This is the story of Will and his two friends who sailed to England in 1967 to see the world. Aerogrammes. letters, diaries and postcards help to tell of their adventures in this A to Z.
The Carnival Is Over. The Seekers • 1965
Say goodbye my own true lover
As we sing a lovers song
How it breaks my heart to leave you
Now the carnival is gone
Tuesday 5th August to Tuesday 12th August 1969
We rang the Australian Embassy in Athens to enquire about disposal of the car. Because we were flying out of Athens we had to sell the car but it had to be to a non-Greek person. The Embassy said to take the car to Boomerang Motors, owned by Spyro, who had spent a few years in Brisbane. We parked it in the street outside Boomerang Motors and made arrangements for him to sell it.
That gave us time to catch the 3.30 pm ferry to Mykonos. The sea was rough and around us were women dressed in black, some holding chickens tied at the feet. As the waves increased they all started praying which made us think they knew something we didn’t know.
We were glad to arrive at 11pm. Found a room for 30 drachmas at the Youth Hostel with five of us squeezed in together. Mykonos had only just been discovered by the Jetset apparently but everyone we saw was a backpacker. We were directed next morning to a nearby beach where about 200 people had rolled out their sleeping bags on the boardwalk after a night of dining and cheap wine. The wine was called Retsina and was particularly unpalatable as it had resin added. The Ouzo wasn’t to our liking either but they had good cold beer called Fix so we regularly decided we “needed a Fix”. We dined on souvlaki and fish and chips and spent our days on the beach and in the water.
After three nights in the Youth Hostel we joined the sleepers on the beach. Eventually we erected our tents for a bit more privacy. There was constant conversation on the beach as to the best places to go so Jean and I decided on Ios and Milos.
The 9 o’clock boat to Ios finally left at 11.30 pm on Tuesday, 12th August, arriving at 2.30 am. Phil and Beth had departed to other islands as Beth had been very seasick and didn’t want to travel too far. Jean and I slept in our sleeping bags in the square near the harbour of Ios. The next day we travelled by donkey from the tiny port village up the steep road to the main town. Behind us were small children with sticks to encourage the donkeys. I apologised to my donkey at the top as I thought I should have been carrying him! I enquired about accommodation in amongst the whitewashed cottages decked with red geraniums. A couple vacated the main bedroom in their home for us and charged us a ridiculously small amount for bed and a breakfast of goats’ cheese, figs and bread.
Ios was very much off the tourist track with the only car on the island being an early 1950s Chev taxi. When you asked for a coffee you were presented with Turkish coffee, thick and sweet and for us, undrinkable. We had to ask instead for Nescafe (Instant) as there was no espresso coffee on that island. We swam in the crystal clear water and sunbaked on the beaches.
On Friday, 15th August we caught the MV Kanaris to Milos where we camped on the beach with a few others but nothing like the number of people on Mykonos. I bought myself goggles and snorkel and spent my time swimming, talking, sunbaking and eating steak and chips for dinner.
My plan to visit some ruins by bus didn’t eventuate as I developed Gut Rot, so slept all day in between runs.
However the next day we saw an ancient theatre and old catacombs. It was all very interesting but scorching hot. I survived on a diet of cold rice pudding and yoghurt until I was able to eat properly again.
On Wednesday 20th August we left on smooth seas for Piraeus (on the mainland) in the ferry Marylenia. It was a long trip starting at 9.30pm. We arrived at 8am the next day, had breakfast in a café and read the news. I also rang Spyro to see if the car was sold but to my concern no progress had been made. We only had a few days before we were flying out of Athens. It had to be sold or we couldn’t leave! At 11 am we took a boat to Aegina and camped near the beach. Here we hired bikes, swam in the warm water and ate free melon.
On Friday 22nd August we caught a bus to Agihia Marina Beach where we hired floats, snorkelled and swam in beautiful clear water, eating souvlakis and fruit.
Regretfully we returned to Athens, met up with Phil and Beth and set off to see Spyro. We were disheartened to see the Morris parked where we left it, covered in dust. While we were arguing with Spyro, a newly arrived Aussie walked in the door looking for a car. I grabbed him and convinced him that ours was the car he needed to get to London. I still had a stamp on my passport to say I owned a car (it was in my name) so Spyro took us to the Customs Department where a long, snaking queue indicated we were not the only people in this predicament. A loud American voice was complaining about the inefficiency of the Greek Customs Department. Spyro moved to the front of the line with a brown paper bag which he placed on the counter and was served immediately. I walked past the astonished American and had my passport sorted in no time at all.
Jean and I moved into the Hotel Grand Britannia for a little bit of luxury after roughing it for so long. It was much newer than the Olympic and had proper bathrooms and showers. We spent the last few days exploring Athens, enjoying tavernas, watching the changing of the guard and of course climbing the Acropolis and posing in front of various parts of the Parthenon.
On the last night before the girls flew back to England the four of us ate at a rooftop restaurant in the balmy air, the meal starting at 10 o’clock, as no one ate before then. The next day I moved out of the Britannia and back into the Olympic with Phil. We must have talked late into the night because it was with alarm that I woke around 9 o’clock the next morning, realising we were flying out at 11 am.
It was frantic! We grabbed bags, hailed a taxi and said, “The Airport”. We happened to get a taxi driver who couldn’t speak English so eventually he pulled up beside another driver and spoke briefly. “Domestic or International?” asked the other driver.
“International”, we yelled in unison. The driver did a “Uey” and headed in the right direction this time. We flew through the airport doors, saw the Qantas office and breathed a sigh of relief. I waved my passport but noticed Phil was searching through his bags and pockets with a worried look on his face.
“Must have left it in the hotel,” he muttered.
“What is the name of the hotel?” asked the Qantas officer.
In a panic Phil said, “Olympus, Olympic, I’m not sure”
The officer calmly rang a number, spoke in Greek, presumably asking the hotel to check the room. We could hear “Bravo” on the other end of the phone. They found not only Phil’s passport in the drawer but a pair of trousers as well. They put it all in a taxi and we waited anxiously at the steps of the airport. I said to Phil, “Don’t worry, if we miss this one we can get another one tomorrow” but our hearts were beating wildly.
A taxi came careering around the corner, a pair of trousers waving from the window. The driver was rewarded, doors were held open, the steps moved from the plane the minute we reached the top. We hadn’t finished buckling our belts when the plane roared down the runway.
We both ordered a cold Fosters, a chess set and sat back, relaxed at last.
Phil said, “What are we doing mate? We are leaving the best life we have ever had!”
It was too late to turn back. In the unknown future there would be work, further study, promotions, marriage, mortgages, children and responsibility. There would never be another time where life would be so carefree and wonderful again.
The Curry Apple Orchard 