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Thursday, July 3rd, Karpathos, Greece
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From Jordan, back to
Israel, continuing on to Greece; it's been a busy week.
Actually, not nearly as busy as the past nine weeks of
the EMYR. Most of our eighty-four hour sail from
Herziliya, Israel to Karpathos, Greece was actually very
relaxing. We certainly covered more miles in the
car in one afternoon last Wednesday, driving from Petra
to the Jordanian/Israeli border in Aqaba and then all
the way back to where Zia awaited us in Herziliya, than
we did in the three and a half day sail here. By
now, we've totally shifted gears, from rally and touring
mode, back into cruising mode and, boy, does it feel
good!
Upon hearing of our
plans to sail to Crete from Israel, many a rally member
shook their heads in disbelief. "You'll never make
it. It's five hundred miles upwind during Meltemi
season."
A little concerned, we
contacted Dan and Candyce Fisher, whose vacation plans
to visit us were the impetus for our recently set goal.
Granted, we were the ones who suggested our rendezvous
location. We had consulted the charts and pilot
books but decided that, with two and a half weeks and a
little bit of luck, even five hundred miles against the
prevailing winds wouldn't be THAT bad! Second
guessing ourselves in the face of all the skepticism, my
parents did their best, but ran into too many obstacles
in their inquiries into switching reservations to a
destination perhaps a little farther north.
Back from the
"Med-Dead-Red Road Rally" by 7pm Wednesday night, we had
all of Thursday to get ready for departure. If we
left any later than Friday, we would run into the
Sabbath issue. Everything shuts down in Israel,
rental car agencies, police and customs offices
included, from about 2 o'clock on Friday until Sunday
morning. Given our tight schedule, with just nine
days to complete our journey to Crete, we needed to get
going as quickly as possible. Luckily, the winds
cooperated. Although the miraculous shift to
southerlies wasn't in the forecast, it looked like we
might be able to sail mostly towards our destination at
least for part of the trip! When faced with an
upwind journey, this is a welcome surprise. The
first day or so we managed to sail only 20 or 30 degrees
off course in very pleasant 10 to 15 knot winds.
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Seeing that we weren't
going to clear Cyprus sailing on a northerly course as
we left Tel-Aviv, we tacked over to starboard tack and
soon were lifting closer and closer towards the mark.
Over the course of the three and a half days, the wind
shifted many times, dying for several short periods
during which we motored straight towards Crete.
Joe and I split up the
watches. After dinner, just before sundown at 8pm,
Joe would start his watch, waking me up at one o'clock.
I'd stay up until 6:30 or 7, and then go down for
another three or four hour snooze. Joe would catch
a nap during the day as well, so in fact we each got our
eight hours of sleep, although it wasn't solid sleep.
Of course, it is really easy to keep these nice long
watches when the conditions are mellow. As
soon as the winds and seas pipe up, it gets much more
exhausting. In the rough stuff you generally spend
your watch sitting at the helm station, keeping a close
eye on everything. When it is smooth sailing, you
read your book, write an update,
post new photo pages, catch up on emails or
even cat nap. We have a "watch watch" that counts
down every fifteen minutes, sounds an alarm, and repeats
itself. I put it next to my ear and close my eyes,
getting up each time it goes off to scan the horizon 360
degrees, do a sweep on the radar, and check the sail
trim to make sure there hasn't been a wind change.
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When conditions are
mellow, we have some great meals. Of course, we've
had lots of tuna on the menu lately! Our first day
out we caught three albacore tuna, but actually threw
two of them back for lack of freezer space.
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We got out the paints
and paint brushes and the kids each worked up a couple
of masterpieces. They do
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amazingly well on the
passages. Only when it gets rough do they
complain. I think we were all relishing being on
our own for a little while after traveling in a pack for
so long with the rally.
Although somewhat
relieved that it is over, the EMYR experience was
priceless. To experience the culture of the Middle
East in this day and age, when politics, terrorism and
the news paint such a horrible picture of the region,
really expanded our horizons. Traveling through
the Baqaa Valley, the heart of rebel Hezbollah territory
in Lebanon, glimpsing the entrance to the Palestinian
refugee camp near the ancient ruins of Baalbeck, we
realized that most of these people have very little
choice in the circumstances surrounding them. They
can't move. No one will take them. With very
little resources, no passport, no real home, no
education, no jobs, their options are severely limited.
Yes, some become terrorists. Most just try to
survive. Many smiled and waved at the tour buses
as we passed by. Looking into their eyes, we felt
the same human connection that we find with locals
everywhere.
I'd also like to
mention the wonderful opportunity we had to get to know
cruising boats of so many different nationalities.
In our previous three years of cruising, we haven't been
very successful in meeting boats from different
countries. Certainly if we do exchange greetings,
it rarely progresses into a friendship. It was a
real pleasure for us to rectify that with some of the
crews that we met on the EMYR. It's not common for
Europeans to sign up for a group trip like this, and the
ones we met admitted as much. But each and every
one of them feels the same way we do about the EMYR.
For all of the challenges presented by traveling en
masse; the bureaucracy, inefficiency and difficult
personalities that you cannot escape; it was an
experience not to be missed. The rally organizers,
Hasan Kacmaz, who started the EMYR 19 years ago and is
still always the last one on the dance floor, Dave
and Kath on Mashona, whose fifth rally as committee
members this was, all taught us a lot about diplomacy.
Their positive spirit, patience and kindness in the face
of all sorts of challenges were an inspiration. I
doubt that any of them will be reading this so I'm not
just kissing up. It was one of the things I will
remember about the whole experience and hopefully learn
from as well.
Our patience, in fact,
is being put to the test as we sit here at anchor in
Karpathos, a mere 70 miles from our ultimate destination
in Plaka, Crete, at the entrance to Spinalonga Lagoon.
On the fourth day of our passage, Monday, the winds
started picking up from 15 to 25 and then up to 35
knots. We put a couple of reefs in the sails and
kept on sailing. The weather files we had were by
then four days old and not to be relied upon. The
Greek weather forecast was calling for Force 7 in this
particular part of the Aegean. We had been warned
about the winds here, but Force 7 is still not a gale.
We looked at the weather forecasts we had and generally,
no matter what was going on in the vicinity, the
particular stretch of sea we needed to cross
consistently showed at least 25 knots of wind on the
nose.
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We were seeing more
like 30 knots well to the northeast and it had been
blowing like that for a few days. You know the
seas are going to be nasty. Evaluating our
options, given the fact that we would be going through
this treacherous channel at night, after three nights of
night watches, with a lee shore and likely more wind
than we were currently experiencing, we decided to find
a spot to anchor and rest up before the final leg of our
passage.
That was three nights
ago. We actually got up yesterday morning at first
light, intending to haul up the anchor and go for it.
It was blowing 40. And we were supposedly anchored
in the lee of the island! HA! I'd love to
see the windward side. The cruising guide actually
refers to Karpathos as "lying between Crete and Rhodes
in a stretch of angry sea" and we can certainly see why.
As we were coming in towards the anchorage, expecting to
see the winds decrease approaching the lee of the
island, we were astonished to see them actually increase
from 20 to 30 and 35. What the hell, we're here.
Let's give it a shot. If we can get a good set on
the anchor, we can move in the morning if we need to.
It was 7pm.
With a solid hook on
the anchor and a strong wifi signal with free internet,
all of the sudden this was looking like a fine
anchorage! Turns out our anchor is well wedged in
a crevice between rocks. With the wind from a
consistent direction, this really isn't a problem until
you go to haul it up. Haul it up we certainly
would have done if it weren't for the wifi. We sit
happily listening to the wind howl, catching up on email
and skype, surfing the internet, and ordering last
minute parts for my parents to bring out. Oh, AND
getting boat projects done!
Next Entry
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Many thanks to our friend Craig Homenko for his assistance in setting up the website.
We also would like
to thank our buddy Scott Brunner who has been kind
enough to host the website on his server.
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