The winter season has begun, even if it doesn’t quite feel like it. We’ve just returned to Poros and I’m sitting here in the morning sun, enjoying a gentle twenty one, twenty two degrees. Somehow this is considered winter, something we still haven’t fully adjusted to. It feels almost unreal to live in this soft sunlight, with bright blue skies above us. I’m convinced it’s doing wonders for our wellbeing and we’re soaking up every moment of it.

The weather can shift of course, tomorrow may look very different, but for now it’s calm, quiet and beautifully mild. And it’s already mid November.

Poros is the place we chose to spend the winter, and for good reason. It has a large, well protected bay where we’re currently at anchor. There are several quays where we can tie up if needed, offering shelter from different angles. There’s even a managed mooring field that might be a good option whenever we travel back to the Netherlands. We’re still exploring that. And just across the water lies Galatas on the mainland, a completely different atmosphere again.

The nature here is stunning and, as a bonus, there’s a small but warm liveaboard community. Usually it’s more international, but at the moment six Dutch boats are here, all familiar faces. One by one we’re bumping into people we’ve met before, and it feels like coming home. Last year we wintered on the Guadiana river between Portugal and Spain, which was also wonderful but a bit more solitary. This time it feels lively and comforting.

There are even one, maybe two, Scabby Kid Boats nearby, which means Philou has both Dutch friends and boat kids around her. She’s quite happy with everyone, but community matters to her. Being able to go ashore easily when we’re on the quay makes a big difference for her as well.

Poros itself has a special kind of beauty. The town climbs gently up a hillside, with white and blue houses that hint at the Cyclades, yet the terracotta roofs give it a slightly Ionian feel. When I look around, all I see are green mountains surrounding us. We truly find it stunning here. And an enormous advantage is that Athens is only an hour and a half away by ferry, making the city close enough for a winter trip or when we need to fly home.

After a period of hopping from one anchorage to the next, moving every few days, it feels grounding to arrive somewhere and stay a while. It’s mid November now, and in mid December we’ll fly to the Netherlands. So we have four quiet weeks ahead before deciding what comes next in spring. At some point we’ll need to haul the boat out again, but that’s a worry for later.

I’m curious how we’ll experience this slower pace. We usually get the itch to move after just two or three days, always tempted by the promise of a new view. And we might still feel that here, with the option to switch between the quay, Galatas, the peaceful Russian Bay and other anchoring spots. If the weather stays kind we can even pop over to Aegina, Hydra or mainland places we haven’t explored yet. Plenty to choose from.

But for now, we’re embracing this winter rhythm. A bit more stillness, a slightly emptier agenda, a chance to breathe. And it feels very good.

A season of slowing down sometimes brings you exactly where you didn’t know you needed to be.

Written by: Mirjam