Travel Diary: Traveling Through Greece on a Sailboat
*All photos by Elena Chen
by Elena Chen
This summer was planned to scratch the travel itch of all itches as we finally started exiting borders again. And it did just that. A six week itinerary was itemized and we embarked on the 12 hour airborne (too soon?) portion in late June. The first stop: Paris. Truth be told, that was the main reason why we had concocted this whole trip in the first place. But that’s a story for another time.
What I want to write about here was the final leg of our vacation - a five day long cruise living on a sailboat, in the Cyclades.
I had seen enough sailboat vlogs at this point to have formed a living, breathing vision of the sailing life complete with all its romanticized aspects of boundless blue waters and softly tanned skin. The sun is always shining and no one’s teeth seemed to be brighter than in other video renditions of human molars. In any case, I was expecting myself to fit perfectly into this vision, as beautifully depicted here and here and here. Especially because I had never been to Greece, nor sailed before, and had seasickness. I was convinced that I could overcome most of these obstacles by sheer will and that I could, for the sake of a vagabond adventure, live full time on a boat. At least for 5 days.
The Cyclades is an island group situated in the Aegean Sea considered as the “Birthplace of Apollo” and contains some of Greece’s greatest archaeological ruins. These islands are also known for some very nice beaches. The plan was to start on a port in Athens (Lavrio) and sail to two islands in The Cyclades, Kythnos and Serifos. Did I mention we were the crew on this trip? Oh yes.
Packed light.
Living on a boat is something quite special. It’s reassuring to know that everything you need is where you are and that you carry it with you wherever you go. You spend very little time thinking about much else other than flowing with the waves and synchronizing to their rhythm(s).
The Cyclades.
“I soon learned that this was not going to be some enactment of an idealized vision in my head. ”
The view from our cabin on the first morning before setting sail.
As we leave the harbor at Lavrio.
After the first sail.
I soon learned that this was not going to be some enactment of an idealized vision in my head. When the winds hit 28 knots and the mainsail had come undone from the hook in the mast, the 16 meter long boat tethering to the whims of the sea and us scrambling to run to each side as to not tip into the water, all the seasickness that had built up vanished and I knew I now had to teach myself how to put on this strangely complicated life jacket. We were in the middle of singing when we approached the first island, Kythnos, an hour ahead of schedule. The first gusts of wind hit us then. Very quickly things unraveled, quite literally, when the mainsail started flapping in the wind and us along with it. Our captain eventually reattached the hook to the mainsail and it was furled back into the mast which significantly reduced the tilting. I’m probably using a lot of nomenclature (although there is so much sailing terminology with variations in different languages a dictionary would be helpful for anyone) but what we learned on that first day was that sailing is really about problem solving and doing it quick. Well, actually, we learned that on the first, second, third, and fourth day.
Kythnos, of course, when we finally made it, 10 hours after setting sail, was beautiful.
Fish bought the day of from a local fisherman.
“I am humbled by those who live on the water, make their living from the sea, or travel the world on a boat. ”
On Serifos, the second island we went to.
My time on the boat ended on the fourth day when I was dropped off with the boyf at the port on Serifos as winds were forecasted at 40 knots and there was no way I would be able to manage a 7 hour sail back to Athens. We spent the night in the Chora of Serifos, ate great food, and met the rest of our friends for one last night in the boat at Lavrio before the flight back to France.
Dinner in the Chora of Serifos.
Acropolis in Athens
For what it’s worth, this is ultimately a love story. The generosity of strangers and breathtaking natural landscapes strung together with delicious food set on the backdrop of a sailing trip surrounded by friends. I think telling this story is also about the sea salt that crunches up your hair and “mal de terre” (landsickness) reminding you that the waves have made their mark. I am humbled by those who live on the water, make their living from the sea, or travel the world on a boat. My love story isn’t about romance. Sailing is a very technical activity at the end of which you reap the benefits of such discipline by enjoying a lazy afternoon tanning at an anchorage before you once again go through the process of braving waves and wind to test your problem-solving skills. When are we going to eat lunch today? Earlier than 8pm I hope. How much water do we have left? How’s the anchorage? Did we close the tank valve? Don’t think so. Oh, I dropped the bucket into the sea. Why does it smell bad again? Where’s the sunscreen? Aloe Vera? The engine on the dinghy’s being funny. We’re paddling instead.
All the things that people say at the end of a romance kind of apply to the end of this sailing trip for me. I don’t think I’m meant for a life on sea. I’ll definitely try sailing again, maybe this time in the Tyrrhenian Sea. It’s not sailing, it’s me. I love the idea of sailing. Even so, I’d say try it at least once. Even if it makes you seasick, it’s not that far from being lovesick - few things make it better but you have no regrets.
*Originally published August 2022, updated July 24, 2023
MARC JACOBS
