There’s this place I know. It’s at the southern end of a flamingo-flanked canal winding through the wetlands that separate Lefkada from the Greek mainland. The canal is unremarkable, but bear with me. You cruise past the wading birds and the old guys fishing, through the channel markers, by a ruined Venetian fort. Look ahead, breathe it all in. This spot, for me, holds a promise of adventure.
To port are the Acarnanian Mountains, looking barren and beautiful. Before you, the Ionian islands are lush and green from winter rain, their edges white with sand and lapped by turquoise sea. The sailing here is forgiving: the conditions are moderate, there’s a reliable afternoon breeze, shelter is plentiful and the water is as clear as glass.
