Zakynthos in October

Taking the risk with a Mediterranean escape in the off-season

The week before we departed, I began to obsessively refresh the weather app. I couldn’t escape the thought that we had set ourselves up for failure. Greece in mid-October? Or rather, a Greek island in mid-October? There was no way our plans of beach-hopping, sunbathing, boat tripping, or al fresco dining would be successful. There were bound to be nonstop grey skies and thunderstorms. But there was no going back now. Flights to Zakynthos were booked, car rental secured, dreamy villa with ocean views and pool paid in full. So, whilst the leaves in London were already shuddering off their branches, we migrated south.

All fears dissolved as we hit the tarmac and saw wispy pink clouds smattering pale blue sky. The sun was already disappearing, but we could feel the strength of its earlier presence. Sighs of relief were breathed and now we could hardly wait for the week ahead; we clambered into our convertible rental and sped to the north side of the island where we had rented a charming one-bedroom home on the outskirts of Agios Nikolaos. This side of Zakynthos is generally quieter and more untouched than the south, but we had been assured that plenty of restaurants, little bays and alluring sites would be within near reach. 

That night we feasted on late summer vegetables roasted in the oven and stuffed with aromatic rice as well as local wine produced by the villa owner’s father. It felt like we had returned to a late June evening where the hottest months were stretching before us. The next day’s adventures couldn’t come sooner.

We awoke to the sun streaming through the blinds and just like children on Christmas morning, we leapt out of bed to take in the morning views. Endless blue stretched before us, from the saltwater pool in our back garden, to the Aegean waters and clear skyline. After our breakfast of Greek yoghurt (what else?), with fresh fruit and honey, we zipped to a little cove a short drive away. Climati beach is no longer than 30 meters of pebbled shore cushioned between softly coloured rocks. There was only one other group enjoying the clear, calm waters and warm rays. The first advantage of risking an off-season Mediterranean adventure is the lack of crowds. You can enjoy these destinations in a way that they should be; slowly and peacefully. Not once did we have to grapple for space on a crammed beach, or struggle for a restaurant reservation let alone make one. Our first beach of the trip was a precursor to what lay in store for the remainder of our time in Zakynthos.

Every day at dusk, we would chase a sunset. That first full evening, we caught it at Michali's Taverna which sat on a looming cliff face and overlooked the western horizon. We sat on the precipice of the rocky crag, watching the surroundings glow in the last intense beams, downing smooth white wine and crunching on golden, oily halloumi fries.

The next morning, we headed south to Zante Town, the island’s main city. We stopped at a charming café to enjoy a freddo cappuccino (a first experience for both of us, Italian approved!) before ambling to the Farmer’s market at the port. There, Zakynthiots were selling the island’s produce from crinkly red peppers to spartan wine packed in plastic bottles. We purchased a block of Ladotiri (a cheese preserved in olive oil), some local honey, juicy peaches (clinging on to summer for all it was worth), and plump tomatoes. These would contribute to a barbecue that we were planning back home. But it wasn’t time to return yet. Instead, we drove further down the island and stopped for lunch at the beachside taverna, Nikos Beach Bar. There, overlooking turquoise waters, and sheltered under a bristling palm leaves, we indulged in grilled sardines, lamb koftas, cheese fritters and fig salad. We had the whole place to ourselves.

We desperately needed a nap after our feast. The sandy stretch of Gerakas beach made the perfect setting. It is the site of many turtle nestings and a portion of the beach is cordoned off to protect the local wildlife. No matter: in October the 1km coastline has plenty of space for humans and reptiles alike. We dozed in the mid-afternoon heat only to revive ourselves in the refreshing shallow waters. One pristine beach (Dafni beach) and one golden sunset (Karakonisi) later, and we were back home, heating up the coals and grilling our acquisitions from earlier that day.

The week was spent hiking, visiting monasteries, and sprawling on more serene beaches but our favourite excursion was out on open waters. For the clumsily haggled price of €150, we were captains of a tiny boat for the day. Anyone can rent them, and they are the most worthwhile investment when exploring the Greek islands. They give a paradisical sense of freedom, seclusion, and exclusivity. We found our little steed at Keri beach and navigated down the coastline to isolated caves, gleaming white bays, and glistening waters. Every now and then, when we found a spot that demanded more attention, we would drop anchor and bob on the gentle waves, reading, diving in, playing cards, and sipping beers. 

We wished the day could drag on for longer but eventually we headed back to dry land. By this time, we had settled into our daily routine, and we knew it was time to catch another sunset. We were saving one of the best till last and hiked up to Myzithres. From vertiginous heights we saw waters of shocking aquamarine meld into inky blue. Far in the distance, behind a few murky clouds, an entire colour palette was concentrated around the rapidly descending sun. Shocking oranges, deep reds, milky whites, and soft purples were shifting by the second, utterly controlled by the fading light. There is no missing this viewpoint when on Zakynthos. We were increasingly late for dinner with friends at The Old Windmill on the other side of the island. But we stayed until the very last moment before dusk. Our friends would have understood.

On our final day, we struck lucky. We found a beach down the road from Climati which was completely unpopulated, and we enjoyed it entirely to ourselves. It was almost impossible to leave but we were desperate to dine at Mikro Nisi before leaving the island. An elegant seafront taverna where you can dive straight into the sea as soon as the last morsels of feta are lapped up with some pita bread. It was the perfect last lunch to agree that we would have to return again but only in October. That agreement turned into an oath when, the final beach of the trip was once more left only for us.