Day 13 … and back again.

As we descend the hill we crisscross the road time and again, ensuring that motorists have fighting chance of avoiding us as they hurtle down the winding road.

There is no way I can persuade Nicholas off the beach road in search of a 3rd century Roman Villa. I have no idea how far away it is and with the bilingual information in Greek and Italian I comfort myself by snapping a pic and promising myself a little time in Google to find it.

Skala is much bigger than Katelios. It has a town centre set back from the beach, the beach is far too long for weary walkers, 4km. It seems we have arrived at the ‘wrong end’ and at some point we are going to have to trek down in search of the ‘bus-boat’. For now we take shade beneath the canopy of the “Mios traverna”. We decide that these are the two most well deserved ice-creams of the holidays.

Clare has been working the sunbed screen for nearly three years now. She moved from Birmingham in search of some fun and a relaxed lifestyle. After hopscotching around the Med she has settled in Skala.

Sun bedding is a cash business. She makes the rounds every 20 minutes or so. Her most recent skip along the scolding sands coincides nicely with our exhausted collapse onto two of her sunbeds beside the Bus-boat landing area.

I count two rows of 20 sunbeds. She charges 6 euros for the loan. Each one is full. That’s 120 euros right there. If each is only hired out just once each day that’s $180NZ right there. But people are coming and going quite regularly. Not a bad little earner, if you can get it.

Angelo is the happiest Greek we’ve come across so far and to be honest they are not known to be a particularly sullen nation. He wears a bright yellow bandana that matches his “bus-boat”. With a broad grin and a sharp salute to Nicholas he hails, “Welcome aboard, Captain.”

He is completely taken by Nicholas in his captain’s hat and refuses to take no for a answer when offering Nicholas the opportunity to ‘drive’.

Angelo has converted his paragliding speedboat into a ‘bus-boat’ – at 22mph it’s a quick ride.

I am kind of wishing we could have booked the bus-boat for tomorrow’s commute to the airport. It’ll definitely be more entertaining than the 45-minute bus ride, inarguably quicker if not cheaper than the 100 euros we’ll spend on the bus.

Day 11 Katos to Pessada and Back

There comes a point in a holiday where, if you get to the point of being fully relaxed then every little effort is just that… an effort. I’m under the impression that today is that day.

I’m lying in bed, having slept really well, but desperately wanting more. Unfortunately, that is not going to happen. For the curtains are open, and the window too. A single ray of sunshine cuts diagonally across my bed… and my face.  Ihear a rooster raising the neighbourhood in the ‘not-distant –enough’ distance. I can also hear the acoompanying birdsong. I image, in my dreamlike state that they are not welcoming the new dawn with gladness in their hearts but rather answering the rooster with curses and cries of “What time do you call this?” or “ Pipe down will you!” or “This is a ridiculous time t be awake. Get back to sleep!” with a tone resembling the hecklers from the muppets.

But despite this, I raise with enthusiasm. I’m keen. I’m ready to go. This is the day we head out in our own boat. Admittedly it’s a little fiberglass number with a 30-horse power engine. And despite Cheryl referring to it as ‘a hairdryer motor’ it is actually the largest engine an unlicensed captain is permitted to drive.

We head out and turn right, or starboard should I say. Mark is now officially the captain, especially as he was the only one listening to the 15 minute briefing.

Marcus is perched on the bow, trying to catch the waves with Cheryl beside him and Nicholas immediately behind.

Now that we are moving into deeper water and at quite clip Seb is looking less happy and has found himself a secure spot bobbed down on the deck between Mark and Cheryl. As for me, I’m in the co-piolting position beside Mark. My only real job is to balance the boat out a little with my 85kgs.

I’m facing aft; I do that often, on boats, on trains, on buses. I much prefer the slower pace of the view out the back as opposed to the ‘flashing by in a moment’ view from the front.

There’s a bit of a breeze up and the waves are up a little since we got out into open water, but Mark is steering up expertly.

We find a deserted beach, weigh anchor and plunge into the water. I’m obviously first off, no one stop me, but Marcus is not far behindand after a little coaxing Nicholas plunges in too. There is some splashing around and lots of fun, but Seb is not convinced. He aches for everyone to get back onboard and for us all to head home.

But once I swim, rather ridiculously it has to be said, holding the lunch above my head and heading towards the beach Seb’s nervousness to being overcome by giggling. He just needs a little reassurance from his Dad, a supportive hand or two, and he’s made it to the beach too.

For me the day culminates in the rather fool hardy suggestion that Nicholas and I swim around the rocky outcrop and meet everyone at the boat. I know my own limits in the water. I know how strong Nicholas is in the water and I know if he gets tired I can manage quite a way with him on my back. It’ll be pushing our limits, but not beyond the manageable, It’ll be quite the adventure.

But Marcus wants to come along too. I know he’s a good swimmer in the pool but I’m not sure of his limits in the sea. I’m not sure if he’s a ‘panic-under-pressure’ kinda kid and I know I can’t have them both on my back at once. This is turning into not such a great idea after all.

I could labour the point and explain how the both of them started out strongly  and got themselves past the breakers.

I could tell you how Nicholas did his fair share and only needed a helping hand once or twice. How Marcus ploughed through the water with all his energy that he couldn’t speak at all.

I could tell you how I had Nicholas on my back at one point and how Marcus’ mask filled with sea water at that moment and he had to cling onto me while he fixed it.

I could tell you how my head went under a few times just then and the inevitable “What on earth am I doing?” flashed through my mind.

I could tell you how relieved I was when we reached the rocks of the harbour wall, and even as the waves thrashed us I was delighted that we could rest.

I could tell you how relieved I was at the sight of our little boat coming around the corner. How I realized the three of us had to time our final swim to avoid the worst of the waves.

And I could tell you how relieved I was as Marcus ascended the bow steps and Nicholas and I waited, bobbing in the water.

I could tell you all this, but suffice it to say, it was lovely having a little swim this afternoon. 

Day 6 Alrewas

There were three in a boat and the little one said...

Went canoodling down the canal today. I’m not really sure it’s a proper word but we’re in inflatable kayaks. I think the term comes from crossing canoeing and noodles (like the ones for water play as apposed to those found in chow mien).

Nicholas and I are going out with Cheryl, Mum, Marcus, Seb and a friend of Seb’s called Tom. We launched three canoes into the canal behind the house. Each canoe holds and adult, a child and a couple of oars. Save for Cheryl’s as Seb and Tom go together. These things are exceptionally stable and highly unlikely to tip over; none the less all the kids have life jackets.

One of the most exciting points in this little adventurette was when we took it in turns to go down the weir. Marcus took Nicholas on the first run. I took Seb and Tom on the second. Then Marcus and I ‘raced’ Nan and Nicholas.  As the short video may indicate a little cheating may be in evidence before Marcus declared us the winners. It may require a photo finish judgment.

On our return trip Marcus and Nicholas travelled together. Marcus did the lion’s share of the “oaring”- as Seb would call it. But there is one rather narrow stretch where laden tree branches overhang the stream. It was while trying to avoid one of those dangling leafests  Marcus accidentally got himself rather badly stung by some nettles hanging out in a nearby reed bed. 

While gallantly trying to steer the canoe away he dug the paddle in a little too deeply and brushed against the nettles. Immediately the pain enflamed his arm and there was nothing to do but collapse into the boat in agony.

Both Marcus and Nicholas called out for assistance and I rather callously called back:

“There’s not much we can do from here. You’ll have to man up and keep paddling.”

There were a few more calls of “I can’t” and “it’s too difficult” but Nicholas took the paddle and ‘oared’ towards Nan and I. By the time they reached us Nan had managed to collect some ‘doc’ leaf.  Marcus applied it to his arm and after a few minutes to recover felt like he could take the oar and feel he can complete the circuit.

I said it as a joke but both boys did, in fact “man up and keep paddling.”

Family portrait