0515hrs. Reveille. we stayed overnight at The Shillabeers. It's great having friends living near a major airport.
0530hrs. We are now in Trevor’s car, bless him, he was driving us to Heathrow Terminal 5 on our way down the M25. The traffic seemed light.
Unceremoniously 'dumped' at departures, Jackie grabs a trolley, we throw the two large red Adventure Alternative holdalls on and make our way into the terminal. The departure hall is enormous. As we were flying BA to Athens we made our way to BA’s auto check-in machines. The auto passport reader would not recognize Jackie’s passport. We join a queue for baggage drop and were soon checked in by a very pleasant and efficient young lady with a great smile. Especially given the early hour of the day.
The flight into Athens was about 2.5
hours. We were slightly late leaving LHR. 45minutes to be exact. The excuse was
missing our slot due to the number of aircraft, using the runways today?
Really? Arriving at Athens International we had been sat at the rear of the 767
and were one of the last passengers off. Further delays at passport control and
issues again with Aegean Air’s passport reader caused the bag drop clerk to
cluck and tell us the gate was closing soon. What?! We had to double.
Athens is a huge airport and we
had yet to pass through security. I told an official at the start of those mile
long queues for security inspection that we were late for the flight at Gate
B26 and he immediately sent us forward to an empty security belt.
My hand luggage has not been
scrutinised in years but Murphy’s Law dictated that as we were desperately
short of time and in danger of missing the flight, today was the day Mike was going
to get the full Monty. Security inspected everything. The laptop, its carry bag,
the camera and contents of the backpack. Jackie was also subjected to the same
stringent examination. No point in mentioning our imminently departing flight.
This would cut no ice. Indeed why should it?
As we exited security we were
like a couple of Greyhounds setting off from the starting gate. We raced through
the perfume hall and the spirits section. The chocolates and cuddly toy ‘shops’
passed in a blur we were scatting people out of the way. It was like a scene
from a Hollywood movie. Never have I had to run to catch a connection before.
On I ran pausing occasionally to check Jackie was following on. Things were
going as well as one might hope. Or so it seemed. Looking back on taking another
change of direction I could not see Jackie. I stopped and waited. She soon
appeared, still doubling. I waved and ran on. My game plan was to ‘hold’ the
flight. If possible! At this point my concentration must have slipped. I had reached
the end of the terminal and the Gate read 16. Impossible. I had been told Gate 26
and had been following the signs for 26. I glanced around in panic. Back the
way we had run was a sign pointing away down some stairs. We retraced our steps,
still doubling and after a few hundred metres more could see the B26 gate away
in the distance. Arriving, heavily out of breath I ran up to the counter and
asked the check in clerk, in a scene reminiscent of that line in the song ‘My
Old mans a dustman’ “Am I too late?” She did not reply ‘No, jump up on the
cart’ but “You have plenty of time the gate will not open for half an hour.”
Half an hour! I could double back to the original bag drop guy and throttle
him. I had both the inclination, breath and most importantly the time!
I certainly had time to buy a
bottle of water before we were called forward through the gate and onto the bus
to drop us at the far side of the airport for the Dash 8 to take us the 45
minutes to Leros. Once aboard we were given fruit pastilles and a complimentary
soft drinks buy a rather attractive stewardess that spoke at least three
different languages.
Leros airport, situated in the
Northern less populated part of the island of Leros is no more than a few hundred metres of concrete runway and couple
of very large rooms with two blue painted and peeling wooden French doors. One
for arrivals, one for departures. As we walked into arrivals there was Tim
looking bronzed and fit to welcome us. “Where’s Suzie?” “She’s over there
waving her sister Jill off.” The Dash 8 we had just arrived in was taking Jill
out. She would be flying back to Athens for the journey on to London.
The ten week scheduled charter of
Chrysanthi had been organized by Tim. Although both he and David were sharing
the experience and cost with friends and family. As such the Stopportons had
been invited. The original invitations had been sent last year. The Chrysanthi
had four double cabins. Thus up to four guests could be accommodated at any one
time. Tim had factored in various paying guests to join and leave the boat at
various points. All from an island with an airport. That must have taken some
thinking through. The Stopportons I believe had been one of the first to accept
the offer and had opted for the first two weeks of June. In fact we had just returned from Menorca
from the week’s family holiday only yesterday arriving at Exeter airport before
driving straight to Rickmansworth to stay overnight with Trevor and Janice
before flying out today.
Today was changeover so to speak
and Jill, Suzie’s sister who had been on board with Suzie for a week was now
returning to the UK.
Baggage reclaim was a hole in the
wall in the corner of this room, with the most rudimentary twelve feet of
conveyor belt which ran from this ‘hole’ inside the room then turned to feed outside once more to complete the loop.
I stood and collected our two
Adventure Alternative bags turning around I could see the other three, Suzie
had joined us now, had disappeared outside. Walking out they were stood beside
a cab. It had pink wing mirrors and ‘Stella’ written in pink down each side of
the doors. I lobbed the gear in the rear of the Mercedes and we were soon off.
 |
| The Chrysanthi 2. |
Stella was a mine of information
giving us a nonstop history lesson about the island. It was most informative.
Within about 40 minutes we arrived at the Old marina in Lekki and within a few minutes
were being welcomed aboard Chrysanthi by David who was Tim’s sailing partner
for the ten week charter. We were shown to our cabin. A double, en-suite.
Before we were able to look around our home for the next fortnight, not that
would have taken anytime, we were summoned aloft for G+T’s.
The toast was. “Fools afloat.” After
a few more Gins we were allowed ‘below’ to stow our kit. Space as you can
imagine was at a premium but we managed to lift bunk boards and unclip sections
of the wall, oops bulkhead, to reveal even more storage.
Suzie cooked dinner that night
and we ate on board in the cockpit. Pasta and saucisson washed down by more G+T
as well as beer.
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| David with Jackie and Suzie. |
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| Tim and Mike. Just arrived on board. |
2235hrs. We hit the sack.
