Yesterday, after a beautiful crossing and a long night at sea, we arrived in Astypalea. That moment where you finally drop anchor, exhale, and gently start thinking about what comes next.

But boat life has a way of keeping you on your toes.

Not long after arriving, we spotted something heading our way that felt… unsettling. A wind front. Gusts up to 66 knots, which is force 11 to 12. A steady wind of around 45 knots, which is already intense. And Astypalea sits right in the middle of it.

We knew wind was coming, but seeing it develop like this was a bit of a shock. We have never experienced conditions quite like this before, and we are in an area we do not know that well. So instead of settling into the joy of arrival, we quickly shifted into planning mode.

Where do we go. What is the safest option.

What helped us enormously is the network we have built over the past months. People with experience, with local knowledge, or both. We did our own research, but also reached out and listened carefully to those who know these waters better than we do.

We explored several options. Staying on Astypalea, but not at the quay where we are now, as that would be too exposed. Moving to a more sheltered bay, though with some uncertainty about the conditions. Sailing west, away from where we want to go. Or heading east, towards Leros, which is already part of our route toward Kos.

We still have a few days, so we have the flexibility to move.

We chose the last option.

Out there, we can decide between a marina or anchoring. And for us, anchoring feels safer. It gives us space, freedom to move if needed, and the ability to stay fully alert. Engine on standby if necessary, ready if conditions change. We will prepare the boat for heavy weather, bringing everything inside, possibly even removing the winter cover, and perhaps taking down the genoa entirely.

Which brings us to another challenge.

Our genoa furling system is broken. A pretty crucial issue. It means we currently cannot use the genoa at all. That is also one of the reasons we are heading towards Leros, where there are good boatyards and suppliers. Something we cannot ignore.

The plan now is to leave on Monday night. The weather window looks promising, and we might even be able to use the gennaker, which would be a small gift in all of this.

And honestly… it is not all bad.

Yesterday required a mental shift, but normally we would have moved on after a few days anyway. Maybe we would have explored more of this island. Maybe we would have chosen a different route. But we are still moving towards Kos, and that matters.

By taking the time to research, to listen, and to weigh our options carefully, we feel the calm returning. Safety first. Always.

It is just another reminder of how unpredictable life on a boat can be. Plans here are written in the sand as the tide goes out. The moment you make one, it can already change.

And you learn to live with that.

You accept it, because it is part of this life. Though sometimes, especially when you are tired after a long crossing, it can feel heavy. You think you will rest, settle in, feel comfortable… and instead you are troubleshooting, adjusting, preparing again. With repairs that suddenly feel urgent, like the genoa or our dinghy engine, and the weather quietly dictating your next move.

But that is life.

And we make the most of it.

Despite everything, we feel incredibly grateful and proud to be here. It almost feels like we are the first boat of the season. The only one in this place. There is something special about that.

Even if spring in Greece is taking its time. There has been a lot of rain, today included, and the weather still feels unsettled. We are ready for the sun to stay a little longer, to warm everything up again.

But we knew the wind could be wild here.

Now we are learning how to move with it.

Day by day.

And the coming week… will be an interesting one. For now we prepare, stock up and trust this journey.