Mutiny On The (Deleted)

“Pull harder! Harder!” the skipper bellowed. We were docking Mediterranean-style and my job was to secure the stern lines. Nursing a bad back, I answered “Stop shouting. I’m trying” He replied, “You can get off the boat now!” An apology from me and a handshake calmed the issue for now. I jumped ship a week later.

At a ripe 75, dreams of crossing oceans on my Cal 39 have faded, replaced by crewing. Four worldwide postings in the past few years.

The latest was a dreamy couple of weeks (I had planned a month) cruising the Greek islands aboard a fast 44-foot sloop. A video call with the British captain was amiable enough and I booked the flights: a long haul to Athens and a puddle jump to the isle of Leros. At the boat yard, I luckily missed two days of sweaty labour that my two crew companions endured, helping prepare the boat.

Parched and Sun-Drenched

The four of us sailed or motored one island per day. The skipper knew the choice spots, having explored Grecian waters for years. Each island had at least one good anchorage or public dock. We were sailing in the shoulder season of May, so space at each “parking lot” was usually available. The summer is jam-packed.

Docking, especially in a strong breeze, was a challenge. Drop anchor way out, with scope at least three to one, without crossing anchors. In reverse, squeeze between other boats before hitting the dock. Hopefully someone experienced will take your stern lines, but it’s rarely without drama. Lots of fenders are a must. Many ports charged only for water and electricity.

Each anchorage was picturesque with a few tavernas on the water with prices slightly higher than home (but no tipping). Few fresh fish on the menus, as the crystal-clear waters are barren. Very, very disheartening.

My favourite harbours were low key…no loud pop music or wall of condos. But we did catch a superb duo at a tourist restaurant before the dish-breaking ritual started (blame it on “Zorba The Greek”). Islands that have airports tend to be overrun with tourists. Few of us tried to speak Greek, which would have reduced the indifference locals show to the onslaught of foreign invaders.

Graffiti Everywhere

The boat was pristine and kept that way by a skilled and very picky captain. Sadly, he couldn’t control his anger. All three of us were on pins and needles. “Are we happy?” was his morning greeting. NOT! Two of us simultaneously jumped ship early. My replacement, a Canadian woman, lasted only four days.

What to learn? Sail your own boat or swap one as I’ve done several times. Your own boss for better or for worse.

Nafplio Old Quarter

If you do crew, have an escape plan with flexible air return and alternative travel plans. In my remaining days, I enjoyed strolling the old quarter of Nafplio with its nearby archeological sites, just a two-hour bus ride from Athens.

In hindsight, I did learn a few technical skills, such as using Johnson’s baby oil to clean windscreens. And I met kind, interesting crew members. A voyage soured by a captain who was a talented sailor but had delusions of being a nice guy.