A night at ‘one monk island’

We’ve gone from whistling wind and rocking motions to the sound of silence and barely a breath of air… For the first time this morning I could hear the gentle hum of the fridge when I turned it on!

We’re half way through our little Greek sailing adventure and now living life above and below decks has become the new routine.

Yesterday evening we arrived here, at what we call, “One monk island”. Because just one monk lives here in the monastery, with his solar panels and olive grove. There is also another monk we’ve been looking out for here – the monk seal – but we’ve not spotted him yet.

After several days of changeable and strong winds, we have dropped anchor in what looks like an inland lake with deep turquoise water. Navigating the entrance in was tricky, as it was very narrow and shallow, approach advised in calm weather only. We made it, despite being tossed about by a speeding motorboat, which raced past us at the narrowest point creating lots of swell!

Last night with no lights ashore, we stared up at the stars and watched satellites tracking across a velvet sky, there was even a shooting star. Earlier we’d heard the sound of bleating and spotted a little family of goats picking their way between the rocks and bracken on the hillside, before reaching the shore and gently lapping at the salty water.

There are just a couple of other boats anchored here and this morning the water is like glass. The scenery reminds us of Scotland. The silence is deafening.

Today is in sharp contrast to a couple of days earlier, when strong winds left us ‘harbour-bound’ and we decided to go for a hike… in the heat!

Having asked a local estate agent the way to a sandy beach further round the coast, he shook his head.

“You can’t walk there you must drive,” he said, miming a steering wheel between his hands.

Never say “you can’t” because we’re bound to try and prove you wrong. The climb up out of Skopelos port wound up steep stone steps past four tiny ancient churches perched on the cliff side. At the top we were tempted by the blue and white cafe with a view, selling fresh orange juice… but we pressed on – we were on a mission to the beach.

Before setting out we’d been reading about hiking trails round the island, it seemed the T3 was the route to this particular beach… that’s how we read it anyway! We were on the look out for T3 signs off the road and soon enough we congratulated ourselves on finding a beautiful trail through the trees on an ancient rocky path. I was enjoying walking for a change, after weeks on board and only swimming for exercise. It was good for the swaying to stop too.

Sometime later we came to a road and our walking sign pointed left, in the distance to the right we could see blue water. The sign was very clear, no need to cross check on google maps, we thought. The clever trail would take us down the valley to the sea.

Twenty minutes later we’d branched off the road and descended a stony track to the base of the valley. We spotted three deer on the way and hundreds of ancient olive trees. I was loving the hike. But five minutes later the track disappeared into brambles and nettles! We searched for another route and then eventually checked the phone maps. We were off route – it turns out we were both better at navigating on water than land!

A short climb later and a good few kilometres along a road and another track, we were very hot and weary, but determined to prove we could walk to the beach! We were both dripping wet when we arrived at the beach and dived into the water with some relief.

The walk back was a lot shorter, but still steep and this time we did stop for an orange juice at the blue and white cafe!

Back at the boat we felt heroic hikers and I examined my blisters… Better stick to sailing for now.

I don’t think we’re that great with quiet. Despite last night’s thoughts of a day of contemplation, reading and writing, neither of us wanted to linger long on One Monk Island today. So, we have set sail again. Not just to find wi fi and signal, but because the still heat was making us jittery and we long to feel the breeze against our backs and hear the slosh of the water against the bows of the boat.

This is the life – we’re sailing on a passage into the blue leaving the islands behind us. Who knows where it will take us?

Meanwhile below decks it’s time to get the coffee on.

The final march out

Here I am back in the same situation as I was when I first started this blog nine years ago – on the move again and surrounded by boxes! But this time we are heading to our new home, instead of another army posting.

I haven’t done my farewells to our last army quarter just yet, that will happen this weekend when we get it ready for our final “march out”. For non-military readers, this is a kind of inspection of the house to make sure you have cleaned it properly and there is no dust in the plug sockets, mould inside the window frames or even a whisper of grease in the oven.

As I discovered nine years ago, cleaning can be a kind of therapy that helps with the emotions of leaving somewhere treasured and familiar before heading into the unknown.

So, while I’m down on my knees cleaning the toilet, I will also be remembering some of the good times, while looking forward to what lies ahead.

Living on the Jurassic coast has been a privilege and a joy. We’ve managed to walk a whole section of the south coast path from Poole Harbour entrance to Burton Bradstock, with most legs completed there and back. We’ve enjoyed kayaking through caves and paddleboarding as the sunset across Lulworth Cove. We’ve fought off the seagulls, while eating fish and chips from Bennetts in Weymouth, and dreamed of owning a yacht, while watching boats moor up along the quay. 

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The amazing stars overhead in the dark Dorset sky have made up for the booming sound of tanks firing day and night on the ranges we live beside. We’ve watched tracers lighting up the night sky on summer nights, and during the day I’ve looked up from my desk and spotted the splash from shells landing in the sea beyond. On the quieter days, without firing, we’ve enjoyed hosting family and friends and taking them to the hidden coves and beauty spots on our doorstep.

This is also the house where we lived through lockdown, which involved walks to the sea almost every day, listening to birdsong on the normally busy road at the back of our garden and a marathon bike ride to Poole Harbour and back again. “Never again!” we said.

I’ll miss all that, but I won’t miss the barb wire lining our fence or the taps that don’t match and the threadbare carpets or magnolia chip papered walls. Or the moles who continue to wreak havoc across our lawns!

Army life has been fun. We’ve forged new friendships and had to say goodbye countless times. We’ve had a run of amazing postings these past nine years, from sunny Cyprus to living on the magical Thorney Island. I’ve also loved my time with the Military Wives Choir, both in Cyprus and in Bovington. Singing with them has lifted my spirits time and again and I’ve met some of the most caring, encouraging and zany women, who’ve also made me laugh. Despite all this, for me it’s time to move.

Change is exciting, but not always easy. After spending a large proportion of my life as an army wife, I’m looking forward to putting down roots, sorting out my garden and having all my stuff in one place at last. But my soon-to-be ex-army man is not so sure. He’s wondering about what’s next, what will life be like beyond the military and where his next adventure will take him.

Although we’re leaving Dorset, we’re not heading so far, just next door to Devon. Our new home, which we already love, will be ready for us to move into in the autumn. In between then and now, it seems we have time for a little sailing adventure in Greece! As long as we pass that final “march out”…