August 31st 1982, Ios, Greece
"At about seven thirty, with the sinking sun about to touch the western horizon, I saw the sihouette of a motorised fishing boat - about a quarter of a mile offshore.
Luckily, I had my little shaving mirror with me so I did my best to flash it at the boat. Maybe I'd read about this being done before in one of the adventure books I read as a boy but would it work? And I waved my white shirt overhead like a flag.
The boat passed out of view. My heart sank for several moments. They had not spotted me! But then, almost magically, the boat nudged back round the right headland and came into view. They were heading for my cove, my human containment trap.
Awkwardly and by now in a state of exhaustion, I was able to clamber aboard the blue and white fishing vessel in spite of the swell but with the welcome assistance of crew members. They did not speak a word of English but it was obvious that they were on their way out for some night fishing. I imagined I would have to spend that night with them which rather appealed to me - casting nets in Aegean moonlight as mariners did in Ancient Greece. But I was dehydrated and hungry.
The fishermen gave me cold water which I gulped down like air as I pointed out the northern beach that I had tried to reach. I indicated that they could deposit me there and I could then walk in the gloaming - back to Ios Town.
Before the four fishermen took me into the beach I tried to offer them money as a reward for possibly saving my life - "For birra! For retsina!" but they refused it so I just shook their hands and thanked them profusely. I waved my saviours off to the purple and rose horizon where shafts of golden sunlight indicated that the day was conclusively over and what is more - I was saved!
The walk across the island, along a rough and stony track was at least two miles. I stopped at a well to drink and later purloined a bunch of juicy grapes, overhanging from a little stone enclosure. How deliciously sweet they were.
Once back at the port of Ios, I went into the first taverna and bought a 1½ litre bottle of mineral water with a bottle of beer. Camel-like I gulped the liquid down as I waited for a plate of traditional Greek food - egg and chips. That cost me just 65 drachmas.
I was soon joined by a Welsh gardener who had ordered another traditional Greek dish - sausage roll and chips with baked beans!
After this I walked to another bar for another beer and there I picked up a recent copy of "The Sunday People" which held my attention for a few minutes before the walk along the coast to Sunset Beach (known locally as Koumbara) where I was sleeping. Moonlight sparkled on the gentle sea waves - so beautiful to see and after what had happened that day I felt so grateful to be alive.
I slid into my sleeping bag feeling contented and comfortable but when I arrived at the very edge of sleep I heard a rustling in the back of my shelter - no more than eighteen inches from my head. I sat up with my torch and saw a brown rat cowering with its coal black eyes.
Hell, I have seen many rats and it never bothered me but I did not particularly wish to sleep with one! I pulled my sleeping bag out of the shelter and took it down to the beach's tidemark and there I slept till morning light appeared again. I was woken by a labrador puppy from The Sunset Beach Taberna. He walked right across me and licked my face.
I have shaved this morning, had some coffee, studied more pages of "Hamlet" and now I am sitting in the taverna with a lemonade. No more rocky coves for me! Andros, the grizzled proprietor, has just played one side of an old Leonard Cohen album:-
Egg and Chips as traditional Greek food! 🤣I am glad you were rescued to be able to tell the tale for all of us out here to read.
ReplyDeleteGrateful to be alive! That must have felt so, so very good. I hope you have felt like this at other times in your life, too, not only after a coming out of a life-threatening situation. Being a walker like me, I imagine you get that when you're out walking, too.
ReplyDeleteStrangely enough, there is no comment from me on your 2010 post, but I am glad I didn't just imagine that it seemed familiar when I started to read.
When I read part one, I wondered if this was fiction. Unfortunately not. Scary times.
ReplyDeleteI actually thought egg and chips was genuinely Greek for a second and wondered why I'd never heard of it!
I'm glad you were rescued.
A budding Hunter S Thompson - with many decades of writing ahead of you.
ReplyDeleteThank goodness for those fishermen, otherwise you might still be there (in a desiccated state). I've only visited one Greek island, Kos, and I lived on Octopus for lunch, and Macaroni Pie (Pastitsio) in the evenings; all washed down with plenty of Retsina.
ReplyDeleteI do remember this story. I can't believe that was sixteen years ago.
ReplyDeleteQuite resourceful of you to use your mirror! I wonder if I'd have thought of that?! Anyway, thank goodness for those Greek fishermen coming along when they did.
ReplyDeleteAh, it is the ending I recall from before. You were so lucky they spotted you and rescued you.
ReplyDeleteYou're a braver man than I. Rats ! My blood pressure's soaring.
ReplyDeleteNot even Marianne could console me if I heard rats scratching through
the wall. I can't sleep near mice.
2010. The Land of the Lotus Eaters in Homer's Odyssey.
Dodecanese, Dardanelles, Cyclades, Spetses, Hydra, Aegina
Six thousand Homeric islands. The names are like an opium pipe.
I'm reading about another Hellenophile ...
* Larry - Biography of Laurence Durrell * by Michael Haag now in paperback.
Durrell's * Prospero's Cell * sits on my shelves next to * By the Ionian Sea *
by George Gissing and * Old Calabria * by Norman Douglas.
A fascinating read and very resourceful to use the mirror.
ReplyDeleteMade me wonder if I have had any brushes with death and the only ones I can think of is a couple of journeys in Asia that I shouldn’t have taken - truck up Mt Popa in what was then Burma - very poor brakes and driver kept falling asleep and a mini bus driver in Thailand who wanted to see how fast he could go.
I suspected you'd be OK. I had a wonderful holiday with my best mate on Kos when we were 17, no brushes with the reaper but plenty of that exotic Greek food you spoke about.
ReplyDeleteAll's well that ends well, as they say, but I'm sure your close call made a lasting impression on you!
ReplyDeleteI have not had a brush with death. Holy shit that was scary.
ReplyDelete