Everyone has kept in close touch for the past 30-odd years, and we quickly fell into the familiar rhythm that's the hallmark of old friends. Only a few had sailed before, and those who hadn't took to it like salmon to a stream. We spent a lazy week meandering around the Saronic Islands and along the coast of the Peloponnesus.
Altogether, we numbered 12 aboard. Looking like we were launching a raid, we swam into the cave on Spetses and dipped salty hands into the natural-rock "tabernacle"-amazingly, filled with cool, fresh water. On Hydra, a brave few dared to defy any fear of heights and leaped into the clear sea from a rock 30 feet up while the others watched with bated breath. We reveled in the peace and quiet of the tiny, quaint villages of Ermione and Leonidion, on the mainland coast, and deserted Dokós island, near Hydra. Each morning, we pointed the bow toward a new harbor, eyes peeled for dolphins, then dropped anchor for lunch.