South to Thermia

Traveling Classroom^™

South to Thermia

We are in no great hurry to depart this morning because our destination, Kythnos, is only a short distance to the southeast. After a leisurely breakfast and a second pot of coffee we begin to think about stowing our gear and raising the anchor. It is 11:00 o'clock when we motor out of the little harbor and turn towards the north end of Kea. It seems odd to sail north when we want to travel southeasterly, but this is actually a shorter route. Sadly, it is not quicker. Once again Poseidon has decided to take the day off, and there is no hint of wind. Motoring along the coast, there is not much to see until we reach the tip of the island and sight Otzias bay off the starboard side. There is a nice beach at Otzias, and a beautiful green valley which slopes upwards between rather barren hills to a cluster of white cubic buildings: a typical cycladic farming village surrounded by well-kept fields and small orchards.

As we pass the end of the island and turn south, gray walls of rock rise sharply from the sea. There are no gentle beaches or green valleys. In fact, the charts show no decent harbors along the entire east coast, except for the ancient port of Karthea at the southern end of the island. Karthea was once a great walled city with imposing buildings and wondrous monuments dedicated to gods and heroes. Famed for its performing arts and respected for its power during Classical times, the city now lies in ruins. It would be interesting stop and explore Karthea, but we will be sailing farther east and away from the city.

Moving out into deeper waters, we pass a psaras (fisherman) heading back to the island in a colorful little boat. With the sun rising higher in the sky, his morning work is done. He will take the catch to market and, if he earns enough, look after other chores for the remainder of the day. If the sea was not kind, he may have to cast his nets again this evening.

There is an island floating on the mist of the eastern horizon. At first we think it might be Syros, but the charts show an uninhabited place called Giaros (Yiaros). According to the pilot guide, no boat is allowed to approach this island. I recall that the young naval officer on Nikos’ crew, during our trip to Eyina, had mentioned secret naval bases in the Aegean. Consulting our reference books, I find nothing about the navy, but intriguing notes about pirates. During the Roman era and into the Middle Ages, the island of Giaros was a haven for marauding corsairs who attacked merchant ships throughout the Aegean.

This sea is perfectly arranged for piracy. For many centuries it had the richest trade routes in the world, and there are many islands with hidden harbors where a pirate ship could lie in wait for its next wealthy victim. When pirates roamed these waters, the islanders lived in constant fear of attack. The island of Kythnos was a regular target for pirate raids. It must have been very distressing for an island that, according to Aristotle, was once the most perfectly ordered state in existence. However, when the Greek empire fell, naval ships no longer protected the seaways and criminal activity increased. Pirates were a powerful force in the Aegean for centuries, but we don't have to worry about them in modern times … I hope.

We are four hours out of Vourkari when we finally sight the rocky cliffs at the north end of Kythnos. Alternating between sail and motor, our average speed has been less than 3 knots. Not a great sailing day. We steer a course into the bay of Loutra at the northeastern corner of the island. The bay has three inlets, each with a village at its neck: Loutra, Schinari and Agia Irini. It opens to the north wind, which is not a good situation during the meltemi season, but a new breakwater provides some protection. Besides, we are not concerned about the wind today.

Inside the breakwater, we drop sails and tie them to the booms while we motor slowly into Loutra. We appear to be early because there are no other sailboats in the harbor, only a crowd of small fishing boats on one side of the quay. As we swing around in the harbor, one of the fishermen points to the open area of the quay and indicates that the water is shallow. Zoe Zoe draws 8 feet of water, so it is best to proceed cautiously. Paul reverses the engine and backs in slowly, then pulls away again when we discover there is not enough water under us. The water is crystal clear, and we can see a deeper spot nearer the fishing boats. Paul maneuvers us into position, Jeanette drops anchor, and we back in. The keel barely scrapes bottom just as we stop.

We lower the gangway and step onto the quay to examine our situation. Peering through the clear water, we see our keel has only a few centimeters of water beneath it. It appears we have found a small trough in the gravel bottom ... the only place deep enough for Zoe Zoe. The shape of this trough suggests it was plowed out by the hull of a boat that came in much too quickly. I expect the skipper paid dearly for this mistake.

After tightening our mooring lines, we decide to have a look around town. Duane wants to find a burn ointment for his hand, because the lotion he has been using does not provide relief from the discomfort. Just off the quay we find two little stores, one right around the corner from the other. As we walk into the first store, we are greeted by a cheerful old woman with sparkling eyes. She does not speak a word of English, but she shows us around her store and points out bins of fresh produce and shelves thinly stocked with various canned goods. Then she gives us slices of freshly baked bread and a glass of her homemade Kythnian wine. It is light and has a vague pine flavor ... not as strong as most Greek retsina wines. Using signs and pantomime, Duane indicates that he wants to purchase an ointment for his burn. When she sees his hand, the storekeeper fusses over him like a grandmother and then hurries off to search through the shelves. She returns with a small plastic bottle of baby lotion. Duane rejects this; it is no better than what he is now using. We thank the woman and promise to return later for our food shopping.

The other store is smaller and appears to have fewer goods than the first one ... but the young girl at the counter speaks some English. We explain what we want, and the girl translates to her mother. They don't have burn ointment either. Duane settles for an ice cream bar and we walk outside again. The narrow road before us follows the sandy beach to the other side of the village, perhaps two hundred meters. There are several tavernas along this road, and each of them has tables set up in front and along the beach. Although this is not a major tourist town, the local merchants are clearly preparing themselves for the seasonal increase in visitors. We are the only strangers in town now, but I can see other boats gliding into the harbor. Paul and Jeanette are on the quay, warning the newcomers about the shallow water. These new arrivals appear to be charter boats with all-fiberglass hulls: less weight than Zoe Zoe. They probably don't require much more than a fathom to stay afloat.

Our shipmates join us and we walk along the waterfront to the far end of town, where there is a park. Along the edge of the park a small stream flows through a paved channel to the beach. There is steam rising from the water, even in this warm weather. I kneel down and put my hand into the stream, then pull it back quickly. It's hot and it smells of sulfur. Jeanette says the water comes from the famous medicinal springs, which are supposed to be beneficial for people with rheumatism and arthritis. Because of these thermal springs, the only ones in the Cyclades, the island is commonly known as Thermia.
Jeanette removes her deck shoes and wades into the cove where hot spring water mixes with sea water. She declares it is perfect for swimming. I notice that the warm water has attracted thousands of tiny fishes, but I don't feel like swimming just now. Duane and I want to follow the steaming water to its source. I am told there is a bath house with carved marble baths from ancient times. We walk inland while Jeanette and Paul head back towards the quay. After a short distance, we lose the trail when the stream disappears under the pavement behind the Xenia (the only large hotel in town). Across the courtyard from the hotel is a very old building, which looks as if it might have been a church at one time. This could be the original bath house from the days when sultans ruled. We try to find a way inside, but all the doors are locked.

We continue walking to the edge of town, which is not that far from the beach. Loutra is small. The island does not support a large population. The climate favors agriculture, but the barren, rocky soil does not. There are cattle and goats, and milk products such as the famous Thermiot cheese from antiquity. Most of what is grown here -- barley, almonds, figs and garden produce -- is also consumed here. We stop at a fork in the road where a sign points to Messaria (Hora), the capital of the island. In the hills near the capital are wind and solar installations which generate electrical power for Kythnos. I'm surprised the Kythnians have not harnessed the geothermal resources right here in Loutra.

Taking a different route back through the town, we admire the freshly whitewashed buildings and inhale the antiseptic fragrance of large eucalyptus trees that provide shade. In the center of Loutra we find another store, which is much larger than the others we visited. However, it is closed now. That is odd, because the afternoon "siesta" time is over and local people are tending to their evening business. Arriving at the waterfront, we find Jeanette and Paul sharing a bottle of wine in front of one of the tavernas. We join them and watch another sailboat maneuvering into the last berth at the quay. The next arrival will have to anchor offshore and use a dinghy to come in.

We return to the Zoe Zoe as another boat enters the harbor looking for moorage. Actually, there is a lot of space where the fishing boats were moored earlier, but I think it is off-limits to outsiders. Besides, the water is much too shallow for boats with keels. After motoring around in circles, the newly arrived sailors call out and ask if they can tie up to our boat. Paul thinks these are some of the German sailors he met last night in Vourkari. We give them permission and put out extra fenders to protect our hull. The skipper is very careful as he slides the boat into position on our port bow, and we tie off the mooring lines so that the boats will stay together. Now these sailors can cross over to the Zoe Zoe and use our gangway to get ashore.

As soon as they stow their gear, the five crew members troop across our deck to the gangway. Each of them introduces himself and thanks us for our hospitality. On the quay, they shout greetings to people on the other boats. As far as we can determine, every charter boat on the harbor is crewed by Germans. Perhaps this is a traditional holiday for them. There is a British family several boats over. Because we are flying a British flag, they make a point of walking to our boat and greeting us, although they seem to avoid the Germans. The etiquette of sailing is strict, but politics are very strange.

It is time to start thinking about dinner, and so we discuss the options. The small tavernas on the waterfront are already filling with boisterous Germans. If we buy a few staples, we can cook our meal in the galley. Duane saw a taverna on the hillside when we first came into the harbor; he wants to check it out. We decide to have some snacks while he hikes up the hill on a narrow dirt road off the quay. Before long, another sailboat full of Germans arrives and gets permission to tie up to the boat on our starboard side. Unfortunately, because of the way they tied up, the crew will have to use our gangway. It is getting very crowded. At the same time, the fishermen are coming home from their afternoon work. They quickly fill their end of the quay, off-load their catch and begin spreading their nets to dry. Local taverna owners and housewives come to purchase fish right off the boats.

Duane returns from his excursion and tells us that the taverna on the hill is very nice. Because there are no menus, he says he was invited into the kitchen to see what was cooking on the stove. The owner, an elderly woman named Katerina, asked his nationality. When she discovered he was American, she gave him some wine and fed him a taste of everything she was cooking. Duane votes to go to Katerina's, but the rest of us aren't so sure about going out tonight.

We decide to eat onboard, so Duane and I walk to the store for supplies. The old woman is pleased to see us back in her store. We buy loaves of bread, cheese, eggplant and other vegetables. She talks us into a bottle of her wine also. When she brings it out, we see that she has bottled the wine in a used water bottle. I hope it is clean.

I prepare a nice eggplant and pasta dish, and everyone is pleased. We eat rather early this evening, and then sit on the deck watching more boats arrive. By this time, there is not even a chance to tie up with boats at the quay. The new arrivals are anchoring in the bay or moving on to other inlets. It starts to quiet down after dark, and we walk into town again. Away from the waterfront, local people are gathering at a few places to listen to bouzouki music and socialize with their friends. Loutra seems like a nice place to live.

Before we turn in for the night, we input coordinates for our next destination on the GPS computer. The new setting is 37° 26'·2N 24° 56'·8E. Use a nautical chart and find out where we will be sailing tomorrow.