Adventures in Greece: Part 2 [Final]

Edda Hofer & Ed Rogers
around 1976

Diving and More

By Ed Rogers

Back in Athens, we took a room in a hotel, and I placed the vase on the window ledge along with the clothes that had been close to it. Later we bought a small plastic bag to slide the vase into.
    We called the couple we had met on Hydra and made a date to go out for dinner with them. They said they would take us to a Greek restaurant called a bouzouki. We met them at 10 that night. They explained that Greek people go to work in the morning and close at noon and reopen at four in the afternoon; therefore, they eat late at night. It was a very large restaurant, with a roof that opened. We watched the moon set and the sun rise overhead. Before the war, singers in a bouzouki had been paid by the number of plates that were broken. If the singer moved me to stand and dance, whoever was at the table with me had to break the plates we had eaten off of. At this place, you could buy a stack of plates but were not allowed to break the ones on your table.

The next afternoon we met Eco for our dive. Our time was limited, because it was our last day in Athens and we had put our smelly clothes in the cleaners and would need to get them out before they closed. Eco took us to a cove off the coast. We were the only ones there. The sky was blue and the water was warm. As we put on our diving gear we chatted with Eco. Just Edda and I would be going into the water. Eco said he would wait on the boat and keep an eye out. I got the feeling we weren’t supposed to be there.
    The water was about 60 feet deep and clear. I was the first in and I lay on my back at the bottom looking up. Visibility was so good, it felt as though I were only maybe ten feet underwater.
    Edda rolled backward off the side of the boat with a splash, turned, and headed toward me. Very little sea life or vegetation was to be seen. The bottom was white sand that rolled up and down like dunes. We swam over the top of a large dune and found a cluster of what looked like the remains of a dead reef. A few small fish swim around the edges of the jagged formation seeking food that had died long ago. It was a sad thing to view and the sight haunts me to this day.
    We swam on and explored most of the bay before we started back to the boat. By hard lessons, I have learned to always bring two things from home for diving overseas. This was the first lesson. My diving gear at home had a regulator and depth gauge, plus a gauge that told me how much air was in the tank. My tank also had a “T” valve that warned of low air and a rod alongside that I could pull down and give myself 8-10 more minutes of air. The rig Eco gave us had none of this. We were close to the boat when I heard the honking sound that no diver wants to hear – the sound that a tank makes as it runs out of air.
    At that point, I could take my regulator out of my mouth and, as they say, blow and go, which is to remove your mouthpiece, tilt your head back, and blow out the air in your lungs as you head for the surface, or I could buddy-breathe. Edda heard my tank honk and knew what had happened. She came alongside and handed me her mouthpiece. I took a hit of her air and passed it back. We came to the surface like that, passing the mouthpiece back and forth. This experience illustrates why it is never a good idea to dive alone and to always bring your own mask and regulator with you.
    We showered and dressed on the boat. At the dock, we said goodbye to Eco and promised to keep in touch.

The next morning we got an early start. We planned to make it to the most northern part of Greece before night and get a room in Salonica, then push on to Skopje, Yugoslavia, the next day. There we would leave the car and take the train back to Vienna.
    We did fairly well until a few miles outside of Salonica, when the transmission began slipping. We found a hotel on the outskirts of Salonica and immediately got a room, because we knew that everything would soon be closed until four and dealing with the car that late wasn’t anything I felt like doing after the long drive.
    Eco had planted an idea in my head that I was having a hard time getting past. He had said Edda and I should open a dive shop in Greece. The two of us kicked it around, but the big drawback we both came up with was the off-limits the government had imposed on the sea. Even with that, I liked the thought of moving to Greece.
    The next day we went to the local Hertz Rental. When they found out who Edda’s uncle was, we were treated like royalty. They had a man come look at the car and he said it take a couple of days to fix the transmission. We got to talking to the manager about dive shops in the area, and she suggested we visit a new resort called Porto Carras. She said they were looking for investors and might need a dive shop. If you look on a map of Greece you will see three fingers coming down from the top of Greece. Proto Carras is at the bottom of the middle finger.

    Using the rental they loaned us, we drove down. If you pull up a picture of Porto Carras today, it looked nothing like that back then.

Yiannis (John) Carras
1976 photo

    Today’s Porto Carras was still only in the mind of shipping magnate John Carras. We parked close to the office, which was next to the restaurant. Walking to the front of the restaurant, we could see a line of several empty lots facing the waterfront, where shops one day would be built. The only hotel was part of the restaurant, which sat at the end of the line of would-be shops. Inside we found a chair and after ordering lunch we asked our waiter who the operation manager was for the project. Edda did the talking for us, as she did in a lot of cases, because most Greeks – or at least all of the Greeks we had run into – spoke German if they didn’t speak English.
    A tall man came shortly after our food. He said he was very busy and couldn’t sit. I gave a quick overview of what we foresaw as a good idea for a dive shop. He handed me his card and asked us to mail a proposal and walked away.
    I looked at Edda and said, “We have just been blown off.”
    The only other table with people at it was across the room and against the wall. A tall, tan man wearing sandals and a loose-fitting Greek shirt and pants sat in the commanding chair with his back to the window. He motioned the manager who had blown us off to his table.
    We stopped paying attention and began eating, so it surprised both of us when the manager reappeared at our table. He asked if he could join us, saying, “I’m very busy, but I would like to hear about some of your ideas.”
    He took a seat and I started with how I felt an artificial reef needed to be created offshore, one that would attract fish and make a great diving spot.
    We spoke of other things dealing with the operation of the dive shop in general. When he felt he had enough information, he stood and said, “The meal is on me. Thank you for your time. On his way out he stopped at the other table, discussed something with the tall, tan man, and then walked out.
    We finished our meal and Edda left to go to the restroom. The tall, tan man rose from his table and walked over to me. He put out his hand and said, “I’m John Carras. I’m very interested in your ideas. Are you staying here tonight?” He invited us to a dinner party at his house, which was on a hill overlooking the town. We checked into the hotel and when I tried to pay, I was told there was no charge, we were guests of Mr. Carras.

We toured what there was of the little town for the rest of the day. John had hired a Greek painter by the name of Micko to paint murals on the walls. His was the only shop in the line that had anyone in it. He became our guide. Where a large building stands now was a stable and horses. We were asked if we would like to ride. They had English saddles, which I hate, so I passed. Edda, however, was game to ride. I rode a lot in Texas as a kid but had not been on a horse for years, I hadn’t even known that Edda rode. She looked good on the back of that horse, like she had been doing it all her life.
    Micko pointed out where the 18-hole golf course was going to be, and the 2,000-room motels. He also pointed out a gravel road that went to a secluded beach. At that time no one went there, but today it is filled with people.
    John’s house was large, but not overbearing. It was like the man himself, simple but classy. He met us at the door and gave a tour of his home as he asked questions. I told him I was half-owner of a dive shop in Washington State and thought, with what little experience we had of diving in Greece, that the people in charge here weren’t very professional about it.
    Carras had met Jacques Cousteau a few times and was very impressed with him and his work. I told him I had met Jacques’ son Philippe in Seattle during filming and I was invited to the Calypso along with other dive shop owners who carried the Cousteau line of diving gear, US Divers. He was very interested to hear about the Calypso, which by that time was almost as famous as Jacques Cousteau himself. (I looked up the ship and found out what had happened to it.)
    We had a wonderful dinner. The table was shaped like a horseshoe, with the guests facing across at each other and being served from the center. I was seated next to John at the top center of the horseshoe. Throughout the dinner, we spoke of what and how I thought a dive business could help Porto Carras. As we were leaving John handed me his private mailing address and told me if I needed any help to let him know.

That night Edda and I went to the secluded beach Micko had pointed out. The moon was almost full and we laid out the oversized beach towels the hotel had given us. Then we stripped off our clothes and ran into the warm water. Swimming nude has a freedom like no other, but we were a fair distance from shore, and Edda began a “Du-dum – du-dum – dudum dudum,” from the movie Jaws. We laughed after singing, but we had become freaked out remembering that sharks feed at night.
    Back on the big towels, Edda and I had a memorable bout of sex, but I will spare Paul and other readers the details.
    We left Porto Carras the next morning. I have never been back.     I wrote Eco a couple of times but never heard from him. John and I exchanged letters over the next few years and formed a close friendship, but I never asked for his help. He died in 1989, at age 82.

Copyright © 2021 by Ed Rogers