Passage back to Italy

A passage with unexpected weather - Is winter here already?
[Kyle]As soon as it was light out, we unthreaded our lines from the big steel mooring rings at Pylos and headed southwest across Navarino bay. We had the sails up as soon as we were finished with our turn away from the quay. The wind was forecast to be less than five knots, so we had full main and screacher flying and were expecting a slow day.

As soon as we were out in the open Ionian Sea, we were struggling to get the screacher rolled up in building winds. By the time we were five miles from shore, we had reefed and reefed until we had one in the mainsail and two in the jib. We also had to go forward on an increasingly heaving deck to pull the screacher down and stuffed into the sail locker when we couldn’t get it to furl properly.

The wind was now up to near 30 knots. The seas were short and steep making the rolling motion of the boat very violent. We repeatedly had to go inside to recover one item or another that had crashed to the floor. I kept thinking of the forecast received that very morning – 3knot. Why can’t they get that right? The entire first day passed in this manner, with uncomfortable seas in which it was impossible to get any real rest in the off watch an we were left to wonder how long the rough conditions might last.

Late into Maryanne’s first night watch, a call came over the radio with a report of a person overboard at a position about forty miles ahead of us. It would have taken us until the next afternoon to get there, so we kept monitoring. Other boats (nearer and/or faster) did respond. Later on my night watch they had changed the nature of the emergency to vessel not under command, indicating either the boat was drifting or nobody aboard knew how to operate it. We were still headed towards the area. A couple of hours later I heard a conversation between a container ship MSC Healy (the primary responder) and a charter yacht Alter Ego that had come to help. The Healy had come as close as he had dared in the rough seas, but nobody aboard the disabled vessel seemed to make any effort to communicate with him, so he asked the yacht if they could get close enough to shout to them and find out exactly what the problem was. Eventually the yacht came back and said it was not possible for him to get close enough in the rough seas.

Olympia Radio (the Greek rescue service) told both vessels to stand by and that they were sending a helicopter (which ended up taking at least 12 hours to arrive). By late the next morning they were still putting out a general call for assistance and we were getting closer. We were now only 12 miles away and could see the container ship’s bridge with the binoculars. We called and offered our assistance, giving our location and an estimated arrival time. Olympia radio requested all our details, but later came back and said they had enough vessels; we were released from any rescue obligation. Of course we continued to hear the various goings on and even relayed a few radio messages that Olympia radio were not hearing. For some reason the area was at the limit of Olympia’s radio range and we ended up relaying messages for about an hour and were happy to do so. Still it wasn’t clear to us what the emergency was, nor the type of vessel involved. Either we were missing some of the communication or vital questions were not being asked.

A few hours later during my afternoon watch I heard a third vessel report to the container ship that they had the wounded man aboard. That seemed to explain the vessel not under command. Within a few minutes, the call came in that there were now two dead men on board. He hadn’t actually said wounded, but “one dead” in the first message, I had misunderstood the message due to the strong accents. The distressed vessel was to be towed by a fourth boat back to Greece. At this point we learned there were still 30 people aboard awaiting rescue. Now we understood why our little boat would not have been of much help.

When things quieted down, I called the container ship and on another channel asked for any details he could share about the incident. He told me that there were 30 people to transfer to another ship and then they were towing the disabled vessel to Greece, but he would not say much else other than he responded to a ‘vessel not under command’ and the deceased were Ukrainian, but he was vague about what happened or how the two men died. {Once we got to Italy we learned that the boat was a 32’ inflatable with 60 migrants – Afghans and Kurds, no mention of Ukrainians, hoping to get to new lives in Greece. It was damaged in the unforecast storm. There was a report of one person overboard and the two deaths.}. Even though we didn’t know them, it was hard not to think about the bad news their poor families would be getting. The day would never be sunny for them.

The next few days were mercifully tranquil for us. The wind died down and the seas flattened, While it was a struggle to keep the boat moving, the rig was at least not enduring any extreme stresses We slept well on our off watches and ate well now that it was so much easier to cook and clean up. I especially enjoyed the evenings, which were warm and clear and allowed me to spend my night watch gazing up at the constellations.

Things continued in this manner until the last full day when a layer of clouds gradually obscured the entire sky; an unstable system had moved in. At first we noticed (at a comfortable distance behind us) several waterspouts (tornadoes at sea) descending from the bottom of the cloud layer. As we neared the Sicilian coast the sky was lit up with continuous lightening flashes, which we seemed to just avoid as we passed by.

Since the passage across the Ionian Sea was originally planned to be against the prevailing winds I had allowed a lot of time for the crossing. In spite of our slow progress we still ended up with a couple of days to spare. We decided to change our original destination from Messina to the medieval town of Taormina on a hilltop a little further south on the Straights of Messina. The storms had created a big swell from the east so our only available anchorage was a little cove called Mazzaro Bay with a funicular up to the town. The bay was a gorgeous little village and Taormina was visible above on the mountaintops sprinkled there like confectioners sugar. The houses and buildings seemed to occupy the most inaccessible places on the steep terrain.

Our cruising guide book (which we are growing increasingly disenchanted with) indicated that it would be possible to anchor in the southern side of the bay – as soon as we arrived this was clearly not so; the entire bay was full of moorings used by small local boats and was so deep that we would have had to string our anchor chain through the entire mooring field AND run a line to a rock ashore to make it work. A few or the moorings were unoccupied and since it was late in the season it probably would have been acceptable to pick one up. However, as we were winding our way through the mooring field, Maryanne expressed concern since all the moorings were in close quarters and none were used for any boats anywhere near the length of Footprint, we could not be sure they were sturdy enough for us (or even available). We had really been looking forward to being done with the passage and having some time together, and once we saw the beautiful bay and town we were even keener to stay. When we realized we would not be able to stay in Mazzaro Bay we decided to continue on to Messina with a heavy heart – another 6 hours before the end of our passage.


Mezzaro had a funicular up to beautiful Taormina, we were so sad we couldn't find place to set the anchor
On the trip North along the Sicilian coast our luck with the storms finally ended and we were dumped on. It rained so hard for most of the journey that even though we were generally around 300m from shore, no land was visible. It rained so hard that there was a haze above the deck where reflected mini-droplets bounced back into the air after striking. After a long period of trying to tuck in the cockpit and keep dry, I decided to give up, embrace it, and went on deck for a good rinse.

We anchored in Messina at almost exactly the same spot as we’d used heading south in July except this time the water front bars were closed and the beach was empty. We had no intention of going ashore. We were ready to crash.

Pylos

A short passage in choppy seas has us arriving at Pylos around 8am
[Kyle]It was barely light enough to see when we left Methoni harbor in the early morning. The storms of the previous evening had left and the sky was clear with calm winds. As we rounded the corner at the Turkish Tower we found ourselves facing 1.5m seas sent in from a distant storm near the Italian coast. As we followed the coast North we ended up in an uncomfortable slop of reflected waves from the rocky shore intersecting with the swell. There was no pattern nor direction to the chop, it was just miserable. All the while the wind remained light at about 5kt which in most other circumstances would leave us with flat seas and very slow progress under sail (if any at all) so we were doomed to motoring. The trip was to be only 7nm though and after just an hour or so we pulled into Navarone Bay behind the protection of an Sphagila Island to our West.

At the tip of the Sphagila Island lies the dramatic Pylos island with a giant natural archway that looks big enough to sail through (although a quick look at the chart would soon deter you), and topped by a monument and light house.
At the tip of the peninsula lies the dramatic Pylos island with a giant natural archway that looks big enough to sail through (although a quick look at the chart would soon deter you), and topped by a monument and light house.

Once inside the bay the seas became flat. We checked for space in the built but as yet unmanaged marina, we found none, and tied up instead to the town quay with only one other boat. We preferred this anyway as it was closer to the authorities to complete our clearance process out of Greece.

Our water tanks were nearly dry and we had been on serious rations since Methoni. We doubted we had enough water to clean the breakfast dishes by the time we reached Pyros. After clearing in the Port Police advised us to go to the City Hall to organize water at the dock; here a guy came to unlock the water cupboard and allow us to fill our tanks. The port police also gave us phone numbers for a tanker truck to deliver fuel to the boat; Maryanne made the call and the tanker arrived just as we’d finished filling the water tanks. We were both shocked that all the formalities and drudgery for the boat was completed so quickly, this left us the rest of the day to explore Pylos guilt free!

We stepped ashore and turned right (South) heading for the giant fort we’d passed on the way into the harbor, it was an obvious starting point. It was roughly the same size and vintage as the fort in Methoni, but was in much better condition and care (tidier grounds, more information boards and even a leaflet to guide you around the site). This went along with excellent views of both the beautiful bay and distant hills and mountains. This part of Greece is a lot lusher than the lands to the East and the air was filled with the fresh smell of pine forests lining the hills.



The "New" Pylos Castle with its spectacular views
We took the long route through the fort, meandering as we do. We made a point of walking as much of the perimeter wall as we could to enjoy the views (all but one small demolished section). By the end of our fort exploration we were starting to flag. With little sleep, a light breakfast and the heat of the day I was spent so we headed into town to find refreshments and what was to be our last restaurant meal in Greece and blew Maryanne's birthday money she had been saving.

On the way into the main town we spotted a boat equipment store with colorful supplies spilling onto the street, we immediately planned to go in but before we could even express an interest the owner standing in the doorway called us over to chat. “Where are you from”, etc.. He seemed most surprised that we had a boat and actually wanted to come into his store. He chatted happily about his days in the Merchant Marines mostly in South and Central America and the Caribbean for many years. He talked enthusiastically about our travels and listened intently to our tales. Maryanne pulled out her ever ready ‘just in case I find a boat store’ list, and we were dismayed when we could only find €3 worth of stuff in the store (A replacement dinghy plug). We purchased 2 (so we’d have a backup) and the bill came to €5 came with a smile from our new friend and a cold drink too.

We wandered in the direction of the square that forms the center of the town. Most of the restaurants and cafés in town seem to make up its perimeter. We were looking for something off of the beaten path, though. We passed the square and climbed the steps up the hill on the other side. After a couple of blocks, we spotted a place called Grigoris. A quick glance at the menu posted out front confirmed we wouldn’t be paying waterfront prices. It looked really nice inside and they were boasting a garden. The proprietress spotted us looking the place over so once we were caught, we just HAD to go in.

We were searching around for the best place to sit with an eye towards the garden when we were led into the kitchen for the “menu”. “Let me show you what I have” she said as she pulled lids from pots cooking atop a giant stove and pulled out dishes from the oven. We cooed approvingly at each at which she pulled out a notepad and asked us what we wanted. I’ll have this, that, that and some of that please! We then found a place in the beautiful garden in a lovely setting of hanging vines and shady trees; it seemed a much prettier and more peaceful setting than the waterfront. Since the food was already simmering on the stove our meal was ready at the table within a very short time and bread, salad, wine and water delivered too.


After selecting from the days offerings, Kyle tucks in to his last meal in Greece
[Maryanne]My favorite restaurant in Munich (where I worked for 2 years) is a Greek one where you were invited into the kitchen to pick from the days offerings (no menu). I’d talked about this often to Kyle and was SO excited to find the real deal here in Greece. Being mid-afternoon the restaurant was not busy and only had one other couple as customers when we arrived, a German couple from Munich. They were soon talking with us and were amazed that I knew about the restaurant in Munich and sadly advised me that it closed about 3 years ago! Oh well, things change, for now at least I could enjoy a genuine Greek kitchen restaurant.

[Kyle]We ate our fill leisurely and then a little more for good measure, eventually rolling back down to the harbor and Footprint. We needed to do some last minute passage preparations (for Italy) aboard Footprint while it was still daylight. No sooner had we finished the outdoor stuff, when the sky opened up and poured rain. It rained so hard that we probably could have skipped refilling the tanks this morning and caught enough to fill our tanks had we put our rain catcher up. Oh well, at least the salt is again washed off the decks. There was lots of thunder and lightening around and one bolt hit a lamppost in the parking lot beside our pier – that was loud. Several others hit the hills around the harbor.

After the storm ended the sea was still and the air calm and clear, we took one last walk through the town looking for a bakery to supply ourselves with breakfast for the following day and came home with a few extras too. Mostly we wanted an excuse to take one last leisurely stroll in a country we had become so fond of.

Farewell Greece.

Methoni

[Kyle]As I said earlier, we left Dyros in the middle of the night, taking poor Timmy’s roof {Maryanne: Timmy being the resident octopus we’d acquired}. The passage was totally boring. It was night. There was no wind. We motored the whole way. There was nothing to do but stare at the instruments in the dark and wait for it to be over.

We pulled into Methoni, which is pretty much at the southwestern corner of Greece, just after the fishermen left the harbors to start their day. We pulled way up to the beach as close as our draught would allow and set the anchor. Maryanne had slept for the passage, so it was my turn to crash in the bed for a few hours while she sorted out our growing photo collection.

Once I was up, we took the dinghy ashore for an orientation. The town was lovely. Adobe houses with curvy shapes have been replaced by buildings with red tile roofs like in Italy or Provence. It was clearly after the big tourist season so, once again, we felt like we had the whole place to ourselves. There seemed to be just the right balance between bustle and quiet. All of the cafés were open, but each only had a smattering of customers, so there was no pressure to get moving. I was still on only about half of the sleep I really needed. There was no Meltemi wind here, so it was hot, humid and still. After only an hour or so of walking around I was spent so we headed to a café for coldies and a couple of appetizers to tide us over until dinner.

As we were heading back to Footprint on the dinghy, we made a slight detour to a British boat anchored nearby where we met Steve and Marion. We invited them over and spent most if the rest of the evening swapping sea and cruising stories and advice. As we were all in Footprint’s cockpit having a good time, The Dutch showed up and anchored as close to us as they had in Kimolos – those Dutch – the nudists. The thing about Anchorage TV for cruisers is that you don’t always get to pick your channel.

The next morning, we were a bit more motivated. We were up early (for cruisers). We immediately made our way to the big local attraction: a fort and tower built in stages by every occupying power in Methoni, mostly Venetians and Ottoman Turks. Admission was free, which I like. The large site of the old walled city was in a pretty advanced state of decay but there were pockets of workmen restoring a little corner here and there. The tower, which serves as the most conspicuous landmark for arriving mariners, was in the best state of preservation.

By then, the wind was picking up in the harbor. It was coming from the only direction from which the harbor offered no protection. Every time we got a view of Footprint, we were checking for signs of dragging. She held fast, but the chop in the harbor was getting up to two feet or so. Methoni is home to a Carrefour supermarket, so it immediately became one of our priorities to stock up on hard to find stuff. After the fort tour, my job became to return to Footprint in the dinghy to retrieve backpacks in which to carry home the groceries. While I did that, Maryanne went to the post office to buy stamps. Even though it was the middle of a weekday, the place was locked up. The place had been locked from inside – the keys were still dangling from the lock. She had to knock until someone heard her, then they let her in as if that was just the normal procedure – very odd. There was no way to launch the dinghy in the surf without getting totally drenched in spray. By the time I was back at the beach to rendezvous with Maryanne. I was a walking wet t-shirt contest. We bought so much stuff that the only way to make progress against the wind in the dinghy was to lighten the load. Without hesitation, Maryanne helped me into the water and then swam to the boat so I would have a chance against the wind.


The harbour before and during the rain
I readied the dinghy by putting it in lifeboat mode while Maryanne stowed the groceries. No sooner had I finished than the sky opened up. It rained hard. Lightning could be seen all over striking the hills and thunder was nearly constant. It was the first rain we had since Galaxidi 47 days ago, which was just a drizzle at night. It was the fist time we had even seen clouds since then. Once the rain passed, the wind shifted so that it was coming off of the beach. The seas flattened again. Within fifteen minutes of the rain stopping, we were floating on the surface of a harbor of mercury. The air is cooler and drier. It should be easier to sleep tonight, ready for an early departure tomorrow.



Methoni Castle
[Maryanne]Methoni was yet another face of Greece that we hadn’t seen before. Mentioned by Homer as one of the towns offered to Achilles by Agamemnon (what, not done your homework lately?), it is now a small harbor town dominated by the castle and with a great small beach and a town full of hotels and tavernas and a smattering of basic shops. As we ambled around we heard plenty of British English being spoken in the cafes and tourist spots; we were not sure if these were retired immigrants or holiday makers. A few of the houses in town had a Swiss feel to them with flowered filled balconies and ornate eves; we wondered if that was due to immigrants or some general practicality (hard to believe this area gets heavy snow!). The castle was a really large walled area that once enclosed a whole town, with ocean on 3 sides and a large moat on the one end for access from land. It’s really heavily protected from attack from all directions and we spent our time ambling around mostly ruins imagining the site in its prime.

In some places there are rooms, possibly dungeons or just as likely storage rooms. Within the walls are structures we are led to believe were once Turkish baths, and had clear signs of plumbing within, but also had openings in the domed ceilings that we could not guess the purpose of. There were few notice boards and with free entrance, nobody to offer any guide or tour of any kind so all we could use was our imagination. Basically we liked the town, and arriving outside the tourist season it seemed available to us alone; no pressure to enter a restaurant, or join a tour; we were free to wonder and speculate. Beautiful.

A forgotton land of wonder and plenty?

[Kyle]The cove at Dyros doesn’t have a village as such, just a few widely scattered buildings and an informal looking caravan park. The village of Dyros itself is at the top of the nearby ridge a couple of kilometers away. The big attraction here is the caves. Dyros has a very long and elaborate network of caves, all beautifully decorated in stalagmites, stalactites and other crystalline structures.
Even though we were tired as a result of having our sleep patterns messed up by the overnight sail, we couldn’t resist taking the dinghy over to see it as soon as we were settled.


Exploring the caves by boat and foot
It was amazing for two reasons. One was that the cave itself was incredible. It was labyrinthine. It went on and on for miles both above and below the water and was covered with the most beautiful structures everywhere we looked. We’ve been in a few caves now, and this one definitely tops the list for being jaw-droppingly beautiful and impressive.

The second amazing thing was the tour. It was terrible. It was the worst tour of the coolest thing I have seen. The tour started with the ticket guy sitting us down in front of a long video and then disappearing. The video had the effect of making us feel the tour would be unnecessary since now we’ve seen it. There were, however, a couple of interesting bits where the film crew left the tour route to follow a team of cave divers into some really cool, remote parts of the cave.

Right in the middle of one of these parts of the video, the guy came back and told us and the other four people there the tour was starting. We were shown to a boat inside the cave and told where to sit. Then the guide boarded at the back and we took off. By using the tip of an oar, our guide skillfully punted the boat along the route through all of the tight twists and turns without bumping the sides of the boat hardly at all. The aggravating thing about it, though, was that he seemed to be going for some kind of record while doing it. With no more commentary than saying the names of four or five places along the way, we positively zinged through the cave. At the largest room of the cave there was a long straightaway. We actually got going fast enough to feel a breeze. By the time everybody readied his or her cameras for a shot, it was gone. The photos probably would have been blurry anyway from the speed. The trick seems to be to go and see it and not worry about photos. I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like in the old days. “I say, old boy, slow down. I haven’t had time to even set up my easel!” Other parts of the boat route were narrow and low enough to have us all ducking and breathing in.

At the end of the tour, the boatman banged us up to a dock and left – just vanished. We were still processing the boat tour when we noticed. The remaining 300m of the cave were on foot. We made a point of taking our time and being the last to leave. The cave was gorgeous, but what the hell was with that guy? He must have been trying to do the entire tour during a commercial break. Yeesh!

The next morning, we went ashore again to see the museum and adjacent cave. This cave was inhabited during Neolithic times from around 5200 B.C. until an earthquake in 4 B.C. caused a collapse of the entrance, closing the cave and killing the inhabitants by trapping them inside. The large cave was used as living quarters and storage area. It was the center of the obsidian trade all of the way from Milos in the Cyclades to the southern Ionian. We paid for two tickets and were shown to the small but well done exhibit room displaying artefacts found in the cave. When we were done with that, we were told the cave was closed. That was it. That was the whole thing: one room. That would have been nice to know before we bought the tickets.

Feeling like we had to redeem the trip somehow, we trudged in the unbelievable heat of the windless sun UP the hill to the town to have a look. The Maniot (or Mani) peninsula is a very wild, barren land. Cultivatable land is rare and for centuries was guarded ferociously. Because of this, feuding clans and families built fortified tower houses as protection from raids. These bare stone towers have become the architectural signature of the area, giving a much different look to other parts of Greece. The village of Pyrgos Dirou has a few of these old towers standing, with many newer versions filling out the rest of the town.




Picturesque village with a feuding history - Pyrgos Dirou
Maniot seems like a forgotten place. It’s not on the way to anywhere else (unless you’re on a boat). Tour buses don’t seem to come here. The place is left to itself. We walked the narrow, cobbled, empty streets pleased to have the whole place all to ourselves. Along the way, we grazed happily on an abundance of edible plants. There was more than anybody could eat, so most of it was left to ripen and then rot on the branch. We found and ate plenty of delicious figs, almonds, pomegranates, lemons, grapes and cactus fruit. There were also lots and lots of olives around, but these are not eaten directly off of the tree and must be processed first (and anyway, weren’t ripe yet).


Kyle finds, opens and enjoys Almonds among the bushes

Kyle munches on a ripe cactus fruit and pomegranates sit ripe for picking
The food was great, but wasn’t doing much for our thirst in the heat, so we stooped at one of the two local restaurants for lunch. There we had a good meal that stuffed us to capacity accompanied by a jug of cheap house wine that was tasted like it could also be used to clean engine parts. At least it was cheap.


Scenes from the walk - it's rare to see a cow in Greece
We walked off our lunch by returning to Footprint in the unrelenting afternoon sun. On route we passed a very nice looking hotel designed in keeping with the local villages. We soon realized it was closed, and presumed for the season, but as we took time for a closer look it seemed as if it had been abandoned quickly and some time ago. Wine and water bottles sat on tables, as if evacuated in a fire alarm and not returned for years since. It was sad to imagine the dreams and investments lost with the foresaken hotel.


An lonely, abandoned hotel
The first order of business back at the boat was to jump in for a cooling swim. Out of habit, I followed our chain on its winding path to the anchor. With no wind to speak of, Footprint had just bobbed around basically in the same spot. Our anchor and the first 15m of chain had been completely unnecessary. It was the weight of the second 15m that was keeping us in place as evidenced by the tight swirls of chain tracks in the sand where it first touched the bottom.

At the anchor, I got to see the cutest thing. As I approached, from under the back of the buried anchor blade, a couple of very nervous eyes peered at me over the edge. An octopus had made himself a little burrow there. As I hovered overhead, he tried tucking himself away as far as he could. I dove very slowly. As I approached, he changed color to try to match the silver anchor above and the sand below. By grabbing hold of the other end of the anchor, I was able to counter my buoyancy and stay right there watching him watching me. When the urge to breathe got too much, I surfaced and left the poor little guy alone in his new home. We were planning a middle of the night departure to the next place. I felt bad for taking his roof. When we left, I made a point of pulling up the anchor very slowly so he would be able to leave without getting hurt.


Plenty of sealife to entertain too

Leaving the Aegean

[Kyle]Around mid-morning we departed our beach anchorage on the south side of Kimolos. The wind had increased steadily all night as forecast and it was swinging us directly away from the beach by sunrise.

We pulled up the anchor and departed under sail alone. As the anchor came up, the bow swung to the east. We picked up enough speed for steerage and made a slow turn to the south and then west rounding the only other nearby boat like a pivot point.

Once we were clear of the protection of Kimolos, we were in the full force of the uninterrupted meltemi winds. We passed to the north of Milos and then made a slight turn just to the south of west for Cape Maleas on the Peloponessian mainland. Away from Milos, the meltemi veered slightly east of north, giving us a nice broad reach across the long, uninterrupted patch of the Aegean.

I had originally planned the passage to be 16 -20 hours, sailed mostly overnight, to the island of Elefenisos, just to the west of the cape, but the forecast was such that it seemed more prudent to carry on all of the way around the next cape, Cape Tainaro, and continue up the west coast of the Maniot peninsula to a little cove at Dyros (or Diros, depending on which book you read).


Passage to the Pelopennese
With the Meltemi pushing us, we made excellent time out of the Aegean. We rounded Cape Maleas just after midnight in the company of a lot of heavy shipping. We passed the anchorage at Elefenisos right at the 15-hour mark.

We were out of the Aegean and back in the Ionian Sea, no longer under the influence of the Meltemi. The winds died down and by the time we passed Cape Tainaro, Mainland Greece’s southernmost point, we had stowed the sails and were motoring along the coast toward Dyros.


Another Greek anchorage
A couple of hours later, we pulled into the bay and set the anchor in 3m of good sand just outside the range of the handful of people swimming on the beach. It was just past the 27 hour mark. Really big mountains that gradually steepened as they rose from the sea backed the horseshoe shaped cove edged by cliffs. We kept thinking that the scenery looked almost exactly like Scotland. The only thing that was different was that it was greener there and, of course, the weather’s not as nice.