Tag Archives: Halkidiki

Halkidiki revisited

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A few days ago we travelled back to where we spent our first Greek holiday – 35 years ago. But instead of travelling via plane and coach we arrived by boat.

Back in the 1980s, and newly married, we had scraped together enough to book a kind of bargain B&B package holiday in Greece… somewhere! We knew we would be staying in a B&B nearish the beach on the Halkidiki peninsular – the rest was a mystery. The room and location would be chosen by the tour operator – filling empty rooms we guessed.

We had landed at night in Thessaloniki and piled onto a bus, while the travel guide told us we would be dropped at our “surprise” hotels! We asked where we were going but it was just a name and we weren’t any the wiser. After lots of stops and as the coach got emptier and emptier, our names were called as the bus drew into what appeared to be the middle of nowhere! As we stepped off the coach into the balmy Mediterranean night, we could make out a square three story building with a few lights on at the entrance. We were ushered to our room with a balcony and as we fell asleep we wondered what we would wake up to the next day. We hoped it might be a little bit of paradise – a million miles from our little terrace in Nottinghamshire.

When we woke up bleary eyed the next morning, the light streamed in. From our balcony we could catch a glimpse of the turquoise water on the other side of the Taverna. I remember the water was so clear and such an amazing colour, with the sun shimmering across it, the sand soft and hot. We ate meals under the trees, walked a few kilometres to the nearest town along a wide road and enjoyed boat trips, scooter rides and lazy siestas in our room. We were very happy to be located out of the town in what felt like the countryside.

Locating this little country Taverna 35 years later turned out to be tricky! For one thing it turned out to be on the westerly peninsular called Kassandra, rather than the middle one, as we had imagined. And from google earth, there also seemed to be buildings all along the quiet beach we remembered. Could it have changed so much in 35 years? After a long search on google earth and street view, scouring our memories for distinguishing features on the landscape we reckoned we’d located it – the balcony and shape of the building matching our memories of photographs of me, in the days of stringy bikinis!

Setting sail from Porto Koufo we set our course on the far peninsular – little more than a blue haze on the horizon. What felt a long time later we were both scouring the shore with binoculars trying to pinpoint the right part of the beach. Eventually we spotted the only square flat roofed building the right distance from the town, but no longer on its own, it was one of a string of buildings on a busy umbrella-laden beach.

Once anchored off we paddled boarded to the beach still not quite sure if this really was the place. But as we wandered to the front of the building behind the beach it all fell into place. Although there’d been changes, it was still recognisably the place we had stayed in 1987.

A friendly member of staff asked if we needed anything and we unfolded our story. He was delighted we’d made it back. Yes, they were one of the first hotels in the area and had been all alone by the main road, until more development popped up over the years and a new main road was built. In fact his grandfather had built the place and it was still a family run business.

We enjoyed a frappe overlooking the beach, just as we had when we’d stayed there. But this time instead of looking out on the water wishing we could be on it, we were looking across at yacht Riou – bobbing on the bright blue sea in front of us.

It wasn’t quite as beautiful and tranquil as it was all those years ago, but it was a lovely trip down memory lane and we were pleased, having come all that way, to have found our little piece of history together.

Then it was back to the boat to catch the wind for the distant shore, where further adventures awaited.

Into the deep

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What are you scared of? I guess we don’t know the answer until we’re faced with something that makes our stomach turn upside down.

I love swimming but a few days ago we tied up in a little harbour after a long sail and walked along the quay to the beach. The water was crisp and clear and you could see right down to the sloping white sand below. We both plunged in to cool off.

“Wow!” came the exclamation, “that’s deep!” The skipper a few metres further out than me, pointed below. I stuck my head down and saw a steep bank of sand disappearing into blue and deeper blue and more blue! The steeply shelving beach had the feeling of stepping off a precipice. My stomach did a tumble as I back paddled away.

We can both swim well and in deep water, but there was something different about this, like standing close to a cliff, as if I was suspended above the drop. Neither of us felt keen to venture over the drop which we called “the deep”. It was quite ridiculous considering we’ve jumped into the sea mid sail hundreds of times in much deeper water and felt fine.

After our trip to the beach we met a Greek sailor who told us some of the secrets of this hidden harbour on the south of Halkidiki’s middle peninsula.

He told us it had been a secret submarine base during the Second World War. The deep natural harbour with its hidden entrance between the cliffs had even had a metal net across the entrance to stop enemy boats getting in. All around the surrounding hills had been huge canons standing watch. He said one of these now lay on the sea bed below.

The story of the submarines somehow confirmed my deepest fears of something unknown lurking unseen below, a bit like the Loch Ness monster!

After a few days sailing around the peninsulas, we returned to Porto Koufo yesterday and went back to the beach.

“Let’s go into the deep,” I said.

“Do you want to?”

“Yes we have to face our fears!”

We laughed and both put our heads down and headed out. Through my goggles I could see the sand slipping away and the blue below becoming bluer. We both looked up and trod water – no giant squids snapped at our toes, no monsters bared their teeth below us. We were still OK. Nothing to be afraid of really! Still after a few minutes we headed back to the safety of the sand and enjoyed the feel of something solid between our toes.

Last night in the restaurant we heard more stories from would-be psychology student, 17-year-old Nicole, our waitress for the evening. Her grandfather had set up the first Taverna here after the war. There were tales of bombs being made in a cellar and tunnels in the hillside where you can still see the remains of the Nazi control rooms.

This is a place of history and beauty. We love the ramshackle quay, with its huge metal bollards for ropes, the fishermen waiting patiently all night by their rods and feeding stray cats with the unwanted catches.

Tomorrow we will leave Porto Koufo and “the deep” behind us to make the passage back to the Sporades islands. We will be heading into another kind of “deep” hoping for fair winds. The unknown is always a little scary, whether it’s new places or fresh challenges. I get a little nervous each time we come into a new anchorage or port, uncertain how we’ll do tying up or getting our anchor set. But each time we swim over the edge and face the fear we get a little bolder and braver, hopefully!

Although facing my fears doesn’t help me being rubbish at lassoing ropes over bollards ( Thank you to the old sailor who helped us tie up yesterday, reassuring me as I ‘misthrew’ the rope yet again, by saying, “Slow, slow, slow, no rush – we sailors have all the time in the world”! ) I should have taken his advice this morning too as I rushed up the boat steps for the umpteenth time and tripped re grazing my shin, all before breakfast! My body is now tattooed with the stories from this trip, a selection of tell tale bruises, scars and mosquito bites.

Listening to the wind whistling through the mast today, I am sure there will be more to come!