Sailing Aglaya

From our lovely anchorage in Limeni Bay, we set off on the final leg of our journey before our summer break – to Kalamata. The winds are shifting, so we have to use the engine. About five nautical miles from Kalamata, our Nanni engine splutters and cuts out. What’s going on? We quickly hoist the sails so that we can manoeuvre to some extent. Fortunately, the wind gradually picks up. Several attempts to get the engine running again are unsuccessful. Walter checks everything in the engine room but cannot find the cause. Although we can sail nicely towards Kalamata, we cannot make it into the marina under sails alone. The entrance is narrow and shallow, and with the southerly wind now having picked up, any attempt to moor would result in damage. So we drop anchor off the harbour entrance – not an ideal spot. Our (first!) anchoring manoeuvre under sail is successful, but the wind and the strong swell are pushing us towards the shore. The anchor holds straight away, but our boat is dancing on the high waves. We spend several hours watching to see if the anchor will hold as the swell grows even stronger. Windy hadn’t forecast this much wind and swell. Anchoring on Legerwall is certainly no walk in the park. What do we do if the anchor does end up letting go? Hoist the sails and try to get away from the shore as quickly as possible.

We contact the marina and ask if a mechanic can come out to our boat. It’s not going to happen today. We spend the night at anchor off Legerwall, which we’re not at all happy about. In the evening, however, the wind dies down, so we can sleep with some peace of mind.

The following afternoon, Michail, the much-awaited mechanic, comes out to us in his plastic boat. We already know him from 2021, when we had Aglaya ashore here over the winter. He searches for quite a while and then finds the culprit: the fuel pump that feeds the diesel into the engine is broken. It’s fitted in such a hidden spot that we hadn’t been able to find it at all. We don’t have a spare part like that on board. Good old Michail heads ashore, gets a new fuel pump and fits it for us. He’s a real teacher, always asking us if we understand everything he’s doing. No? Then he explains it to us.

And then the call comes over the radio: “Marina Kalamata, Marina Kalamata! Sailing boat Aglaya calling. Our engine is working now. Can we come in?” We quickly leave the mooring wall and head into the marina. Now we can prepare Aglaya for the summer break. Tomorrow we’ll be able to move her to a better-protected berth. On 26 June, our flight home departs from Kalamata Airport. We’ll be back on board at the end of August. Then we’ll continue round the Peloponnese into the Ionian Sea.

To reach the Laconian Gulf from Monemvasía, you have to sail west round Cape Maleas, which is notorious for its unpredictable, often strong winds. Up until now, we’d only ever experienced the cape in almost complete calm. Gisela goes for another walk around the Monemvasia rock beforehand, then we say goodbye to Mateo, who now has really place in our hearts. 

It’s not exactly calm at Cape Maleas, but the wind is light. So no stress. We can enjoy a lovely sail to the island of Elafonisos.

When the westerly wind picks up, the best place to drop anchor is in Ormos Lefki. That’s what we do, as do many other sailors. The bay is large, but it gets really crowded. We find it difficult to find a good anchorage, especially as the seabed is interspersed with rocks covered with a thin layer of sand. We’re not the only ones who have to make several attempts before the anchor really holds. And then it gets quiet; there’s hardly any light and we can see an incredible number of stars again. The next morning, the bay empties, but we stay. It’s a lovely spot to relax and go for a swim. 

After we’ve almost circumnavigated Elafonisos the following day, we head north into the Gulf of Laconia. Once again, there’s a lovely sailing breeze; in the afternoon it often shifts to the south, which suits us fine. The bay where we eventually drop anchor we call ‘Archangel Bay’, Ormos Archangelos. It’s beautiful, with a small village and a beach – pure idyll. Only the wind is still blowing fiercely for a few hours. Soft music drifts over from Dimitris’s Bar in the village – classical in the morning, blues in the evening. A British catamaran is moored alongside us. In the evening, the World Cup match between England and Croatia takes place, which England win. When the Brits weigh anchor the next morning, the English national anthem blares out from Dimitris’s bar, and the Brits stand on deck, waving and blowing their horn. It’s just lovely – that also is Europe.

We set off too, enjoying another lovely sail as we head further north, diagonally across the gulf to Gythio. A heavy thunderstorm is brewing over the high mountains (one of which is 2,400 metres high). At first we hope it won’t catch us, but then we find ourselves right in the middle of it – zero visibility, with lightning and thunder directly overhead. Engine on, sails down; it’s getting cold and we’re soaked. We set a direct course for Gythio harbour, but know we’re not allowed to enter until after 6.00 pm. A Starclipper sailing ship is anchored off the harbour and we have to wait until all the cruise passengers have been brought back on board by the tenders. We wait at anchor; the rain eases off and a huge rainbow spans the gulf. Wow!

Then we go into the harbour. There are only a few berths, but we’d phoned Nikos the day before, and he’d allocated us a spot. First, a quick drink to celebrate, but we got our hopes up too soon – our anchor isn’t holding, so we have to get out of our ‘parking space’ again, drop anchor and re-park. It all goes well this time; the chain is taut. It’s just that it might now be lying over our neighbour’s chain. These things happen. Hopefully there won’t be any problems when we cast off.   

There isn’t really any in the evening either. Our neighbour casts off, freeing himself from our chain – which isn’t exactly easy on a catamaran – and our anchor continues to hold firm.

The next day we have to motor for quite a while. At first there’s a lovely northerly wind, which takes us a bit further south. Then, unfortunately, we have to start up the Nanni to reach Porto Kagio, just before the southern tip of the Mani. We’re now moored here, with wind coming from the land and swell from the sea – not very comfortable. The bay is gradually filling up with boats and we’re waiting for the swell to die down.  

After a short stop in Nafplion, our neighbours Andrea and Axel join us on board for a week. We sailed with them once before in 2022, back then in the Northern Sporades. Once again, we can see that all the sails are perfectly trimmed when we’re out on the water with them. We’re heading south from Nafplion in the Argolic Gulf. The sailing involves everything from tacking into the southerly wind to focused steering with a tailwind and a storm jib on the mainsail. We don’t have long distances to cover and need to make little headway before we reach Monemvasia in a week’s time. This means we can make the most of almost every breeze.

Back to Astros, where we’d already been a few days ago with our previous guests. Then on to Kilada Bay. Of course Andrea and Axel also take a trip to the Franchthi Cave in the dinghy. Then across the gulf to the west, to Leonidi. We’d spent a restless night here a few years ago, moored alongside, with plenty of swell. Experience makes you wiser. This time we’re moored with the bow anchor and stern to the pier. The lady from the tavern welcomes us with a bag full of fruit. In the evening we go there for dinner and enjoy the rustic, delicious food.

Next destination: Kiparissi. We’re also familiar with this well-sheltered bay and its charming little village from previous years. The bay is full of boats, including large motor yachts (one with a helicopter). We’re amazed at how busy it is here. This isn’t the Kiparissi we’re used to know. We drop anchor in Chapel Cove. It’s relatively quiet here. There’s little light, so in the evening we can admire a magnificent starry sky. The clear water is tempting for a swim. The next day, we decide to see what’s going on in the village, so we row the dinghy to the small jetty by the chapel and walk along a lovely path with plenty of views of our boat. It’s Sunday and siesta time, so there’s nothing going on.

So we treat ourselves to another lovely evening under the starry sky and set off the next morning further south along the coast into Gerakas Fjord. Another lovely day’s sailing before we moor at the small jetty in Gerakas Port. There’s plenty going on here too. We buy wine on tap and sit right by the jetty for dinner, so close that we have to be careful not to fall into the water when we get up.

A light tailwind pushes us towards the rock of Monemvasia the next day. We know Mateo from previous visits here. We’d written to him to say we were coming and sent a photo of the boat as a memento. So there he is, standing on the pier, taking our stern lines. A lovely reunion. Here too, the harbour is full and many boats are anchored off it. Here, too, the harbour is full and many boats are anchoring outside. As the Corinth Canal has been closed since October 2025 due to extensive renovation work, boats wishing to travel from the Ionian Sea to the Aegean Sea – and vice versa – have to sail around the Peloponnese. 

In the evening, we walk along the rock to the lower town and, invited by Andrea and Axel, enjoy a delicious dinner with a view of the sea. It was their last day of sailing with us for this year. A wonderful time for us!

But we still have a special final day as a foursome: we drive through the mountains in a hire car to Sparta and a little further on to the Byzantine medieval town of Mystras. We’d never seen such a large complex, built so steeply built into the mountainside, before. Climbing the steep paths costs us a lot of sweat. But we wouldn’t have missed this visit with so many fantastic views, including of the valley and the mountains. In Sparta, it’s time to say, “Adios, Andrea and Axel, it was lovely having you with us! We’ll see you again soon back at home.” The two of them are taking the bus to Athens the next day. We’re back in Monemvasia, resting a bit, doing our laundry and getting ready for the next stages of our journey to Kalamata.

Pictures of Mystras

On 22 May, our friends Annegret and Andreas come on board in Poros. The four of us are now sailing together for ten days – a lovely change of pace. Short legs and mostly good sailing winds make the ten days a relaxed and varied time. Only the first day is wet and a bit rough. We sail round the island of Poros in heavy rain and strong winds with a swell. But then it clears up and we have a peaceful night at anchor in Ormos Soupia, a little way south-west of Poros. 

Next destination: the uninhabited little island of Dokos. On the north side there is a large, well-sheltered bay, which is actually marked as a restricted area on the nautical chart. When we arrive, there are several large motor yachts moored there. Well, then we can anchor there too. In the evening, after the large yachts have packed away their ‘water toys’, it becomes quiet. The wind dies down, the water’s surface becomes smooth, and we go for a swim from the boat for the first time this year. The water is still quite cold, but crystal clear. 

The next day, a lovely easterly wind takes us to Ermioni. Annegret, a novice at the helm, manages 6.6 knots with just the headsail and mizzen. From then on, we have another capable helmswoman on board. But Andreas also takes the helm time and again over the next few days and keeps us on course. There’s plenty going on in Ermioni. On the north side, the few berths in the harbour are taken. A marina is being built in the bay. It’s said to have 300 berths. We tie up at the south pier. We’re already familiar with it. We were here for the first time in 2020, our first year with Aglaya. 

After a lovely walk through the pine forest on the peninsula, we set off the next day – again with a lovely sailing breeze – on to Porto Heli. We could easily drop anchor in the large bay, but we fancy a bit of luxury and a hot shower. That’s why we’d booked into the marina. Porto Heli is a nice place, but the marina is a bit dull. So we’re looking forward to our next anchorage.

In the very well-sheltered bay of Kilada, we moor right in front of the prehistoric Franchthi Cave. People lived here as far back as 20,000 BC. Back then, the sea level was significantly lower and people kept livestock here. Now the cave lies right by the sea. Of course we take a trip there in the dinghy. Our new dinghy is actually only suitable for two people. With three of us on board – and with the wind and waves – the trip turned out to be a wet and rather adventurous affair. In the evening and at night, the cave is lit up, a magnificent sight. We like our anchorage so much that we decide to stay another day, swimming, reading, admiring the beautiful landscape around us and, of course, the starry sky at night. Right at the back of the bay, by the way, is the large Basimakopoulos boatyard. That is where Aglaya spent the winter of 2022/2023 on land.

A strong southerly wind and squalls drive us to Astros on the opposite side of the Argolic Gulf the next day. Strong crosswinds and a high swell make it impossible for us to moor in the small harbour with the bow anchor and stern to the pier. Reversing straight in is out of the question. So we moor alongside the pier in a somewhat precarious spot. With the help of other sailors, we manage to secure ourselves quite well after all. And as is usually the case, things calm down again in the evening and we can go for a relaxed meal at the best taverna in Astros.

From the Franconian castle ruins towering above Astros, there is a sweeping view across the gulf and you can even see as far as Nafplion. That is our next destination. Unfortunately, due to a lack of wind, we have to motor the ten nautical miles. As compensation, we can see flying fish leaping above the mirror-smooth water’s surface. In the harbour of Nafplion, we are greeted by two friendly men in orange vests. They assign us a berth and take our giant white ropes. With the wind coming from diagonally behind, the reverse manoeuvre to the pier goes smoothly.

We are now moored directly below the Venetian fortress of Palamidi. A stunning backdrop. Annegret and Andreas are spending their last night on board. We said our goodbyes to them today. They are now on their way to Athens by bus. We had a lovely, varied and relaxing time together.

During the night, whilst still moored at the pier in Kea, a strong north-north-westerly wind blows, driving heavy swells into the harbour. Our neighbours, a flotilla of three boats, are also taking a look at the situation in the morning. Is it safe to cast off with strong gusts coming from the side, without the propeller being pushed onto the neighbouring boat’s anchor chain? We are the first to give it a go, and it just about works. Even in the harbour, the swell is so strong that Gisela doesn’t walk around the boat to fetch the fenders. First, we motor out a bit to see just how rough it really is with the wind and swell. And it really does get rough. Aglaya has never been shaken about like this with us on board before. The bow keeps dipping into the water, the water rises up to the rubbing strake, and huge breaking waves splash us in the cockpit and cover the whole boat in salt. But Aglaya is holding her own bravely; she’s a strong lady, and we’re brave and resilient too, because we’ve never experienced such a violent and chaotic swell for a whole day before.

We’re on our way to Poros in the Saronic Gulf, a good 40 nautical miles – a long journey. Steering is exhausting; we take turns every half hour. Once, whilst changing at the helm, Walter injures his foot. Treating the wound has to wait until the evening.

When things calm down briefly off Cape Sounion, we hoist the mizzen and ease out the jib a little. But then the wind and swell pick up again and we can’t hold our course. So we motor the last stretch straight towards the south side of Poros to strike the sails there. 

We’ve made it to Poros; we were underway for ten hours. Windy had forecast 25 knots of wind, but we had a steady 35 to just under 40. The whole pier in Poros is full. So we drop anchor in the bay, enjoying the peace and quiet and the lovely view of the town. The next morning there’s space, so we moor at the pier, tidy up and give the boat a good clean. Annegret and Andreas are arriving tomorrow on the ferry from Athens. Aglaya will sparkle for them.

We don‘t have fotos from our wilde ride. We needed our hands to steer, to fix us on the boat and to worf with the sails. But of course we can show you the view from our anchorage at Poros.

Unspoilt coastline, countless wind turbines and just two sheltered harbours – that’s Euboea on the eastern side, which is exposed to the Meltemi. But as we’re already familiar with the sheltered Inside Passage on the western side, we now want to continue southwards along the eastern coast. A long stretch from the beautiful and hospitable island of Skyros to the south-west brings us, in wind and rain, to the fishing harbour of Agioi Apostoloi. Here you can moor well sheltered, if you manage to tie up. A fisherman showed us to a berth and wanted to take our lines. But with strong gusts of wind, you have to tighten the lines quickly. Our fisherman, however, remains completely calm and, despite our shouts, first ties a knot in the bow line. By then we’re already at a right angle with the bow to the pier. Next attempt, same result. It works on the third try. Just as well, because now it’s really starting to rain. We take a breather below deck and later spend quite some time marvelling at a full rainbow from the cockpit. All’s well again. We enjoy a cosy evening on board.

Next day, next leg, to the Cycladic island of Andros. We haven’t been there yet; we want to take a day’s break there and have a look around the island. Once again, things turn out differently: there’s still space for us in our chosen harbour, Batsi, but with a strong crosswind we can’t manage to back up to the pier using the bow anchor. What a pity! But there’s no point in complaining. We motor the three nautical miles to Gavrion ferry port. A man from the port authority tells us the harbour is full. It doesn’t look very nice here either. Next option: drop anchor. And that’s often not the worst option at all. We drop anchor off a beach; we’re all alone here. Little light from the mainland, lots of stars in the sky, a bit of swell, then a quiet night.

In the morning, strong gusts of wind wake us. A little less than a steady 32 knots would have been enough for the next leg to the island of Kea. Sailing with just the mizzen and a strong swell from behind, we cover the 25 nautical miles at speeds of up to 6.4 knots. Steering is exhausting, but with a change at the helm every half hour, we arrive safely in Korissia on Kea. Mooring goes well here despite a bit of a crosswind. Never before have we had to put so many things back in their places below deck after sailing. Lots of things had slid and flown about, but nothing was broken.

We’ve been to the island of Kea four years ago. Here we’re moored nicely at the pier. And we treat ourselves to another day ashore, visit the Chora, and say to the stone, sleeping lion, “Hello, it’s lovely to see you again!” We reckon the lion isn’t sleeping, but smiling. We follow this up with a lovely hike up in the hills with views of Andros, Euboea, and south towards Poros. That’s where we’re heading tomorrow.  

Still on Thassos we are waiting for the right wind to sail south-west. But it’s not coming. On the contrary – it’s getting calmer and calmer. So we decide to motor the 58-nautical-mile leg to Chalkidiki, to the southern tip of the middle finger.

We set off just before seven, with the sea as smooth as glass and no swell, sailing 30 nautical miles towards Mount Athos. The closer we get, the more impressively it towers above us. We can still see many small patches of snow in the steep rocky gullies, and then the numerous monasteries on the rocky slopes. You’re not allowed to moor or anchor here.

We pass the southern tip and then set course for the southern tip of Sithónia, the middle finger. At four o’clock in the afternoon, we sail into the bay of Porto Koufo. We already know it well from last autumn. The small pier is free, so we moor alongside there. Very pleasant. But then a local informs us that large trawlers are very likely to arrive in the evening to land their catch here. We don’t want to get in their way. So we drop anchor in the bay. Actually, that’s much nicer. And sure enough: as darkness falls, one large trawler after another arrives. We count at least eight. They can’t all fit at the pier and have to circle the bay until a space becomes free again. By morning they’ve all gone.

We’re staying another day, waiting for the right wind again, mooring at the pier during the day and dropping anchor again in the evening. There might be trawlers coming around again.

But then we’ll head further south to the Northern Sporades, to Steni Vala on the island of Alonissos. Another fairly long leg. And all along the way, dolphins – lots of small ones, but some big ones too. Some accompany us for a while, perhaps in the hope that we’ll throw them a fish, or simply for fun. 

Steni Vala is a small, narrow bay with a pier. We were here once before in 2022 with our friends Andrea and Axel. We remembered it as idyllic and cosy. And that’s exactly how it is again this time. The owner of Café Icarus helps us moor and then hands us a long plank, as we can’t get our stern quite close enough to the pier because of the rocks. After a brief thunderstorm in the evening, we sleep soundly, as if in Abraham’s bosom.

The next day takes us a good 40 nautical miles further south to the island of Skyros. First there’s no wind at all with stormy conditions, and then suddenly 25 knots are on the weather forecast today. In Linaria, the small ferry port of Skyros, we moor comfortably at a bollard. The harbour master recalls that we were here for a few days four years ago, waiting for three new service batteries that were delivered by bus and ferry from Athens.

During that time, we had explored the beautiful island by hire car and on foot. This time, we only want to stay for two nights and simply take a day to relax – and, of course, experience the spectacle once again when the ferry arrives in the evening and Richard Strauss’s ‘Thus Spoke Zarathustra’ (performed by Eumir Deodato) resounds through the harbour.