Paddling Magic in Greece

Looming just a few hundred yards away is an imposing shipwreck, a huge freighter, sunk in a ferocious storm just 18 months before. It lies split in two before us, cracked open violently on the rocks. We notice that even the wooden lifeboat, still hoisted on its ropes and hanging in shreds, is severed in two. But it’s the colors of rusting, peeling paint that fascinate; royal blues, blazing yellows, and burnished russets glitter in the midday sun as we paddle around and through the ravaged ship.

Pushing northeast, we pull in for lunch at small, pretty Agios Konstantinos beach. Our European companions are blasé, but being raised on modesty in the Midwest, I can’t help but act goofy about the bevy of topless, goddesslike women sunbathing just yards away. Mara notices my slack-mouthed behavior and rolls her eyes. “Give it a break!” she admonishes as she dives into the cool, swim-perfect waters, and is soon joined by the others in our party.

Refreshed by swim, snorkel, and sun, we gather in a dry cave, looking out at the impossibly clear azure water. Rod and his young summer assistant, New Zealander Paul Pringle, have been busy improvising table and chairs from flat stones and smooth driftwood planks. As we hunker down to a feast of fresh Milos bread, local vegetables, fish, feta, melon, and buttery biscuits, I’m just about certain we’re all having the same thought: there’s no place on this sweet, sea-lapped earth I’d rather be.

We take refuge from the wind and waves on the island’s leeward side, ooohs and ahhhs all around, before bounding back into the open sea. But the wind has picked up to a force 4, building toward whitecaps and bigger waves, and Rod wisely alters our return route so we won’t be bucking a headwind. Even so, we plunge through a rollicking fun roller coaster of nearly four-foot swells, an exhilarating spray in our faces, watching the joy jump into our leader’s eyes. “Now this is sea kayaking!” Rod shouts, his whole body one smooth, graceful paddling machine, as our gleeful band of nine boats works its way home, sideways to the lowering sun.

Our eight days on Milos unfold like a seafarer’s dream. Each morning blossoms bright and sunny as we gather for breakfast in the family-owned café just below our comfortable rooms. Each day, depending on wind conditions, we explore a different section of the jagged coastline or paddle to nearby islands with mythical names like Arcadia and Kimolos. Beneath 600-foot-high multicolored cliffs, we float and dive off sunbaked rocks. On the starkly beautiful islet of Efstathios, we climb an abandoned lighthouse and run with the wild goats. We practice our rolls, search abandoned sulfur mines, and crawl on hands and knees through alarmingly tight sea tunnels, waves lapping our chests, emerging into secret under-island caverns.

We end most days with a hearty round of Mythos beer in a beachside café before we’re shuttled back through the terraced countryside to our base village of Triovasalos, past olive groves, grazing sheep, and 2,000-year-old stone walls. Each night we wander the winding cobblestone streets of whitewashed villages, explore Hellenistic ruins, and sample excellent food like lythrini and spanakopita, washed down by local red wine.

It’s not until our final afternoon that I notice two large words plastered on the back of Rod’s 4x4 Suzuki and fairly dancing in the golden light: MAGIC HAPPENS. I don’t need convincing. The ancient landscape of Milos, its brilliant colors, welcoming people, and ever-present blue Aegean Sea have worked their magic on us all. Right now, in fact, the only thought in my entire sun-tinged, happy brain is why it took me so long to paddle and play in the fabled Greek isles.

Larry Rice is a contributing editor for Canoe & Kayak. Widely traveled, he reports that Greece is now among his five favorite countries in the world.