CRUISES: Corfu by Private Yacht

Story and photography by
Nancy & Eric Anderson 

 

"The Greek islands were created just for sailors," said Judie, a young woman from Kansas, who was living aboard a 47 foot yacht that plied the Mediterranean, "and Greek is surely the language of the sea." She tightened the rope she was bending over and continued. "For example, siga siga means 'slowly slowly,' exactly the right speed for a sailing vacation. Simila tipota means that 'yesterday was a dreadful day, so today is nothing, today I vegetate.' Why, we even have a word in Greek, methavrio. It means 'the day after maňana!'

The ketch Baily of Howth was moving siga siga as it cautiously crossed the shallow water between the islets Vlacherna and Pondikonissi and headed out to sea. Tiny Vlacherna was just big enough for the convent that crowns it and Pondikonissi is not much bigger. The latter, better known as Mouse Island, lies, a densely vegetated islet further south. Pondikonissi has borne its church, Christ the Pantokrator, since the 11th century but its legends go further back than that. Corfiotes say it was on the shores of Corfu that Ulysses was shipwrecked and when he was finally carried by them back to Ithaca to the displeasure of the gods, locals believe Poseidon in anger turned their returning ship to stone before Corfu's very eyes. Now it is anchored for all time as the island of Pondikonissi.

Whether the visitor has to believe the story is immaterial -- the view of the two islands from the Kanoni peninsula is almost Corfu's trademark. Since many of the best views of Corfu are from the sea, the best way to get them is by private yacht. From a yacht you can visit the sailor's church of Ipapandi and explore the old Venetian armory at Gouvia Bay. You can wander ashore at the wooded bay of Dassia and sign up for some parasailing at the Chandris hotels. You can round the remote unraveled northwest point, and pass by St. George's Bay to the desolate beauty of the cliffs at Paleokastritsa. Or you can use the boat as your base to visit old Corfu Town, perhaps the most cosmopolitan of all the Greek island cities.

There's quite a lot to see -- in many ways Corfu is a most unusual Greek island. Its nationality is Greek yet its architecture is Venetian, its people Italian, its restaurants French, its attitudes British and its tourists German. It is the greenest of all the Greek islands -- not here the sun-baked white rocks of the Aegean. And in some ways it is the least romantic of the islands: so many foreign powers have occupied it leaving the detritus of the centuries that some parts of its cluttered corners look more like an untidy Caribbean island than a Greek one.

But it's got a flavor, a pizzazz, an excitement that most of the Greek islands lack.  There's always something to do on Corfu even if it's merely having a cappuccino and people-watching on the Liston, the duplicate of the Rue de Rivoli that the French gave as their contribution to the city's culture after Venice and Corfu fell to Napoleon in 1797.

Corfu's history goes back to 734 BC when Corinth established a colony on this the most north west island off the Greek mainland. In 665 BC the new colony defeated Corinth "in the first naval battle in Greek history" to gain her independence. She lost it in 200 BC when this little island , a mere 250 square miles, became the first eastern conquest of the Roman empire. Since then Corfu has been raided by Byzantine forces, Vandal, Goths, Slavs, Normans, Venetians, French and finally British. The British occupation lasted about half a century but when they turned the island over to Greece and departed in 1863 they left behind a legacy of "cricket, ginger beer and Christmas chutney." And Georgian mansions linked by the best road system of any Greek island, stable agriculture, a proper water supply, a fair judicial system "with model prisons," decent hospitals, schools and a university.

There was a brief Italian occupation during the second world war but Corfu takes pride in the fact that while the rest of Greece toiled under the Turkish yoke for four centuries, the Ottoman empire never succeeded in making Corfu yield. Corfu's position is somewhat unusual. Corfu town is closer to Albania than it is to mainland Greece.

"We won't go to Albania, if you don't mind," said our skipper, Chris Garrod. "I don't like the way they shoot at us if we sail too close.

Three hours later we sailed into Sivota Bay just south of the Albanian border. The Old Turkish customs house on the north side of the narrow inlet looks a bit the worse for wear -- for reason. The Italians used it for target practice during World War II. "Fortunately they missed it most of the time," said Garrod, passing the binoculars to his passenger. Garrod left England for Australia at the age of 18. After four years running catamaran day charters in Queensland, he returned home and worked for a London courier service eight miles from the sea for eight years. He wandered into the London Boat Show in 1978; when he walked out he was the owner of a 32 foot yacht Finchpalm and a new life. He now skippered Baily of Howth part of the year for her Irish owner.

At Sivota, the ketch tied down off a small jetty in a village of about 200 inhabitants. American tourists are unusual so far from civilization but rural Greeks are so laid-back and contented there is hardly any commotion. Except at Jannie's. The owner of the small quayside restaurant, is running in circles. He didn't expect Baily to dock for dinner tonight, with Americans, with cameras. My food may not be fancy enough, he thought, and took off on some mysterious journey to get something special for his guests.

The evening was a confused blur. "Would you like Ouzo?" asked Jannie, in Greek, standing proudly beside his American customers but a bit to the side so those at the other two tables can see that he had “fancy” guests. "We'd love a Greek beer," we replied in English. Judie translated. Jannie pranced over with the beers. The labels said: Heineken. Then he brought over a tray laden with plates. Sushi. On each a huge helping of -- yes, omigod, it was raw calamari, it was squid.

"Judie..." we said. "Eat it, please eat it," she hissed at us, smiling and nodding to Jannie. "It's not on the menu, there's no charge, this is his personal gift to us. It's an insult to him not to eat it -- and smile, because the other tables are watching." We chewed the raw pieces of India rubber, and managed a leer for Jannie. He bent over and spoke his one word of English. "Ink fish," he declared. We nodded weakly.

The meal that followed was a splendid concoction of fresh fish, Greek salad with feta cheese, yogurt and honey, and hot chocolate.

The Ionian Sea rocked us to sleep.  Next day Baily of Howth sailed into Gaios to check out the port of Paxos on this 5 mile-long island 15 miles south of Corfu. She passed the Madonna Shoal where the Venetians once lost a treasure ship, and the British two frigates in 1817 because the hazard was not marked on Admiralty maps; she passed-the ruins of the fortress, and docks at the village square where there was a restaurant and a small church. There were said to be 80 churches on this island of 2000 people and 300,000 olive trees. And according to a writer, Don Larrimore, "One bus, three priests, five taxis and seven policemen."

From Paxos Baily could go round Corfu to its west windward side or return up the calmer east coast where the Gulf of Kerkira was sheltered by the land. It had been blowing a bit. We chose the easy way back. It was still a bit bumpy but that's the Mediterranean. It's not as placid as, say, the waters round the British Virgin Islands and some American sailing enthusiasts have said the winds here are either nonexistent or too strong. Certainly when the meltemi, the north wind blows in summer you' know you're sailing. But you don't come on a yacht to the Greek islands for perfection on water -- you come to meet a cordial and friendly people, to tie down in old world harbors, to look up to magnificent scenery and to sample the glorious history of Greece.

"And for relaxation," added Judie. "You can't help but relax on a yacht in Greece, because, first, on a boat you've no choice. You can't plan anything. You can try but if you're sailing for pleasure you have to follow the weather. We follow the sun; we follow the seasons. If you want a sailing vacation you have to go slow otherwise it's nothing but sea and nothing to see. Second, when you land you come ashore to 'Greek time.' Greek time is no time. Greeks are never frantic, they have no sense of urgency, and you learn to follow suit -- to survive. Before you know it, you're a laid-back American."

If you can learn to unwind, you will enjoy the Greek attitudes to life. They're a great people to be around when you're on vacation. We spoke to one Greek on a remote island that seldom saw visitors. He was well satisfied with his life. Judie translated: "I work in a tourist shop in a village where there are no tourists," he said. "I'll be glad when the season's over. I'll be happy to get back to normal."

That Judie related to those people came as no surprise. After her graduation with a degree in education and English literature in 1968, she headed for a trash bin and threw in her high heeled shoes. Since then she'd worked for some years as a Girl Friday to an orthopedic surgeon, toiled in a King Crab processing factory in Alaska for a season, then served three seasons on a fishing boat as a deck hand, cook, senior deck hand then captain. She has backpacked in New Zealand and trekked across Nepal -- and not once missed her high heeled shoes.

Baily of Howth like most yachts had its own shoe code: the cardinal rule was shoes off at the dock; sailing is barefoot travel. The skipper and his mate had another observation that made a yachting trip in Greece more fun for them. Said the skipper, "When they come aboard, we always look to see if we've got the right type in our charters. We know we do if they take off their shoes then their wrist watches."