Handpicked experience · Santorini
Santorini, Greece
Santorini grows its vines coiled flat on the ground and its roots have never been grafted, which is the real reason the wine on this boat tastes the way it does.
A five-hour catamaran cruise leaving Fira and running along the caldera
The Hot Springs, and the volcanic cliffs passed close to from the water
Anchored stops at the Red and White beaches for swimming and snorkelling
A barbecue prepared fresh on board during the cruise
Local white wine, soft drinks and water served without limit throughout
The sail towards Oia and Thirassia for the sunset from the water
Santorini makes wine from vines that look like nothing else in Europe and beaches that can only be reached by sea, and this afternoon takes in both before turning towards the sunset. The wine is worth understanding before you drink it, because how it is grown here is genuinely strange.
Start here. There is almost no rain on this island and the wind blows relentlessly, so growers train each plant into a low circular basket lying on the soil, with the fruit hanging inside the coil. The basket shelters the grapes from the wind, shades them from the sun, and — the clever part — its shape collects the night's condensation and drips it onto the roots. It is a vineyard designed to harvest dew.
What makes them rarer still. In the nineteenth century a root louse destroyed almost every vineyard in Europe, and the survivors were rebuilt by grafting European vines onto resistant American rootstock. That insect cannot live in volcanic ash. These plants were never infected, never grafted, and some root systems here have been continuously alive for centuries, renewed by burying a cane of the same plant rather than replanting. You are drinking something with an unbroken line behind it.
A current point worth knowing. The red cliff above that beach sheds rock, seriously and repeatedly, and access on foot has been closed or posted with warnings for years after injuries. Reaching it from the water and staying in the sea is the sensible way to see it, which is exactly what this trip does. Admire it, swim off it, and do not settle down beneath the cliff.
The other stop is not closed, simply unreachable. There is no path and no track to it; boats are the only way anyone has ever arrived. That is why it stays quiet even in August while beaches ten minutes away are full.
Thirassia is the piece that broke off. When the volcano collapsed it left the rim in fragments, and this one has stayed almost untouched: a couple of hundred residents, a small harbour, a few tavernas and a long stair up to the village on top. It is what the main island looked like before the cruise ships, and the contrast in a single afternoon is the most instructive thing on the itinerary.
An honest advantage rather than a marketing line. On land the famous viewpoint above the northern village becomes shoulder-to-shoulder an hour before the sun goes down, with people arriving early to hold a spot on a wall. From a boat offshore you have the same sun, the same cliffs lit from the side, and a seat. This is one of the few cases where the tourist option is genuinely the better one.
A practical word. The white is served without limit for several hours on a moving deck in the sun, with swimming in between. It is light and it is deceptive in that combination. Alternate it with water, particularly before you get into the sea.
Open it to pick a date and work out the price.
What the fare covers, and what to budget for separately.
The practical detail, and the answers people actually ask for.
Because there is almost no rain and constant wind. Each plant is trained into a low coil lying on the soil, sheltering the fruit inside it, shading it from the sun, and collecting night condensation that drips onto the roots.
They were never grafted. The root louse that destroyed European vineyards in the nineteenth century cannot survive in volcanic ash, so these plants were never infected, and some root systems have lived continuously for centuries.
Not from below. The cliff sheds rock repeatedly and land access has been closed or posted with warnings for years after injuries. Arriving by sea and staying in the water is the sensible way to see it.
Because there is no path or road to it at all. Boats are the only way anyone has ever reached it, which keeps it empty even in August.
The fragment of the crater rim that broke away when the volcano collapsed. A couple of hundred people live there, with a small harbour, a few tavernas and a stair up to the village. It resembles the main island before mass tourism.
Genuinely, yes. The famous viewpoint on land fills shoulder to shoulder an hour beforehand. Offshore you get the same sun and the same lit cliffs, with somewhere to sit.
The local white is poured without limit across several hours. On a moving deck in the sun with swimming in between it goes further than you expect, so alternate with water before getting in the sea.