Mariners - both modern and old school - share a typical harbor at one of Greece’s many islands
in the Ionian Sea.

Sailing the Ionian Sea
Modern Mariners Make Way Around Mediterranean Islands

By Janel Bladow

After an all-night flight from New York City to Athens, my husband and I were looking forward to savoring the same crystal-blue Ionain waters and mountainous islands immortalized in Homer’s “Odyssey,” the ancient epic of sailors and the sea.

For 14 days we would sail – as part of a charter flotilla – among the northern islands off Greece’s west coast. Most of the well-protected ports are within a half-day’s sail, making the area ideal for first-time visitors to Greek waters.

The climate matches that of the Caribbean – warm and breezy. The terrain closely resembles that of Maine, only steeper.

We caught an Olympic Airlines puddle jumper that weaved and bobbed up the Gulf of Corinth to Levkás, a ride very similar to what we would experience on water. A harrowing taxi ride, weaving along a narrow mountain road and dodging on-coming traffic and goats, deposited us at our base, the sun-washed fishing village of Sivota. There, our 10-sailboat flotilla swayed in an aquatic conga line along the quay, glimmering in the midday sun.

We eagerly climbed aboard our floating home, the clean and comfortable 27-foot sloop Flyaway. Our group consisted of eight couples from Great Britain, a French couple with their six-year old son and us – the only Americans. The combined experience and local knowledge of lead boat skipper Chris “Meg” Mortimer, hostess Jossi Hornby, and engineer Darren Blakely would ensure that we would see – and learn – more than if we were on our own.

I often tell people I fell in love with my husband because he is a sailor. Together we’ve sailed 50-foot yachts in St. Martin with friends who have never been on a boat before and 42-foot sloops off Maine and Connecticut with friends who have considerable experience. But we’d never before sailed with people we didn’t know.

Apprehensive? Yes. We joined our flotilla mates for the first of many group dinners and quickly made friends.

That dinner also foreshadowed many mouthwatering meals to come: Greek salads made with the tastiest tomatoes I ever ate and appetizers of tzatziki (grated cucumber and garlic blended with yogurt), taramasalata (cod roe ground into a paste) and eggplant puree. Main dishes almost always consisted of grilled fish, chicken, lamb or pork, washed down with Becks or some Cephalonian wine. Dessert – and sometimes breakfast – was addicting thick, creamy Greek yogurt with sticky-sweet golden honey.

On our first morning, with most of us holding our alcohol-throbbing heads, Meg briefed us and took the captains out to their boats to show them the ropes – lines, sails and engines. I shopped for frozen bottled water to keep food cold in our tiny electric refrigerator. It would also keep the beers frosty and, when the ice melted, provide a cooling thirst quencher against the intensely hot Greek summer.

At last we hoisted our sails and headed up Meganisiou Channel, a lovely ribbon of water lined on one side by the towering slopes of Levkás and on the other by the powdery beaches of Meganisi.

A gale greeted us as we approached Skorpios, the Onassis family’s manicured island. We anchored in the harbor near where Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis had built a classic Greek bathhouse larger than most homes. The beach was snow-white sand, the water so clear and blue that we could see bottom at 30 feet.

After lunch we caught a brisk aft wind that pushed us into Nidri, a mecca for tourists from all over Europe. Nidri is the Nassau – or Tijuana – of Greece. Its two main thoroughfares are lined with shops selling everything from gold necklaces and leather goods to spinach pies and homemade ice cream.

Our next stop: The village of Spartakhori – settled in Homer’s time – overlooks the harbor and is well worth the steep walk up a winding road lined with cypress trees. We were rewarded with breathtaking sunset views of our boats tied up at the pier below, and of Levkás, five miles across the bay.

Another steep hike and our group arrived at Levki’s Taverna. Levki’s mother, called “Moma” by all, taught us a few traditional steps then performed the famous dance from “Zorba the Greek” with a table on her head. Several of our guys tried it but lasted only seconds before tables crashed to the ground. The following morning everyone woke with a headache (again!), but Meg managed to set a course for Kioni on Ithaca.

We motored out of the harbor, heading east. Our plan was to tack to the island of Kalamos, off the mainland, then southwest to Kithras Island off Meganisi’s southern tip.

I hoisted sails while my husband plotted our course then took over the tiller while he went below. The first tack blew us straight into Kalamos. That’s when we learned how tricky Greek winds can be: whipping over and round mountain ranges, causing severe gusts on the lee side and choppy currents in the channels. We also discovered how, closer to shore, the cliffs completely block the wind.

I lost all air at the base of mountainous Kalamos and ended up dead in the water and red in the face. I don’t pretend to be an expert sailor, but I can usually hold the wind in my sails. I started the engine and tightened the sails as my mate laid a new course. We puttered along until we were well into Cephalonia Channel before running into whitecaps and a Force 6 gale. My able-bodied skipper took over the tiller and hung in there, fighting the wind all the way to Ithaca. Finally, he landed right at the foot of three abandoned windmills marking the waterway into Kioni – right where we wanted to be.

Kioni is a wonderful little village in a natural amphitheater. Much of its port was destroyed in the 1953 earthquake that caused many locals to move to Australia and the States. We shopped a wonderful market where I bought spinach pies and more frozen bottled water.

The next day was open; we planned an afternoon of sailing followed by a quiet night anchored alone in an isolated cove. As we cleared the island, the breeze picked up and we had a nice reach across the bay. We tacked back as the wind blew heavier, let out more sail, and headed downwind into the channel. This would become a routine: Sail by day, and anchor in a quiet cove for the evening or pull into a port for dinner.

We rejoined our flotilla on Ithaca in the port of Vathi, where returning Greek sailors are traditionally welcomed at the harbor’s mouth by a tiny, pristine white chapel and lighthouse. We were greeted by the smiles of our fellow sea gypsies.

Vathi is a bustling metropolis compared to Ithaca’s other ports, and it makes a perfect place to layover, rent motorbikes, and explore the inner island. At our group dinner that night, we felt as if we were among close friends we’d known for years.

A few nights later on Cephalonia, we moored in Fiskardho, the only village that escaped damage during the 1953 quake. As we entered the harbor, we saw twin towers to the north. One was a large stone lighthouse, the other a smaller lighthouse built by Venetian explorers in the 1500s. Nearby were the remains of a church built by the Normans 300 years before that. On the harbor’s south side, in stark contrast, were contemporary, though modest, hotels and apartments.

On day 12, Meg and Jossi planned a barbecue at Abiliki Bay on Meganisi. To restock our beer and snacks, we sailed to the tattered mainland fishing village of Mitika. There I wandered the main street, enjoying the lack of tourists. In a narrow but well-stocked grocery shop, I picked up fresh feta cheese and olives and was somehow talked into buying a case of beer by the shopkeeper who didn’t speak a word of English. I had more than a mile to walk back to my dinghy. The old woman (dressed all in black) motioned for me to wait. She returned with a nice-looking young man who spoke English and explained that his uncle would drive me. I seized the opportunity to buy ice, but no luck. The local fish store was defrosting its freezer, and there wasn’t a block or a cube to buy anywhere in town.

Once again, ours was the last flotilla boat to enter the bay, a well-protected pocket of paradise where we were met with a water-balloon barrage from the foredecks of Flicker and Flamingo. A quick game of water polo preceded a dinghy race, followed by a round of warm beer. Later, by a blazing bonfire on the beach, we competed for the most original cocktail (hint: extra points for presentation), sang campfire songs (Beatles tunes were international favorites) and capped the evening with a dazzling moonlight swim.

As the night wore down, we realized how much we’d grown to appreciate the simple pleasures and local color of the islands. We felt sadness setting in, knowing we’d all be heading home soon. But as all sailors know, memories like these inspire us to sail on with the strength of the breeze at our backs, to discover new places, and to make new friends.

Trip Tips: Sunsail (800 327-2276 or www.sunsail.com) offers three types of charters – bareboat (you sail yourself), flotilla (you sail in a fleet, headed by a lead boat with a skipper, hostess and engineer) or crewed (you sail with a hired captain or hostess). Sunsail now operates its Level One (easiest) charters out of Vounaki. They can make all travel, accommodation and provision arrangements.