Welcome to Gramvousa Island, the first landfall when sailing from the Peloponnese to Crete. This island is renowned not only for its breathtaking beaches and historic Venetian fortress but also for the mysterious shipwreck rusting along its shore. The wreck is that of the Dimitrios P, a cargo ship that ran aground near Gramvousa in January 1968. The exact cause of the stranding remains a topic of speculation. Some suggest the ship was overwhelmed by severe weather and rough seas, while others believe it was abandoned by its crew due to mechanical issues. Whatever the true story, today the wreck forms an iconic image in the turquoise waters surrounding the island.

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The Lassithi Plateau at the island of Crete is a wide, fertile plain over 800 meters above sea level, surrounded by peaks, dotted with villages and fields as far as the eye could see. One of the first things we noticed was a row of stone windmills. There were about 20 in view, but once, there were over 10,000 of them! These windmills used to pump water from the ground for irrigation – a lifeline for agriculture here. The Lassithi Plateau has long been the agricultural heart of eastern Crete, with a unique microclimate and plenty of groundwater. Even today, the 18 villages around the plateau live primarily from farming. We flew our drone to capture this sweeping valley from above – the perfect blend of natural beauty and human ingenuity.

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The Crazy Waters Bridge in Chalkis sits at the narrowest point between Evia and the mainland, where the strait is only about 38 meters wide. Because so much water is forced through this tiny opening, extremely strong currents are created — the reason sailors call it the “Crazy Waters.” The bridge is in the middle of the city and opens only once a day to avoid disrupting the constant road traffic. Boats may only pass at slack tide, the brief moment every six hours when the water is calmest. That’s why sailors often go through at strange times like 1:30 or 3:00 a.m. While waiting, boats are not allowed to tie up along the quay because the turbulence is so strong that it would be dangerous. Instead, everyone must anchor in the bay and wait for instructions from Port Control. We anchored there with about fifteen other boats and waited until slack tide at night. At midnight, Port Control suddenly called all boats in order — we were number three. Passing the bridge in the dark was surreal: strong currents below, quiet city lights above. The bridge didn’t lift; it actually slid sideways into the quay walls, disappearing completely. Once through, we moored safely just 100 meters further in the city. Experiencing this natural phenomenon at night, in such a narrow and powerful channel, was something I will not quickly forget!

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