A Week in Perdika
26th July to 3rd August 2025
The wind in Aeginitissa Bay changed direction and increased in strength overnight on Friday 25th July. Time to move to somewhere with more shelter. The nearest bolthole was the village of Perdika, about half an hour away by boat. It used to be a sleepy fishing port and anchorage but now has a small harbour. This was built a couple of years back from generous EU funding to upgrade the sailing infrastructure around Aegina. It gets crowded as it is popular for good reasons.
We checked the marine AIS (automatic identification system that gives details of any boat with a transmitter) and it only showed one vessel in Perdika. This didn’t mean there was only one boat moored there, most people turn the AIS off if the boat isn’t going anywhere but it was a good sign.
Even if we couldn’t get into Perdika we would be well on the way to Methana or even further.
On arrival Perdika wasn’t at all busy. Saturdays here are often quiet as generally people collect their charter boats from Athens on a Saturday morning. It takes a few hours to get to Perdika from there so our timing was perfect. We decided to moor to the inner harbour wall. It’s solid concrete, wide enough to drive a car down, and offers good protection from the sea.
Last time we moored to the pontoon further inside the harbour. There is more movement there when the wind and sea pick up from the north west.
Libra was between two big catamarans. To starboard was a French family. On the port side the owner walked to the bow of his boat and engaged us in conversation. He looked Greek but sounded American. I was trying to concentrate on anchoring but he insisted on talking. I learned that he lived on the boat but his wife was away so he was now ‘on holiday’ and despite it being before 3pm he was already tipsy. Well he was quite drunk actually, at the ‘everyone is my friend and I know everything’ stage.
Mooring stern-to in a Greek marina involves reversing to the quay while letting out your anchor chain for several boat lengths to ensure good holding, then tying up the stern lines port and starboard to hold you steady. Our boat has 25 metres of anchor chain and 50 metres of rope. The rope is about an inch in diameter and extremely strong and light. This saves a lot of weight at the bows which would interfere with boat handling as Libra is so light.
Once Igor had secured the stern he joined me at the bows to make sure the anchor was set properly. Mr Greek American piped up, ‘Can I tell you something?’
Igor put his polite face on. When he shows his teeth it doesn’t necessarily mean he is smiling but Mr GA was a bit far gone to pick up on nuance. ‘OK’
‘You shouldn’t have rope, you should have all chain, much safer. I’ve got 85 metres of chain. My windlass failed once and I had to pull it in by hand. It took me 6 hours.’
(Yeah mate, you’re really selling this to me)
Igor was doing a good job of appearing interested and told him that our boats are very different and thanked him for his advice. Mr GA sauntered back to his cockpit, happy to have shared his wisdom.
Perdika is lovely. The harbourside is lined with restaurants, pretty much all of them excellent. Tim and Charlie joined us shortly after we got there for a late lunch. I had mussels in white wine and dill sauce, amazing (should have got chips too but never mind).
Treated myself to an Aperol spritz, I saw someone else drinking one and felt I was missing out. Slept for the rest of the afternoon.
When I eventually emerged from the cabin around 7pm the air smelt of smoke. The sky was blood red.
I checked the news, there was a fire on an island about 40 km to our west. The sunset was eerie, the, dull red orb descending behind black smoky clouds and the whole sky a sickly, fiery scarlet. Very grateful not to be nearer.
Thankfully the air had cleared by the next morning, Sunday 27thJuly, though the winds were still blowing. Igor noticed that the stern of the boat was at an angle to the wall of the quay. He spent about half an hour carefully adjusting our lines, adding extra ropes from the cleats at the midship to hold us squarely and safely in place
One of the ‘entertainments’ in Perdika is when charter boats come in. Well, it’s entertaining if they aren’t anywhere near your boat. The skill of the crew can be anywhere from expert to non-existent, mostly the latter.
I was tidying up in the cabin when I heard Igor on deck, shouting at someone. By now Mr GA’s big catamaran had left and been replaced by a decent sized monohull sailing charter yacht, so the gap between us and them was a little less than a boat width. A charter boat skippered by a Dutch woman, probably in her early 20s, was attempting to squeeze into the space.
Like all boats mooring in a marina, this one had fenders on both sides. In case you don’t know, these are air filled tubes made of thick, strong plastic a couple of feet long and about 6-8 inches in diameter on most cruising yachts around our size (though larger commercial vessels have huge ones).
In harbour you would normally have 8-10 of these on each side of your boat for protection. If your boat comes into contact with another boat the fenders prevent any damage as they keep your hulls away from each other. This boat was so close to us that there was no room for the fenders. As it tried to wedge itself into the too narrow space next to us the fenders were forced out of the way until they were sitting uselessly by the edges of the boats’ decks while our topsides rubbed together, not good.
The skipper demanded Igor change our mooring lines to give them more room. He said no said no to the skipper's request, strongly.
A young man on the charter boat was using his feet to try and push us away. This is very dangerous as your limbs may get caught between the boats. I warned him to be careful but he replied, ‘If you’d move your boat I wouldn’t have to do this.’ Nope, if your skipper wasn’t trying to fit into a space that was too small you wouldn’t have to do this.
It was irresistible force meets immovable object time and eventually they managed to get into the space having moved the boat on their other side.
The wind shifted slightly so they were no longer touching us. Igor checked his old photos and videos. When we were here in September an odious power boat owner had carried out a similar move, snagging anchors and hitting surrounding boats. A young woman who looked and sounded just like the skipper next to us was among the people telling him he was out of order. Igor showed her the video, she denied all knowledge. In fairness to her she was very calm, just implacable.
Seems like their manoeuvre is quite common. We’ve seen it done all over this sailing area. The charter skipper will squeeze in between two other boats that are securely moored then they don’t have to worry about their boat going adrift while they tie up.
Perdika is very convenient. A short walk takes you to a bakery where you can get a good cup of coffee with your morning spanakopita (spinach pie) and koulouri (sesame covered bread ring). There is a shady park of stunted pine trees and the beach has benches where you can sit and contemplate the water. Unlike most other Greek ports there is a public loo. Normally if you need to use facilities you have to ask a restaurant but Perdika has a blue Portaloo which is kept very clean and saves having to constantly ask favours.
Like everywhere in Greece there are cats. A very handsome and friendly black and white chap was mewing on the quayside when we arrived, approaching anyone who looked as if they might feed him. A small boy catching tiny fish using a net threw one to him and he gobbled it up.
We sat on deck and the cat started mewing at us. We gave it some sausage. It walked across our gangplank and joined us.
We gave it some more. It demanded stroking and scratching and I was happy to oblige until it suddenly lashed out and bit me (not seriously, no marks at all on my skin). I told it to get lost and it sulked every time it saw us after that.
The shoreline is relatively level and you can follow the coastal path over former military land for as far as you want. On the headland is the skeleton of a panopticon, built by Austrian artists in 2003 on the site of a German gun emplacement.
It fell into dilapidation within a few years as, it seems, nobody local was very interested in maintaining it.
Further on are German WW2 abandoned bunkers.
Everywhere are stunning views to the sea and the islands beyond.
Charlie was leaving on Tuesday and Tim had asked him to put canvas tarps to shade the deck of his boat before he left. The wind was brisk and constant over the last few days and Charlie found it difficult to do alone, so we said we’d help him. Early Monday evening, once the day’s heat had subsided, the three of us drove to the boatyard. Even with three it took a good hour, it would have been hard to do single handed.
Our dinner plan was to get giros (kebabs) to take home from George’s, a place that looks like a pretty basic takeaway on the way home from the boatyard. When we arrived there was nowhere to park so we went up a side road which led to a small town square. Charlie pointed out an Italian restaurant, apparently the best on the island. We still hadn’t found a parking space so turned back. Once back at George’s a car had left so we were able to take its spot.
We hadn't realised there was the possibility to eat at George's rather than take away, much less that there was a beautiful little garden full of trees at the back of the takeaway. We’ve been visiting this island for nearly 20 years and had no idea it was there! We ordered the burgers. They were huge, good meat with bacon and cheese and a massive pile of French fries with oregano, all for only 10.50 euros. Felt like we were paying local prices.
I dropped my phone in the sea a week or two back and have been arranging a replacement since then. Vik was ready to post the the new one to me. The challenge is where to send it. We went to the Post Office next day to check whether they offer a Poste Restante service and they do. I love the idea of Poste Restante, it conjures up visions of 19th century travellers in distant lands but it definitely has a place for the 21st century tourist with no fixed address and no phone.
The Post Office is in a modern concrete building near the port, right next to what looks like the old town centre. Aegina was briefly the capital of Greece and this area looks like it was built to impress. Unfortunately it’s sliced by the coastal road, with parking lots, taxi ranks and horse carriage rides hiding its beauty. Shabby chic, with the shabby sadly taking precedence. I wonder how long these dilapidated buildings will last without attention.
Thursday seemed like a good day to move on from Perdika. After the normal preparations - stowing loose things, destination chosen, logbook prepared - Igor realised we were low on diesel for the engine. By the time we’d driven to town to buy some it was nearly midday. Our plan was to head for Vathi on Methana but the wind had picked up and was coming from a direction that would leave our destination exposed. Oh well, maybe a few more days in Perdika?
We drove into Aegina town in the evening to get giros. On the way back a cicada flew in through the driver's window and settled next to me. Fascinating creatures.
Thursday evening was busy. Lots of charter boats staying here for their final night before returning to Athens. Each boat has an anchor chain so the more boats you have in harbour the more care must be taken to avoid other people’s ground tackle. When you’re one of the last boats into the harbour you need to make sure you don’t put your anchor on top of someone else’s. When you leave you have to take care that your anchor doesn’t pick up someone else's chain.
On Friday morning everyone else started to move out, heading back to Athens to drop their charters off. The more experienced and professional skippers consulted with each other to make sure that the last in was first out so that the chains on top would be removed first without interfering with the others. All well and good. Then another boat handled by a bunch of incompetents decided to leave. They didn’t know what they were doing, reversing out and not lifting their chain consistently as they went. This meant that their anchor dragged along the harbour bottom and snagged our chain.
They carried on, seemingly oblivious despite shouts from Igor and the other skippers watching. We could see the anchor rope at our bows moving. They stopped and tried to sort things out.
If this happens you have to pass a line under the chain you have caught then hold the trapped chain in place while you lower your anchor. It should go into the water out of the way so you can deposit the chain back where it should be. This boat obviously hadn’t done the training and reversed further and further out of the harbour with our anchor chain still held in the rope. We could see it moving and straining at the windlass where it’s attached to the boat.
Lots more shouting. ‘Don’t worry! We’ll fix it!’ they replied. Of course they didn’t, eventually dropping the chain where it fell, leaving us to have to reposition the boat. All part of the cruising experience.
It’s been very, very hot since we got to Greece. I’ve been sitting inside the boat, fans and when possible air conditioning on, allowing the breeze to waft through my shapeless old white linen baggy shirt wearing very little else (definitely not a bra).
When you go outside in the daytime sun it’s like stepping into an oven. If the wind blows it’s like being in an air fryer.
Over the three weeks we’ve been here I’m starting to acclimatise. 24C overnight feels cool. I avoid the afternoon heat and take naps. We drink a lot of water and cold drinks. We barely eat during the day, the heat kills appetite. Even after dark the temperature is often still in the 30s, you have to sit still and conserve movement or else a flood of sweat erupts.
Perdika harbour has shore power so we can run the air conditioning when we feel like it. There are lots of swimming places and the water is clear and blue and deep. It’s much easier to stay cool here than if we were land based.
We have a choice of about 20 restaurants within a three minute walk. We are protected from the swell from the open sea. It’s such a joy to be able to just say, right, we’re staying, not feeling the compunction to keep moving that you get when you’re only in Greece for a week. Despite all this, on Sunday 3rd August we decided it was time to move on.
The boat next to us was Dutch, looked like a grandfather and teenage grandson and their dog. We were out buying provisions when they arrived and when Igor looked at the angle between our chain and theirs it was obvious that theirs was overlapping ours. Igor had a word with them and they said they’d be going tomorrow morning. They said they’d leave before us so there wouldn’t be an issue with their chain.
We went to bed before midnight but they were talking into the small hours. I woke at 3 and they were still chatting. Igor woke at 4 and they were still at it.
We got up around 8.00 am. No sign of life on the other boat, but lots of full ashtrays and empty bottles, with dominoes strewn on the table.
We left it an hour and had breakfast. No sign of life next door.
We started preparing to leave. Igor knocked on their deck. Nothing. And again. He shouted, 'Anyone alive in there?'
The dog appeared, wagging its tail, followed by a very weary, bleary looking old guy in his shorts. Igor asked if the dog was able to raise the anchor. No glimmer of a smile, ‘No, the dog cannot do that’ (obviously in a Dutch accent).
Igor explained the issue with the anchor again and asked when they were leaving. The old guy said 'maybe it's crossed, maybe it isn't'. I don't think he had his glasses on.
He then said we should just go, lift his chain with our anchor then drop it down again. Igor said this wasn’t good seamanship and he wasn’t going to do that. The old guy responded, ‘Our chain may not even be crossing yours, I’ve done the manoeuvre with the chain many many times’.
Sorry, not convincing, that doesn’t make it right. Igor decided to jump in and swim along our chain to have a look. Sure enough their chain, very long and heavy, was all over ours. No way would we subject our windlass to that load. Igor told him what he had seen and there was no more argument. The lad said, ‘Give us 45 minutes to walk the dog and we’ll go’.
Serves the silly buggers right for staying up late boozing.
I went for a last, lovely swim before leaving and when I came back the other boat had left. Our anchor was lifted without incident and off we went, back to Aeginitissa Bay where we started out. So lovely and peaceful, and best of all, the neighbours are a long, long way away. We still need to watch the elements but they are generally more predictable than humans.
You can comment (or ask questions) at Libra Sail | Facebook