Yiannis has run the same small boat between Hydra and the mainland coves for forty summers. He knows which bays are calm when the meltemi blows, and which taverna will still have grilled octopus at four in the afternoon.
Forty summers
“People ask me if I get bored,” he says, coiling a rope without looking. “But the sea is different every morning. Some days it is glass. Some days it is angry. I am the one who stays the same.”
Book him for a day and he will take you somewhere you will never find on a map — and probably refuse to tell you its name.