It's raining ...fish! Halleluah!
M.
We managed to leave Astokos with rather more dignity than on our arrival. Another glorious day beckoned and we set sail back towards Kioni on Ithica. This is a pretty village with an unspoilt but rather upmarket sort of feel and we enjoyed being here in the spring. It it usually pretty busy with flotillas packed in tightly, but we thought it would surely be quiet now at this tail-end of the season.
So we dawdled, enjoying gentle afternoon breezes and yet another talking book entertained us on the way across. By the time we arrived however spaces were limited. We had forgotten that this is half-term holiday season and the flotillas are having their last fling over the next 2 weeks.We should have remembered because this was always the time that we used to come with our own family.
From previous trips we remembered that there was a sneaky place to berth on the outer mole, reserved for the ferry between 10am and 5pm but available to all in evening. Just room for 2 yachts before large boulders loom from the depths.
We slid in next to a yacht with young family and professional teaching skipper aboard. A lecture about tidal gates and vectors was going on, followed by depth charts, Almanacks and secondary ports .. Seems a million miles from the sailing around these parts.
The recipients had a familiar, glazed and uncomprehending expression as the skipper drew charts enthusiastically and the kids whined about going paddling, rather than having to learn any new knots. Very nostalgic.
Last night, in Astokos we had a very substantial meal ashore. Once the waiter had clocked that we were vegetarian he proudly produced waves of extra dishes until we were about to explode.Then he gave us complementary pudding. Rather than waste the excess plates of aubergines, vegetables, beans, he was happy to box it all up for us, so rustling up tonights meal was simple.
However, suddenly, as we were pottering downstairs with this, there was a funny noise on deck .We popped up to find dozens of small silver fish flapping on the deck. Fish carnage. We tried our best to pick them up and return them to sea but as we did so there was a continual plop of more arriving aboard.
I climbed into the dinghy to salvage the many others flapping desperately. As I bent down there was a ' whooosh' and hundreds of them poured down on me. They flapped in my hair and battered against my bare legs. It was not pleasant and I could do nothing more constructive than to scream loudly. There seemed to be endless waves of new arrivals bumping into me from every angle. The fishermen on the shore stared at me with absolute incomprehension and disbelief. I was standing in the dinghy,screaming and clutching my head. Fish were just raining down on me.
Come on then, own up - who whipped up this plague upon us?
Once I had regained my cool, I nonchalently picked them out of my hair and folds of clothing and repatriated them to sea with as much dignity as one can pick up slithery flappy wriggly things. Local cats were now prowling on the shore.
Well we called the boat Summertime. I suppose we should have expected jumping fish.
Goodness knows what delights tomorrow will bring . Boils, locusts? Loaves?
We managed to leave Astokos with rather more dignity than on our arrival. Another glorious day beckoned and we set sail back towards Kioni on Ithica. This is a pretty village with an unspoilt but rather upmarket sort of feel and we enjoyed being here in the spring. It it usually pretty busy with flotillas packed in tightly, but we thought it would surely be quiet now at this tail-end of the season.
So we dawdled, enjoying gentle afternoon breezes and yet another talking book entertained us on the way across. By the time we arrived however spaces were limited. We had forgotten that this is half-term holiday season and the flotillas are having their last fling over the next 2 weeks.We should have remembered because this was always the time that we used to come with our own family.
From previous trips we remembered that there was a sneaky place to berth on the outer mole, reserved for the ferry between 10am and 5pm but available to all in evening. Just room for 2 yachts before large boulders loom from the depths.
We slid in next to a yacht with young family and professional teaching skipper aboard. A lecture about tidal gates and vectors was going on, followed by depth charts, Almanacks and secondary ports .. Seems a million miles from the sailing around these parts.
The recipients had a familiar, glazed and uncomprehending expression as the skipper drew charts enthusiastically and the kids whined about going paddling, rather than having to learn any new knots. Very nostalgic.
Last night, in Astokos we had a very substantial meal ashore. Once the waiter had clocked that we were vegetarian he proudly produced waves of extra dishes until we were about to explode.Then he gave us complementary pudding. Rather than waste the excess plates of aubergines, vegetables, beans, he was happy to box it all up for us, so rustling up tonights meal was simple.
However, suddenly, as we were pottering downstairs with this, there was a funny noise on deck .We popped up to find dozens of small silver fish flapping on the deck. Fish carnage. We tried our best to pick them up and return them to sea but as we did so there was a continual plop of more arriving aboard.
I climbed into the dinghy to salvage the many others flapping desperately. As I bent down there was a ' whooosh' and hundreds of them poured down on me. They flapped in my hair and battered against my bare legs. It was not pleasant and I could do nothing more constructive than to scream loudly. There seemed to be endless waves of new arrivals bumping into me from every angle. The fishermen on the shore stared at me with absolute incomprehension and disbelief. I was standing in the dinghy,screaming and clutching my head. Fish were just raining down on me.
Come on then, own up - who whipped up this plague upon us?
Once I had regained my cool, I nonchalently picked them out of my hair and folds of clothing and repatriated them to sea with as much dignity as one can pick up slithery flappy wriggly things. Local cats were now prowling on the shore.
Well we called the boat Summertime. I suppose we should have expected jumping fish.
Goodness knows what delights tomorrow will bring . Boils, locusts? Loaves?
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