Bed bugs, a boat crash and soiled linen make holiday unforgettable, Too Funny!

[Serious News]

SAILING the Greek Islands was supposed to let me abandon my inhibitions but the only thing I wanted to abandon was the boat.

It was a 30th birthday celebration that went so wrong.

A holiday I am intent on erasing from my mind.

We were to set sail around the Greek Islands for seven nights in style to celebrate the milestone. Our trip would see us travel from Mykonos to Santorini.

We dreamt of smooth sailing, our hair flowing in the sea breeze, champagne in hand, bikini clad, draped over the top deck like a couple of lounging lizards. This was not to eventuate. Ever.

Instead my friend Hayley and I found ourselves on a small 50ft boat (nothing like the ones you see in the brochures).

With stressful, full time jobs we decided to call upon the expertise of a travel agent to book our holiday.

We asked to be on a boat with a "bit of party and relaxation action".

Nothing hardcore. We didn't want to be stuck in the middle of the sea with boozy youngsters vomiting off the side of the boat or old people whining about life.

After months of putting away weekly savings my friend and I wanted this to be one hell of a trip, not a trip TO hell.

The travel documents did not arrive until the day before we left. And as the plane jetted off from Brisbane we discovered not all our transfers had been booked.

Our suitcases did not fit on the floor of the cabin, and we were forced to sleep on bunk beds with our suitcases, snuggle up at night in yellow stained bed sheets and pillows, and made to use bath towels the size of a kitchen tea towel.

There were broken door handles and a skipper who took having a nightcap to the extreme.

Looking back on how things panned out, that was the least of our worries.

On the first day we met our skipper who was 60 plus.

Captain Jack Sparrow, he certainly was not.

He walked us to the boat we would call home for seven long, teary-eyed nights.

Hayley and I had to haul everyone's luggage on board the boat - there was no ramp and no one seemed fit enough to do the job - not even the man who would sail our boat.

The boat was tiny and consisted of four cabins, plus the skipper's digs. It was a struggle to fit two people in the same cabin at once.

We started with eight on board and within a few hours lost two passengers, in their early 20s due to the less than average conditions.

And when they heard the skipper's safety briefing there was panic.

We all panicked. He pointed to a flare and said in the event of an emergency, ensure you read the instructions before using one.

Not funny when two of the passengers could not speak English very well.

Then there was the tour of the bathroom, which was one short step away from the bunk beds. Inside was a toilet which required 15 manual pumps after each use, whether it be a number one or a number 2, as well as a tap and a bin for used toilet paper. Yes, used toilet paper. And again, whether it was a number one or a number 2.

Pumping the toilet, cold showers using the tap nozzle which could only be pulled out so far and bathing with the unsanitary bin by my feet was by no means my idea of a luxury holiday.

There was dry reaching, and a lot of it. Morning, noon and night.

And then there was the shock which was quickly followed by revulsion when I found the skipper, the man in charge of the vessel and the man in charge of six international travellers, passed out in my room on the very first night, the room that was offered to me after the two Brazilian passengers left.

By the time day two had rolled around, we had been tasked jobs on the boat - I was in charge of the ropes. Yes, the ropes.

The 'wind in my hair, champagne in hand' vision was quickly diminishing.

I have never sailed a boat in my life, neither was I privy to the fact I would have to "work" on the boat.

Hayley handled the propeller, and the other passengers, a mother and her two teenage kids helped with the anchor, buoys and other things the skipper clearly could not handle solo.

Every day I was yelled at because I had not mastered how to tie a "figure of eight" with the ropes once they had been hauled back into my hands by the port master.

We dreamt that at dusk we would be sipping wine and enjoying a cheese platter in the Mediterranean, but that was what it was only ever going to be; a dream.

On day three the skipper crashed the boat in the morning. No, this is not a typo. We CRASHED. AT SEA.

The skipper failed to see an incoming boat as we left the port. However a letter from the travel company Intrepid states: "I have read the incident report on the accident that occurred on your trip and from the report and witness account it appears the other boat reversed in front of the yacht". (hmmmm not quite).

We sailed off on our not so merry way only to realise that the other boat was following us. At record speed.

While there was yelling and screaming, we suggested to our skipper that we should perhaps return to the port and it was only then that he realised there was a problem.

As he filled out insurance information, five misled passengers sat there wondering how we would survive the rest of this trip. What else could possibly go wrong?

As the days progressed, our itinerary changed because of strong wind conditions. We had no choice but to stay in the port of one island for three days.

The skipper never informed us about the best ways to get around the islands, ever, or what the main attractions were, he did not suggest places to dine.

And so we depended on The Lonely Planet Guide for a quick history lesson each time we docked. Half way through the trip the propeller on the boat karked it.

We couldn't reverse the boat. We held up boats left, right and centre from sailing into the port. Abuse from other boaties followed soon after. That was nice.

We bore the brunt of what we deemed as our sailor's inexperience or lack of caring. Every day.

And so we hit the last leg of our journey with the beautiful, iconic and picturesque Santorini in sight.

But the worst was yet to come.

The toilets were blocked. The sewerage started bubbling out of the sinks and the toilets. Cue more dry reaching and watering eyes. So now we had no freshwater, no clean dishes or linen and no bathrooms to use.

There was no escaping the hell on this boat.

On day seven as we sailed toward Santorini, we all smiled for the first time. We knew the trip was coming to an end and our time on the boat was too.

But alas, we sailed straight on past the beautiful, iconic and picturesque Santorini and we kept on sailing.

When we anchored old mate skipper actually took out a map, pointed to it and said: "And here we are, in the middle of nowhere". Fair dinkum.

Our skipper took us to a port where there was nothing.

Nothing to see. Nothing to do.

My heart sunk.

We had finally made it to Santorini, bed bug bites, rope burns and all, but on the opposite side of the island, a barren land.

http://www.theaustralian.com.au/news...-1226776751438

[fund razor]

The boat sounded like a POS, but it looks better than a lot of blowboats that I have seen.

Whiney aussies.

[Bobcat]

No sh*t, that's a pretty nice boat.

[Blue Oval]

Did you get any money back

[fund razor]

The people who wrote the article that was quoted in the above post did.

[poncho]

What did they expect from a 50ft sail boat? Pictures it looks pretty nice.

[fund razor]

No doubt.

Not that I would want to be on a sailboat, or a 50 foot sailboat with like 10 people.

But for a couple or a small family of blowboaters, that would be a nice rig.

[fund razor]

For my 21st birthday, my most awesome mom (God rest her soul) took me with some friends to Paradise Island and one of the things that we did was a blowboat cruise. It was a gaff rigged sloop called Keewatin bigger than a 50 for sho, and there were about 15 of us on it. Was kinda cool. We day sailed out to an Island that was the spitting image of the Island that they used for the Gilligan's Island opening shot. I learned about rip currents (the hard way) that day swimming from the mooring spot to the Island. Thank God I was young and strong. I'd have been screwed. After the hardest swim of my life, I made it back for burgers and unlimited Beck's. On the sail back to Nassau, some brits played "southern cross" on a boom box. Nice.
I just googled, and it is still sailing.
cheers Keewatin.
Miss you, mom.

[stinger390x]

Whiney b*****s
They had to work on the boat? no kidding!
If they wanted a pleasure cruise they should have got on the Pacific Princess. they may have found some romance to lighten their mood as well......................................

[fund razor]

Two mimosas coming right up.

[Ratickle]

They sure are getting a lot of sympathy on here!!!