A day on a Dessimi boat

Dessimi is one of those places that once you see it, you never forget.

It is one of the most beautiful bays of Lefkada, if not the most beautiful.

Many years ago, Spiros Palmos’ father started a boat rental business there, which is now one of the most famous in Lefkada.
It’s easy to win in Dessimi: the crystal-clear water, the bay of St Nicholas, a safe harbour when you return in the afternoon with the mistral tearing at your clothes and you’re there at the helm, protected by the bay.
But that’s not all.

I met Spiros a few years ago, a very nice, genuine guy. We immediately became friends, but the kind of friends who are always there when you need them, not just for show.

Too often the term friend is abused. No, Spiros is one of those friends who, if you’re in the middle of the sea on a Sunday lunchtime and you call him, he’ll come to the rescue.
When you get to Dessimi in the summertime, the Dessimi Boats flags fly at the side of the jetty, with a wooden hut as an office and dry palm fronds for shade.

And then there’s Malu… Dessimi’s mascot is there in the shade, watching over everything.

The cutest little dog in the bay is now an attraction, lovingly pampered by everyone.
Spiros told me about an incident when a customer asked to take her with him on a paddle, they accepted (by they I mean him and Malù) and went to the beach just outside the east side of the bay. At that point Spiros received a call.
“Spiros I lost Malù!”
“How did you lose Malù? The beach is three meters square!”
“I know, but she’s not here..”
After half an hour of fruitless searching Spiros saw her on a canoe he had rented by another of his clients.
“Where did you find her?” he asked him.
“She was here swimming to shore and I gave her a lift”…

She had got bored and decided to return alone….

That’s how Dessimi is, a little corner of Paradise where even a little dog who makes his own decisions, such as swimming 800 metres, always finds someone willing to help him.

I have been to Dessimi countless times: in Winter, when the bay is mystical, in Spring, when I lived in Geni and the locals took me swimming there, and in Summer, when we hire Spiros’ dinghies with our clients and set off for the beautiful neighbouring islands.

The day always starts with a caress to Malù, a hug with Spiros who inspires you with all the goodness of the World and with a mad rush at 20 knots heading south.
I always arrive first, often on my motorbike. I park in the shade at Fanì, an intrepid sailor from Geni who fishes with her small fishing boat in winter and runs this shady car park in Summer.
And I enjoy Dessimi early in the morning.

Then when Spiros and Malu arrive a good coffee never fails, the umpteenth despite the day has just begun.
“Where are you going today Fabio?”
“Atokos and Itaka I think.”
“nice, why not to Meganissi?”
“if we don’t stop to eat in Gidaki maybe we will pass”.
Then Spiros gives me the keys to one of his pearls and I start the engines to warm them up a bit.
The customers arrive, Malù smells them well, signals to me that they can go and I make them sit on board.
Spiros’s dad unties the moorings, I put the boat in reverse for a few seconds, then drive forward with the starboard engine and the boat turns around.
I set the course, give it a few revs and the bow rises, the guests lay out their towels and apply sun cream, I let them do it.

Cody barks loudly from the hill of the beautiful Villa Dessimi, he has recognised me, that wonderful little blind dog adopted by an equally wonderful couple of dear Australian friends.
To the south-east the cave of St. Nicholas is still asleep, the bay is a mirror and the smell of brackish permeates the dense and pure air.
I raise the revs again, the bow rears up and the clients smile, I say “shall we go?”.
They say “yes” and I sink the throttle, the engines scream and the boat soars at over 20 knots.

I adjust the trim, reduce the throttle and Dessimi moves away fast, to starboard runs the beautiful Arcoudi with its natural pools, in front of us Atokos.
After half an hour of furious running we reach the South-western end of one of the most beautiful islands in the World.
The kaleidoscopic water that awaits us as we turn east is something to be seen once in a lifetime.
The trees that descend to the shore and touch the water with their leaves are the atrium of Paradise.

A vertical wall that shimmers and reflects the morning sunlight shot at it from the sea.

The shadow of the boat running under 20 metres of crystal-clear water.
And a tiny beach just for us.
You have to come here early in the morning and hope for the best, especially in the busiest months. In June there is no such problem, in June it is a dream anyway.

The swallows that fly around you, those scents that only places where man has not yet destroyed anything can give you… an enchantment broken after an hour of blissful solitude by the first boat of the day, the first after yours.
We haul anchor and sail along Atokos to its most famous bay: the Bay of Pigs.

Occasionally, very few in fact, you can see the happy colony of wild pigs that inhabit the island.

Here are the only buildings on Atokos: a small church and a shabby little house.

A beautiful place, enchanting out of season, a little too crowded in Summer, but an almost obligatory stop, if only for a prayer in the church and a swim in the clear green water.
Back on our route I always make a diversion.
Few people know this place, and those few who do (me neither) don’t tell you where it is, for good reason.
Have you ever seen a tree grow upside down?
A seed that fell among the rocks, who knows how it managed to cling to life and grow upside down? It hasn’t touched water yet but it’s a matter of a few years… for now it’s there, swinging blissfully in the wind like a circuses…
We fly away towards Itaka and its Dionysian bays.

There are countless of them, once we get there we idle and the song of the crickets covers that of the engines, olive trees climbing on the rocks that have inspired acrobatic goats over the years, red earth, white rocks and blue, light blue, now green sea.
No wonder the Gods chose this place to live in, where else?
The customers don’t speak, some take photos, others don’t even manage it anymore, dazzled by the incredulity of so much beauty.
Incredible is the right word.
We sail along the beautiful, mythical island to the bay of Foliatros.
Now, there are two bays here: one is the beach most frequented by locals, the other can only be reached by boat. That’s where I set my bow, and that’s where I drop anchor.

The water is clear and almost transparent. It degrades from green to the point where you don’t perceive any colour at all, so much so that you get the impression of having a few centimetres of water under your keel and not a good 7 metres.
I challenge clients to bring me up some sand.
You dive in and go down, down, down, and most of them come back up empty-handed.
Filiatro is one of those places you never want to leave, which is why I always choose it before lunch, because your stomach will push you to the next stop: the beautiful and famous Gidaki.
You can only get there by boat, and a little kiosk that prepares some of the tastiest souvlaki on the island welcomes you amidst the wood and branches of dry palm trees.
A cold beer and a well-deserved rest on the soft white sand.
The boat is anchored and secured to the ground by a rope to that trunk there, always the same.
Then the tourist boat arrives from Vathi with the beautiful Miriam, the half-Greek, half-Venezuelan hostess.
“hola Fabio, como estas?”
“todo bien Miriam, is work going well?”
“yes, we just started again”.
“us too..”
“What, are you tired of Lefkada?”
Bloody parochialism.
If the weather is good, we go to Vathi, with the splendid statue of Ulysses and the welcoming old town, a walk that restores the soul; if, on the other hand, the weather promises bad winds, we’d better start heading back towards Arcoudi and its magnificent swimming pools.
We sail along the mythical island at 15 knots, but I notice the inevitable change of colour in the sea to the north, when the protection of the island ends, that angry midnight blue streaked with white lines.

There will be dancing, I know… there is always dancing. That’s the price you pay for coming all the way out here.
But I don’t say anything to the customers, it would be useless, I let them enjoy this wonderful view.
Then it comes… the first wave that makes you fly and you reduce the revs, 11 knots… still too much, another flight, down to 7, then 5..

Then Spiros (spying on us from the gps) sends me a message: ‘Hey, captain, everything ok?
“Yes, don’t worry, we’ll make it, don’t worry…” and here I always think of my grandfather Tonino who used to tell me “don’t ever worry, miraccomando…” obviously taking the piss out of me for my innate and boundless optimism…
We zigzag between the ridges, giving priority to the highest waves and following the hollows, .

We get to Arcoudi amidst the spray of foam and crosswinds and everything calms down as if by magic.

We anchor in two metres of water and the surprise opens the mouths of those who have decided to spend a wonderful day on the Spiros boats.
The sea is still, this is where I played the Southern Ionian regatta with my Nitroglicerina in 2019, this is where we flew over the water with one hull cutting through the surface and the other through the air passing over the shallows at 13 knots under sail with my rabid little catamaran.

But today we take it easy.. Claudio is anchored further away with Liliana and Isabel, Katia will arrive in a few days. We meet often, and it’s like being in a family.

Then, at a signal from the unconscious, we raise the anchors and return. Some go to Dessimi, some more to the west, but it’s the route to Dessimi that makes the sea easier, and you return protected by the gods and the beautiful green bay… with Spiros waiting for you with open arms at the end of the pier.

“great Captain!”

But it doesn’t always go like that…

Sometimes, as soon as you come out from the protection of Itaka, Aeolus and Neptune block your route and no… you cannot pass… and Spiros’ message is another one:

“Fabio all right? Wouldn’t it be better to stretch and protect you behind Atokos?”

“and I guess so…”

The customers look at the windswept wall of water and then everyone, even the dog looks at you.

“relax, have you ever ridden a wave?”

You pick one, the highest, get on it and adjust your speed to match it.

The wind resets, it goes at the same speed as you, maybe a little stronger, but it’s nothing more than a gentle breeze in your hair, you’re high up and enjoying a view of a couple of metres and a half on the surface, which becomes even 4 until the hollow…

And then you go off like that, in total relaxation to Atokos and then to Kalamos and Kastos, you go around it among forgotten coves and you find yourself in front of Mitikas, on dry land.

Spiros knows, he knows you’ve made the right choice, he knows you’ll be late and he knows it’s okay.

“Well done captain” is his message, which arrives punctually when the wind starts to drop.

And then begins one of the most beautiful rides on the water that the Ionian can give you.

It is almost sunset, the light is red.

The Sun is like a glowing disk in front of you as you speed along with Meganissi to port and its three beautiful bays, Omero Beach and its sulphurous baths, the fronds of the umbrellas dancing to the Jamaican, Scorpio to starboard and Dessimi there, hidden to the west of the promontory.

And then you enter the bay whose beach is already in the shade.

A glance at the cave of St. Nicholas, which has smiled on us once again today, and there he is, Spiros, at the end of the jetty, welcoming you with open arms with Malu wagging his tail next to him….

“Great Captain!” he shouts smilingly.

And another wonderful day in Paradise comes to an end… is there anything better in life?