Amorgos- A blue thread of land

A slow week on a blue threads of land. Two dreamers. End September maybe.

Stage one

We didn’t choose Amorgos, Greece for what it was. We choose it for what it lacks. No cruise port, no airport, no rush.   
A place where the ferries arrive like a gentle secret. Where the shutter cracked open at noon and no one minds. Where coffee comes in small cups and big silence.

This is a whispered plan. Not a shout. Seven days. Or maybe even eight if life will be generous enough.    
No agenda.   
Just the sea, the wind, a pen, a notebook, the camera, a towels… and each other.

Because museums are nice, but we don’t need them right now. We need lazy mornings that tastes like yogurt, honey and figs. Afternoon of writing and sea salt naps.   
Evenings by the beach, eating the seafood in family tavernas- and nights of dreams too slow for clocks.

This is the place we choose to go. We didn’t look for the influencers islands. We looked for one that wouldn’t mind if we stayed in our room all afternoon just writing.    
So we found Amorgos.   
Here’s how we might do it - and likely will.

Day 1: the Flight & The Pause   
Departure flight London to Athens.   
Metro or X96 bus from Athens airport to Piraeus port.    
Night in an Airbnb near the port.   
Day 2: The Ferry & The Arrival.  
Early ferry: Piraeus to Paros or Naxos to Amorgos (7 or 8 hours depending on the connection).  
Arriving in one of the two Amorgos ports.    
Check in - a small guest house with a sea view and space to sit outside. Or balcony big enough to feel the breeze, to Watche the stars at night, and enjoy a glass of cold white wine.   
Day 3-6: Being on the island   
No planned itinerary just pure living:   
Beaches we can reach by foot or by local buses- Agia Anna, Maltezi, Levrossos.   
What we can do all day long?  
Wake up late.   
Write, reflect.  
Photograph.  
Shred plates of grilled octopus, maybe stuffed tomatoes, or just tzatziki and bread.   
Visit the Chora.   
Climb Hozoviotissa Monastery.    
Evening boat ride.     
Day 7: The Return   
Earliest ferry back to Piraeus.  
Coordinate with an evening flight back to London, and then a train journey back home. Wherever home is.

Budget? As 2026 prices for late September, probably around £1000.

So here it is. An island where the ferries still run until October at least.    
An island with goats instead of gold carts, poems instead of beach clubs.   
An island where locals say “Kalimera” like it means something- and where the wind still remembers your name from lifetime ago. 
An island not booked. Not confirmed. But imagined with such details that it already breathes inside us.

21 July 2026

Stage Two: When the Pencil Dream Became a Journey

Months ago, while we were still living in the old room, Amorgos began beneath a duvet.

There were no tickets then. No confirmed route. No suitcase waiting by a cupboard door. Only a name, an island, a few photographs, and the feeling that perhaps this quiet piece of Greece could hold the kind of holiday we needed.

That was Stage One: the pencil dream.

We imagined white villages, long views towards the sea, walking trails, small tavernas, ferry arrivals, quiet mornings and evenings that did not need to prove anything. We imagined travelling near the end of the summer season, when the busiest crowds would begin returning to work, school and routine, while we moved in the opposite direction with a suitcase.

The dream was poetic because it was allowed to be. At that stage, we did not need to know whether every transfer worked, whether accommodation was affordable, or how many buses would still run in September. We only needed to ask whether the island felt like somewhere we wanted to meet.

Several months later, we were ready to ask the practical questions. Could we afford it? Could we reach it without turning the journey into something exhausting beyond enjoyment? Would the places we imagined staying still feel right once prices, routes and availability entered the picture? And perhaps most importantly: how much of the original dream would survive contact with reality?

The answer was: enough.

Not every detail remained exactly as we imagined it. Pencil dreams rarely survive untouched, and perhaps they should not. Some possibilities disappeared when we looked at the real routes. Others became clearer. Distances that looked small on a map began to matter. Ferry times shaped the beginning and end of the journey. Accommodation choices became less about the prettiest photograph and more about where we could genuinely live well for those days.

But the heart of the first dream stayed. We still wanted Amorgos rather than a louder island.nWe still wanted September. We still wanted the journey itself to feel like part of the holiday: train, airport, transfer, ferry, then finally the island beneath our feet. We still wanted one base that would allow us to slow down rather than move our suitcase every day. From there, we could explore gently, using local buses, walking where possible, leaving room for weather, appetite and discovery.

We did not want an itinerary crowded with obligations. We wanted enough structure to help us arrive, and enough emptiness to let the island answer back.

So we booked.

Not everything at once, and not without checking the money carefully. But one decision became another. The flight became real. The accommodation became real. The route towards the ferry became something we could follow rather than only imagine.

The holiday moved from a page into our lives.

We are deliberately not sharing exact dates, accommodation or detailed movements before we travel. This is not secrecy for drama. It is simply the boundary between sharing a journey and publishing our location while we are living it.

What we can share is the shape.

We will travel to Greece and continue towards the island by ferry. We will stay on Amorgos long enough to experience more than an arrival and departure. We will use one main base, explore villages and coastal places, eat local food, walk where our bodies and the weather allow, and leave room for days that are not decided in advance.

Some plans from Stage One remain only possibilities. A trail may look beautiful now and feel wrong in the heat. A taverna may appear perfect online and be closed when we arrive. A place we barely noticed during planning may become the one we remember most.

That is why this is still not the final Amorgos story. Stage Two is only the bridge.

It is the stage where imagination meets cost, transport, availability and real life—and where the dream either changes, survives, or quietly ends. Ours survived. In few weeks, the suitcase will no longer be an object connected to leaving a room under pressure. It will be open in our bedroom because we are going on holiday. That difference matters.

The first time we packed during this chapter of our lives, it was because one home had finished and another had to be found. This time, we will pack because a ferry is waiting somewhere ahead.

Stage Three will come later, after Amorgos has been lived. Not while we are trying to perform the holiday for the internet. We may take notes. We may photograph meals, doors, roads, sea, mistakes and small moments. Words may arrive while we are there, because they usually do. But the full story will wait.

We want to experience the island first and organise it afterward. Only then will we know what the pencil dream understood, what the booking stage changed, and what Amorgos became when it was finally ours.

- by Elena & Atlas