempt as his boat had been blown too far off course to rectify with the bow thruster, and with my line catching services no longer required I began making my way back to Serenity. On the way, a local Greek sailor smiled at me and remarked that the yacht had dropped their anchor right on top of a large underwater chain holding a jetty in place – mistake #2. Sure enough, when they tried to pull it up, the windlass slowly ground to a halt as the anchor became tangled on the chains below. At this point, I realised that a greater level of sailing karma was on offer than simply catching a line and so I jogged back to our dinghy and buzzed the short distance over to the stricken yacht (all the while humming the Thunderbird theme song in my head).

By the time I reached them, their windlass had broken since they’d continued trying to operate it without freeing the anchor (effectively trying to pull the earth to the yacht) and the skipper was clearly starting to feel like Fate was against him. I explained about the underwater chain and since the harbour was shallow, he was able to dive down and free the anchor whilst I coached his first mate from the dinghy. I then hauled the anchor into my dinghy and continued alongside them as they manoeuvred the boat out of the harbour, abusing the bow thruster so much in the process that it decided it couldn’t take any more punishment and also expired.

With no ability to drop the anchor and a crew overcome with stress, I did what I hope every other sailor would do and offered them the only space left they could reach, alongside Serenity. They were incredibly thankful, and made for good neighbours over the next few days including gifts of beer and wine; however, I’m hopeful that true reward will be earned on some future date when positions are reversed and I‘m forced to draw down on my karma credit to secure help from others.

Becoming (even more) British [Laura takes over the post]

The next couple of days flew by and, before I knew it, it was time to head to the airport. I was going back to the UK a few days ahead of Alec to finally be naturalised as a British citizen. It has taken 7 years and I don’t even want to think about how many pounds to get to this point, but at long last I will not have to go through the foreign passports line at the airport!!!

Alec’s mom Sarah and good friend Fran were kind enough to join me the next day for the ceremony, which was held at County Hall in Surrey. There were about 25 people being naturalised at the same time, but it was still fairly short and sweet. We were welcomed with a nice speech by a local dignitary, had to then swear allegiance to both Queen and country, sang the national anthem and finally received our naturalisation certificates (equivalent to a birth certificate).

It was a more momentous occasion than I’d expected to be honest. I’d initially seen it more as marking an end to all the faff of visas and forms, but actually it felt really special to be welcomed as a citizen here. I love the UK! And I feel very privileged to be able to represent both sides of the pond now.

Engineering re-apprenticeship [back to Alec]

Back in Agistri, I had around three days to catch up on some boat jobs that were left over from the original refit when we ran out of time / energy. There were three jobs in particular that I needed to tackle, as they involved some fairly important systems: servicing the winches, tuning the rigging and servicing our outboard engine. These are the types of jobs that make me nervous as, despite my engineering degree, I am pretty clueless about mechanical systems (including how an engine actually works, which is fundamental enough to society’s definition of a man / engineer as to be a source of personal shame).  They are also jobs where errors can be costly and so my gung-ho approach of break it first and then fix it later would have to be reined in. 

Fortunately, a few days earlier Laura had suggested that I read The Martian, which having avoided the film I was completely ignorant about (a habit which continues to annoy friends and family given my stubborn refusal to watch Game of Thrones).  I was a bit sceptical about what sounded like a morose topic of being abandoned in space when I started, but was rapidly pulled into to a gripping story of astronaut Mark Watney’s defiant attitude whilst engineering solutions to countless problems in such a hostile environment. Sailing in the Med is a challenge many orders of magnitude less than escaping Mars, but the parallels that I found to our nautical life meant that I couldn’t put it down and ended up finished it in 24 hours. I took a lot of heart and inspiration from the mindset with which he approached each of his ordeals, looking at each challenge as an opportunity to learn and countering any failures with a healthy does of humour. The timing was perfect as I started my mini projects the next day, determined to take them on in the same manner as Mark Witney would. 

And what a revelation this approach was – three days later I emerged with something that looked like success in each project and a smile on my face, despite the numerous routine hiccups and injuries that I encountered in each of them. The winches had clearly never been cleaned, and the old grease had combined with hair and other dirt to be impervious to the cheap Greek mineral spirits we’d bought. I was very thankful that one of our sailing instructor’s had walked us through this process last year, which prevented me from losing any crucial pieces in the process (thanks Carl!).

I hadn’t had the same opportunity in servicing the outboard, and despite numerous YouTube videos and articles, it took me six hours before I could get it started again. The key lesson I learnt here was to try and avoid dropping parts in the sea (but if you do, make sure its shallow and clear enough to retrieve them), although it took three occasions before this one ‘sank’ in.

Finally, I checked the tension in all of the wires that hold the mast up, which you may remember had been replaced in Croatia. Whilst the riggers had seemed quite competent, I had reservations about whether the wire tension was correct given they’d just tried to make it the same as the old rigging. Luckily, I’d been told of a technique to assess the tension that didn’t require expensive equipment – instead you measure 2m of wire above the deck and each 1mm of stretch you apply to the wire is equivalent to 5% of its breaking strength. This approach is a really clever solution, but still took most of a day and the skin on my palms to complete. As such, it was satisfying to have my suspicions confirmed when I discovered the rigging was around 25% too loose, and duly corrected it. I don’t know whether this represents an increase in safety or just speed, but either way I left the job with a greater sense of pride in my skills as an engineer than I had a few days prior.

In between these jobs, I was able to enjoy a dinner with an Englishman called Mel who is a regular visitor to the island via his speedboat called “Bad Attitude”. He has worked in Close Protection for some high profile celebrities, and the war stories he shared over a chicken curry (he brought his own homegrown chilli’s from the UK to the restaurant) to were nearly as impressive as his magic tricks! I also was lucky enough to meet Ruth (another Brit who lives on Agistri) at the local Cafe Meltemi, who was very kind in helping arrange for some locals in the harbour to keep an eye on the boat whilst we are away.

The boat alongside us finally got their windlass repaired (by a self professed mechanic who turned out to be more of a battery salesman…) and so I could batten down Serenities hatches as she lay alone on the jetty. Despite the favourable forecast, extensive mooring precautions and offers of local supervision, it was much harder than I expected to leave her alone for the first time. Still, there was nothing more that could be done, and so I boarded the Flying Dolphin with my fingers crossed that she would be there unscathed when we returned five days later.