Argosaronic Islands | View a sample itinerary for this location

We arrived at the yacht in fits and starts, this odd assortment of friends and friends-of-friends that had decided to share this charter adventure together. White Knight was the name of our charter yacht, and we quickly decided that we all wanted a White Knight of our own, to pamper us, make us feel like royalty. There were ten of us: two couples plus two men and four women traveling single. White Knight featured eight spacious staterooms on three levels, so we all had a room to ourselves. As the yacht filled up with suitcases and laughing guests, we sat on the aft deck, waiting for the last straggler to show up so we could leave to begin our journey.

As the dock lines were brought in and White Knight slowly eased away from the quay, conversations turned to the history of the area we would visit. We had chosen the Argosaronic Islands, for their proximity to Athens. The perfect destination for a three or four day charter prior to, or after the upcoming Olympics, but with more than enough to see and do and places to linger for a much longer holiday. The Olympic Games come to Athens in 2004, over 2,700 years after they were first started in 776 BC. The first Modern Olympic Games were held there in 1896, and are now held around the world. But in 2004, they return to their birthplace, to Athens. Exciting as the Olympics are, they were started thousands of years after the first evidence of human activity, approximately 8,500 BC.

Reading a timeline of Greek history is much like reading a timeline for all Western civilization. Indeed, most of Western civilization as we know it today is based on what began in Greece. But the timeline is also a reminder that what and who was mighty in the past, does not necessarily stay mighty for all time. It shows the tragedy of hate, from the Athenians executing all the male population and enslaving all of the women and children on Milos in 416 BC for their refusal to join in the war against Sparta, to the execution of Socrates in 339 BC, to the massacre of 25,000 people on the tiny island of Chios by the Turks, for their part in the Greek struggle for independence. History reveals how wave after wave of rulers conquered Greece, or at least some of her islands, only to replaced by the next shift in political powers, but in the end, she is ruled by the people who live there, not by a foreign government. We leave the Port of Piraeus, and head for our first island of adventure, Poros. As we slip away, we gather on the sky deck, drinking in the view of Athens, with the Acropolis as her crowning jewel. Heading out to open water, we pass the island of Salamina on our right. Two narrow straits divide it from the mainland of Attica, one that is less than a mile wide, the other is less than half of that distance. The largest of the Argosaronic islands, it is almost 37 square miles and has a population of 30,000.

What is considered to be the greatest naval battle of antiquity took place in the strait between Athens and Salamina in 480 BC. The Persians had invaded Greece and were making their way to Athens to bring the war to a final close and make themselves rulers of Greece. The Persians sailed toward Athens with a fleet of 1,200 ships, bearing 300,000 men. The Athenians sailed out to meet them with their entire fleet, consisting of only 400 ships with 85,000 men. The Greek general leading the Athenians, enticed the Persian fleet into engaging in battle not on the open sea, but in the narrow straits of Salamis, where what mattered most was agility, speed and knowledge of the straits, not size and number of vessels. The battle started at dawn and by the afternoon of the same day, the Persians had been vanquished.

We arrive in Poros by early evening and are quickly secured to the dock. Poros consists of two islands, separated by a narrow canal: the small volcanic islet of Sfairia, where the main center of population is located, and the much larger island of Kalavria, covered in thick pine forest and sparsely populated. Just to make it confusing, the town is also named Poros, so we were at Poros on Poros. Our group decided to eat ashore and sample the hospitality of the many charming tavernas lining the quayside. Predictably, each one looked better than the last one, so much so that finally part of the group split off and decided to hop a water taxi and cross the strait over to the town of Galatas on Peloponnese.

The water taxi ride was a quick 3 minute ride, and afforded a wonderful view of Poros, with its shining white clock tower standing guard over the village. Returning after dinner on another water taxi, we met up with our friends at a waterfront pub. A word of warning here: there is something that happens to normally sedate, refined people once they get to Greece. I am not sure if it is the weather, the air, the water, the food, perhaps the ouzo...whatever it is, people who havenít stayed up past midnight for the past 20 years all of a sudden donít want to go to bed, saying ìletís stay for one more songî, at 3am in the morning. Those of us who trekked back to the yacht watched in amazement as the most mature members of our party drifted into yet another taverna.

The next morning found me up enjoying coffee on the sky deck, observing the first stirrings of the townspeople as they slowly opened their shops and started their days. The early morning quiet was soon shattered by the sound of loud voices. The Greek Navy Academy is just steps from the center of the village, and boasts a very active training program for both rowing and kayaking. The person on the megaphone was the coach, swooping around the rowing shells in his skiff, urging the rowers to greater speed and power. When the rest of the group got up, we again went our separate ways, exploring the areas we were most interested in. Some rented scooters and rode away to visit the Temple of Poseidon, where the orator Demosthenes poisoned himself in 323 BC to avoid surrender to Macedonians. Others visited the Russian Naval station, built in 1834, manned until 1900 and preserved as a historic monument since 1989; or the Monastery of Zoodochou Pigis, built in the 18th century around the islandís only spring. Those of us who didnít zoom off, explored the pretty village, where each corner brings another decision as to which way to go, since each path looks more inviting than the next. Another word of warning: if you are planning on visiting any of the museums, you might want to have the yacht call ahead to make sure the desired destination is actually open. That way when you get to the Archeological Museum to feast your eyes on exhibits from the Mycenaean and Roman Period, you wonít be looking at a ìClosedî sign instead.

We all manage to return to White Knight within an hour or so of when we had decided we wanted to leave and Captain John suggests a stop at the Island of Dokos for a swim and leisurely lunch. Anchor down, the first person to hurl themselves off the boat was the hardy pal from England. He assured us that the water was wonderful, quite refreshing. To those of us hailing from South Florida, it felt more than refreshing, it felt down right cold. But we were soon all cajoled into flinging ourselves into its heavenly blue depths, chilling and exhilarating us. White Knightís swim platform was perfect for easy access to the water and water toys. A shower located there was just the thing to wash the saltwater off before donning one of the big terrycloth robes that were offered as you came up the steps to the aft deck. Lunch was a triumph. A beautiful display of food that looked too good to eat, a sumptuous display that quickly turned into sounds of ìohhhî and ìahhhî. Lunch over, anchor up, we moved stately away from our lovely anchorage. Now was the time when we all went into serious sprawl mode and sought our cabins, the comfort of the oversized chairs on the sky deck or simply fell asleep in the sun, rocked to sleep by the gentle motion of White Knight as she carried us to our next destination: Spetses.

It was late afternoon as we approached the historic Port of Dapias. As our crew tied us to the quayside, the conversation turns to what will become an on-going debate, never to be answered: what color is the water? Blue-green? Cobalt blue with a touch of green? Here at the dock, we watch fish flash to and from in its crystal clear depths. A stroll before dining seems to be well in order, and off we go. The first thing we encounter is a large square, dominated by a tall statue of a woman, one hand on a pistol at her waist, the other hand shading her eyes as she gazes out to sea. This is Bouboulina, heroine of the Struggle of 1821 when Spetses became the first island of the Argosaronic to join the Revolution against the Turks. Bouboulina not only supplied ships for the effort, but indeed commanded her largest ship, the Agamemnon, leading the Spetsiot fleet. Nor did she just stick to the war at sea, for she also lead her men into battle at the siege of Tripolitsa.

Leaving our heroine to stand watch over our yacht, we wandered up a small hill into the center section of town. The road is paved in pebbles. Pebbles which have been laid into delightful patterns: pictures of dolphins and crabs and fish, patterns of all types. Seemingly taken for granted, the delicacy of artistry was often faded by dirt and the number of cigarette ends thrown carelessly about. A couple of us soon decided to relax at a taverna overlooking the harbor and had just settled in with a frappe, when a clatter of hoofs and cheery ìhellosî in well-known voices made us look up. There went some of our group, in a horse-drawn carriage, to explore the island. They assured us later on that Stella the Horse had told them that she was very happy to give them a ride, especially if they would give her a carrot. Warning: this is another phenomenon that happens in Greece: you soon will start having meaningful conversations with carriage horses!

I was up early the next morning, and by now, the second morning, the crew had determined I was an early riser and a cup of freshly brewed coffee was placed in my hand as soon as I ascended the stairs from my stateroom. This is one of the niceties that a first rate charter yacht is all about: service so seamless it is as if you donít even think about your needs before they are answered. Coffee in hand, I wander out to the aft deck to sip my coffee and drink in the beauty of the morning. The sun is just coming up and reflects on the water, turning it to molten silver. A slight haze softens the edges of the islands in the distance. Perfect time for a walk through hushed streets, sharing them with other early risers, shopkeepers starting their days, schoolchildren darting along quiet alleyways on their way to class. In July and August, Spetses will be thronged with people on holiday, but for now, it is still serene and I am one of the few people wandering about. The fishmongers are all friendly and soon laughter fills the air as they try to teach me the names of their fishes in Greek, and the sounds that obviously are coming out of my mouth have absolutely no resemblance to the words they are trying to teach me at all!

Spetses is left behind as we continue on to the beautiful bay off XXXX for swimming and kayaking. This time we all know the water is going to be chilly, but jump in anyway. Part of this is peer pressure for those standing on the swim platform are soundly ridiculed until they too, take the plunge into the clear waters. The debate continues about the color: definitely not turquoise, too inky blue for that, but still, that tantalizing hint of green. While we play in the crystal depths, the chef has created yet another masterful display of too-beautiful-to-eat cuisine, this time with a seafood theme. But, like before, the display soon becomes one of sounds of delight, followed by groans from overeating. Then it is time to relax as our captain takes us on to Hydra.

Hydra is simply enchanting. The bay around which the port is built is small and a breakwater protects the inner harbor. White Knight has dropped her anchor and backs up to the dock in the traditional ìMediterraneanî manner, so we can use the passerele (walkway) to leave the yacht and step off onto the quay. As we start our stroll, we notice not just the beauty of the area, the many tavernas and shops, but the sound of...quiet. For there are no motor vehicles on Hydra. Well, actually, there are, but only the small garbage trucks which go out in the early hours of the morning, then disappear back to their area. Everything else is moved by donkey or horse.

Everywhere you look you see them, carrying tourists, luggage, building materials, the wares to the marketplace. But what you donít see is, er, evidence that the mode of transportation here is 4-hoofed, not 4-wheel drive. That is because the owners are very scrupulous about immediately stopping and sweeping up after their donkey. The quiet sound of hoofbeats, versus the noise of cars or the ever present scooters on the other islands is enough to make you want to spend your entire holiday here.

The winding, narrow streets intrigued us and we explored the village until almost sunset when we walked along the ocean to the next little fishing village, where we had agreed to meet to watch the sun settle into the ocean. Magical, simply magical. Though there were a couple of lovely restaurants along the ocean, we decided to return to Hydra to eat at a very secluded taverna that one of our party had discovered. The food was excellent, well-seasoned with laughter. Ambling back to White Knight, we had almost reached the safety of our floating home when Greece reached out and grabbed us. The music of a bouzouki, the traditional stringed instrument so loved by the Greeks, drifted out from one of the pubs and like a siren song, lured us through the doors. By the time we finally stumbled back to our yacht, we had all, with varying degrees of success, tried several Greek traditional dances.

The crew served breakfast the next morning to a very sparse seating, as several of our group lingered in bed until late. Hydra does have a Historical Archive and Museum (again, call ahead to make sure it is open) and a few monasteries scattered throughout the hills, plus several old windmills, but does not boast the great wealth of antiquities for the history buff that some of the other islands do. Its charm comes from the lack of motor vehicles, and the chance to walk for miles along winding paths overlooking the ocean, without fear of being run over by someone on a motor scooter!

We leave Hyrda to make our way to Aegina, our final port before returning to Athens. On the way we stop and anchor by Poros, not the town this time, but further along the coastline, off the beach at Askeli. Touted as being one of the most beautiful beaches in all of the Argosaronic, the general consensus was that if this was the most beautiful beach, who ever had written the guidebook would go into sensory overload if they ever stepped foot on any of the beaches in South Florida. But the water beckons us to abandon our places in the sun and frolic in its chilly depths of...what color is it, anyway? It changes as the light plays across it...as soon as you think you have identified the color, it turns a different shade. After lunch, our captain heads White Knight toward Aegina, while we turn our heads toward our pillows for a nap.

Aegina has had an up and down history, as it emerged during the 5th century BC as a serious rival to Athens before losing the power struggle that followed. Forcibly re-populated by the Athenians, the new inhabitants seemed to have decided that it was safer to grow pistachio nuts than dream of power. Indeed, Aegina is still the top producer of pistachios in all of Greece. In 1829 Aegina briefly again came to the fore when it became the first capital of the Greek state...before losing out to Athens a second time.

The islandís major draw is the Temple of Aaphaia, built in the 5th century. Named after a minor daughter goddess of Zeus, it is perched on a hill about six miles outside of Aegina Town, and is one of the best preserved in Greece, with a unique 2-story inner colonnade. The other major temple of interest is the Temple of Zeus, but only the foundations survive.

Arriving at Aegina, we anchor off the quaint fishing village of Perdika. As the sun slowly disappeared, we gather on the aft deck, savoring our last sunset in Greece. Our adventure is drawing to a close and we are a much more restrained than previous evenings. The road in Perdika is raised above the quayside, overlooking the port. Tavernas line up in a row on one side, with little tables set up along the seafront on the other, perfect for lingering over our final dinner while admiring White Knight, lights ablaze, across the water.

The next day we return to Athens, and find ourselves once again on the aft deck, surrounded by our luggage, which had grown heavier in the past days with the treasures we had purchased for our friends who werenít able to join us. Indeed, we were all a bit heavier, thanks to the incredible food we ate while onboard. We concluded that we had been correct, the Argosaronic Islands were perfect. Perfect for a quick charter holiday, before or after the Olympics of 2004, or for a longer time, so you could linger in the villages or spend a bit more time playing in the water at a secluded anchorage. Homeward bound, I know we all looked down from our planes at the places we had visited and wished that our time was just starting again, rather than being a recent memory. But then again, there is always next time...

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