Amorgos, Greece
The crystal blue skies that greeted us at dawn reminded us why we had journeyed to Greece. As we pulled into the tiny sheltered harbor of Katapola, on the island of Amorgos, the fishermen were leaving the harbor; the bright colors of their boats reflected off the glassy mirror–calm sea.
The Sea Cloud’s tender ferried us ashore where the more intrepid boarded a bus for a 20-minute ride across the island to the base of a cliff where we started to hike up to the spectacular 11th century monastery of Panagia Hozoviotissa. Towering above the small parking lot, our first glimpse of the monastery’s gleaming whitewashed walls clinging to the side of a barren precipice on the south side of the island was awe-inspiring. No ancient Athenian playwright could have dreamed up a more spectacular setting for a community of Orthodox monks to retreat from the world and, through prayer, grow closer to God. Soaring six stories high, 40 meters long and just five meters wide, the monastery’s virtually inaccessible location is a testament to not only the turbulent upheavals of the Byzantine Empire, but also the profound spirituality of the medieval era.
Eleni, our guide, explained that monasteries in Greece were frequently put in remote locations as the journey to their doors settled one’s minds and prepared one for the spiritual experience to come. The view, let alone the exquisite chapel, which once accommodated 100 souls, made the 300 steep steps up the cliff side well worth the effort.
The wild flowers that still punctuate the island’s rocky slopes, though past their prime, still furnish the hillsides with bursts of color. In antiquity, the island gained its prosperity from the production of flax, which furnished ropes for ancient Greek sailing ships and the Classical era.
After an hour at the monastery the hikers joined the rest of their fellow travelers in the Chora, the hilltop village that is the capital for this island 1,800 residents. The village was just coming to life after Sunday morning services and many of the small cafes opened up for our visit. Can one have too many photographs of blue Greek doors, clay amphorae of geraniums, and cats? I think not!
Once back aboard, Captain Pushkarev quickly weighed anchor and moved the Sea Cloud out of its sheltered anchorage to take advantage of the brisk south wind that had come up while we were on shore. With yards braced and all the square sails, jibs and spankers set we had a brilliant six hours of sailing. Heeled over on a port tack we glided effortlessly through the sapphire blue seas under clear sunny skies. Heading due north to as yet an undetermined island for what will be our last day in the Cyclades, the cares and troubles of the outside world were swept astern with each passing wave.