Chios

I had imagined Chios marina to be similar to Mitilini marina and in some ways this was the case. It was similar in that it was partly built, the basic structure was there in the shape of concrete jetties but there the similarities ended.Chios marina was a dumping ground for rotting ferry boats, disused fishing boats and abandoned cars. It was, however, sheltered and much, much quieter than the town quay which was ringed by bars and coffee shops which plied their trade noisily into the small hours, (I thought that there was a recession in Greece????)
We approached carefully. Apparently the entrance was very narrow, shallow and rocky and one was warned 'to take extreme care when entering', however, as people were fishing from the rocks at least, I thought,  there was someone there to sound the alarm if we went aground.

As usual the captain was instructing me to look for a 'good spot'. This to me means a place which offers the best chance of us being able to tie up with the least possible effort. There was plenty of room but some place would require a little manoeuvring  not something I relish so I spotted a place at the end of a jetty which only required me to step from the boat onto the quayside. Unfortunately I had not counted on the jetty being a foot and a half above the height of the deck and as I have the agility of a banana this proved beyond me

 Cursing me roundly for my stupidity, my lack of balance, my clumsy attempts to grab a mooring ring,  my dear one managed to bring the boat alongside and secure us a mooring.

"There,"  he beamed, "That wasn't too difficult was it?"
 I glared at him.
"You've not got to lose your sense of  humour over these things."

Sense of humour or not I may be able to leap down but leaping up is beyond my sixty something year old knees. My sense of humour did not improve when I found that I had to crawl on all fours from the boat deck to the quayside. I made damn sure I always did this when there was no one around to see the spectacle of an elderly woman, kneeling in concrete, bum in the air struggling onto dry land.

Later two French boats came into the marina and moored close to us, it was good to see that at least one of the women on board one of the boats was as lacking in motor skills as me !