Cruising the Mediterranean, our itinerary - the outward stretch

I’ve been back in the UK for just over two weeks now, which means all of six days at work. I'm not sure how much my firm missed me, but the main thing is the first and largest section of the major expansion project I'd been working on for the past year or so, is finally finished. Leaving work aside, the one thing I'm really not keen on after three weeks enjoyment of Mediterranean temperatures, is the wind and the rain, we’ve been experiencing recently. The adverse weather has unfortunately put paid to any plans for cross country walking I might have had and even with me having the appropriate boots plus a pair of gators, I have to say that walking through mud that's up to my ankles fails dramatically in its appeal. My aim of completing the Tunbridge Wells Circular Walk by the end of the year, therefore looks unlikely to come to fruition. We shall have to wait and see what nature throws at us between now and the end of December.

In the midst of all this bad weather, including the latest named storm Ciaran, my thoughts have tended to turn back towards those glorious days spent on the Queen Victoria cruising around the Mediterranean. With temperatures in the mid to upper 20’s, seemingly unbroken sunshine, and the sea as calm as the proverbial mill pond, it's hard to imagine that was just a few weeks ago. The other strange thing is that with nearly three weeks spent away from home, seasons that were bound to have advanced whilst we were away although, have not done so by as much as we expected. That latter point is reinforced by the leaves that are still present on the majority of the trees, which is perhaps indicative that conditions in the UK had also been mild during our absence.

One thing I haven't done since our return is set out the actual itinerary of the cruise, which was basically a voyage from Southampton towards the eastern fringes of the Mediterranean before heading back to our port of departure.  Four different countries, and some spectacular locations were visited, with the ship docking at seven different locations. Upon leaving Southampton, we spent three days at sea, cruising across a surprisingly calm Bay of Biscay, before turning the corner at Cape Finisterre. We then headed due south following the coastline of the Iberian peninsula, before stopping off at the southern port city of Cadiz.

In common with the other destinations on the cruise, we spent the day there, with the choice of a pre-booked excursion, or going ashore and exploring under our own steam. I’ve already written about our visit to Cadiz, so I won’t repeat myself here, but it’s worth recording that from the seven destinations visited, we only went on three guided tours, and one of those I undertook by myself Athens – for the Acropolis. The tours aren’t cheap, but they do actually convey participants, by coach, directly from the ship, and come with the added bonus of a local guide. They are available to book, prior to the cruise or, a few days in advance, whilst you are onboard ship.

However, if you go down the latter route, you run the risk of them all being sold out; although this time around I managed to book spaces for the two of us on a guided tour of Lisbon, just a couple of days before we arrived in the city. It’s also worth mentioning that tours are graded according to the level of activity, and here you can choose between excursions with a minimal level of walking, or you can do something that requires a lot more effort – it all depends on your fitness levels, and how mobile you are. If you’re feeling really adventurous, you could go kayaking, horse-riding, or even snorkelling – depending, of course on what’s on offer at the destination concerned.

At every destination on the cruise, the same pattern was repeated, with the ship arriving early in the morning, and docking so that passengers could disembark at, or shortly after 8 am. There was then around 9 hours shore time, before a late afternoon-early evening departure. Passengers are given a time by which everyone must be back onboard, and if people abuse this by pushing their luck, they do run the risk of the ship sailing without them. There was a story circulating, that this happened to two people, when we departed the Sardinian capital of Cagliari. It later turned out to be just a rumour, but the risk of being left behind is a very real one.  The ship itself has a tight schedule to maintain, and there is also the issue of port fees. Each vessel is charged for the time they spend in port, and as some of the fees can be on the high side, the captain doesn’t want to be hanging around. any longer than necessary

Upon leaving Cadiz we passed through the straits of Gibraltar, although as this was after dark, it was hard to see famous rock, when we passed by on the port side, even with the aid of the binoculars I brought with me. This didn't really matter as we were to sail back through the famous straits on our voyage back to Southampton. We had a further three days at sea ahead of us, as we passed into the Mediterranean, sailing close to the coast of North Africa, on our starboard (right) side. We passed Morocco Algeria and then Tunisia, as the ship headed towards our next destination - the Greek island of Mykonos, or so we thought.

The day before we were due to arrive in Mykonos, the captain announced a change of plan -something that isn't that unusual on sea cruises. The reason was the weather, but also the limited places for the ship to berth at this popular “party island.” There were three or four other cruise ships due to visit at the same time as us, and whilst the lack of spaces on the quayside could be overcome – see below, strong winds might present difficulties when it came to leaving the ship.

Normally the ship would drop anchor offshore, and passengers would be conveyed to and from the boat by means of small craft known as “tenders.” With strong winds forecast on our day of arrival, the captain and senior crew took the decision that transfer by tender would be difficult. Alternative arrangements were made instead, with help from the cruise line’s representatives onshore. Our destination was therefore switched to Crete, the largest of all the Greek islands, and we would be docking at the town of Heraklion, on the northern coast of the island, where we would be able to walk down the gangplank and off the ship. Arrival and departure times remained as they would have been for Mykonos, and with Queen Victoria’s own offshore team, working in close cooperation with their Cretan counterparts, replacement excursions were hastily arranged.

I’ve already written about Cadiz and Heraklion, and the same applies to our next destination – Piraeus, the port of Athens, which was just one day’s sailing away. Moving swiftly on, we departed Piraeus after dark, the slightly later departure allowing for a full day of various activities in the Greek capital. We were heading for the island of Santorini, a destination that needs little in the way of introduction, especially to “Instagrammers.” In 1450 BC, Santorini was devastated by a massive volcanic eruption that caused the middle of the island to collapse, leaving behind a steep-edged crater, or caldera high above the waves.

The island’s two principal towns, Fira and Oia, cling to clifftops high above the underwater caldera, and their picturesque, whitewashed houses, and contrasting, blue-domed churches, make it one of the most photographed places in the world. Transfer to and from shore would be by tender, but given the depth of the caldera, ships are unable to drop anchor, and instead rely on their engines, and thrusters, to hold position against the tides. So far, so good, but we soon learned there were three other cruise ships in the caldera, performing the same manoeuvres as us, and all equally laden with tourists, eager to feast their eyes on Santorini’s picturesque vistas.

To cut a long story short, we decided to remain onboard ship. Mrs PBT’s wasn’t confident about stepping on and off the tender, and whilst this wasn’t an issue for me, the sight of the hordes, milling around on the quayside, and clearly visible even without the aid of my binoculars, was enough to put me off as well. I am not a fan of crowds, and the tales told, alter that day by people who had been ashore, were sufficient to confirm my reluctance. There were two ways up to the rim of the caldera, and the settlement on top of the cliffs, the first being a recently installed cable car, and the other a steep walk up, a zig-zag path that wound its way to the top. Neither method seemed attractive, as capacity issues on the cable car, meant long queues at both top and bottom, whilst the marble path was reported as slippery and covered with animal excrement. This was from the donkeys, the poor, misused beasts of burden, used to haul carts of unfit and overweight tourists up to the clifftops, and then back down again!

As mentioned, the people Eileen and I spoke to, later in the day, reported the narrow streets of the clifftop settlement being packed, lengthy waits at cafes and bars, and the dangers of sliding onto ones backside, whilst dodging the piles of manure and donkey piss, littering the route up from the waterfront. In the midst of all this were the poor donkeys, labouring beneath a hot and unforgiving sun, leaving them thirsty and unwilling to continue with their cruel and unnecessary burden. We will pause it here for a while, as there are still three more destinations left to visit, and many more nautical miles of ocean to cover.