
Siros Ermopoulis
June officially kicks of a period for great sailing adventures, and now that summer is upon us, it is time to bring to life all of those dreams that kept you going over the long winter months. Perhaps that is why I have chosen a very unique geographic region as the subject of this month’s newsletter. We are still in the Mediterranean, but this time you might say we are going to talk about its heart—or its roots, if you prefer. We are going to travel to Greece, land of a thousand islands, the fragmented country par excellence, the cradle of Western culture, land of gods and mythos, and strangely enough, a place that people seem to know very little about.
Generally speaking, when most people think of Greece, they think of Athens, site of the Parthenon and the Acropolis, the great city that is home to more than half of the country’s population. However, if we temporarily disregard this demographic concentration and skip the chapter on the Greek architectural history, I would dare say that the essence of Greek culture with its particular way of living and understanding life is better found—and perhaps can only be found—on the islands. This said, no sooner do people mention the Greek islands, then we get sucked up in another stereotypical image: that of white on blue. The gleaming white of whitewashed houses amidst a dry, barren landscape worn down by years of sun and wind. The bright turquoise of a church dome standing out against tranquil skies that contrast against the deep indigo-blue hues of the sea.
Though there is some truth to this image, the problem is that it only reflects one group of the “Greek islands”, the famous Cyclades, whose name originates from the Greek word kiklos, or “ring”, and refers to the circular ring of islands that surround the sacred island of Delos in the middle of the Aegean Sea. The Cyclades are the most well-known and most visited of the Greek islands and include names as familiar as Mykonos, Paros, Naxos, Sifnos, Serifos, Andros, Milos, Santorini, Ios and Amorgos. They are the islands you see on the postcards and in the guidebooks, and in some ways, they have become the de rigueur introduction to the Greek islands as a whole. Nevertheless, the Greek Aegean is also home to other less well-known archipelagos that are more authentic—or at least less corrupted by outsiders—and offer something different that the timeworn image described above.
It is also true that visitors to other parts of the Aegean, especially the great isle of Crete or the Dodecanese, a group of 12 islands that dot the sea southeast of Anatolia and include everything from the sophisticated island of Rhodes and the mystical Patmos of the Apocalypse of Saint John to Kos, Kalimnos, Leros and the tiny but beautiful island of Simi, will find great similarities in their architecture and physical features, such as the prevalence of white on stone, though, in these same places, the Italian influence is also more visible and slate-tile roofs, more widespread. However, without leaving the Aegean, farther to the north, the same visitors can also find the Sporades, or “scattered”, islands, which form two groups that are clearly different that the previous clichéd description. They are greener and are covered with forests of pines, mastics and—of course—the famous olive tree. Their buildings are more complex: whitewash gives way to stone, white to ochre tones. Here, we are talking about the islands of Skyros, Skiathos, Skopelos and Alonnisos, which make up the Northern Sporades, but the same is also true for the more easterly islands of Limnos, Lesbos, Chios (legendary birthplace of Homer), Samos with its wealth of wines and the bucolic Icaria.

Naoussa Paros Iglesia
Despite their individual differences, all of these islands share the same sea and, to a greater or lesser extent, the same wind, the feared meltemi wind, especially in summer. The name meltemi is a Turkish word that means something like “bad-tempered wind” and is a reminder of the four years of Ottoman dominance in the region. It is also known by its classical denomination, the etesian wind, from the Greek word etos, or “year”, so named because it was known to arrive promptly every summer and cool the temperatures in that corner of the Mediterranean. In ancient Greece, these winds aided navigation, favored trade and their onset was eagerly anticipated. However, regardless of the size of the vessels, travel always went in one direction, from north to south, and ships waited until the end of summer to make the return trip home. I say this as a form of recommendation. If you are planning a sailing trip through the Aegean Sea, be careful when planning your route. Do not be fooled by the supposed proximity of the islands or the seeming ease of a stopover. The situation on site is very different. The corridors between the islands only increase the strength of the wind, and many leeward ports that seem protected on paper are veritable nightmares on account of the gusts of winds that blow down onto the sea from their precipitous coastlines. This is no exaggeration. There are storm warnings in July and August, but gale warnings are only issued when the wind speeds reach an 8 on the Beaufort scale. Speeds of 30 to 35 knots are an everyday occurrence. The meltemi winds are like that, all or nothing; either there are gale-force winds or the sweetest of calms. Ah, and one thing: despite the well-known rumor that the wind dies down at dusk, I would not recommend sailing at night. The winds may calm down a bit, but the sea, replete with short, choppy waves, strong currents in the inter-island straits and few signals and lighthouses, is not exactly designed for a pleasure cruise.
The only advantage, already well known by the classics, is its constant direction, blowing in an arc that starts in the northeast at the Dardanelles and the coast of Macedonia and slowly curves, becoming a more northerly wind. It picks up speed after the northern Cyclades and begins turning again, first becoming a northwesterly wind only to eventually become a pure westerly in the coasts of Cyprus and southern Turkey. Actually, it is a synoptic wind and is caused by the location of large depression in the Persian Gulf, i.e., the same depression that causes the monsoons in the Indian Ocean, which channels the northerly wind flow from the Black Sea, from Russia to the East Mediterranean. Further, if we take into consideration that the Azores anticyclone, including a ridge, tends to move into Europe from the West, this northerly flow only gets even stronger.
The secret, the crux of the issue, is planning the right route. You can go up in the spring and come back down in summer, though that is probably easier said than done, and many people may not have enough free time to do so. If you opt for a charter, i.e., renting a boat, it is better to plan for two weeks instead of one, and if possible—virtually all of the companies in the Aegean will suggest it—plan a one-way instead of a round trip. That way, you will be guaranteed fair winds, will keep moving forward in a set direction and can discover different islands without having to worry about making your way back to where you started from. Also, if you limit yourself to the closer of the Cyclades, traveling from Kea to Kythnos or Serifos, and/or the Saronic Gulf islands of Aegina and Poros, or the islands of Hydra and Spetsai, you can plan a circular route that begins and ends in Athens, since in this part of the Aegean, the meltemi sometimes blows with more moderation. Even so, you should not through caution to the wind and should always keep on the lookout.

Cicladas
To finish up, I would like to return to stereotypes about the Greek islands. Greece is more than just the Aegean and the meltemi. It also has another sea and other, very different islands that are green, mountainous and cozy. There, the wind is the Maistro, a cousin of the mythical Zephyr, the soft gentle west wind that safely pushed ships along their way. I am, of course, talking about the western sea, the Ionian, and its islands, the Eptanisa. However, Corfu, Lefkas, the famed Ithaca of Ulysses and the rest of this fascinating archipelago will have to wait until next month.
Until then, I wish you following seas and a good summer.













