Mahinda’s Little World

The day started with the realisation that my coughy-coldy thing was getting worse. Fortunately, one of the shops back at Fiskardo sold Fisherman’s Friends - both the original and the lemon variety - so Dave and I had stocked up. Dave’s mad for them, he is.

So, over to Dimitri’s for the morning briefing. Cue much laughing at James’ weather reports. Not that any of us really minded, of course.

James then outlined the plan for the day, which was basically sailing to “Little Vathi”.

Holly’s plan for the day was slightly more alcoholic - we were to have a punch party on the beach at Little Vathi, before having dinner then partying away at the taverna. She warned us that she usually ended up behind the bar, which is a very dangerous thing!

Big Vathi, Little Vathi

Some towns in the area shared names, notably the Samis and Vathis. Apparently, an island’s best harbour is often called “Sami”…no idea about Vathi, though. The Vathi on Ithaki, being several times larger than the one on Meganisi (island population < 2000), relegates the latter to “Little” status.

Little Vathi, we were told, is a very small place, and there was a taverna owner who’d basically built his place up from nothing to cater for the flotilla/etc. trade, with decent facilities, moorings, etc. An excellent spot for a punch party.

So, the sailing. We had an absolutely gorgeous day, with the wind nicely behind us, allowing us to skim along happily at seven or so knots, pretty much directly towards the channel between Meganisi and Lefkada.

It really was a nice day’s sailing. I spent most of my time lying on deck, apparently in pretty much the same pose as Snoopy atop his kennel. Not sure whether Tom was making an oblique comment about the size of my nose when he came up with that one.

Amy also joined me in the sun, with the others preferring to remain in the cabin. Pretty much as pictured in the artist’s impression!

That’s really quite a short description of what was our longest sail of the whole trip. That’s the problem with things when they go well, though - it was all very enjoyable, but it’s difficult to convey the pleasure involved without going into passages of flowery description and simile. And I’m just not that much of a ponce.

But I digress…

By the time we were approaching the Meganisi channel, it was clearly lunchtime, so we pulled into Poros bay (another duplicated name, with this particular one being on Lefkada’s southeastern coast), dropped anchor, and consumed the now traditional bread/cheese/ham/salami lunch. Amy and Ian (I think) swum off the back of the boat, and Dave (yes, Dave!) donned his Speedos* and joined them.

* Note that these are Speedo trunks rather than Speedo briefs. Thankfully.

Back on the boat, fed and watered, and it was time to brave the channel, together with its patch of rocky stuff. This didn’t prove to be much of a problem, thankfully, and we soon we were approaching Vathi. Time to radio Zeffy and get our mooring instructions.

“You’re not going to believe this, but the Greek Minister for Tourism has turned up, and his stinkpot’s blocking the whole harbour.”

He’d turned up for lunch, with his cronies, and Greek lunches aren’t exactly known for their brevity.

So, we spotted a handy bay just before our destination, and decided to nip in for a swim. The moment we dropped anchor, James radioed to tell us that they’d cleared a space on the jetty. Off we went, into the harbour area (actually just before Vathi itself), where there was a HUGE motor launch (aka “stinkpot”) off to one side.

For a change, we were mooring up “bows to”, i.e. alongside all the other boats, but with the fronts next to “land” rather than the backs. This, of course, entailed the problem of getting on and off the boat, which was a lot more difficult than the stern to “get a plank and walk it” approach.

In short, it was a sure-fire recipe for disaster after a few bevvies. Or at least, a few missing sandals.

Just after mooring up, a motor-launch-taxi-thing gave us a whacking great thwack on the side…fortunately, it didn’t break the Knight Odyssey.

Anyway, first thing was to hit the glorious facilities we’d been promised. Indeed, one or two reported general fabulousness…and then I got a cold shower. Again.

Punch Not Judy

I might have mentioned Holly’s build-up to this event, apparently the social highlight of the week. She’d been looking forward to it from the start, and here it was!

We moseyed on to the small stretch of pebble beach outside the taverna (George’s?), where Holly, James and Paul lay in wait behind a trestle table laden with crackers, olives, houmous…and two gallon tubs of alcoholic concoction.

Basically, there was red (closer to pink), or white (well, orange)…or rosé of course. I’m really not sure what was in them, but it involved an awful lot of wine and Metaxa.

We all stood around quite happily, snacking, drinking and chatting with the other crews.

So, back to the punch.

We drank plenty, and people started drifting towards the taverna proper for their meal. Unfortunately, there was still plenty of punch left, so Holly inveigled me into helping out, i.e. bullying people until they agreed to have their glasses (well, plastic cups) filled. Well, it is what I’m good at!

It got to the point where, at one point, Holly filled mine and her glasses, said “bottoms up”, and started drinking hers. I took a swig and stopped, only to be instructed that I was meant to be downing it. So I did. Quickly.

Looking back, this may not have been a good move.

It was at about this point that Tom and Amy mentioned that they’d never seen me properly drunk - usually, by the time I was that far gone, they’d either gone home, or were just as bad themselves, so it didn’t count.

Holly, being an Aussie, took this as something of a challenge.

I think it was Holly and I who polished off the last of the punch, and joined the others at the dinner table.

Note that there will be increasing use of the proviso “I think” from here on in the narrative.

The meal was nice. I think

Holly and I elected to share a jug of house red. Shortly after the starters appeared, she disappeared, only to return with a glass (a tall water glass rather than a wine glass) of rosé. Proper rosé, rather than orange and pink punch mixed together! Apparently James, hearing the “Mahinda’s a big drinker” rumour, had decided to challenge me.

So I downed it. Well, you’ve got to show willing.

After the meal, during which time poor Sheena had to drag the now-paralytic John back to their boat, we adjourned into the taverna (we’d been sitting on the terrace) for what turned out to be cheesy dancey music and much madcap “dancing”. I think Ian and Cap’n Nancy headed back to the boat around this point.

(Un)Fortunately, the lead crew were now taking care of me. This included sloe vodka, flaming sambucas, tequila slammers and more. I hardly paid for a drink all night, with one notable exception being a tequila and coke (about 2/3 - 1/3) once I’d gotten sick of beer.

It all sort of descends into a drunken haze.

At one point, after going to the loo, I found a wedding ring in the sink. It turned out to be Tom’s, which was lucky!

The rest, well, I’m really not sure of. Think I spent a while slurrily conversing with Paul and Alison. And Bean, who was, as per usual, sinking G&Ts at a rate of knots. Poor James was in a bad way, and had to be carried back to Zeffy. So young, and so much to learn!

I have absolutely no idea how or when I got back on the Knight Odyssey. Remember how I said that it was pretty difficult getting back on the boat when sober? Well, an eyewitness report (thanks, Alison!) suggests that I shinnied straight up the mooring rope and over the side. Get in!

I vaguely remember finding Amy and Tom still up, with Tom feeling rather ill.

Went below deck. Collapsed into bed. Probably made lots of noise and banged my head. Slept like a baby.

I think.