Fani and her crew

Over the years, we have encountered various situations, from mislaying our dinghy to running out of fuel, but I did wonder what kind of weather Francis might be expecting as he inspected the flares. Tasos suggested a neat itinerary and circled his favourite bays, ports and tavernas along the way. Where shall we head for our first night? we asked, thinking Tasos would suggest something around the corner, but no, he pointed out to sea. Symi, straight across, two hours; in Panormitis theres one taverna and a monastery.

Francis consulted the charts and tapped the coordinates into the GPS. It was late afternoon when we set off across sparkling cobalt water, ruffled by a gentle breeze. It was a far cry from our flotilla days, or bare boating with a group of families on several yachts waiting for everything and everyone to be ready. In those days we spent the first night at marina base, itching to be away.

Panormitis was enchanting, unspoilt and peaceful, with just a handful of yachts in the bay. We arrived as the sun set and dropped our anchor in the still, clear water. The morning dawned with cockerels crowing and chanting from the monastery. I bought fresh bread and clothes pegs from the sleepy little shop next to the Greek Orthodox church. The church houses the icon of the Archangel Michael Panormitis, patron saint of sailors. The setting was so serene I would have been happy to stay anchored in the bay the entire week. However, with a lively crew (aged 17 to 23), there was little chance of this; Symi town beckoned for our next night.

Symi harbour is exquisite. Venetian villas tumble down the hillside and the harbour is crowded with bars, tavernas and chic boutiques. Our first stern-to mooring did not go to plan, despite the well-organised crew. We arrived late afternoon to an audience of comfortably moored yachts, locals promenading and crowded cafs. It was a Greek holiday; Symi buzzed and was about to be entertained by Fani and her crew. The moustached harbour master blew his whistle and indicated where he wanted us to moor up. This entailed dropping the anchor mid-harbour and reversing neatly between two yachts. An unexpected crosswind blew up, the skipper held steady, turbo engines purred and bow thrusters pushed Fani gently around. But the harbour master wasnt happy, he whistled frantically. Abort! he indicated wildly, flapping his arms. As we pulled up the anchor, we discovered three anchor chains wrapped around it. As the wind buffeted us, the chains became tightly bound.

The entire quayside had advice to shout or, in some cases, scream at us, while the harbour master became more animated by the second.

The Grand Master of Knights at Mandraki harbour

Help was at hand with some kindly Scots who untangled our chains from their dinghy. An hour later, we were finally securely moored and the crowd had melted away. Francis was ordered to take the boat papers to the harbour masters office. He returned looking glum a 300 fine for disturbing the peace. Then he grinned. Joke!

The crew thoroughly enjoyed the Symi nightlife. Fani made quite a hit, decked out in Union Jack bunting for the Diamond Jubilee, and cocking up while parking proved a great way of making new friends, we discovered.

There were no more such dramas in the following days. We were envious of one yacht whose crew told us they had spent an hour with a vast shoal of bluefin tuna and had even swum with them, but we were well content with dolphins in our bow wave. We sailed to the lovely tranquil islands of Tilos and Khalki, the entrance of Khalki marked by windmills silhouetted on the hillside. We watched children dancing in the village square, proudly watched by their parents.

The rest is here:

Sailing in Greece: Dodecanese islands