Author: Gisela Wuerfel

One remembers the history lessons and the pictures in the history books: The gigantic Lion's Gate, of which we still do not know how the huge stone blocks were piled up to the wall and the gate and in general to the citadel. According to the legend it was Perseus, son of Zeus and Danae, who founded Mycenae and commissioned the Cyclops to build the wall.
We are in Argolis, no longer in Arcadia, but the landscape is similar. Between two hills overlooking the sea, Mycenae is about 20km northeast of Nafplion. The huge citadel looks from a distance as if it had grown out of the hill. You walk through the huge walls through the lion's gate to a circular burial chamber, diameter about 15 meters, 5 meters deep. Then through a quarter where the craftsmen and artists lived and worked, an area of cult practice, and up above is the citadel. Heinrich Schliemann, who you meet everywhere here, and who "excavated" Mycenae, dated Mycenae to the classical Greek period, the golden mask, also in every history book, was for him the mask of Agamemnon.
This is one of the reasons why we know Mycenae as one of the most important origins of the Greek culture and connect it with the confederations of cities, with Athens and Sparta, with Classical Greece, eighth to third century BC, also with the classical epics and tragedies.
Meanwhile it has been found that Mycenae is much older, until 2000 of the pre-Christian period, first beginnings around 3000 at the beginning of the Bronze Age. Corresponding cult objects, but also articles of daily use and weapons are exhibited in the Archaeological Museum, which is located nearby - naturally also statues and findings from the Greek period.
Thus Mycenae stands for centuries and millennia of development from the settlement, agriculture and handicraft up to the Greek/hellenic high culture and thus for the change, with which following settlers or also occupiers, who took over and integrated positive elements of the culture found for them in each case. The museum uses a very appropriate term for this: "cultural fermentation", and today we are of course also a part of it.

Epidauros is the most impressive and best preserved theatre of the ancient world in Greece, according to the guide book. 2300 years old, it can hold up to 14,000 spectators and has excellent acoustics that all visitors try out. Excavations by Greek archaeologists prove that Epidauros was a place of worship for religious acts in ancient times. Since the 5th century it has also hosted festivals, with sporting disciplines and artistic competitions. Every year, in July and August, there is a theatre festivals of international standing.
During our visit to Epidauros, the large car park is almost empty and the festival has not taken place this year. Also one of the effects of the Corvid pandemic. As sad and bad as it is for all those whose livelihoods are linked to it, for us this emptiness is pleasant. We don't have to wait at the ticket counter and we can take photos where no tourist is to be seen.

What we didn't realize was that the rise of Epidaurus was inseparable from the cult of Asclepius, god of medicine, son of Apollo and Coronis. His birthplace was located there. So Epidaurus was not only a place of worship in ancient times with temples and porticoes, but also a spa with hospitals, amusement parks, hotels and later on, with the Romans, thermal baths were added. Healing was probably done by hypnosis, but also by baths, relaxation and mental stimulation, for example theatre performances. We could well imagine all this while walking through the extensive excavation area. So the combination of medical and psychotherapeutic treatment methods, which is successfully practised today, also has its roots in the ancient world on Peleponnes. Learned something again!

Ovid sang about it, Goethe praised it, and according to the travel guide, even Ernst Bloch was already here: Arcadia, place of longing and fascinating ideal "golden" landscape. And, to quote the travel guide again: "Home of the shepherd god Pan: rugged mountains, gnarled pastures and empty villages, sad myths and places of warlike encounters".
We approached Arcadia from the sea. Beautifully rolling hills that change colour depending on the position of the sun and the time of day, from green to brown. In the background, steep rock falls, red karst near Leonidi. The land is barren - except for the alluvial fans of the rivers, which have created fertile plains, olives, vegetables, wine, citrus fruits are cultivated, here are also the cities. Small fishing villages like Kyparissou, Paralio Astros, very idyllic, tiny harbours and beautiful anchor bays. This is one of the reasons why the Roman consul, orator and politician Herodes Atticus built his huge vila here 1900 years ago - with a view of the sea, but seven kilometres away. Next to this villa is the small Monatserste of Loukos with its uniquely beautiful garden. Here a nun explains the difference between Greek Orthodox and Russian Orthodox Church (none except for a few other holidays), then she invites you to a glass of water with homemade marshmellow-like sweets.
Besides Roman remains and Byzantine monasteries and churches, there are also Frankish fortresses in Arcadia - Franconia is the collective term for crusaders here.
A beautiful, harsh region, you can understand the praise of this country.

Many who sail know this: there are wonderful nights on board. For example in a beautiful bay. The boat lies quietly at anchor. You lie in the cockpit, look into the rig and into the beautiful starry sky, another glass of wine and then sleep until the sun comes back. Or: On a long trip across the Atlantic. You are at the helm and on watch. All others are sleeping. The rising stars above the horizon. They shine green, red and blue. You observe how they gradually become as white as we know them when they climb higher.
But there are also other nights: The wind turns and the anchor chain starts to jerk. Will the anchor hold? You are are alarmed and can‘t sleep anymore. Or: You have chosen a "safe" small harbour because strong wind is announced for the next day. So we did on the east side of the Peloponnese on the way from Monemvasia to the north. In Plaka/Leonidi, a good 20 nautical miles further north, we moored alongside at the pier. A nice little place where we were given a bag of tomatoes, cucumbers and peppers as a welcome present. Here we wanted to stay for two days to explore the surroundings, beautiful villages and impressive rocks.

Then it turned out completely different: At midnight our many fenders scraped up and down the pier violently. No wind but an incredible swell in the harbor. The wind further east had built up this strong swell. It did not hit our boat directly, but it was reflected from the shore into the harbor. So we to make "fender watch", so that our boat was not not damaged. Our Austrian neighbors had the same situation. They know the small port for years and had never experienced such a heavy swell there. It stayed there the next morning as well. So no exploring the area in Leonidi. We fled a bit further north to the port of Astros. Here we now lie calmly in front of the bow anchor with a view of the fortress above the town. We also met our Austrian neighbors here again. And now: sleep and then explore the surroundings.

Unbelievable: a rock, just off the coast of the eastern Peloponnese, rises vertically from the sea 200 m high, 1.7 km long. Associations with Ayers Rock cannot be denied.
Settled since the 4th century, impregnable, unaffected by the constant alternation between Venetian and Ottoman rule. It only became Ottoman when the Venetians sold it to the Ottomans. This made its strategic position on the sea route from Italy to Constantinople obsolete and sealed its slow decline.
At the top, a large plateau, a Byzantine citadel with everything that goes with it, the upper town, of which only ruins remain today, it was inhabited until 1911, by the way.
On the southern slope, the lower town, also Byzantine, almost completely preserved, completely surrounded by a city wall that stretches up the steep hill. A maze of alleys, stairs, terraces, winding, without cars, this would also be impossible because of the narrowness and steepness. And a small "portello" in the southern city wall - you climb through and are two steps down at a wild bathing spot - with steps and railings to get safely into the water in the rocky bank.
Today the town is home to upmarket tourism, the houses have been sensitively renovated and are used as hotels or holiday flats.
Not to forget: From here comes the Malvasia wine, which can be tasted in pubs, taverns, bars and wine shops everywhere.
The most impressive thing we have seen on our journey so far.

After we had successfully completed our little odyssey through this beautiful town, we thought maybe Kafka was Greek after all………
But one after the other: We came to Gythion and couldn't find a berth in the harbour itself, because it was so crowded that we had to moor outside, at the ferry pier, a 100 x 100 metres concrete slab - very romantic, but as it turned out, a very good, very safe place.
Hardly arrived and moored, two friendly officers of the Hellenic Coastguard came in a pickup SUV and asked for the papers. We handed over everything we needed: boat licence, Tepai (Cruising Tax), insurance policy. They kindly pointed out to us that before we leave, over there - they pointed to a house opposite the harbour - we had to pay the mooring fee.
The next day, in the afternoon, another pickup SUV of the Coast Guard arrived, with two other officers. They asked for our papers…….we said they could have them, but yesterday there were already two colleagues here who had already done all this. Ah, all right then, have a nice day……..
In the meantime we were already discussing whether we should really sign off.
So after five days - Gythion and the surrounding area are really nice - we went to this office after we decided to pay after all. The officer looked at us in astonishment and said that this was the city police and we had to go to the Coastguard, pointing to the other end of the city. There we arrived after a 1.5km walk (35 degrees Celsius). There was a copy of our papers, after all. No, here we were completely wrong, they said. We would have to go to the city administration, they would collect the demurrage fees. That would be back there, the friendly officer pointed to the area we had just come from. So a little longer back to the other end, two buildings with Greek flags in front of them looked quite awe-inspiring. At the first one we were kindly told that this was a school. That we definitely wanted to go to the house next door. And indeed - that was the municipal administration. Everywhere the typical Greek offices: very cramped, very warm, a lot of officials per office for the square metres, shelves with files up to the rather high ceiling. But in the corridors and in the building dignified furnishings, antique figures and even a columned hall.
We had to go to Dimitra, we were told, after we had asked a lot of questions. Dimitra sat behind a glass wall and made a phone call. Quite long. Sometimes she tapped energetically with her hair clip on the desk.
When she had finished the conversation, she turned to us and was very friendly. She took a closely printed, shrink-wrapped DIN A4 sheet (looked like the small print in the insurance contract) and wrote various numbers among themselves in very precisely legible writing. Then she added them up with the help of a pocket calculator, which looked as if it could do the four basic arithmetic operations - but not any more, and that with rather large keys. The result: 18.04 € for five days. Not much, but there was no supply (electricity, water, showers…).
Then we made a crucial mistake: Dimitra asked if she should print out the receipt or if she should send it to us by e-mail. To this day we still don't know why we decided to use the mail variant. After a friendly farewell we went back to the boat.
The next day we received the mail from Dimitra with the receipt, but she apologised, she had made a calculation error and the amount would not be 18,04€, but 42,60. We should pay the difference to the account at the National Bank of Greece anyway, thank you very much.
We'll see when they sehe sends us a reminder.

It is said that Elafonisos is the Greek Ibiza. We couldn't find out, at least as far as pubs and discos etc. are concerned. But the beaches and bays are fantastic, fine sand, turquoise sea, picturesque rocks in the background. We spent two days and nights in one of these bays, went swimming from the boat and enjoyed ourselves. However, with a small downer: The bays are mostly open to the southwest, and the swell, the swell that forms during the day due to the constant wind, runs straight into the bay. With the result that the boat rocks, especially when the wave is quite big: always up and down, because it lies at anchor across the waves. That was a bit uncomfortable, one could not sleep so calmly. But because there is almost no light from houses or villages in the bays at night, the starry sky was incredibly beautiful.

Then we wanted to go to Neapoli, opposite Elafonisos on the mainland. But there it was impossible to go ashore: a very small pier was already occupied by Coast Guard and High Speed Ferry, and the open spaces were too shallow, even though we had a draft of 1.68 m. A slight panic broke out, because we didn't want to be anchored so restlessly again.
2 km east of Neapoli there is the tiny port of Palaiokastro, which looks more like a ship graveyard, at least as far as a few bumbling sailboats are concerned, partly lying on the land and already tipped over. At the much too short pier there was a somewhat rusty, but still functional working ship, estimated to be 20 m long. Two men were fishing and we asked if We Couleur fix our boat at this workboat. Yes yes, was the answer, in two hours another ship would come, but that would be fine. So we moored ourselves to this steel colossus and, although a bit grotesque in appearance, we were all the safer and calmer. The working ship came and maneuvered up to 5cm towards us - the captain was a real professional. Suddenly the owner of the ship we had moored to came and asked when we wanted to leave, we said after one or two nights. No problem was the answer, but he had to go out tomorrow at noon. So it was clear: we would stay one night.
We have hardly ever had a berth before that was as exotic, but also as quiet as the one between the truck and the work ship.