25th March 2012

0700 GMT+1

Sunrise over Santorini. Dan woke me slightly early, eight miles east of the islands. A red ruby crimson sun rose over the northern headland. As red as the blood in my veins. So beautiful, in every way. I can’t help thinking of the bang this place must have made when it blew up so so long ago. A tsunami wiped out the Minoan civilisation on the islands south of here. Buildings cling to the hilltops, roads zig zag their way up from the small access points along the shoreline. There’s no harbour here. Plans exist to build a marina but the current instructions are not to leave yachts unattended. If the north wind blows, the boat may be gone. It’s a peaceful morning for my peaceful soul. Sheerwaters skim the water’s surface, remarkable birds they are, I could watch them all day.

1140 GMT+2
36°30’073N 25°50’604E
Heading due east at 5.5 knots. A bit of annoying cloud is called for, now that the morning’s clouds are gone and the sun beats down again. Eve is a cleaner girl now. We spent the early morning making her presentable to and over on Tuesday in Turkey. I think it’s Tuesday, we haven’t been sure of the day in a while now. The date, yes, but the day? We barely know what the real time is. Confusion reigns. We hear that we aren’t going to Gocek, but another place in the same bay, Fethiya, five kilometres east. It might suit us better, Gocek sounds posh and we certainly aren’t. The promises of showers and restaurants beckon. Not that we’ve been eating badly but jesus a good shower would be wonderful. I showered in Pilos with a litre and a half of sun warmed water. Not altogether bad but a real good wash is necessary. I’ve my sleeping bag on deck. Ultraviolet rays from the sun kills bugs. That, along with the fresh air, is nearly as good as a wash when you’re out here. My blankets will go out later. I could do with washing some clothes but I think I’ll just buy a shirt and jeans onshore. We ain’t finished, but she looks spanking! Our little darling boat, going to miss her.

It has been a while since we had any passengers, the little birds who would flit around us before succumbing to the ocean. We did have a stowaway. A bee. We tried to keep it from going below but eventually it ended up in Dan’s cabin. He shooed it out and for a while it buzzed around the fishing line off the stern. It would rest on the line at times. It was funny to have this little thing with us, unsure if it would last the night, we put some honey in a bottle cap by the mast. On Eve, we like to treat our passengers with respect and equality. Well, until the flies arrived. Flies. On board. How, I don’t know. The first attacked me during nightwatch, frightened the daylights out of me. Respect and equality out the window, I hunted it down. To my horror, I found more. They were all over us. I went a bit crazy, severely disturbed by the idea of flies on our boat. Hence the cleaning, we’d let her go a little. Cigar ash, cigarette ash, even volcanic ash, hair, sand and dust sullied Eve’s curves. I’m glad I had cut my hair off before leaving Ireland, imagine all those grey curls on top of all this? No flies on us, or so I had thought. We hadn’t noticed how the fine ash from Mount Etna had settled all over her. Dirt from within the earth, crusty.

1600 26°20E
We’ve spent the last hour staring at land. We’ve passed so close. The only places where we’ve gone so close were the Calbrian coast and Lipari’s southern tip. This is a wild spot, a few small beaches, a few small buildings, some evidence of horticulture but not many signs of wildlife. As we approach a headland, the Captain tells us, “All sorts of wonderful things are going to open up.” Suddenly we can’t wait, our patience running low, anticipation reigns supreme. It’s been a long island, and featureless until this bay. There’s such a mixture of rock here. Some like petrified earth, some grey and fissured, blocks cut and resting on each othere, tilted towards the sea as if waiting to tumble in. A deep crack reveals iron deposits, red rock. A few trees are visible on the biggest beach yet, giving us an idea of scale. I see a birds flying along the cliffs but lose it against the backround. No way to see wildlife, even through the binoculars. We’re still too far away.

1613 Indeed, Mark was right, this is wonderous! Astipalaia, a town that looks like it’s been hung out on a clothes line, smiling at us, like the moon last night and a valley we passed a while back. All things come in threes, they say. For these three smiles for us, we thank the gods. Another yacht came fron the east, heading west, it’s racing hull making our Eve blush. At least she’s clean and shiny now.

Dinner at sunset, Mark did the honours. Dan looks at peace, we all feel it, drink it all in, a quiet evening. We don’t know yet if Dan has to go back home, we have no details of the next leg. We’ll only find out in Fethiya

2100 A busy evening’s traffic. Just after dark, a ferry leaving Astipalaia fooled me. I took the lights to be street lights on land. The lights had stayed in position relative to the others in the town, and she had headed straight at us, sparking a discussion where I felt sure, for once, that it was not a ship. “Never say what a ship is going to do, only what it’s doing right now. Where it is, and what direction it’s pointing in, that’s all you’re going to know. They can change course at anytime, never trust them.” Another lesson from Mark. I keep learning, I hope. This one turned south across our stern. Another was heading north across our bow but did a semi-circle around us and ended up facing southwest behind us. Mark swapped watches with Dan. I’m still due up at 0300 hours, time to sleep. Five or six hours? Two nights in a row. Sheer luxury. And tomorrow the land of the Turks. As with Greece, it’ll be my first time there. Arriving by sea is proving a better option than flying in. And I’ll get a stamp in my passport, the first since Morocco. So, as I go to sleep, I pray to whoever out here my soul to keep. Lir, Neptune, Poseidon, guide us to our final destination, keep this ship safe on the last day of our journey to Eden.

March 20th 0500 New Moon

34°04’353N  20°42’435E
Pilos ETA 8h39

On watch since 0300. So tired. Ate duck last night. Lovely, with baked spuds and honey. Nearly puked it all over the side at the start of my watch but I managed to hold it. I need the nutrition. Grand now, but so tired. I wonder if Pete is thinking of bypassing Pilos altogether but they seem  to be holding relative to our position. Pete knows this port from before, Mark hasn’t been there. The Captain isn’t sure we should stop here. Last night he was thinking of heading straight through. I looked at him, “I need land, Capt’n!” It’s a clear night, the stars look lovely as always. Still I haven’t seen it as clear as one time in Portugal with Meli and Aussie Andy. We’d slept outside in the National Park on the southwest corner, the day after my birthday. I’d woken up on the back of a car trailer underneath an old BMW, we headed to the coast and slept under stars like I’ve never seen in the northern hemisphere. It had taken me twenty minutes to find tthe Big Dipper, there were so many stars visible. As much as you can see them clearly out here, it still hasn’t rivalled that night.

Dan might be finding this hard too. It’s tough, dealing with the constant movement. I may have the sea in my blood, but I don’\t know if I can ever get used to this. All told, I prefer wheels. This is exhilarating, but so is cycling and driving. I want to race a car around a track, or hurtle downhill on a mountain bike, feeling the world go underneath me throught my saddle. Something fast! And less scary, if equally dangerous. God knows I’ve done a few moves in my time which have threatened my life but out here it’s so raw, the element of water, so much of it, the power is extraordinary. My near drowning incident in Australia taught me so much, not that I ever had disrespect for the sea. Even so, until you feel the might of it pulling you down like Poseiden himself has you by the ankles, you can’t fully understand. It’s a healthy fear, but still it is fear itself.

As much as I feel I’m fighting it, I have adapted so much in this short time. Eve is my world. Eve, Skipper, and Good Man Dan. But once again I look forward to land. A day, hopefully two. I need proper sleep. I don’t know how these guys and gals do it. I can push myself far and have done but not at this rate, not without a couple of days recuperation, more time or even the ability to get sleep. The end of this voyage will come and I’ll be happy for it, but not yet, I don’t want the end right now. Pilos, then Gocek, past the lengendary island of Santorini, a place I’d heard about such a long time ago but only saw how wonderful it looks in Suvi’s wedding photos. What a place to get married! Gocek, then a change of boat, maybe more crew, maybe Dan has to go back home, maybe a transfer to Pete’s boat, we’ll have to see. And at least a few days on land there. At last, some much needed sleep, some recuperation.

We have our fishing line out. I hope we don’t catch anything on my watch, I couldn’t handle the excitement. The moon has risen. So beautiful, the thinnest cresent. So new moon will be tomorrow, March 21st, the spring equinox. It must mean something, I should ask Eija tomorrow, today, later, after my watch finishes I need to sleep before landfall. So damn tired.

0600
Dan’s up, in good spirits. A bank of cloud is now visible on the horizon. Does it signify land? I’ll wait until the dawn before going below, it might be a good one!