by Jane Finn as published in Issue 28 of Planet Golf Review Magazine
The instructions read like a scavenger hunt: Find your way to Dia Noche Café in Piraeus, where you’ll meet fellow travellers and your skipper. So here I am, scanning the bar, with both excitement and a tinge of trepidation, wondering how will I recognise the people we are destined to meet, and will we be compatible?
Dave and I are about to embark on a weeklong sailing journey with seven people we’ve never met. This trip has been postponed and rescheduled many times for several reasons, so I understand why I’m thrilled to be here and at the same time, anxious to connect with our group so we can get under way. Suddenly, a peal of laughter ripples across the room and I’m drawn to six folks tucked away at the back of the restaurant. Their gear bags are piled high in the corner, but the conversation seems too animated, too easy, too natural for strangers who have just met.
That’s when I lock eyes with a vivacious redhead whose voice rings out loud and clear. “Are you guys looking for G Adventures?” I nod, and she promptly responds, “Well then, get over here; we’ve been waiting for you!” – not in the sense that we are late, but in the sense that they’re waiting to welcome us.
Poros Harbour
Within minutes, we learn our new shipmates are a couple from Texas and a family of four from Australia enjoying an extended togetherness tour before their son heads to university. After discovering where we are all from, we skip the dreaded question, “What do you?” Instead, we launch into a discussion about our hopes, dreams, and aspirations for this voyage, and I know in a heartbeat these are my kind of people.
So intent are we getting to know one another that no one notices that at precisely 5 o’clock, we are joined by our skipper, Erwin, a Dutch national who has made his way to Greece after spending time in Dubai. His measured stride and calm manner give me the impression that he is more than a competent captain. He’s also experienced at bringing out the best in people.
The Apollo
Already, this eclectic group is beginning to gel. We order a round to celebrate our budding friendship, then head to the marina to stow our gear aboard the Apollo, our home for the next nine days. Immediately we tackle the biggest challenge of living aboard – how do we divide up the limited space below? We accomplish this task without too much angst, but understandably, some are happier than others with the arrangements. It’s a lesson I take to heart, knowing I too will have to compromise along the way, to meet everyone’s needs.
Fittingly, our first dinner is at Edem. Isn’t that where it all began? Our table is on the beach, and the waves lapping against the shore provide background music as we exchange information and ideas, switching seats and trading stories to get to know each other better.
The food is phenomenal, with each of us proclaiming that our dish is outstanding, but I’m sure my shrimps in saffron cream are the best. The conversations flow as easily as the wine, and what strikes me is that when I am with like-spirited travellers, it’s easy to express your thoughts, but you don’t have to achieve consensus. Everyone is free to pursue their passions and seek whatever they need to reenergise or relax.
Most mornings, our skipper starts his day with a solitary stroll, often returning with fresh bread or buttery croissants to supplement our grocery kitty. Others practice yoga on the bow or limber up with an early run. I prefer wandering the deserted pier or casually sipping a coffee on the upper deck, taking time to read or make notes. What we all have in common is the tacit understanding that everyone needs their space to start their day, their way. We also know that by 8 o’clock it’s all hands-on deck or you might be left behind!
Generally, within an hour or so of leaving port, we anchor in a bay or cove where we can swim or snorkel in the turquoise waters and then tuck into a hearty breakfast before heading to our next destination.
Lunch is often enjoyed under sail to make landfall by midday, so we have time for independent exploration. The question of where to have dinner is usually decided before we disembark. Erwin knows the area and typically recommends a taverna or family-run restaurant where we can rendezvous. Dinner is ‘optional,’ and what fascinates me is there is no doubt we will all meet at the appointed time and place, eager to share what we have seen and done when we venture out in different directions.
Day one on the water is a bit disappointing for the sailors on board. There is no wind, so we motor most of the way to Aegina, but for my redheaded friend, it is a blessing.
Temple of Aphaea, Aegina
Today, the sea is like a sea of glass, and I struggle to stifle a smile when she emerges from down below sporting multiple anti-nausea bracelets and patches and clutching a bevy of pills. I know she’s worried about getting seasick, but I can’t help thinking she’s gone a wee bit overboard. Then, I realise that neither she nor her partner had ever sailed, and my perspective shifts.
Aegina Harbour
How courageous of her to step into the unknown, to fully commit to doing something she has never done, in the company of strangers. As we debate various remedies and fears, I’m surprised to learn that more than eighty-five percent of the passengers who sign up for a week or two on the water have never sailed before.
G Adventures advises all passengers that the itinerary is fluid, and we will go where the winds blow, so don’t be disillusioned if we don’t strictly follow the plan or make it to some of the islands mentioned in the brochure. I’m okay with this, but I’m also curious if that means we can detour and experience a different port of call.
I’m a huge Leonard Cohen fan. As a teenager, I would listen to his emotionally charged ballad Bird on a Wire and allow my dreams to take flight. Cohen wrote this song soon after joining the bohemian community of artists, writers and musicians who had discovered Hydra, a Saronic Island in the Aegean Sea, where they could escape the confines of societal expectations and connect with their muses.
Hydra Island
Bird on a Wire speaks to the notion that true freedom lies in one’s individual journey and how we navigate the ups and downs of everyday life. Despite knowing that Cohen died in 2016 and no longer inhabited the house on the hill, I still longed to visit Hydra to see what had drawn him to her shores and influenced his music and poetry.
Hydra is not part of our itinerary, so after a delightful evening in Poros, I check in with my companions to see if they’re amenable before broaching the idea to Erwin that perhaps we could alter our plans and take a new route. After consulting the weather and his charts, he cheerfully agrees but not before making it clear that finding a berth in the harbour may be a challenge, and I soon discover why.
When we arrive in port, boats are moored three deep, a recipe for disaster. When the tide changes or the winds shift, anchors become entangled, requiring the expertise of a diver at two hundred Euros an hour to free the boats. Our skipper errs on the side of caution, and we set anchor at Plakes Beach before piling into a water taxi for a quick ride back to town.
Due to its proximity to Athens and the celebrities that found their way to Hydra in the 80s, the island has changed, but much remains the same. The waterfront is now lined with trendy shops and restaurants, but the island still exudes a chill, laid-back charm. Private motorised vehicles are still not allowed on Hydra, so your only option is to explore on foot or hire a donkey to take you anywhere.
Left: Typical Cafe Courtyard Centre: Hydra and Donkeys Right: Sailing towards the entrance to Poros Bay
None of our group are Cohen fans, in fact neither is Dave but he is willing to indulge me as we part company with the others and head off in different directions. Both of us are a wee bit parched, so we decide Riolo’s Café should be our first stop on our stroll down memory lane.
Back in the day, it was Katsikas, a grocery store with a couple of tables and chairs scattered on a tiny patio, the favoured spot for expats to gather and share their work. It’s rumoured Cohen made his singing debut here, so we deem it a fitting place to enjoy an ice-cold Mythos beer before we make the trek up a short but very steep hill to respectfully view the home his family still owns.
We’re barely seated at the Sunset Salt & Senses Bar before someone asks if my memory tour was memorable. It’s been a full day and as nostalgia washes over me, I’m delighted to share my experience.
We couldn’t have found a better spot to watch the sun go down but when the clouds move in and the thunder begins to roar, in unison we decide it’s time to head back and have dinner on board. That’s where another secret is revealed – the youngest member of our crew, not only knows many of the songs from the 60s, 70s and 80s, she’s a talented singer and musician in her own right. While she was hesitant to perform before our small group, I now follow her on Tik-Tok, and stay connected.
Just like my shipmates, every island has a story, and the next two we visit are no exception.
Left: Katifi Cave / Middle: Kolona Beach / Right: St. John’s Church Kythnos
Kythnos is an undiscovered treasure, ignored by the tourists but a go-to place for Greeks who want to escape the summer heat and chaos that is Athens. As we round the bay and head into the harbour there are very few boats in sight, but we immediately spy George Vadivoulis, the island’s premier guide, enthusiastically waving his arms, bidding us to come ashore.
Within seconds of tying up, we’re crammed into George’s car, bumping along the narrow, dusty road enroute to the inland village of Dryopidia. I comment on how brown and arid the landscape is, wondering out loud how challenging it must be to farm here when George informs us that in a matter of weeks, the hills will turn a verdant green and the villagers will band together to herd the goats down from the hills, tend to the fruit trees, and harvest saffron and thyme that will be right for the picking. We also learn a municipal will take place around the same time and that George is running for office, adding a new element to our sightseeing excursion.
George’s family has lived here for generations, and he knows everyone. Likewise, whether we’re viewing St. John’s church or plumbing the depths of Katafiki Cave, friends, family, friends, and total strangers don’t hesitate to stop George to ask a question or offer their support. While George was superb recounting the history and sharing the history of Kythnos, watching him dive into local politics, unscripted and unrehearsed was an unexpected bonus.
After the quiet, easy-going islands we’ve visited, the sheer size of Ermoupolis, takes me by surprise. More than a sailing stop, the administrative capital of the Cyclades is a small, beautiful city bursting with energy. The crown jewel on the island of Syros.
Ruled by the Venetians for more than three centuries, the neoclassical architecture and unique skyline demands your attention. You can shop ‘til you drop, eat in fancy waterfront restaurants, or do as we do, wander the hills between the two churches that dominate the skyline before retreating to a backstreet alley where the locals like to go. Here the cafes and tavernas as so tightly packed together that no one knows where one starts and the other ends, including the servers whose only mission is to ensure we have a merry evening before making way the next day.
Hats on display at a Mykonos shop
Mykonos is our final destination, and as we head south towards the Island of the Winds, the wind is pushing at our sails. In no time, we’re slicing through the waves at 26 knots (29 to 30 mph) and heeling at what feels like a 45° angle. Gratitude wells up in me as our Aussie father and son team leap into action, trimming the sails and taking turns at the helm so I can sit back and enjoy the ride.
There’s something elemental about travelling at this speed, as if we’re riding on the edge of nature. The rush of the wind, the creaking of the rigging, the shouts of my shipmates and the sea spray on my face have engaged me and awakened my senses. I feel alive, powerful, and free; then it dawns on me everyone’s comfort level varies.
I glance over at my redheaded friend to see how she is faring, and I’m thrilled to see the look of exhilaration on her face. Gone is the fear, replaced by the sheer thrill of doing something she’d never done before and enjoying every minute!
Our last evening is bittersweet. The sailing season and our time together are ending. Settled into the cozy lounge at the Oniro Sunset Bar, we reminisce about the highlights of our trip as we watch the sun dip below the horizon. We’ve had a stellar week together and are more than a little reluctant to say goodbye.
We’re no longer strangers but friends who have completed a journey that has taught us more about the world and ourselves. We hug and promise to keep in touch as we go our separate ways. Everyone is hopeful that someday we will reunite in Canada, Texas, Australia or somewhere in between, but I’m equally aware that our paths may never cross again.
People come in and out of your life, and it’s impossible to hold onto every connection you make, but for this week, we were what each other needed. In the company of strangers, I found friendship. In the embrace of the sea, I found freedom. And in the whispers of the wind, I found stories that will last me a lifetime.
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