It was with heavy hearts that we bid farewell to Greece — a place that has become our second home. Honestly, where else in the world can you walk into a shop in a new town and be handed a present before you’ve even bought anything? Or find that the waiter from last night’s taverna has bought you both coffee the next morning?

The Greeks have been nothing but kind to us, helped in no small part by Rachael’s impressive grasp of the language. That’s no small feat — I’m reminded of the book that used to live in our downstairs loo: “Learn to Speak Greek in 20 Years.” Well, Rachael cracked the essentials in five. She’s opened doors, started conversations, and made friends everywhere we went.

Our final port in Greece, Pylos felt like a fitting place to set off from. It’s steeped in naval history, nestled in the vast natural harbour of Navarino Bay. In 1827, it was the site of the Battle of Navarino, a pivotal moment in the Greek War of Independence when a combined British, French, and Russian fleet soundly defeated the Ottoman and Egyptian navies. It was the last major European naval battle fought entirely with sailing ships.

Battle of Navarino, October 20, 1827.
Print from 1827 showing fleet positions in the bay. Courtesy of the Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam (RP-P-2018-611), via Britannica.com.

There’s a memorial to the British forces on a small island in the middle of the bay, which we sailed out to aboard Pouláki. It was a fitting way to say goodbye to a country and people that are dear to our hearts.

The inscription on this memorial - “To the British officers and men who fell at Navarino 20th October 1827 Greece is grateful”

And now, we’re truly on our way. Greece felt like a glorious holiday — but this leg, from Pylos to Taormina across the Ionian Sea, felt like the beginning of the real adventure. It was our first proper passage: three days and two nights to cover 310 nautical miles. The weather couldn’t have been kinder — sunshine, flat seas, and just enough wind (some of it even in the right direction). There’s something magical about the moment you cut the engine and the boat skips along under sail.

Hoisting the Italian flag mid passage 

We had 15–20 knots on the nose most of the way, but the seas were calm, so it was surprisingly comfortable.

We settled into our watch pattern — four-hour shifts overnight, two during the day — and got into a nice rhythm.

Sunset at the end of our first day at sea

We also ate very well, thanks to Rachael’s pre-departure prep: nourishing salads, beef stew and Thai curry kept morale high. I almost added fresh tuna to the menu, but alas, two clearly massive ones got away. The first snapped the lure coupling, and the second — in a moment of slapstick comedy — the line broke and the rod straightened so violently it smacked me in the face. Fish 1, Robin 0. 

We arrived in Taormina just as the sun was dipping behind the hills. Beautiful timing, but also exhausting— that low sun is intense, and finding shade from it or even seeing where you’re going is nearly impossible.

Our final approach to Taormina bay

We’d read mixed reviews about Taormina: some people love it, others warn of crowds, noise, and endless day-trippers. Sadly, we’re in the second camp. It’s a stunning place, no doubt, but felt a bit overwhelmed by tourism. That said, there was a gem — the public gardens built by Lady Florence Trevelyan in 1884. Any Geordies reading might be interested to know she was born in Newcastle, and her father was from Wallington Hall in Northumberland. If you know it, you’ll know it’s also famous for its gardens — clearly, green fingers run in the family. Interesting too that us Geordies get everywhere! Next stop the Aeolian Islands.