After breakfast this morning, it was time for another dinghy shuttle to shore, to drop off the rest of our garbage, separated into smaller bags and for Roy to take another walk to the campgrounds in search of a possible propane filling station, something we only thought about after he’d returned yesterday. Unfortunately that attempt was in vain. Hopefully there are facilities in Spain to fill our bottles.
With the westerly winds expected tomorrow, we decided to re-anchor closer to the buoys demarcating the swimming area to prevent any yachts from anchoring in front of us. Well, within minutes of doing so, a gaggle of yachts arrived and lo and behold one squeezed into the tiniest gap slightly to our port side and will now be swinging across our bow when we all turn to face west. Yesterday we had the exact same situation and had to ask the cruiser to move. This would all be understandable if we were in a small, crowded bay, but we’re not; it’s a huge bay with ample room and good depths for everyone. Completely and utterly mind boggling!
Before our afternoon nap, Elaine did some cleaning and packed away her winter clothes which were still sitting on the bed in the starboard forward cabin, after she’d hauled out her summer wardrobe a few days ago. Roy, on the other hand, was on sewerage duty again, clearing a pipe on the starboard holding tank and repairing a minor leak on the starboard aft head (aka toilet).
After our nap, Elaine continued her cleaning efforts, while Roy drained more gunge out of the RACOR fuel filters of each engine and washed the port engine; it seems we got contaminated fuel in Italy as well, not just in Greece. By then, though, we both needed a swim to cool off, but it was more of a quick plunge as the water is still freezing.
By sunset, we were surrounded by yachts, including a catamaran that came flying through the anchorage with fenders flapping and dropped his anchor behind everyone, but to be in front of everyone when we turn, blocking the dinghy pick up / drop off lane entirely. It wasn’t long before he was told to move by the operators of the rental speedboats, given that the catamaran had essentially ended up in their mooring field. What a carry-on!
