Our next stop was the legendary home of Odysseus in Vathy, Ithaca. The sail over was rather strange; a close reach with good winds for a start, and then no wind where we should have had a beam reach (I’m convinced the island sucks the wind around and creates the strangest micro-climate – no wonder that Odysseus had troubles), followed by lots of wind (and a great sail) as we headed down the channel to Vathy.
The village is nearly completely surrounded by mountains, and other than the summer wind that kicks in at 20 knots every afternoon, it is a fabulous place to stop. Luckily the bay is large, the holding is mud, and boats spread out, so after the first hour we weren’t too concerned about our anchor. Friends Phil and Fiona were just around the corner, so we met up in town for cold beer, dinner, and a little bit of ice cream while we wandered around enjoying the evening scene with the locals. Phil even got in on the football action with some kids, which totally impressed them all when he played barefoot (soccer in flip flops just doesn’t work).
Vathy isn’t big, but it’s incredibly practical for provisioning (the supermarket was right on the waterfront) and laundry (there was a great cafe where we could sample smoothies while I flipped laundry). It also has an amazing little archeological museum. It’s nothing more than a single room, and photos aren’t permitted, but the artifacts packed into that room were substantial. Most pieces had been shattered, and we marveled over the time and patience it must have taken to puzzle together and re-build the pottery on display.
Given the mellow vibe of Vathy, I didn’t expect bigger yachts, but there were plenty. Of course they came in during he windiest part of the day, and we watched several fail to anchor in an epic way, which always makes me giggle.
Our final night we treated ourselves to dinner at Poseidon, where the entire family ran the restaurant, including Grandma, who was sitting at a nearby table. We sampled the moussaka and the pastitsio, and I couldn’t help but think of my own grandmother, who would drive out to my uncle’s restaurant to cook – this was exactly the same thing worlds away.
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