At 4.30 we slid into this gorgeous little bay and tied up in the centre of town. A jewel of a place. Brightly painted cottages climb steep rocky hills on all sides and tavernas line the waterfront. “It looks just like the 
Greek Islands in National Geographic”, Chris observes.
There is only a handful of yachts here, but apparently it is crowded with cruisers in summer.
Tainui is generally respectable now, with just a few jobs to sort out. We have brown water in one of our tanks – the first time this has happened to 30 years. It tastes OK but we have cordoned it off for now. Perhaps some Miltown will kill whatever is growing there.
Moored bow to the jetty, our neighbours include a professor of music in Berlin whose specialty is the baroque organ, and a Danish immunologist. A group of young Russians is fascinated by Tainui’s recent travels. One of their crew – a coast guard ice breaker skipper from Kamchatka, presents us with a Sochi olympic flag and is delighted with our picture of Tainui in Patagonia.
