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.
