Homeward bound

My straw hat is squashed in the overhead locker and I’ve wrapped a scarf around my bare legs to keep warm – we’re definitely going home!

After almost two months living in the “med” we will soon be landing back in England, where I may be in need of that jacket I decided not to pack.

Our time onboard yacht Riou came to a close with a rather dramatic storm in the end. On our penultimate night afloat, we watched a red sun sink behind distant blue islands, while we spent a peaceful night as the only boat anchored off one of our favourite uninhabited islands. But it wasn’t long before the rest of Greece woke up and joined us. A morning walk on the deserted beach had been too good to last. By lunchtime we were surrounded by dozens of boats which had anchored around us and flooded the untouched sand and crystal waters with day trippers.

As we headed into port for our final night, we were pleased to find a space on the jetty as the clouds began to gather. Later that night we listened to the wind howling round the rigging and heard the rain pelting against the hatches. It wasn’t long before I felt water dripping on my feet and we discovered a leak above us. We didn’t sleep so well that night, what with balancing bowls to catch the drips, securing extra lines in the dark and pouring rain “just in case”. This was the skipper’s job of course, while I watched from below and called out halfhearted offers of ‘do you need me to help?’ as gangplanks clattered and ropes squeaked on deck. There was lightening and thunder too – it turned out to be a loud and wet farewell to the Sporades. Although we were sad to leave, dragging our luggage through the rain made it a little easier to say goodbye as we headed to the airport.

We’ve now had time to rest and reflect during a week in Cyprus, revisiting favourite spots and renewing friendships, thanks to the hospitality of my sister and brother-in-law. It’s felt odd not checking the wind and forecast each day and swimming out from the beach, we’ve found ourselves looking for “our” boat.

“We’ve become land lubbers!” We said to each other as we strolled by the coast and stared out at white capped waves in the distance.

I’m not sure we like it…

Our return to the “homeland” feels even more sombre as the country is in mourning for our wonderful Queen. We were shocked to hear the news from a Turkish immigration officer, as we re-crossed the border into the south of Cyprus at the end of a day out. After being handed our passports last Thursday evening – the customs man had stared at us and simply said, “Queen dead.” It was hard to understand at first, until it sank in. His face was serious and he repeated the words – suddenly we realised it was our Queen he was talking about. The last time we’d seen a photo of her a couple of days earlier, she was shaking hands with our new prime minister – we couldn’t believe she had suddenly died.

So this week was a big moment in history for the UK and many across the world marking the end of the Elizabethan era and the dawning of a new one with a new King Charles – as he will now be known. Meanwhile, here we are marking the end of something too.

For now it’s ‘back to business’ or ‘busyness’ with work to catch up on, family to hug and help, a house to move into and boxes to unpack.

I’m happy to be heading home. I’m certain there will be many more adventures to come, both on and off the water. Next time though, I will be packing a jumper and rethinking short dungarees as travel wear! Brrr…

Where am I?

Do you ever have that feeling of waking up and wondering where you are? It’s happened to me on and off over the years – sleeping in strange beds and plenty of unfamiliar rooms for a variety of reasons!

Although we’re always on board the same boat, outside the locations change and so do our neighbours. The other day I woke up to the sound of New Zealand accents on the adjacent yacht and popping my head out on deck, I was greeted by a friendly voice, “How are you this morning?” A few days earlier it had been German accents and before that French.

Our neighbours over the past few weeks have been varied and many. It’s been one of the many joys of this extended trip, getting to meet so many sailors from different parts of the world and often mooring up beside them again at different anchorages and greeting them like old friends, sharing stories of where we’ve been in between and what we’ve seen, along with the inevitable sailing nightmare tales! They’ve also been on hand to help with ropes and getting moored in harbours in various strengths of wind, everyone has been helpful and kind.

The other morning I woke up in the saloon of the boat, as the cabin had got too hot in the night. I couldn’t remember where we were and even more confusing was hearing the twang of “Kiwi accents” again. I’d forgotten that having left this friendly family behind a few days earlier, we’d found ourselves moored next to them again the previous afternoon in a new location.

I’ve loved the friendliness of fellow sailors. The other day, the skipper of a boat anchored across from us in a bay swam over to chat about our sun canopy. He explained how he and his wife had sailed here from Brittany. We talked about our Devon flag and places he loved in England, especially Cornwall. When left he said, “We’re practically cousins!”

In our favourite port on the island of Alonnisos we found our new neighbours were a couple who’d been stranded in Australia during lockdown, and their lovely wooden boat had been damaged, but they hadn’t been able to get back to it. He was a native greek with a shock of white hair and he and his Australian partner shared tips with us on easy meals to cook on board along with sailing tales from around the islands. We nicknamed her ‘Shirley Valentine’ and wished them well with their boat rebuilding in the coming months as we upped anchor and set sail again.

Today we chatted with our new Danish neighbours about places to visit and last night we were back onboard yacht Zigzag – sharing a few glasses of wine with a Cornish couple, we keep meeting up with and who are now anchored a few metres away in this idyllic bay.

When we swam before breakfast this morning, it felt as if we were in our own giant swimming pool. Even in the deep water around the boat the seabed was so clear you could see each little pebble and rock far below.

As we move into the twilight of our time in Greece, for now, it’s clear our little boat is in need of some repair work. Over the past few weeks we’ve both become intimately acquainted with a sponge and bucket that has been filled up daily after each trip from water leaking down below! I’m thinking of buying one as a reminder of the adventure.

In the meantime, I’m gazing across at lush pine trees lining the shore above a bank of white rocks reflecting in the sparkling water. Apart from the heat and the temperature of the water, we could be anchored down the Fal in Cornwall! And I’m reminded that we have plenty of beautiful places to rediscover on our return home.

I’m also wondering how strange it will feel sleeping in a real bed that doesn’t rock and has space to move, or taking a long shower without being worried about using too much water.

But I may well wake up in a couple of weeks and wonder where on earth I am!