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Opa (Greek: ώπα) is a common Greek exclamation used to express high spirits, joy, enthusiasm, or celebration, often shouted during dancing, music, or weddings. It is also frequently used to signify oops, surprise, or to alert someone after a minor mistake, such as breaking a plate or dropping something.

Not yet out of the woods!

Spirits rose somewhat when the Suez Canal Pilot, a most miserable piece of work, finally disembarked. We weren’t technically clear of the canal yet. A couple of easy miles of water still separated us from where the channel surrendered to the Mediterranean. And even then, we faced a flotilla of all shapes and sizes of commercial ships anchored for miles into the distance, each presumably awaiting their turn in the transit southbound through the Canal.

On land, boundaries announce themselves: village signs, border posts, customs offices. At sea there are no such visible markers. Even the vaunted crossing of the equator at sea is acknowledged only by GPS coordinates and nautical charts; the ocean offers no painted line, no gate, no announcement, only a slow, inscrutable change in latitude and mood.

And so whilst theoretically into the Mediterranean Sea, things still very much felt to us as though we hadn’t yet been released from the iron like grip of the Red Sea. A combination of recency effecting our mood, the waters full of industrial lumps of floating steel and the visible presence of war ships with their big eyes presumably on a sharp lookout toward the north east, meant we weren’t yet in full celebration.

It was a 375 nautical mile passage between Port Said, the canal’s northern exit, and Rhodes, the port that we had identified as our entry point into Greece. Adding to the pause on celebrations was the sobering realisation that the weather predominately forms from the North West at this time of year, and we were on a heading in that very direction. It really did fell like the Red Sea wasn’t letting us go without one last fight!

The Meltemi

Also known as the Etesians or Meltem, these are very strong winds that come down from the Bosphorus across much of the Aegean sea and across many of the Greek Islands.

As they come down the Bosphorus in Turkey it first hits the Northern Aegean Islands, the Sporades, parts of the Dodecannese and the western side of Evia Island, but the full brunt is usually then the Western Cyclades that lay directly in its path.

Rhodes, our destination, sits in the south eastern most part of the Dodecannese!

The word ‘Etesian’ is from the Greek word ‘etos’ (year) describing the annual onset of these winds. Its modern name ‘Meltemi’ probably derives from the Italian phrase ‘mal tempo’ or ‘bad weather’. The Mediterranean climate is sometimes called an Etesian climate.

The wind tends to be strongest in the afternoons and often dies down at night but it can sometimes last for several days at a time.

They can start with little or no warning and disrupt the public ferries, sailing boats and even cruise ships depending on the strength.

The Meltemi can occur anytime between May and October but is most frequent in summer, June through  September. Its maximum strength and duration is during July and August. It was now mid April, so we were optimistic we would miss it’s influence. How wrong we were!

As had been the pattern throughout much of the Red Sea, the winds and waves were again building and settling firmly on our nose, forcing us to run an engine to maintain a semblance of progress. A 375-nautical-mile passage would normally take about three days, but for the final 120nm’s until Rhodes we were slowed dramatically by sustained 25-knot headwinds. We were eventually encouraged into abandoning our direct course and to bear away onto a more northerly heading, toward Kas in Turkey. At one stage we even began making contingency plans to divert to Turkey instead of Rhodes because of the foul weather.

A combination of frustration and impatience soon lead us to recommitting to Rhodes, and so we settled into a very cold and rough night as we inched ever closer to what we anticipated would be calmer weather once into the shadow of the island of Rhodes. Sadly, that protection only materialised when we were just 20 miles out, and so for much longer than we’d have preferred, we punched our way into steep seas and strong winds that shook the boat violently and produced alarming new creaks and groans we had never heard before. Without question, this was the roughest weather we had encountered on the entire journey so far, and we were more than ready for it to end.

The notorious Meltemi, much earlier than expected, was rolling out the welcome mat for us!

Eventually we came into the lee of the Island of Rhodes which offered some shelter from the weather, although it was probably also a case of the weather feeling it had done enough to us and deciding to loosen its grip!

Rhodes Marina, Pork Tenderloin and a bottle of Rosè

Mercifully, as the sun rose on a new day, the island of Rhodes came into view. The relative warmth generated from the early sunlight and the sight of land immediately bought about a positive mood shift onboard Luna Blu.

We took the opportunity of the last couple of hours before we arrived into the Marina to clean as much as we could both inside and outside of the boat. The weather the previous night had ensured the inside of the boat was a mess. Things not bolted down had been tossed about. A couple of dinner plates had been dislodged from their keeping and found themselves reduced to pieces. Not the end of the world, of course, but a reminder of the previous nights commotion!

Hot coffee was made, bones thawed, and the boat made ready for our arrival into Greece, and Rhodes Marina!

We could now put a definitive end to our long passage across the Indian Ocean, along the Gulf of Aden, up the Red Sea and through the Suez Canal. Would we repeat the experience? Probably not, but you only learn to appreciate life’s finer moments once you’ve endured its roughest ones.

We were welcomed into the Marina by a helpful gentleman on the VHF radio, who gave instructions on where we were to berth. To my delight, “tie up on your port side”, was the order. This avoided my very first attempt at the regions more conventional “Med Mooring” arrangment, where either an anchor is droped or slip lines are picked up to keep the bow secure as you reverse upto the dock and secure stern lines. It’s inevitable, and I dread the day that we first Med Moor, but today wasnt going to be that day. Nonetheless, a rather tricky 180 degree turn was required before reversing into a rather tight space between two boats already tied up. With the assistance of the helpful shore staff collecting lines and directing us alongside, it wasnt long before engines were turned off and a couple of audible sighs of great relief were exhaled. We’d arrived!

Zippy, driven by her boundless energy and inability to sit idle, something that I have become rather skilled at, immediately proceeded to wash the thick crust of salt as well as Red Sea dust from the decks. After a bit of time getting the boat back into island hopping mode and generally cleaned up, we then set about enjoying our first experience in a more civilised surrounding than this trip had otherwise offered.

The dockside to the Marina was lined with cafes, bars and restaurants. It was early in the season so tables were mostly unoccupied thus we heped ourselves to an outdoor table at Naval. Not only was Naval closest to where we have berthed, perhaps no more than 50m away, it was a piece of relative class, that the team aboard Luna Blu had been bereft of until now.

Not yet adjusted to “European” custom, we sat, impatiently, waving arms for attention and being met with little more than a cursory glance as more than one waiter seemed to be uninterested in our custom, preferring to trouble themselves with issues of the day, a cigarette in the sun, and setting up tables that would likely not be occupied for some time.

Eventually our attempts for attention were rewarded, and we were away. Welcome to Europe, I thought!

But my goodness, it was good to be back in a civilised part of the world!

Lindos

Three nights were spent at the Marina. We got the boat back into a state less like the contents had been tossed about as though inside a washing machine, and also allowing us a little window to do some provisioning amd procure some small parts from a nearby chandlery. But the highlight was exploring the old town of Rhodes.

The Old Town of Rhodes is a Unesco World Heritage Site and apparently one of Europe’s best preserved medieval cities, surrounded by kilometers of imposing walls and moat. Built by the Knights of St. John, it is a bustling, inhabited area filled with cobbled streets, Byzantine churches, Ottoman mosques, and the Palace of the Grand Master. Liberally scattered within the old town are bars, restaurants and cafes inviting visitors in. It was truly magnificent.

Paul Kelly, the great Australian lyricist puts it bluntly, and I sometimes agree with him, when referring to the old towns of Europe, “Every fucking city’s just the same”. That said, The Old Town of Rhodes certainly does have a certain charm about it that I liked, though a few hours spent walking through it was probably enough for me!

It had been recommended to us that while visiting the island of Rhodes, and much of it we hadn’t yet seen, we must visit the village of Lindos.

Lindos lies on the east coast of the island. It is about 40km south of the city of Rhodes and its beaches make it a popular tourist and holiday destination. Lindos is nestled in a small bay that is overlooked by the dominant Acropolis sitting atop the hill as though commanding the villagers below.

We checked out of the Rhodes Marina and made the short passage south and into the beautiful little bay of Lindos that had only one other yacht anchored inside. Coincidentally, a family of Danes, who had also made their way up the Red Sea and were on their way home and completing their circumnavigation. Chapeau team SY Rainbow!

Predominantly a tourist village, with old homes converted into either a rooftop restaurant or a villa for rent, Lindos is delightfully picturesque. Surrounded almost entirely by cliffs save for the entrance from the east, you can walk around the perimeter of the cliff looking down into the turquoise colored bay below. We probably should have stayed a few more days at Lindos, for it is spectacularly beautiful, but we had other places to visit!

Symi, and a slower pace

The tiny island of Symi lies about 20nm north west of Rhodes with a direct path to it taking you through Turkish waters, thus is the close proximity of these Dodecanese islands to that country. Symi claims to be better known for its beaches, but having come from Thailand, a country that rightfully claims to posses some of the best beaches in the world, and so with the greatest respect, i’m calling bullshit on Symi’s petition! What Symi does have, and ought be focusing on rather than its “beaches”, is the beautiful harbor at Symi Town, surrounded by colorful neoclassical houses set high on the surrounding hills. On the southwest coast, the 18th-century Monastery of Archangel Michael Panormitis is a major Greek Orthodox pilgrimage site with a Byzantine museum.

The island is a sailors dream with all manor of coves, bays and of course Symi Harbour making Symi a perfect island to add to a visit by water.

I. Panormitis

For us, it was to the tiny harbour of Panormitis located on the south west corner that we first called, and what a delightful little part of the world it is. The towns Monestary is the obvious feature and serves as a destination for dedicated religious devotees. For the sailor, it has little more than peace and quiet inside a bay that offers excellent protection from most wind directions. One restaurant and cafe are ashore amd because of that they charge whatever they like for a meal or coffee. The highlight though, is the Monestary bakery that sells fresh bread and pastries daily. It was to this little bakery that we visited daily after our morning coffee.

Panormitis has a walking path that rings the harbour and finishes moderately high up at the old Greek wind mill. Life onboard a yacht tends to become rather sedentary so we forced ourselves on a daily walk before retiring for coffee and fresh baked pastries!

We spent about a week in Panormitis enjoying the slower pace. Slow enough that our hand was encouraged to ramp things up a little, and move around to the port of Pedi located on the East coast of Symi.

II. Pedi

Pedi is a small traditional fishing village with a smaller stony beach. The village is only slightly busier than Panormitis, though not by much, though probably on account it being too early in the season thus the crowds hadnt yet arrived. When we turned up there were two other yachts anchored. We were told that at the peak, there can be upwards of 20 yachts anchored in the bay. I have no idea how they would fit in!

The waterside village counts only on some local taverns, a couple of small supermarkets and a few seaside hotels. Most of these establishments were either not yet open as it was still too early in the season, or were only just starting to get their act together in readiness.

Pedi, probably because of its proximity to the tourist centre of Symi Harbour, a lung busting walk up and over the hill, has little to offer amongst the residential village located up the hill overlooking the bay below and likely i wouldn’t get any arguments when I say its otherwise a lot dull. The town planners clearly agreed with my assessment for they determined it was the ideal place to locate the diesel driven power generation plant that generates power to the islands inhabitants!

Pedi did have a couple of nice walks though, one each along either side of the bay. The more adventurous of the two was the climb up and over a good sized hill and down into Agia Marina. Not a Marina by conventional standards, more a beach with a bar and restaurant that might be interesting if it were up and running!

III. Symi Town Quay

There comes a time where fears have to be met head on. Cruising European waters, particularly the Greek archipelago involves a docking convention that until now is entirely foreign to me.

Mediterranean mooring (Med mooring) is a technique for parking boats perpendicular (usually stern-to) to a quay or pier, common in low-tide areas like the Mediterranean to maximize space. It involves securing the stern with two lines to the dock while the bow is held by an anchor or a fixed “lazy line” that keeps the bow in position.

Without wanting to boast too much, and notwithstanding Luna Blu, a catamaran with two engines, being easily maneuverable, I am rather good at docking her into tight spaces. But Med Moorning is a first for me.

We decided to call into to the town quay at Symi, for the experience. The preceding day we’d found a local marinero (dock hand) who gave us a guide on what to do. 12 short hours later we had left Pedi and taken the short 3nm hop around the coast and into the tourist hot spot. Having spotted us approaching, the marinero was into his dinghy and out to greet us. The conditions were benign, which helped. Bow line was handed over to him, looped through the mooring buoy and returned to Zippy who was handling mooring lines onboard. Bow line secured, we reversed into quay and tied off stern lines with the assistance of staff ashore. All of this was watched intently by customers dining at the line of tavernas adjacent to where Luna Blu was now resting, which added, in no small part, to the stress of the whole exercise. But we did it, and without panic or incident!

Awkwardly using our dingy to move from the back of the boat onto the quay, as we didnt yet have the move conventional pasarel (gang plank), we otherwise maintained the image of seasoned professionals and immediately assumed a table at the taverna across from where we’d just berthed and set about ordering drinks. It was actually a surreal moment, sitting there sipping away, eating lunch, while looking with admiration at your own boat tied up a mere 5 meters meters away! I’d be lying if I didn’t feel a sense of pride watching foot traffic stopping to admire Luna Blu!

We only spent 2 nights at the town quay, which was enough for this time. We had been monitoring a weather front coming in and while the mooring was secure, I feel more comfortable when at anchor in a storm as there less risk of of water surge putting strain on mooring lines, or being knocked by boats tied up either side of us.

We went back to Pedi to try to secure the boat there, but after one night in the building winds we had dragged the anchor and didnt want to have that stress when the proper front arrived the following day.

We had a couple of sails that needed repairing, and some parts that were being delivered to the agent in Rhodes, so elected to hotfoot it back to Rhodes to ride out the storm.

As I am concluding this edition, the storm continues to blow, and longer than had been forecast. Another 24hrs perhaps? But the anchor is holding brilliantly and we are sleeping well at night despite the roaring noise outside!

Whats Next?

We are enamoured with Greece so far, and its already been nearly one month since we arrived. The plan is to be positioned toward the western edge of the Mediterranean in readiness to cross the Atlantic, departing mid November, toward the Carribean islands. Between now and Early Nov there isn’t much of a plan. We will continue to explore what Greece has to offer for as long as we like, and perhaps then shift over to Italy and France, mayne Montenegro and even Malta and Morocco, closer to the Mediterranean finish date of November.

Who truly knows? One of the many upsides of boat life is you are constrained only by the weather and time.

What we do know is that its just nice to be back in civilisation, and in an area that is made for yacht cruising!

It is glorious!