Mahinda’s Little World

Dave and I wake up, far too early, and endeavour to get ready. Of course, Dave’s already packed, but I had to track down my insurance details…which I failed miserably at doing. Fired up t’internet, with a view towards at least getting the policy number, and called a minicab to the airport.

It became a race against time. The honours ended up even - I got the number about 10 seconds before the cab turned up.

So, off to the airport we went…until I realised, in Northenden, that I’d forgotten my Euros. Back we go, then back to the airport…successfully, this time.

It’s now just short of 9am, I think, and we’d originally agreed to meet Tom and Amy at 8.30am. We found them waiting for us, having checked in. Our turn.

To cut a long (and fairly uneventful) story short, we then boarded our plane and flew to Preveza airport, in Greece.

Features of the trip included exceedingly small airline seats and a distinct lack of liquid refreshment being offered. Oh, and a nice hangover from me, as is traditional with me and flights.

So, get to Greece, board a coach, and get taken to Sivota, on the island(-ish) of Levkada, which is where we meet Ian and Nancy (who’d flown out from Gatwick earlier), our yacht, and our lead crew.

The Scurvy Crew

At this point, I should really explain who I was sharing a boat with. We were a mixed group of six, with lots of random connections…so much so, that explaining how we all knew each other just tended to confuse people. So I’ve drawn a diagram!

Key mutual acquaintances are Ed (coursemate of
mine and Dave’s, did Year in Industry, lived with
Tom after uni) and Paul (schoolmate of Dave’s,
Year in Industry).

Ian and Tom also did Year in Industry, and all those
buggers get around!

You can follow it round in any direction, e.g. Ian met Tom at Paul’s party (which also featured Dave), but they could equally have met through me. In theory, you could cut any one person (possibly two) out of the group, and there’d still be an excellent chance that the others would all have met each other anyway, eventually.

Nancy and Amy had been sailing since they were kids, with Ian and Tom racking up experience through their other halves. So to speak. I’d been sailing for one week before, on a somewhat suck-it-and-see trip round the Norfolk Broads, while Dave had never been on a sailing craft.

By dint of her superior larger boat experience, Nancy was appointed Skipper. Which I suppose makes Ian “Skipper’s Mate”.

Dave, by dint of least experience, was rechristened Roger, and therefore ordered to make the tea.

The Flotilla

Okay, so how do I explain a flotilla holiday? Well, you’ve got 9 or so hired yachts, each containing people who can (in theory) sail them. We had six aboard a Dufour 36 jobbie, while most had 2-4, albeit with (mostly) slightly smaller yachts. In theory, we had a 36′ yacht capable of bedding 8 people. In practice, of course, 6 people was a squeeze - it’s just fortunate that (a) we spent most of our time out of the cabin, and (b) we’re all good friends. Still

In addition to the holiday-makers was the lead boat, complete with lead crew:

• Holly (aka “Gilmore”) - the hosty with the mosty. Responsible for sorting out the eating and drinking. Rather Australian, and depressingly young and bouncy. Highly blonde
• Paul (aka “Beanster”) - the unbelievably chilled-out engineer (”engo”). Responsible for fixing stuff, e.g. engines and toilets. Poor sod. The old man of the lead crew, and a real laconic Brit with a Gordon’s-dry sense of humour.
• James (aka “Focker”) - the skipper. Responsible for the sailing aspect, e.g. briefing us, sorting out docking for the night, and getitng the weather reports. Most people thought he was yet another Aussie, but he’s actually from the south coast somewhere. Only 21. Bless.

All very competent, with the healthy tans and hung over expressions that seem to go with That Sort Of Thing. The company’s lead crews are apparently 30% Kiwi, 30% Aussie, 30% Brit, with the other 10% made up of random others…the upshot of which is that they all seem to developed have slightly antipodean twangs.

‘Twas organised through Sailing Holidays, with us all on a 1 week version of the South Ionian route. I’ll get a nice little map together for a later post.

—

Anyway, so that’s about it for day 1. We settled into the boat, headed out to a taverna for a meal, and went to bed.