Not every day on the water is about exploring picturesque villages or ticking off another historic site. Some days … you’re simply looking for somewhere safe to spend the night!
Our passage from Ikaria on this day covered about 55 nautical miles, and the Aegean certainly made us earn every one of them. The day began innocently enough with 15–20 knots of breeze – ideal sailing weather! But as we rounded the southern tip of Ikaria, powerful katabatic winds tumbled down from the mountains, sending gusts close to 40 knots across our path.
Once clear of the island, the wind settled into the low twenties, but by then the sea had developed a mind of its own: 8 to 10-foot waves rolled in from different directions, creating the confused seas every sailor hopes to avoid. Hmmm!
Just to keep things interesting, our port bilge alarm suddenly sounded, indicating that water was accumulating in the lowest part of the hull. Fortunately, the culprit wasn’t anything dramatic. Repeated waves breaking over the port sugar scoop had forced a little seawater past a hatch seal. Once safely anchored, we dried everything out, adjusted the hatch latches for a tighter seal, and KORA was happy again.
By late afternoon we abandoned our plans to reach Syros and happily embraced Plan B, slipping into the protection of Proteas Bay on Rineia (also spelled Rheneia), where we dropped the anchor in just 10 feet of crystal-clear gorgeous turquoise water. Rineia has no villages, no hotels and no permanent residents. Lying just west of Delos and southwest of Mykonos, it remains wonderfully undeveloped. In ancient times it served as the burial island for nearby Delos, after religious laws prohibited burials on the sacred island itself.
On calm summer days, its sheltered bays attract dozens of yachts and day boats, all drawn by its raw natural beauty, crystal-clear turquoise waters, and golden sand, providing a wonderful spot for swimming, snorkelling, paddleboarding, or just enjoying a lazy afternoon sitting on deck enjoying views of the water.
On this day, however, there was another reason for the growing crowd. As the afternoon wore on, yacht after yacht tucked into the bay seeking refuge from the wind. Before long, what had started as a quiet anchorage had become a floating neighbourhood. Honestly … it was rather fun!
However, after such a demanding sail, none of us had much energy left. We simply sat back in the cockpit, soaking up the sunshine and watching the constant parade of boats arriving, anchoring, and greeting one another across the water.
Well … almost all of us. Evan somehow still had enough energy to launch the paddleboard and go exploring. Some people apparently don’t know the meaning of “tired.”
After paddleboarding, Evan was back in the water with his snorkel. The rocky shoreline was alive with colorful fish – beautiful to watch, although perhaps not quite the ones you’d put on the dinner table! He even came face-to-face with an octopus that briefly wrapped a couple of tentacles around his arm before deciding it had better places to be and disappearing back into the rocks. For those of us who stayed on board, the entertainment came from tossing a few leftovers over the side of KORA which quickly turned into an underwater feeding frenzy.
As the sun began to sink, our attention turned to the hillside above the anchorage, where the weathered remains of an ancient stone gateway stood silhouetted against the evening sky. Believed to be part of an old rural sanctuary or ancient agricultural complex dating back to the Classical or Hellenistic period, the lonely ruins have watched over this quiet bay for more than two thousand years. Watching the sun disappear through that ancient doorway felt like a fitting end to a day shaped entirely by nature.
The following morning, the Aegean offered an apology. The sea had settled, the wind eased, and our sail north toward Kea became everything we’d been hoping for. Sails were trimmed without urgency, conversations replaced weather briefings, and life aboard KORA slipped comfortably back into its familiar rhythm.
Sometimes the best sailing days are the ones that remind you just how good the calm ones really are.
