By all rights, this should be the place I recall the least. Times of lucidity were few and far between but over the years, I’ve implemented my own style of forced recollection. At least once a month – sometimes a week, I’ll take time to mentally walk through those four days; the cargo ship cruise out there, the ant-infested stucco studio, the junk yard salvaged motorcycle rental crisping my buttocks and inner thighs, the mountain top fire that consumed half the island -thankfully, the uninhabited side - the banana tube death ride. It was these and other noteworthy events on that island that made this, literally, the best time of my life.
As it’s often said, the reward is not always in the destination, but also in the journey. It was the aforementioned boat ride that truly set the tone for this part of my European trip. That evening, we arrived by train at the mainland docks only moments before embarkation. Traveling with backpacks that matched the weight of a small child, we sprinted what must have been 900 yards, scuttling up the loading ramp just as the workers were hoisting the platform.
It was only 10 minutes later when my lungs were satisfied and enough oxygen had made it back up to my brain that I was able to take in this vessel we were riding on. It was the farthest thing from a Norwegian cruise liner but just as big. Rust highlighted every post, doorway and flooring. The crew were dressed in outdated, hand-me-down uniforms and looked younger than any of the passengers. Once on the boat it was every person for them self in securing a spot to rest. Cabins were scarce and full; the majority of people were left to sleeping on benches or staking claim to a small parcel of top deck.
Being the last ones to board, that is exactly were my companions and I ended up. Once at the top of the boat, we waded through and stepped over numerous other ragtag adventurers. We found a spot right next to a bench and the railing. I was exhausted and exhilarated at the same time.
As the ship pulled away from the harbor, the sun set over mainland Greece. It was one of the most serene moments in my life; the cobalt sea lay 100 feet below me and the orange sky towered high above me. I do not think I was alone in feeling this. Even with the hundreds of squatters that surrounded us and the liner cutting through the waters, you could hear a pin drop. This was a moment no one could ignore.
The remainder of the “cruise” was as decidedly Bohemian. If I was hungry or thirsty, I had only to look in my pack. Going to the rest room meant finding a deserted, secluded stretch of railing -my apologies to all those on the lower decks. It was not long before small multinational coalitions were formed. In our group alone, we had revelers from Sweden, Denmark, Spain, Italy, France, Australia and of course the good ‘ol U.S. of A.
Everyone brought something to the party: beer, wine, liquor, cheese, crackers, candy and thankfully toilet paper. The young man from Spain played his guitar and we all tried to sing a song he played even though none of us had ever heard of it before. We danced and drank and sang some more (It was that night that I came to realize that Don McLean’s “Bye, Bye, American Pie” is a universally known song).
We shared stories of our homelands and ridiculed one another’s traditions without a hint of animosity or prejudice. We played on into the darkest hours of the night when only the chilly air and dry bottles were able to call an end to our festivities. I would have frozen that night were it not for the kind heart of a Danish girl; her sleeping bag was much more appropriate than my pathetic sleep sack.
As my head rested on my rolled up t-shirt, I stared at the stars, almost able to convince myself that I too could use them to safely navigate the seas.
Dawn broke early. The Sangria was lingering in my head. One good cure I’ve found for hangovers is to wake up at sunrise and watch your boat position itself into the harbor of a Greek island. The stimulation alone will negate any lasting ill effects of alcohol.
Ios is the focus of this tale but the boat ride was quite an adventure in and of itself. I’m sure there are different means of accessing the island and there are other boats – faster, more modern and proud, but I’m thankful I did not know that at the time.
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Some of The Best Greek Islands
Temple-crowned Aegina -
Natural Alonissos - Traditional Carpathos -
Chewy Chios - Cos, The Doctors' Island - Queenly Crete - Dignified Delos - Do it all on Donoussa - Hydra, Artist's Island - Odysseus' Ithaca - Kalokairi "Mamma Mia" Island - Spongy Kalymnos - Aphrodite's Kythira - Lesvos, More than Sappho - Lovely Leros - Mighty Mykonos - Paros Paradise - Pirate Islands - Pastoral Patmos - Volcanic Santorini - Sexy Skopelos - The Dreamy Small Cyclades -
Easy Spetses - Symi Summers - Very Greek Syros - Honeyed Thassos -
Tilos, Island of Elephants
Reader Reviews: Tell Me About Your Favorite Greek Island
