See my earlier posts for an overview of my journey:
Day 3 - Some good sailing, more beautiful pictures but still no fish
Day 2 - A new day, a new bay
Day 1 - Dining out on our first night
Day 0 - Visiting the SaltyPaws in Corfu
To see what the boat looks like, check the boat tour.
After our exploration of the uninhabited rocks and the snorkling it must be around 5 p.m. The other three yachts have disappeared, leaving us to ourselves. I need to catch my flight the next day and we consider our options. We are still near the quiet parts of Corfu so I am unsure how easy it is to catch a taxi. We have 1.5-hour sail ahead of us to the nearest Corfu bay where we think I can find a taxi. The wind has been very inconsistent (and absent, really) over the last days so we may need to go on motor. It is also not as calm as it has been the nights before, with still good winds and quite some waves as our anchoring is not as sheltered as we thought it would be.
Considering all this, we decide to raise the anchor and sail to the bay now, making for nice sailing now and the next morning a little more stress-free. We have a beautiful view over the rocky cliffs of north-west Corfu. The wind is steady at around 16 knots - just perfect - and so it's no sweat on our backs. We leave the steering to our friend Autopilot.
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| The white cliffs of Corfu our of our port bow |
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| As we continue, the white changes to a more greyish rock face. Nice house on the right! |
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| Nice place for a house, isn't it? |
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| All hands on ... coffee! Coffee with a view for us, we leave the steering to the autopilot. |
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| Our sail plan for the afternoon. The bay is upwind, so we need to tack. |
The sailing is very nice but we notice that there are quite large waves coming from the south-west, which means they'll come straight into the bay! When we are nearing the bay we notice three anchored yachts straight ahead. I marked the map above with a red circle to indicate where we were. We check the maps but see no anchoring. Walbert switches to google maps and we notice the deep, sheltered bay that you can see above, just to the right of the red circle. Below is a close-up from google maps. See that white speck in the middle of the bay? That's a boat, showing how small the bay is.
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| The small bay that we spot while approaching Corfu. |
We have a look around and the bay is indeed well sheltered and very calm. The depth is around 5 meters everywhere. We decide to anchor near the end of the bay, away from the other yachts. But we notice not all yachts are facing the same way. This means the winds in the bay are affected by the hills around them. This means in turn that we should stay out of the "anchor circle" of the other yachts: The anchor will be in the middle and the amount of chain and rope used is the radius of the movement. The three anchored yachts could theoretically end up anywhere in that radius from the anchor. So we decide to anchor 'stern-to': attach an extra rear line to the shore (somehow...).
So first we drop anchor on a long chain (so as to minimise the risk of anchor dragging and we coming closer to the rocky shore. While we reverse and extend our anchor, one of our neighbours is waving his arms frantically but it's to far to hear and he doesn't seem to speak any language that we care about. After we fully extend the 100m anchor chain, it's time to fix the rear line. I prepare the canoe and quickly fix the canoe to the rear while I get the rubber water shoes and Wal is preparing the second chain and 50-meter mooring line.
The plan is to put the "backup" anchor chain in a loop around some rocks: using rope may cause wear quickly. Then we attach the 50 meter line to the chain and then to the boat of course. See the schematic picture below. The advantage is that the boat cannot drift around it's anchor: it is in a fixed position. Now we only have to worry about the anchoring circle of the other yachts.
When I return I notice the canoe is gone. What happened? I'm sure I tied it to the rear of the boat??I look around and apparently my quick fix of the mooring line was not enough to keep the canoe at our stern. As it's very calm the canoe is happily bobbing up and down about 5 meters from the port of the SaltyPaws! It was my mistake so I jump off the boat and get into the canoe.
Meanwhile Wal is also still busy keeping the SaltyPaws in position: the engines are still in reverse but a little wind gust will blow us to one side or the other. Our frantically waving neighbour is still doing that and I decide to paddle out and find out what his problem is. He informs me he has 40 meters of anchor chain out.
I sigh deeply and paddle back towards the SaltyPaws to confer with the captain. Mr. Frantically Waving Man is obviously a complete idiot. Normally you use 5 times the depth as anchor chain length: this keeps the anchor in place yet limits your movement when the wind shifts. the depth was only 5 meters so 25 meters of chain should suffice. He has used 40 meters (or so he says), meaning he could move as much as 80 meters! In a small bay as this, this is just anti-social. A circle of radius 25 meters has a surface of Pi*Radius^2 = approx 2000 square meters. Increase that to 40 meters and he uses up 5000 square meters: 2.5 boats could have anchored in his spot.
Had we brought the torpedo from Ereikousa we could've just sunk his boat right there and that would probably have been the best for everybody. But we hadn't so we had to stay out of his reach even more, meaning coming ever closer to the rocks.
Walbert hands me the anchor chain and rope and I paddle out to the rocks. 25 Kilograms of anchor chain do not handle too easily, so I need to climb out of the canoe onto the rocks. I find a nice rock to and it takes a while to wrap our chain around it, while keeping half-an-eye on the canoe that it doesn't float away. After a few more minutes it's all sorted and I climb back into the canoe, do a final check that the mooring line doesn't rub against any rocks and paddle back.
We tighten the rear line as much as we can, and as we pull in about half the 50-meter line, it means we must be around 25 meters away from the rocks. This looks very close though, and it feels a little unnerving.
We've been so busy that we couldn't take any photos. And by now, it was dark anyway. Walbert notes that Mr. Frantically Waving does not have an anchor light on, and takes a picture as evidence. Apparently if there is a collision, you are at fault if you do not have your anchor light on (who knew?).
It's too late and dark to walk into the town so we crack open a beer and have dinner: it has been a long day: Starting out quiet but with some good sailing and adventures in the end!
The night would prove a restless. The sound of the waves crashing into the rocks are unsettling and I hear Walbert go out quite a few times to check up on things.
We are up very early the next morning, again from the sound of the crashing waves and the general restlessness. At least we have time to take some pictures now, so let me show you.
It is clear that we have come a few meters closer to the rocks than we were last night. Also, surprisingly, the waves are coming straight into the bay and are sizeable. We decide it is time to move. But how do we remove the rear line without crashing into our neighbours? As soon as we release it, we will float around our 100-meter anchor chain!
Walbert has the solution, of course. We untie the mooring line from the boat, and attach a fender for easy recovery and throw it overboard. Then we haul in the anchor chain and hoist the anchor, re-anchoring in a place where we do not risk crashing into our neighbours. As it is a short-term anchor with someone on watch, we can reduce the anchor chain to 3 times the depth, so only 15 meters of chain.
As soon as we are anchored again, I board the canoe to retrieve the anchor chain. But with the high waves crashing into the rocks, I cannot hop onto the rocks safely as I did yesterday. I have to paddle to the beach instead and climb across the rocks until I reach the anchor chain. I can't climb back with the heavy anchor chain wrapped around my neck, so I collect the anchor chain and throw it as far clear of the rocks as I can, to be able to retrieve it from the canoe. I climb back and paddle back around to the rocks, pulling in the mooring line until I reach the chain. Of course the chain didn't make it far from the rocks, so as I pull in the chain I am pulled towards the rocks. It is a struggle to not crash into the rocks while pulling in the chain. Or rather - not have it go back overboard as soon as I let it go! Finally I reach the end of the chain and I paddle back to the boat. It must've taken me over half an hour to get this al sorted!
The waves are really quite large now even inside the bay. But we are raising the anchor for the last time and we can clear the bay. As I bring the anchor up, it comes up the wrong way around, so I cannot fix it into position. This is easily sorted by reversing the boat quickly, as the shape of the anchor will then force it to turn around, but with the high waves, strange winds and narrow bay we cannot reverse: We need to clear the bay first. As we emerge from the bay the waves become even bigger, by far the biggest I've seen in our four days! I remain on the front deck keeping an eye on the anchor while the boat is pounding in against the waves and the anchor flails about violently.
After a few more minutes, we are out at sea and Walbert put the SaltyPaws' engines in reverse. The anchor spins around and I hoist it up to its locked position. Finally! It only takes us a few minutes to sail around and into the main bay, which is now perfectly calm. We anchor in the perfect, sandy soil and have breakfast and - a morning swim!
We take the dingy to the shore and I walk into the first hotel-like building and ask if they can call a taxi for 11 o'clock. I allow for plenty of slack in the schedule as I do have faith in neither taxi drivers nor airports on Corfu. We go back and I pack my bags. I clean the room and as soon as I leave the door open Luna comes in to explore. The cats are not allowed into the rear cabin so as to receive visitors the may be sensitive to cat hairs. I pick Luna up and bring her back up to the deck. This repeats itself a few times until Luna starts finding places that are hard for me to reach! I finally stumble and cut my heel. It's only a small cut but it bleeds profusely! Geez! I'm bleeding all over Wal's floating penthouse! Wal gets out a plaster and it's all sorted.
And then it's time for me to leave the SaltyPaws. We get into the dinghy again (with my bag full of clean clothes). To my overwhelming surprise, the Corfu-an taxi driver is ON TIME! And he's driving a brand new Mercedes! Of course, as you get off the dinghy, you have to jump into the shallow water and then onto the sand. Basically everything below my knees is sand... I just get in quickly on the other side and hope he doesn't notice.
We get to airport well in time so I change into my trousers. As I cross my legs I notice the plaster has come off and it has started bleeding again: I made a big red blood smear on my light blue cotton pants...
Looking back it has been a short visit but fantastic visit. I feel very satisfied to have seen my brother's float-around-the-world-penthouse, get a feel of his cruising life, and see great views and have good fun along the way. I think back of the bay and restaurant of the first night, the sailing the next day, with the mysterious mist and the beautiful flat sea and sunset over the windmill. The exploring of the small islands, the uninhabited rocks and fantastic sailing and the adventures in the small bay. And of course the morning (and evening) swims!
I also feel a bit rough: beside the blood smear, every step I take I feel my feet from walking across the pebbly beach the day before. And of course 4 days of sun and salty spray have roughed my skin up a bit. I still feel the salt and sand everywhere. And of course I didn't shave. Funny how you only notice these things as you get off the boat.
It's been a short but fantastic visit! Thumb up for the SaltyPaws and her crew!
So first we drop anchor on a long chain (so as to minimise the risk of anchor dragging and we coming closer to the rocky shore. While we reverse and extend our anchor, one of our neighbours is waving his arms frantically but it's to far to hear and he doesn't seem to speak any language that we care about. After we fully extend the 100m anchor chain, it's time to fix the rear line. I prepare the canoe and quickly fix the canoe to the rear while I get the rubber water shoes and Wal is preparing the second chain and 50-meter mooring line.
The plan is to put the "backup" anchor chain in a loop around some rocks: using rope may cause wear quickly. Then we attach the 50 meter line to the chain and then to the boat of course. See the schematic picture below. The advantage is that the boat cannot drift around it's anchor: it is in a fixed position. Now we only have to worry about the anchoring circle of the other yachts.
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| Schematic depection of "stern-to" anchoring: Anchor deployed as normal, but a rear line is attached to the land |
When I return I notice the canoe is gone. What happened? I'm sure I tied it to the rear of the boat??I look around and apparently my quick fix of the mooring line was not enough to keep the canoe at our stern. As it's very calm the canoe is happily bobbing up and down about 5 meters from the port of the SaltyPaws! It was my mistake so I jump off the boat and get into the canoe.
Meanwhile Wal is also still busy keeping the SaltyPaws in position: the engines are still in reverse but a little wind gust will blow us to one side or the other. Our frantically waving neighbour is still doing that and I decide to paddle out and find out what his problem is. He informs me he has 40 meters of anchor chain out.
I sigh deeply and paddle back towards the SaltyPaws to confer with the captain. Mr. Frantically Waving Man is obviously a complete idiot. Normally you use 5 times the depth as anchor chain length: this keeps the anchor in place yet limits your movement when the wind shifts. the depth was only 5 meters so 25 meters of chain should suffice. He has used 40 meters (or so he says), meaning he could move as much as 80 meters! In a small bay as this, this is just anti-social. A circle of radius 25 meters has a surface of Pi*Radius^2 = approx 2000 square meters. Increase that to 40 meters and he uses up 5000 square meters: 2.5 boats could have anchored in his spot.
Had we brought the torpedo from Ereikousa we could've just sunk his boat right there and that would probably have been the best for everybody. But we hadn't so we had to stay out of his reach even more, meaning coming ever closer to the rocks.
Walbert hands me the anchor chain and rope and I paddle out to the rocks. 25 Kilograms of anchor chain do not handle too easily, so I need to climb out of the canoe onto the rocks. I find a nice rock to and it takes a while to wrap our chain around it, while keeping half-an-eye on the canoe that it doesn't float away. After a few more minutes it's all sorted and I climb back into the canoe, do a final check that the mooring line doesn't rub against any rocks and paddle back.
We tighten the rear line as much as we can, and as we pull in about half the 50-meter line, it means we must be around 25 meters away from the rocks. This looks very close though, and it feels a little unnerving.
We've been so busy that we couldn't take any photos. And by now, it was dark anyway. Walbert notes that Mr. Frantically Waving does not have an anchor light on, and takes a picture as evidence. Apparently if there is a collision, you are at fault if you do not have your anchor light on (who knew?).
It's too late and dark to walk into the town so we crack open a beer and have dinner: it has been a long day: Starting out quiet but with some good sailing and adventures in the end!
The night would prove a restless. The sound of the waves crashing into the rocks are unsettling and I hear Walbert go out quite a few times to check up on things.
We are up very early the next morning, again from the sound of the crashing waves and the general restlessness. At least we have time to take some pictures now, so let me show you.
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| Sunrise over the SaltyPaws (and the captain) after a restless night |
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| The view of the bay and our neighbours. Mr "Frantically Waving" is on the right. |
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| Our rear mooring line, see it going off to the right? |
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| This is how close the rocks were... and the beach where I landed on the left. |
It is clear that we have come a few meters closer to the rocks than we were last night. Also, surprisingly, the waves are coming straight into the bay and are sizeable. We decide it is time to move. But how do we remove the rear line without crashing into our neighbours? As soon as we release it, we will float around our 100-meter anchor chain!
Walbert has the solution, of course. We untie the mooring line from the boat, and attach a fender for easy recovery and throw it overboard. Then we haul in the anchor chain and hoist the anchor, re-anchoring in a place where we do not risk crashing into our neighbours. As it is a short-term anchor with someone on watch, we can reduce the anchor chain to 3 times the depth, so only 15 meters of chain.
As soon as we are anchored again, I board the canoe to retrieve the anchor chain. But with the high waves crashing into the rocks, I cannot hop onto the rocks safely as I did yesterday. I have to paddle to the beach instead and climb across the rocks until I reach the anchor chain. I can't climb back with the heavy anchor chain wrapped around my neck, so I collect the anchor chain and throw it as far clear of the rocks as I can, to be able to retrieve it from the canoe. I climb back and paddle back around to the rocks, pulling in the mooring line until I reach the chain. Of course the chain didn't make it far from the rocks, so as I pull in the chain I am pulled towards the rocks. It is a struggle to not crash into the rocks while pulling in the chain. Or rather - not have it go back overboard as soon as I let it go! Finally I reach the end of the chain and I paddle back to the boat. It must've taken me over half an hour to get this al sorted!
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| Me in the canoe, battling the waves |
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| Me and my friends 'mooring line' and 'anchor chain'. |
The waves are really quite large now even inside the bay. But we are raising the anchor for the last time and we can clear the bay. As I bring the anchor up, it comes up the wrong way around, so I cannot fix it into position. This is easily sorted by reversing the boat quickly, as the shape of the anchor will then force it to turn around, but with the high waves, strange winds and narrow bay we cannot reverse: We need to clear the bay first. As we emerge from the bay the waves become even bigger, by far the biggest I've seen in our four days! I remain on the front deck keeping an eye on the anchor while the boat is pounding in against the waves and the anchor flails about violently.
After a few more minutes, we are out at sea and Walbert put the SaltyPaws' engines in reverse. The anchor spins around and I hoist it up to its locked position. Finally! It only takes us a few minutes to sail around and into the main bay, which is now perfectly calm. We anchor in the perfect, sandy soil and have breakfast and - a morning swim!
We take the dingy to the shore and I walk into the first hotel-like building and ask if they can call a taxi for 11 o'clock. I allow for plenty of slack in the schedule as I do have faith in neither taxi drivers nor airports on Corfu. We go back and I pack my bags. I clean the room and as soon as I leave the door open Luna comes in to explore. The cats are not allowed into the rear cabin so as to receive visitors the may be sensitive to cat hairs. I pick Luna up and bring her back up to the deck. This repeats itself a few times until Luna starts finding places that are hard for me to reach! I finally stumble and cut my heel. It's only a small cut but it bleeds profusely! Geez! I'm bleeding all over Wal's floating penthouse! Wal gets out a plaster and it's all sorted.
And then it's time for me to leave the SaltyPaws. We get into the dinghy again (with my bag full of clean clothes). To my overwhelming surprise, the Corfu-an taxi driver is ON TIME! And he's driving a brand new Mercedes! Of course, as you get off the dinghy, you have to jump into the shallow water and then onto the sand. Basically everything below my knees is sand... I just get in quickly on the other side and hope he doesn't notice.
We get to airport well in time so I change into my trousers. As I cross my legs I notice the plaster has come off and it has started bleeding again: I made a big red blood smear on my light blue cotton pants...
Looking back it has been a short visit but fantastic visit. I feel very satisfied to have seen my brother's float-around-the-world-penthouse, get a feel of his cruising life, and see great views and have good fun along the way. I think back of the bay and restaurant of the first night, the sailing the next day, with the mysterious mist and the beautiful flat sea and sunset over the windmill. The exploring of the small islands, the uninhabited rocks and fantastic sailing and the adventures in the small bay. And of course the morning (and evening) swims!
I also feel a bit rough: beside the blood smear, every step I take I feel my feet from walking across the pebbly beach the day before. And of course 4 days of sun and salty spray have roughed my skin up a bit. I still feel the salt and sand everywhere. And of course I didn't shave. Funny how you only notice these things as you get off the boat.
It's been a short but fantastic visit! Thumb up for the SaltyPaws and her crew!
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| The full route I've sailed along with the SaltyPaws. |
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