The sinking of Emma Rose
Seeking adventure I’d given myself an early 60th birthday treat – some serious sailing time. My partner, Allison, had returned home, tired of the confines of the boat.
I had to wait a couple of days for the weather to improve and the wind to turn in my favour. When the weather lifted and the north-easterly wind dropped, I left Kolymbari and headed east along the north coast of Crete.
It was after 1200 when I set off, a late start, but I made it around the headland. The anchorage was perfect, and I dropped the hook in 4m of water just in time to get things squared away and pour a beer before the sun set behind the hills overlooking Marathi Bay.
The short days forced me to make early starts and by 0700 I was well on my way. My course along the coast took me close to a NATO firing range. I kept the VHF on Ch16 to listen to the chatter.
The westerly wind never picked up to its promised speed so I motor-sailed all day. In the evening, I dithered about where to stop. The idea of pressing on was appealing but it would mean arriving after dark, or motoring through the night. Both unattractive for me when sailing solo. In the end, I anchored off the Islet of Dia, 10 miles off the coast north of Heraklion. Here, a dogleg would give me cover if the southerly forecast for the following day arrived early. I had the anchorage to myself. There is no shower on Emma Rose, so I did my usual routine of jumping into the sea, climbing out, applying shower gel, returning to the sea for a scrub, then up the ladder for a freshwater rinse.
Unwelcome guest
After chicken curry and a couple of beers, I turned in. It was a late night, nearly 2030! As I read my old copy of for the umpteenth time, I heard the patter of tiny feet on the deck.
