Sailing the Dodecanese
by: Keith KellettIt took us five days to sail 'Vassilis' from Lakki to Pandeli. But, they're both on the same island, Leros, and to do the same trip overland costs only 5 Euros (including tip!) by taxi. That, I suppose, illustrates the difference between just going somewhere and travelling!
Lakki was built during the Italian occupation of the Dodecanese Islands between the two World Wars as a Naval headquarters. But, there's nothing stark, functional and military about the place, for it was built as a showcase in the art deco style. Some of the buildings did look a little shabby but some effort was being made to brighten some of them up.
One building undergoing restoration was once the Commandant's house, where Diane Edwards now lives. It seems an appropriate choice, for Diane could also be said to be an 'Admiral'. She owns Seascape Sailing and her 'fleet' of three 50-foot sailing boats, 'Vassilis', 'Anna Maria' and 'Angelina' is based only a short walk from the ferry terminal at Lakki.
The boats usually carry a crew of two, plus about eight guests . or possibly more, if they're really close friends! They sail along the Turkish coast and to the smaller, lesser-known islands of the Dodecanese, where cruise boats can't go, and where ferry services rarely call. That's a 'taste of the real Greece' in more ways than one, for at least one meal daily is usually taken ashore, and is almost always 'traditional'.
Itineraries are infinitely flexible; planned programmes usually go over the side almost before the boat has cast off from Lakki. Weather conditions and the wishes of the guests dictated the route; we made one call at a place where even the crew hadn't been before!
Sailing experience isn't necessary, either. Guests choose whether to take an active part in everything, with instruction given, if necessary, or just help with the domestic stuff, such as cooking or washing up, and let the crew deal with the sailing.
We visited the islands of Patmos, Lipsi and Arki on our voyage 'the long way around' to Pandeli, and most of what we saw was traditional, picturesque and genuine. And, many of the harbours we used were too small to accommodate a vessel of any size, so, if you come with a smaller boat or yacht, you have the place almost to yourself.
The most identifiable feature on Patmos is the Monastery of St. John, on top of the hill overlooking Skala, the main port. The old town of Hora, surrounding the monastery, is relatively unspoilt, because most development has been confined to the harbour and some of the fishing villages.
Lipsi, which we could see on the horizon from Hora, is called the Island of Churches, because there are 42 churches serving barely 700 souls. That's one for every 17 of the population . although some of them are too small to hold even half that number. All are immaculately kept, all regularly painted in white, picked out in pale blue and nearly always with a blue dome. But, the reason for that apparent ecclesiastical overkill isn't religious fervour. When the monks of the St. John Monastery on Patmos sold the land, they gave generous tax relief to those purchasers who erected a church on their property.
The blue and white theme continued throughout the little town on the slopes of the hills surrounding the harbour. There was a frequent a bright splash of contrast from a bougainvillaea or a pot of blazing red geraniums, as I walked through the town up to a ruined windmill for a superb view of the harbour and the neighbouring islands. There was also an exquisite wind-borne scent of wild flowers and herbs.
Arki is Lipsi, in miniature. Again, blue and white seemed to be the favoured colour for many houses. There weren't as many churches . but there aren't so many people, either. Probably the most visited church is the one on top of the hill above the harbour, which I reached by ascending a rough track. The community it once served is now in ruins around it, but the church is still in good condition, and visitors make the climb for the views, and the wild flowers along the way.
Apart from that, there's one shop - really a kiosk - by the harbour, and three 'tavernas', surrounding a delightful miniature plateia, or village square. But, visiting yachts often call at Arki, and the owner of 'our' taverna said, with a grin, that the other two are only there to take his overflow.
Tiny Marathi, just a loud shout across the water from Arki, isn't the place to be if you're the kind of person who complains about your neighbour's wind-chimes; our reveille in the morning was the plangent clangour of goat-bells, accompanied by the crowing of a rooster.The island is home to less than 30 people, sharing a church and three tavernas between them.
The church lay on the spine of a low ridge, surrounded by the ruins of another abandoned village. We found the village threshing circle nearby, a reminder of Marathi's agricultural past, the only other remnants of which are the goats, chickens and a little fishing.
There's no mains electricity, and there's truth in the saying that, when they shut the generator down for the night, the stars really come out. And, before that, we climbed up to the old village, and looked westward at sunset . and were amply rewarded with a view to kill for.
