One word is quickly becoming part of our everyday vocabulary in the Cyclades: Meltemi.
Every summer, these powerful northerly winds sweep across the Aegean, often blowing at Force 7-8 on the Beaufort Scale. They’re famous among sailors – deserving of respect, occasionally feared – and most always taken seriously.
Fortunately for us, we’d already found shelter. The broad, crescent-shaped bay of Adamantas offered excellent protection, and it wasn’t just us seeking refuge. Around us lay several sailing and motor yachts, fishing boats, two large cargo ships, and even a military vessel – all patiently waiting for Aeolus, the keeper of the winds, to ease his grip.
Our first full day became an unexpected “forced relaxation.” Books were read (Chelsea somehow devoured an entire 275-page novel in just two days), card games were fiercely contested, music drifted through KORA’s cockpit, and Netflix even made an appearance.
Outside, whitecaps raced across the bay as the wind settled in around 20 knots with frequent gusts nearing 30.
Apparently, that sounded like perfect weather to someone. Two kiteboarders launched themselves into the bay, repeatedly flying past KORA at speeds that looked equal parts thrilling and terrifying. Whether they were fully in control remained… open to interpretation.
The forecast had originally threatened consistent 20-30 knot winds with gusts approaching 45 knots, which would have made for a far more dramatic blog post. Chelsea was secretly disappointed those stronger winds never arrived – she’d already begun planning an action-packed story about KORA battling the elements. Doug, on the other hand, considered the milder conditions an excellent outcome!
Nonetheless, we decided the dinghy could stay exactly where it was. According to our research, once the wind pushes into the high twenties, our lightweight inflatable starts becoming considerably less enthusiastic about remaining upright.
Steve, however, wasn’t about to let a little wind interfere with happy hour. Wine glass in hand, he climbed into the water, sensibly clipping himself to a floating fender. It proved to be a wise decision as the gusts and current happily swung him around the stern in wide 180-degree arcs like a very relaxed human pendulum.
That evening we stayed aboard, enjoying homemade butter chicken with fresh local zucchini and peppers before settling in for another relaxed night together.
The following morning brought calmer conditions and a chance to stretch our legs. We were up early – Karen even caught the sun rise!
A local bus carried us up to Plaka, Milos’ beautiful hilltop capital (see red pointer in map above), where whitewashed laneways wound between traditional Cycladic homes before leading us to the Church of Panagia Korfiatissa. The view was worth every step. Looking out across the island, we could trace almost our entire journey around Milos, from Kleftiko’s spectacular sea caves all the way around the coastline we’d sailed over the previous few days.
From there we decided to make our own adventure. Rather than following the road, we headed cross-country toward Klima, occasionally questioning whether the narrow goat tracks disappearing through long grass were, in fact, actual walking trails. Nobody spent too much time discussing the possibility of snakes hiding beneath the rocks. Yikes! Fortunately, everyone survived.
Along the way we visited the remarkably well-preserved Ancient Theatre of Milos, where performances once overlooked the sea, and paused beside the spot where the world-famous Venus de Milo (Aphrodite of Milos) was discovered in 1820.
Soon afterward we reached Klima, perhaps the island’s most photographed fishing village. Its colourful syrmata – traditional fishermen’s houses with brightly painted boat garages opening directly onto the sea – made it immediately obvious why Instagram seems to love this place.
Our final historical stop took us to the Catacombs of Milos, among the most important early Christian catacombs in Greece, dating back nearly 2,000 years.
By then we’d earned lunch. Back in Plaka we grabbed a quick bite before catching the bus home to KORA.
Dinner that evening was another feast aboard: Greek salad (when in Greece its a must!), grilled salmon, and crispy Mediterranean potatoes. Sadly, the salmon came from the supermarket rather than the end of one of our fishing lines. Ever since Mack departed, KORA’s fish-catching magic appears to have left with him.
As the sun slipped below the horizon, painting Milos in soft shades of gold and pink, we couldn’t help but smile.
Tomorrow, another Cycladic island awaits.
