Searoom logo



 
  More Cyclades – Serifos and Kithnos
October 10, 2002

On Sepember. 11, 2002 (the anniversary of the terrorist attack on the US when we
were in Hvar, Croatia last year) we motored the 16 miles from Sifnos to
Serifos. These are part of the middle Cyclades in the southwestern
Aegean. At Livadhi (37ú 08.7’N, 024ú 31.0’E), where we anchored off the
wide sandy beach fringed with tavernas in about 5 metres of water, we
were able to have laundry done, get fuel and water, and send E-mail.
Next day we met Rejoice an EMYR boat, with Bob and Sue on board. Bob was
one of the two energetic souls who ran up Masada when we were in Israel.
We had a good visit with them and exchanged some reading material. We
were going to take the bus up to the Hora above Livadhi, as we heard it
was a beautiful Cycladic capital town with a 15th century Venetian
fortress above it. The Venetians took or were awarded several Aegean
islands and other areas of Greece for their naval, military, or economic
support to whatever empire happened to be dominant at the time. However,
we missed the bus as there was a new schedule out of season, and we were
reading the seasonal one. Oh well, we have seen many horas on other
islands.

Off to Kithnos on the 13th, we motored the 24 miles to an idyllic sandy
beach/isthmus at Ormos Fikiadha (37ú 24.9’ N, 024ú 22.8’ E). This fine
sand beach, about 50 metres wide and 200 metres long, links a
promontory, Nisos Ay Louka, to the main part of the island, creating two
bays, an outer western bay, more exposed, and the inner well-sheltered
bay where we were anchored. The crest of the small promontory was topped
with the traditional chapel, and a few ruins now used as animal
shelters. These ruins are stone foundations that may or may not have any
roof intact, the earthen or rock “floor” covered with goat hair and goat
droppings, and castoff tins, plastic bottles, rotted beams and stones
from the collapsed roof. I suspect many of them are hundreds of years
old, and were originally for human habitation, possibly with animal
shelters attached.

The chapel at the summit was the usual whitewashed blue-trimmed barrel
domed structure with a small low walled plaza beside it, and a
spectacular view over Ormos Fikiadha and Ormos Apokriosis, the next bay
east. From these summits, one can see the wind patterns on the calm
waters, the wave patterns and white caps on the rougher open seas, and
the rollers as they bash themselves in plumes of spray against headland
rocks. I enjoy hiking up to these deserted places of worship, and
experiencing the quietness and isolation of these chapels. I have never
met another person on any of these jaunts. Often there are no roads up
to the chapels, and they are miles away from the nearest town or
habitation. Their closed doors can usually be opened for entry (thus
keeping out the donkeys, goats, and sheep), and the sanctuary is a dry
dusty affair with a walled off altar area containing --- maybe a rickety
old table, or a wooden lectern, some dirty, greasy, waxed candle wicks
or tapered candles with boxes of matches on the window ledge, grungy
plastic bottles, empty or partly filled with oil (for floating the
candle wicks), a decrepit broom and dust pan in a corner behind a square
tin of sand and dirt. In the main section there is usually no furniture,
or just a lectern. I have occasionally found three to six wooden high
seated pews along the side walls, with the seat flap hinged so the
worshipper can kneel (I suppose). The pictured icons on the altar screen
often have dried out wooden frames with badly delaminated images, some
behind glass, some not. The colours are still intense; black
backgrounds, gold halos around the images, muted browns, reds, and
yellows for the figures, each holding a religious symbol in one hand and
holding the other hand, palm forward, with fingers extended, thumb
touching a forefinger in some form of significant spiritual hand
gesture. The ledges of the narrow windows have more candles, wicks,
matches, and grubby oil jars with depleted burned out wicks congealed on
the grimy surface. In a corner are more brooms, dustpan, a square tin
can, and used plastic bags. The concrete floor is bare and dusty, with
flakes from the whitewashed walls along the edges. A barren, dry sense
of tranquility envelopes the sanctuary. Several times I have swept the
floors of these chapels, my simple contribution to the unseen
congregation. A few times I have tried to clean up the window ledges by
moving the extra candle boxes or paper coverings, only to find dozens of
disturbed insects. So I don’t bother with that aspect of helping to
clean the places. Some of these remote chapels are quite old, but on
others I have seen dates as recent as the 1960’s for their construction
or renovations. I would like some time, to be able to talk to a local
about the history and use of these chapels.

On the northeast headland of Ormos Fikiadha a large villa was under
construction, but looked as if work had been suspended for some time. I
clambered up to it to nose around the structures. There were three of
them, stone exteriors, plastered whitewashed walls inside, with openings
for electrical and plumbing fixtures hanging out, flat concrete roofs,
unfinished square or rectangular openings for doors, and panoramic views
from the windows. Slate patios and steps linked them, arching around the
crest of the headland. Above the villa over the crest was its own small
slate quarry where they obviously were getting and cutting the slate for
the buildings - a very efficient use of natural materials. There was no
road to the villa, and everything brought in had to be carted up the 200
foot steep rocky incline from the beach below. It is on a very dramatic
headland with a spectacular view, and will be magnificent if ever
finished.

Meanwhile, back at the anchorage we watched as “Neliadrah” had
difficulty in getting its anchor to hold, until we recommended they come
in forward of us where there was better holding. We had a nice chat with
Vic and Dot from Australia, and exchanged some reading materials.

I was noticing that, when charging our batteries by running the engine,
the charge rate would soon drop from 80 plus amps to only 30 or 40 amps
after ten to fifteen minutes. This was not right! I like the E-metre
(Heart Interface Link–10 battery monitor) we have, as it displays
several bits of information such as the voltage across the batteries,
the present draw, the number of amp hours used from the full battery
bank, the number of hours remaining to drop to the 50% level at the
current rate of draw. We have (originally) 440 amp hours of battery
power with four deep-cycle 110 amp hour 6 volt golf cart batteries
married into two 12 volt pairs. When we have been at anchor for a couple
of days, we will have used up anywhere from 100 to 150 amp hours with
our lights, instrumentation, refrigeration, radios, inverter, and other
electrical uses. Our wind generator can put out 3 amps if we have a 15
knot wind blowing across deck, but it cannot hope to keep up with our
battery draw. Thus our heavy duty 100 amp alternator is our major source
of battery recharging when at anchor. We have a smart charger unit which
keeps the rate of charging high for longer periods of time, then slowly,
after the batteries are closer to full, drops down to trickle charge
levels. We have been quite happy with this system.

However, lately the alternator has been dropping to lower charge rates
of 10 to 15 amps while the batteries are still low (i.e. – they are
still 50 to 80 amp hours below full charge), thus taking five to ten
hours to fully charge the batteries, an unacceptable situation. Usually
an hour to an hour and a half running per day is enough to charge fully
the batteries. It is time to find out where the problem lies. We start
with our check of the alternator belt and smart charger connections.
These seem to be OK. Check the battery terminals, they’re OK. Check all
connections with a testing metre, and they are all functional. So we
have to lift up the floor boards (as we have the smaller golf cart
batteries on a special shelf right above the keelbolts below the main
cabin sole), and check each cell with a hygrometer. One cell was
sulphated and several were low in battery fluid, only half the 12 cells
(3 cells in each of the 4 batteries) indicating above 12 volts. We
topped up the low cells with distilled water and ran the engine for a
half hour before rechecking with the hygrometer. All the cells took some
charge, but it seems we will have to replace the batteries this winter.
They will be five years old, and have served us well, giving us 12
months a year active duty for that time. The added fluid revived them to
the extent they take a faster longer charge now and should last until we
get back to Kemer for the winter.

We strolled through the fine sand of the beach and snorkeled along the
coral-like craggy edges, and just enjoyed the exquisite view across the
sand bar to watch the sunset over the bay to the west. The view over the
rocky shoreline and headlands, and up the mountainous ravines and
valleys, gave us a million dollar panorama, which we enjoy at most
anchorages. At one point I was wondering what was on the crest of the
hill behind the villa under construction. I thought my eyes were playing
tricks, as I would see a tall post-like structure or radio antenna, then
it would disappear, then I would see it canted at an awkward angle. It
took several minutes of scrutiny to become aware that we were seeing the
long blades of a three bladed wind generator just below the crest line.
As they were moving very slowly, we could see only one blade, then
nothing, then the next blade would present itself into our line of
sight. We have since seen several such generators, some in wind farms of
five or six on a crest. However, they are not as numerous as those we
saw in Holland, but appear to be the same type. For these, and
not-so-distant islands, the visibility is often reduced by a haze
(caused by dust particles in the air) common in the Mediterranean, even
on “clear” days.

After a couple of lovely nights here, we weighed anchor on the 15th for
Kea, only 20 miles away, where we were to experience our first heavy
thunderstorm of the season.
 
Next log