Hellenic Odyssey

Jono Dunnett continues to inspire with his epic journey round Europe. We join him this month as he recounts his passage along the Greek coast and onward to Turkey, where after much consideration his journey takes a pivotal step. Read on as Jono reflects on his winter travels.

- Jono Dunnett

By the end of my last update, I’d reached central Italy. The on-ward journey took me through the Strait of Messina, round the toe and heel of the boot of Italy, across the Adriatic to Albania, and then down to Northern Greece. That was summertime, the winds were mostly light, tourist beaches uncomfortably crowded, pizzerias plentiful. Italy was a joy. The Italian people - beautiful in many respects – generous and open. The 50 NM direct sea crossing to Albania saved a 1000 NM detour round the Adriatic and allowed for a glimpse of the alternative to globalization, which quite possibly would be better for the planet but probably doesn’t offer the sort of life most of us would sign up for… Then it was down to Greece, threading inside the island of Lefkada, and then hooking round the corner to Vassiliki, for a few days rest amongst the friendly faces at the windsurf centres. It’s leaving from here where this article kicks off.

IONIAN SEA

Goodbye Vassiliki. It is mildly daunting to think that this is the last stop where I am sure to find friends and support. Truly on my own from here? In theory yes. Although experience tells me this won’t be the case, that there will be new friends, or friendships renewed, somewhere over the horizon.

The journey resumes with a crossing to Kefalonia. Then a sail down the channel separating this island from Ithaca - where Ulysses was heading back to on his 10-year voyage after the Trojan war in Homer’s Odyssey, which through repeated reference I have become partly familiar with. The sailing reminds me of Norway: protected water, wild, rocky and unspoilt. Warmer though.

I paddle the next day, then make a bold crossing back to the mainland the next. A careless fall puts fresh holes in the sail, which is now very sun damaged. A baby turtle floats by such that I can cup it in my hand. Matchbox size. So weak and vulnerable it is a wonder that any survive.