Happy wanderings xxxxx

We spend the middle of the day exploring ancient remains of Roman villas with fascinating well preserved mosaic floors, low yellow stone walls and crumbling pillars. The sun beats down with a wonderful intense dry heat, the sea shimmers as a perfect backdrop and lizards sunbathe on rocks for all the world like miniature dinosaurs, pausing just long enough for an excited Blonde to grab a quick photograph before scampering off between the rocks (The lizards, not The Blonde). We spend a happy hour or two just wandering around the large site soaking up the calm timeless lazy atmosphere.

Hungry now, long late lunch beckons in the shade on the very edge of the harbour watching people wander past on one side, tiny fish swarming past on the other.

Then we stroll round the harbour to where speedboats are hired out. The proprietor gestures toward his fleet bobbing at anchor just off the harbour wall, which would we like? The fastest of course. He dons his waders and wades out to unclip the biggest of the fleet weighed down by the huge 115hp Selva outboard engine hanging off the transom, drags it by the bow back to the steps and motions us aboard. After the quickest guide to driving a speedboat ever (fortunately I’ve owned one) he points out his phone number stuck on the dash in case of emergency, points us out of the harbour, and sets us on our way.

Happy speedboating xxxxx

We pootle gently clear of the harbour and I give it a fist full of throttle. The bow rises with an eager growl (from the outboard, not The Blonde) before flattening as the boat drops onto the plane, skipping across the surface of the water as we streak up the coast, sun dropping to the right of us, white hotels lining the coastline to the left. We blast on up for another five minutes and then swing the boat in a long arc to the left, throttling back and settling back into the water as the speed drops to walking pace before I pull the lever back into neutral, cutting the engine and leaving us bobbing calmly on the surface right in front of our hotel.

The Blonde is keen for her go and we swap places, kick the motor back into life and accelerate gently back out of the bay and speed back down the coast toward Pafos. Back outside the port we swap back but we’ve still got ten minutes of our allotted time left. I look around, in the middle distance a trip boat decked out like a pirate ship meanders along the coast. Just time I reckon, and swing the wheel over and nail the throttle once more, boat leaping eagerly back onto the plane and levelling out nicely. I trim the engine up a couple of notches to increase the bow lift and pull even more of the hull clear of the water and wind it up to maximum revs, tearing back up the coast in pursuit in a cacophony of sound, spray and wind roar. In no time at all we’ve overhauled the pirate ship and spot the reason for it’s trip, a couple on their wedding day stood in the crows nest enjoying a post wedding sunset cruise. We sweep around her bow with a cheery wave to the honeymooners before blasting back the way we came.

Ticking back into harbour with the sun setting spectacularly behind us I reluctantly let the chap have his boat back and we re-acquaint ourselves with terra firma. As we stroll back along the coast path in the gathering dusk the pirate ship passes us once more, heading the other way now, back toward port.

Happy dragons xxxxx


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