If the weather holds as it is now, we will leave tomorrow. And that thought carries a slightly bittersweet edge.

On one hand, we can hardly wait to set off again. This life is built around movement, around discovering new places, around the quiet thrill of not quite knowing what lies beyond the next headland. It suits us. We both feel it deeply. There is still so much to explore, and we are almost tapping our feet with anticipation.

On the other hand, leaving asks something of us.

It means watching the forecasts carefully and waiting for the wind to turn just enough in our favour. The weather is not entirely settled yet, so we will need to find our windows and move in small, thoughtful steps. It also means finishing the boat jobs. Because once we are in motion, new tasks inevitably appear. The urgent ones surface the moment the sails fill and the boat begins to move again. We had hoped to check the sails properly before departure, but with the wind lingering in the coming days, that may have to wait for the first calm opportunity.

So tomorrow, if the wind comes from the right direction, we will take a first small step towards Hydra. From there, we plan to travel in gentle day trips over the coming weeks, gradually making our way towards Crete.

We have been here for more than three months. It has quietly become our second home. We know the streets, the sheltered corners, the rhythm of the days. It protected us through the winter. Life here has been easy and relaxed, with lovely spots to wander to, the simple choice between quay, anchor or heading out to a sheltered bay. And then there is the community.

A small circle of steady friends. The Dutch liveaboards who made this place feel even warmer. Yet one by one, boats are being prepared, lifted at the yard, or slipping away towards the horizon. You can feel the season shifting.

And so we will move too.

Towards new anchorages. Towards old friends we will meet along the way. On Crete, two familiar boats are waiting, and we are already looking forward to those reunions. The community changes shape, but it continues to hold you, just in a different way.

We are slowly sailing into spring. Towards visits already marked in our calendar. Oma Ria will come to Kos. Oma Jos and Roos will join us in Samos. It is such a joy to have those moments ahead of us.

It feels good to wake from our winter rhythm. To return to movement. To discover again. To head out as the three of us into whatever the sea brings next.

We are ready.

Sometimes courage is simply choosing to untie the lines.