Our first natural disaster

Saturday 13 August

We'd been out in boats all week.  Dave was skippering for a honeymoon couple, and Jim was supposed to be out in Tropi with his cousins.  But Jim was held up in the UK at a funeral, and he asked me to take the cousins out.  Richie came to help, as he'd done his Day Skipper in April and needed to put it into practice.  We had a good week, in our own little flotilla with the honeymooners, us and a few other boats from Nisos.  On the Thursday there was a storm, and we weathered a bumpy night on board.  The next day we got a text message warning us of damage at Goat Bottom.

We were back in Nidri on Saturday, so I went up to take a look.  The wind must've funnelled down through the little avenue of trees either side of the writing hut, and picked up all the cloth inside - I'd hung all the dark fabric I had to shade the computer screen from the sun at various times of day.  I expect it acted like a sail, holding the wind and ripping the hut apart. 

It was flat packed down the slope.  Alison from the Winnebago had done a wonderful job of collecting papers and books and stacking them on the decking, so I didn't see it at it's worst.

That's my desk at the far side - on its back with its legs in the air!

Luckily Richie had decided to stay an extra week, and a friend, Izzy, had come to join him.  So we put them to work rebuilding ...  for the short time they were awake!

None of the wood had broken, mainly the screws were bent or snapped or ripped out, so we managed to reconstruct the hut fairly easily.  The temporary roof hadn't survived, though.  It was well down the slope with all its struts in pieces.

So it was time to call in the professionals - well, one of them anyway.  Blind Bill, race crew and woodworker.  Dave had a day skipper charter, so Bill and I got the basic frame of a hipped roof up.

Then, with Dave back, we put in ground anchors (Richie had hammered them in before he left) and wired the shed feet to hold them on the blocks.

And we finally did the cross-bracing I should've done long ago - it might have held the hut together - but I'd just wanted to get on and use the hut - and, of course, you never get storms in August!

Sleepy Months

July & August 2011


It has been so hot!  Our water supply comes down from the village, about 200 metres, in a small black pipe.  The pipe was laid by the side of the track by the plumber, and it just soaks up heat. We could go bury the pipe, Dave's done a bit of it, but it would be a long hot job just now.  But after ten in the morning the water in the cold tap is scalding.  If we don't shower by nine-ish we have to wait till after five.  If we don't remember to fill cold water bottles and put them in the fridge there's no water to drink.

Then there's the heat.  As you can imagine, a metal box of a camper van is not a good place to be when it's hot.  During July the thermometer read 44 degrees.  Just sitting still in those temperatures makes you drip with sweat.  We need a nice cool cob house, but until then, it's a torment.  Can't siesta inside, but outside the flies never let up.  The writing hut is good for a siesta, if there's any sort of a breeze, but only just.  The temporary roof doesn't really shield the heat.

And there's been no let up with the rats.  They're confined to the cab, thank goodness, but every night we hear scufflings.   This one we found outside, lying there dead, not a mark on it, but mostly they're getting caught in the traps.  Then we found one that must've managed to balance on one of the window edges and chew through the insect netting.  It was inside, under the bed, and had ripped up some of the fridge insulation for bedding.  We couldn't catch it, but we drove it out and now we keep that window shut (phew!) as it's too near trees.

Enough wingeing.  We've been having some fun, especially when we've had a chance to get out on Tropi.  My brother Jonathan came for two weeks on the boat, so we joined him overnight in Meganissey for his first evening.  The boat was full of Jono's friends and family, so we arranged a village room with Babis at the taverna in Porto Spilia. 


At the arranged time, our lift turned up.  She was a little old lady in black - one of the 'ya-yas' (Greek for grandmother).  She nodded a greeting and went to the freezer, collecting two tubs of ice-cream - the ones that come with little plastic shovels - and presented them to us. We opened them up, and started eating as she showed us out to our 'limousine' transport:

She started off slow, but then must've forgotten her passengers and took the corners in style.  We had both hands full - ice-cream tubs and little shovels, so we just braced with our feet.  Those chairs aren't fixed down at all!  Luckily we'd had a few beers and were helpless with laughter by the time we arrived!

Porto Spilia from the village - taken on our walk back down the next day.  Tropi is on the harbour wall, top and left of centre.