sailing – The adventures of Captain Jack

Sea legs

(For Dutch click here) It’s almost five years since we live and sail fulltime on a small sailboat and still I have no sea legs. I have to train them again every season. Just like my sea stomach, sea body and sea head. It is best to build it up slowly, but there’s no time for that. So after five months in the sheltered harbor of Mesolonghi, we sail in three day trips to Kyparissia, in the southwest of the Peloponese. With faltering technology, the coldest Greek winter in 30 years and the next predicted winter storm as a serious deadline.

Four years of(f) freedom

It’s on a Thursday just over four years ago that I close the door to my office for the very last time. Friday we hand over the keys of our empty house to the new owners. That same day we drive for the last time in our fully packed and already sold VW Polo to Kollum in the North of Holland. It takes three days for all our last belongings to finally find a place in our new sailing home: a seven-meter-long Cornish Crabber. The great adventure can begin. Or actually: it has already started.

Small world

Voor Nederlands klik hier

For a moment my heart sinks. When Dagmar and I step into the Lidl in Arta, I notice that the shelves with ‘non-essential’ items are covered with red and white ribbon and plastic again. This probably means that our Arta region has now also gone from ‘red’ to ‘deep red’, our lockdown rules have become stricter again and our world a bit smaller.

Blue zone

Around here the blue of the sky almost seamlessly flows into the blue of the sea, but that’s not what they mean by ‘blue zone’. That term refers to a number of areas in the world where people live measurably longer and there are relatively many centenarians. The island of Icarias is one of them. I still doubt whether I want to live to be a hundred, but just in case, I would like to know how they actually do that.

Normal

The Greek tavernas are allowed to open again, we are free to sail and step by step Greece is opening its borders for tourists. So all goes back to normal. Or not quite?

Scared

I lie awake for a while allready. Nightmares are ruining my sleep. I feel warm and I’m tossing and turning. In my dream I have lost Captain Jack and I am calling out to him constantly. Suddenly I wake up from a loud bang. Jack too. He is scared and crawls under our bed as far as possible. I have an indefinable premonition. The wind should be howling right now, but instead it is calm and dead silent. I lie in bed with baithed breath. It is half past two in the morning in the harbour of Ormos Marathokampou. All of a sudden the predicted storm and torrential rainfall do break through the ominous silence. A fierce katabatic windgust pushes Coco crooked over her fenders against the concrete quay. Things fly through the cabin. “I’m scared,” I say to Ron. “Me too,” he replies.

Plan B

Here we go again: plan B comes into effect. As enthusiastic as we were about our temporary winter stay in Kasos, as nervously we are now checking the weather forecast to see when we can sail on again. When do we ever learn: never tell about your plan, because it always turns out differently.