The day began with a quick breakfast at the hotel and then a long walk from the Petra Hotel south east toward Skala and the harbor, our port of arrival. Along the way, I dodged a few motor bikes and busses while photographing some of the foliage and landscapes.
After heading back to the hotel, my traveling companions and I left Patmos for a skippered excursion by Thomas Vision Yachting ( https://thomasvision.gr/), all advanced planned by TrueTrips (TrueTrips.com), which organized the entire Greek Adventure. For the excursion, Thomas Vision choose a sleek speed boat named the Anthos II, a 2023 Bell Marine, Bullett 4, rigged inflatable speed boat, with twin inboard Volvo Penta engines, capable of 58 knots.
Once on board, the Athos II, slices through the swelling seas, its controls glinting in the sunlight. The deep sapphire blue water of the Aegean rises and falls in rhythmic swells, each crest lifting the Athos II before it crashes down with a spray of salt and foam. The Volvo Penta engines growl with power, sending a rooster tail of white water streaming behind. The wind tears through the open cabin, whipping hair and flapping shirts, while the Athos II bucks and rolls with the motion of the sea — wild, fast, and exhilarating. The increasingly distant coastline bobs in and out of view as the boat dances over the waves, defying gravity with every airborne leap off a surge. It’s a raw, elemental ride — man, machine, and ocean locked in an adrenaline-fueled rhythm.
We stopped to swim and snorkel near exquisite rock formations, selected by our Captains.
The first off the Athos II was Rushton, an experienced open-water swimmer, and former Ironman contestant. Rushton moved gracefully through the crystal-clear waters, cutting through the Aegean like a silverfish. The late morning sun filtered down in golden shafts, lighting up the underwater world —shoals of darting fish, swaying sea grass, and the shadowed crevices of ancient rock formations carved by time and tide. The rocks were warm brown and rust-colored beneath the surface, encrusted with sea urchins and flickering with darting reflections. With slow, practiced kicks, she circled the formation, peering into its nooks, occasionally surfacing to adjust her googles or draw a deep breath before diving again. Next in was me. Unfortunately, not an experienced open-water swimmer, I was neither prepared for nor did I anticipate the freezing cold waters of the Aegean, which coupled with a childhood memory of a leg cramp, caused me to abandon and retreat to the safety of the Athos II. Rushton’s husband, Charles said he as not a strong swimmer, but then ably completed the swim with sheer determination and athleticism.
After our morning swim, our next destination was lunch at Pantelis, on Marathi, a small island about 45 minutes from our present location. Our waiter tells us that, though a trained chemical engineer, he retuned to Marathi to be a waiter, as he prefers the simple life of his youth. After a hour or so on Marathi, we understand why. We decide as a group that Panetils is now our top foodie experience in Greece thus far and maybe anywhere. This will be a high bar to surpass.
After lunch the Captains bring us to the “White Rocks”, a calm spot where we anchor, to relax, and for me to also reflect, something of which I do more.
I see a lone mountain goat on a cliff negotiating the jagged rocks, although I am not sure up or down. It reminds me of a Hemingway’s fated lion in The Snows of Kilimanjaro.
There are moments in life when silence invites reflection—when we step back to trace the arc of our days, measuring the weight of our choices, the reach of our hopes, and the quiet consequences that followed. In that space, success and failure cease to be trophies or scars; they become teachers.
Success reminds us of our strength, our perseverance, and the rare alignment of preparation with opportunity. But failure, too, speaks—often more honestly. It reveals the cracks in our certainty, the hidden lessons we missed, and the resilience we didn’t know we had.
To reflect on both is not to judge, but to understand. We are more than our triumphs, and certainly more than our regrets. We are the totality of what we’ve attempted, the courage we’ve summoned, and the grace with which we’ve risen after each fall.
In this contemplation, we find not answers, but meaning—and in meaning, we find a kind of peace. However, my peace was interrupted as a Greek fighter jet screams by, reminding me just how close I am to the Turkish border and the Middle East just a little further.
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