It worked quite well, and Judy identified that, had we been conducting a “man overboard” drill, we would have stopped less than 30 feet from where he went over. Should we ever have to, we plan to use heaving to as our man overboard procedure when under sail or motor sailing, as this “quick stop” method keeps the boat in closer contact with the victim.

There were only two sailboats and a large power yacht stern to on the docks when we arrived, and plenty of free dock space. Fearing the forecast northwest winds which would blow down the bay, I elected to go alongside rather than Med moor. This is far easier, as there is no stern anchor to let go, fear it will drag, and to retrieve upon leaving.

Shortly after arriving, the US boat ahead of us, TRAUMEREI, a Bavaria 42, checked with us and shifted their mooring from stern to, to alongside, as their anchor was already dragging. The northwest gales started again and have been raging for two days now. Since then the Swedish motorsailor and the large 50 metre power yacht have both shifted their moorings to alongside as the wind blowing down the bay caused their bow anchors to drag. The wind has been blowing a force 8 gale with gusts again up to 50 and 60 knots for the past two days, and continues as I finish this log to hopefully send out tonight, April 26.

On the evening of Good Friday we went into the town square, crowded, with the liturgies chanted from two of the local churches echoing from loudspeakers, and bells periodically pealing forlorn melancholy chimes, punctuated by the occasional explosion of firecrackers. The liturgy went on and on and on, finally ending about 2200 with processions from both churches around the waterfront and back to the town square. The processions were led by scarlet cloaked altar boys carrying staffs of candles, golden ornaments, stars, and icons. Following them were the priests in their golden vestments, bejeweled crosses hanging from their necks, their hands moving in benedictions to the candle-carrying adherents and spectators.

Next came a floral wreathed crucifix followed by a silver embossed shrouded funeral bier of Christ, arched by bowers of white flowers. The religious parade then massed in the town square to more chanted liturgies from three priests and a couple of lay cantors upon an ornate gilded dais. However, the liturgies were delayed a few minutes until they could get the PA system working properly. I was surprised to see an honour guard of soldiers in battle fatigues and helmets, with reversed rifles, escorting the bier. After the last liturgy, the crowd just dispersed and the evening petered out with no other festivity.

Today David and I walked up to the Monastery Cave of the Apocalypse where St John the Divine wrote the Book of Revelations while exiled from Smyrna in Turkey in about 95 AD. A Greek Orthodox mass had just been held there, and there were flowers scattered around the stone floor, and a tub of cut bread for the parishioners to take home with them. It was a sweet slightly ginger flavoured bread. The cave itself extended into the side of the hill, several hundred feet below the chora and monastery at the summit. Greek Orthodox altar screens were installed inside the cave, with all the icons, ornate hanging sanctuary lights, concrete arches, domes, and windows overlooking the west coast of Patmos, facing towards Smyrna 35 miles away in Turkey. from which St. John was exiled.

The rock walls of the cave still created the atmosphere under which those words of the Book of Revelations were inspired. Onwards and upwards we wended our way to the monastery at the summit, a fortress-like walled castle, with a couple of central courtyards around which were located an ornate chapel, grimed with centuries of candle smoke, and living areas for the inhabitants. Here too, after the mass which was just finishing as we arrived, were tubs of bread, scented flowers, and packages of figs given to the parishioners.

David and I went up to the Abbot’s chambers to be greeted by him and offered coffee and cookies following the service. It was quite impressive to wander about the ancient corridors and stairs of this historic but still active monastery. There were several other chapels, convents and religious quadrangles around the monastery and throughout the white walled chora on this summit. The view from the ramparts was magnificent as the entire island could be seen, north and south, as well as a few of the off-lying islands, and Turkey far to the west. The gale force winds howling around up there were reflected by the seagulls and hooded crows soaring on their currents, the trees swaying in unison, and the whitecaps on the windward side of the island testifying to the tumult out on the water. We wandered through the labyrinth of whitewashed alleys, down steps overlooking barrel vaulted chapels, single, double, and triple-steepled belltowers, and the narrow laneways of the chora.

We ended our visit with a Greek salad and a bottle of Retsina on a taverna patio overlooking the harbour and bays of Skala where Veleda was moored several kilometres below. It was a beautiful sunny but windy day to make a pilgrimage to this Greek Orthodox Monastery on this Holy Saturday of the Easter weekend.