We sit in the cockpit watching the disturbed seas. Whirly whirly’s form and dissipate. Once again we are boat bound as strong winds buffet Dizzie. Maybe we are overly cautious staying on the boat, after all we are tied very securely to the wall of a marina. All this sitting does not excite young kids but fortunately their boredom drives creativity. Leora wants to dance. With the lack of music, she requests songs from me. So while we watch the Dizzie straining against her ropes in strong gusts, she dances enthusiastically and I sing (stupendiously!). Kynan soon appears with a saucepan and beats out a rhythm. What a sight we are! Carefree dancing, saucepan bashing, melodiously(?) singing on a boat trying to rip bollards out of the concrete wall.
Justin points at an approaching wall of water being whipped off the seas by angry winds. We watch it approach. That roller-coaster moment. Dizzie leans hard against it’s ropes, then rebounds back into the wall at an alarming angle. The wind increases to 40 knots and doesn’t drop for 10 minutes. 50 knots (that’s about 95km/h). We’re leaning into the wall so much that the fenders have dropped almost too low to protect our boat from the concrete. Justin looks at ropes, I yell the wind speed between choruses. I don’t even realise I’m still singing until I hear the kids yelling. “Stop mum, the song already finished!” Oh. I put the TV on.
Without a schedule we have the luxury to put ourselves in a safe place when the forecast calls for it. It’s taken us a month to travel 200kms, through an area most sailors consider uninteresting. Our cruising rhythm has slowed and our happiness risen. We explore the towns others call an overnight stop. We cycle all over the pedestrianised town of Mesalonghi, the noisy one with loud bars. We hike up to hilltop castles, because we can. Our best adventures are found when we are lost. Instead we find secret tracks, butterflies, cicada shells and incredible views. We play with Greek holiday makers on rocky beaches and chat with kids practicing English. On sleepy little islands almost forgotten by the world we glimpse into alternative lifestyles where fellow humans have found their own perfect paradise. We become bee-keepers. We choose our own anchorages not listed in the pilot book and share bays with.. not a soul. This slow month will be a cherished memory of dancing to the rhythm of our own drum.
But all good things must end. Now we pass through the Corinth Canal and swap this isolation for a marina, smack bang in the middle of Athens. What new adventure awaits us?