We arrive in Mastichari to a massive wind storm. The windows of our taxi are closed, but a pulsing draft is stealing in, as if the storm wants us to know that there is no escape. The taxi’s headlights are fighting for survival, battling the suffocating darkness. We are navigating a narrow lane heading for the town’s harbour.
We have been traveling for thirty hours, and by jumping time zones, lost a day that we will never see again. It went like this: Revelstoke, Kelowna, Calgary, London, Athens, Kos Airport, and now Mastichari on the Island of Kos in the Dodecanese region of south eastern Greece. We are a rock climbing family and are here to catch a ferry to Kalymnos, an island known around the world as a rock climbing paradise.
Our taxi feeds us to the storm at a pier where some other climbers are huddled with their gear. As we exit, and the wind nearly knocks me over, the driver tells us that ferry service has been cancelled due to the storm. The driver and I haul our gear out of the cab while April stands, hunched against the wind, clutching our two year old son, Zach. Projectile dust particles assault our faces and the bare skin of our hands. Zach tucks his face into Mom’s chest for protection.
We have no hotel booked in Mastichari, and no idea where to find one. Everything looks shut down. Maybe we should have asked the taxi driver for advice. Yes, that would have been a good idea. The other climbers (who appear to be unencumbered by either offspring or the extra decade or two that April and I are carrying with us) eagerly explain that "pirate boats" are shuttling travellers to Kalymnos in spite of the storm.
Pirate boats? Seriously? With winds that make an adult walk like a toddler and conjure memories of the gales that battered us in the Canadian Arctic. Fierce and unrelenting. And a tar black night. And a huge pile of gear. And let’s not forget the exhausted two-year old with chattering teeth. We decide to forego an encounter with Poseidon, but wish the young adventurers good luck.
We need to get inside. A dim light is coming from what seems to be a small restaurant across the street from the pier. We stumble towards it. There are three people in the restaurant: an elderly couple who appear to be the proprietors, and a young waiter who we suspect is related to the older couple. The young man speaks broken English. He says, "don't take pirate boat. Pirate boat not safe. Pirate boat no life jackets. We have hotel. You stay there."
April and I share a glance reading each other’s thoughts. Yes there’s a conflict of interest, but we are happy to accept the offer. The young waiter leads us across the street and through a pon-shop-like chamber that is being used to store old furniture. We exit this room through a side door, ascend to the second floor via an outdoor staircase, and are led through a dimly lit hallway to our Spartan room. White walls, cracked paint, appliances right out of the 70’s, but most importantly, no wind! To our surprise there is even wifi, which means we can email our contact in Kalymnos to explain the change in plans.
We push the two single beds together and the three of us cuddle up, exhausted, relieved, and ready for our first full night sleep in two days.
We wake up early after a deep sleep feeling alive again. We are relieved that Zach slept through the entire night and seems to be back on schedule for sleeps. This is amazing considering the ten hour time difference. Revelstoke’s night is Mastachari’s day. We figure two days is a quick turn-around for a two year old given that the rule of thumb for recovery from jet lag is one day for every hour of time difference.
It’s still very windy this morning. Scheduled ferries are cancelled again, but we hear that “pirate boats” are still running. Elini, our contact in Kalymnos, emails us that the pirate boat Anna Maria will be leaving for Kalymnos at 1045 and that it is very safe. She says she has taken trips on it during the winter in bad weather. She is also a mother which gives her opinion extra weight. We go down to the pier to check out the Anna Maria.
Big swells are breaking on the pier and we are covered in salt water. Zach loves it, laughing every time we get hit by the spray. There are lots of travellers and kids on the Anna Maria. The fact that locals trust the boat makes it seem a bit less intimidating. It is a big boat, with an enclosed cabin and there are life jackets. We talk to the captain. He says he will take us, but is leaving soon. We run to the hotel grab all our stuff (a duffle bag, a suitcase, three backpacks, a stroller, and a car seat) and struggle back through the spray to the pier. The Anna Maria is gone. I am winded, wet, and ticked off. April says shoot. I say fudge. Zach remains enthusiastic and says "Go on boat, go on boat". He’s still digging the spray.
A second pirate boat has arrived. This boat seems very similar to the Ana Maria, but with less passengers. We can’t see a name on it, but Eleni later tells us it is called the Titanic - Greek humour. The captain says he will take us to Kalymnos. We have a brief discussion and decide that it seems as safe as the Ana Maria. There is one other British couple on board. We head out into the big swell. Zach is all smiles "bumpy mommy bumpy". He has a knack for understatement. The swells are huge. April looks green. So does the British woman. Our first ride on a pirate ship! Arrrr….
The captain’s cell phone rings. He answers and commences a loud argument in Greek. He is driving with one hand, holding the cell phone with the other, and looking out the side of the boat. The windshield wiper can barely keep up with the water hammering the boat with each massive wave that we plough through. I can’t help picturing the skinny little wiper arm getting ripped right off. Our cabin is completely enclosed and we are dry, but one of the doors repeatedly slides open and I keep staggering over to close it. As the argument continues to escalate we all just look at each other wondering what is going on. The British woman is looking even more green and dishevelled. After about half an hour of this, the argument abruptly ends, the sea calms, and the colour moves back into our cheeks as we approach the port of Pothia on the island of Kalymnos.
The Titanic arrives safely in Pothia, but our ride, Eleni's husband, left when we didn’t disembark from the Anna Maria. While April heads off to phone Eleni, Zach and I watch fish eating a piece of rotting chicken floating in the sea between two moored boats.
A gust of wind.
The travel stroller that our neighbor lent us takes off like a kite. I start to run after it, but it is gone, sinking to the bottom of the Aegean Sea.
My first thought is that this borrowed stroller is fish food, lost at sea, gone. But seconds after it happens, two scooters descend on us from different directions. An old guy and a young guy. I don't think they know each other, but the old guy starts shouting orders at the young guy in Greek. He turns to me and in heavily accented English says "It will be okay".
The young guy jumps on the boat that is moored by where the stroller went into the water and starts rummaging around looking for something. It is clear he has never been on this particular boat before. He finds an anchor and ties a rope to it. The old guy is still barking commands from shore. The young guy throws the anchor into the water.
First try. He hooks something and starts hauling. Up comes a massive rusted chain and he takes five minutes to extricate it from the anchor. More commands from old guy. Second try. He hooks something again, pulls up and up comes our missing stroller! Unbelievable. So now we get to tell our neighbor that her stroller has been to the bottom of the sea! Copious thanks from us to the two strangers. They say "No problem", hop on their scooters and vanish in opposite directions just as Eleni's husband arrives to pick us up.
Twenty minutes later we are in our beautiful apartment overlooking the sea, Zach is napping, and we are ready for the adventure to begin!
