Apollo Coast

Traveling Classroom^™

Apollo Coast

It is midmorning before we are ready to cast off and head out into the Saronic Gulf. Considering that Jeanette and Paul arrived only yesterday, and we stayed up rather late last night, I suppose we are doing well enough. Slowly motoring across the harbor, we pass our neighbor fisherman and I wave to him. He stands up and pulls in his line as if to leave. I don’t remember him giving up on the fish this early in the day.

As soon as the boat crosses the sea wall into open water, we hoist the mainsail and the mizzen, and unfurl the Genoa jib. There is an enormous amount of sail above us, but the wind is very light. When the engine is switched off Zoe Zoe glides slowly through the water. Still, the sun is warm and it is more pleasant to sail at a leisurely pace than to listen to a diesel engine. Jeanette brings out the British Red Ensign flag on a short mast and mounts it on the transom. There are small American and Greek flags fluttering from halyards above us, but Zoe Zoe is of British registry. This has certain advantages when sailing European waters.

The coastline from Pireás to Cape Sounion form the western coast of the Saronic Gulf, which is known as Akti Appolona, or Apollo Coast. I don’t know what association it may have with the god Apollo. In ancient times different towns usually had their own patron gods - like Athena in Athens or Artemis in Mikrolimano. It would probably be more appropriate to call this the Dionysus Coast, since it is primarily a weekend vacation area where Athenians go for parties and for beautiful beaches.

Since we don’t have to contend with troublesome weather, we turn our attention to the onboard equipment. After testing the radio, the first order of business is to program the global positioning system (GPS). To do this, we use a small keyboard to enter the latitude and longitude of our original location (Mikrolimano) and then enter the coordinates for our destination. Some of these locations are already programmed into the GPS computer, and we can simply select them from a list. The others we get from our navigational books, where the coordinates and specifications of every harbor are listed. Once these locations are programmed, the computer goes to work.

Using a transceiver antenna on the main mast, the GPS periodically contacts satellites in orbit above us. Satellite triangulation tells the GPS our absolute position and time virtually anywhere in the world. Now that the computer knows where we started, where we are, and where we want to go, it calculates and displays the navigational information we need to reach our destination. Then it measures our speed over ground and estimates our time of arrival. If we don’t pay attention and begin to drift off our course, the GPS tells us what course corrections are required. If we stray too many degrees off course, it will set off an alarm. Unlike more sophisticated models, our GPS is not programmed to help avoid obstacles we might encounter along the way, such as shallow areas, reefs and other boats. We are careful to stay on course using the compass at the wheel. Our navigational charts are checked regularly, and we watch the electronic depth gauge as we pass through shallow waters.

Today we wanted to make Cape Sounion and the fabled Temple of Poseidon, but the wind is so light our speed never gets above 3 knots. It is not possible to get to Sounion without motoring all the way, and we want to conserve fuel. We input an alternate destination: 37° 48'ˇ3N 23° 46'ˇ6E. That will take us to the headland of Vouliagmeni. Jeanette says it is one of the nicest harbors on the Apollo Coast.

The trip is slow and tedious, constantly adjusting the sails to make the most of what breeze there is. Finally, as we near Vouliagmeni, we turn on the engine and swing around towards the bay. Paul takes the wheel and rolls in the jib while the rest of us drop the sails, fold them against the booms and tie them down. Entering the bay, we see the town arranged along the waterfront and up into the hills. It is clearly a resort, dominated by hotels, high-rise condominiums and numerous stores and restaurants along the beach.

We turn towards the entrance of the yacht harbor, which is separated from the bay by a rocky point. There is a channel protected by a heavy breakwater and marked with speed limit signs. Moving through this channel, it is difficult to see how the harbor is arranged, and it is odd that we do not sight any masts poking at the sky. As we enter the yacht basin it becomes clear why we have seen no masts - there are no sailboats. The harbor is filled with luxurious motor yachts, all of them much larger than Zoe Zoe. The most impressive are huge displacement cruisers, perhaps 150 feet long, with uniformed crew members doing odd jobs on the docks.

As we motor slowly towards the buildings on the shore, we spot two men on the quay. One of them calls out and waves us in the direction of a space between two big yachts. We understand his hand signals, and Paul turns the boat around in the channel, so that we can back in (stern-to moorage is required in most Greek ports). Jeanette goes to the bow and opens the hatch to the V-berth. Reaching in, she retrieves a control box at the end of a heavy electrical cable. This operates the motor which raises the anchors. On the deck next to the hatch is the top of the windlass that controls the anchor chain. When Paul gives the signal, she loosens the brake on the windlass and the anchor drops into the water. The chain plays out rapidly as the boat reverses towards the open slip. Then Paul calls for the brake, and Jeanette tightens the windlass. The anchor chain tightens as the boat moves backward, setting the anchor at the bottom of the harbor.

While this is happening, Duane and I put out the fenders on either side of the boat and prepare to toss the stern lines over to the man on the quay. Paul cuts the engine as the boat slides into the space, and we throw the lines to waiting hands. While the man ties the lines to steel docking rings on the quay, we make final adjustments. Jeanette uses the control to adjust tension on the anchor chain while Paul and Duane tighten the stern lines. I adjust the fender positions, to prevent us from rubbing against the motor yachts. The men swing the gangway into position. The gangway unfolds as the lines attached to its far end are tightened; then we lower it out to the quay and disembark, one at a time.

The fellow who helped works for the port authority, and he asks us to bring our documentation (passports, boat registry, insurance papers, etc.) to the office. As we walk along the quay, we notice that the home ports painted below the names on most of the big yachts are usually in England or America. In the office we show our passports to the harbor officials and Jeanette begins to fill out paperwork. We are surprised that moorage fees are charged by tonnage, rather than by length. Zoe Zoe weighs over 13 tons empty, and she will be expensive here.

Duane and I decide to look around outside. We find the public shower facilities and then walk over to a small restaurant next to the port authority building. It is a very exclusive looking place, with a doorman standing in front, but it doesn’t look very busy. It fact, there are not many people anywhere in the marina area. Duane begins to speak with the doorman, whose name is Yorgos. He tells us few people visit during the Easter weekend, and that he would rather be visiting his family on the island of Tinos. When we ask him about the huge yachts that fill the marina, Yorgos explains that most of them belong to Greek shipping magnates and business leaders. We ask about the foreign registries of all these yachts and he laughs. "The taxes in Greece are much higher," he says. This is truly a port for the rich and famous.

When Jeanette emerges from the office, she confirms that Vouliagmeni is a very expensive place to visit. Most small Aegean harbors permit overnight moorage for a nominal fee or at no cost for boat with European registery. After considering the local economy, we deduce that it would be more frugal to cook onboard than to dine at one of the local restaurants. Still, we would like to explore the area, so we decide to walk into town and meet later back on the boat.

Vouliagmeni is a short hike over a hill and along the rim of a cliff that looks down on rocky coves protecting small beaches. The road is lined with Mediterranean pines and freshly planted flowers. Near the edge of the cliff there are poppies, daisies and wild geraniums sprouting between large patches of ice plant. We pass several grand entrance gates to resort hotels in park-like settings. This is clearly a very exclusive town. I notice that one of the hotels is named Arion Astir after an ancient lyrical poet who is said to have been rescued by a dolphin after he fell overboard during a storm at sea. The dolphin was a favored symbol of Apollo. Perhaps that is how the Apollo Coast got its name.

As we enter the small downtown area, we find nothing that resembles a Greek village. There are restaurants, private clubs and elegant villas near the shore. Looking inland towards the low hills, I see one condominium complex after another. It is all very stylish, and I understand it’s a very popular place for night-clubs and bouzouki tavernas, but holds little interest for me. Besides, the town seems mostly deserted and it appears that few of the restaurants are open.

Duane and I decide to head back to the boat, while Jeanette and Paul want to continue to explore the town. We walk back to the marina, enjoying the sea views as we go. Down on the quay, we go sightseeing among the boats. We are delighted to find a fleet of small fishing boats moored at the shallow end of the marina. A few fishermen are tending to chores while their nets dry on the nearby pavement, but most of the boats seem to be locked up for the holidays. After seeing all the fancy yachts, it is somehow reassuring to me that these fishermen are also here.

Back on the Zoe Zoe, we make preparations for a pasta dinner with a Greek eggplant and tomato sauce. "To get along in Greece," a friend once told me, "you have to like eggplant." By the time Jeanette and Paul return, we have wine and snacks ready on the aft deck. We all dine in the galley and discuss our route for the morning. We will certainly make Cape Sounion, but we don’t know how far beyond. If the wind no stronger than today, our options may be limited. Still, we should be able to reach the Cyclades islands tomorrow.

Later, gazing into the night sky, I consider the choices ancients sailors had to make, and the methods they used for navigation. In the northern sky, I quickly locate the Big Dipper and Little Dipper and Polaris. These constellations are properly known as Ursa Major and Ursa Minor, and they have been used in navigation for thousands of years. In fact, they are named for a famous Greek legend.

The story goes that Zeus fathered a child, named Arcas, with the beautiful mortal Callisto. Hera, the wife of Zeus, was so angry that she transformed Callisto into a bear. Many years later, Arcas was hunting in the forest when he came across a bear that behaved quite strangely towards him. He did not recognize this bear as his mother, and was about to shoot her when Zeus stopped him. The god then changed the boy into a bear, and took both mother and son into the sky. Annoyed that they had been honored in this way, Hera took her revenge by convincing Poseidon to forbid them from bathing in the sea.

So it is that Ursa Major (big bear) and Ursa Minor (little bear) are both circumpolar constellations, never dipping beneath the horizon in northern latitudes. Polaris, which is at the end of the handle on the Little Dipper (or the tip of Ursa Minor’s tail, if you look at it in that way), is always located at the north celestial pole. Thus, Greek sailors have always searched the night sky for Callisto and Arcas so that they can calculate their position on the sea.

Even though Paul knows how to use a sextant, and we could navigate by the stars, we enter the coordinates on the GPS for our next destination. The new setting is 37° 40'ˇ1N 24° 18'ˇ8E. Can you determine where we are planning to go tomorrow?

To learn more about the mythology of constellations, click here.