From Sunrise to Sunset: One Perfect Day in Milos
Unlike other Greek islands, Milos isn’t about the parties or the scene – or even those charming, pearlescent villages littered with shops and tavernas that form the nucleuses of other islands in the Cyclades.
You come to Milos for its naked beauty, for those other-worldly beaches and secret coves you have to hunt for, for slow food and even slower living. Milos has a meditative quality valued by those with patience to sit and watch as the island’s colors shift from sunrise to sunset.
So, if you only have one day to spend on the celestial island of Milos, follow my lead.
After disembarking the ferry at the Milos main port, I walked across the street to retrieve my rental car from a guy named Markos before making my way to Skinopi Lodge. Realising my car wasn’t equipped with four-wheel drive Skinopi’s owner Nausika had urged me to get, I considered returning to Markos and asking to switch. But, as the GPS assured me a 10-minute ETA, I hubristically assured myself I'd be fine without it.
After following the main road for a few minutes, I turned onto a winding, narrow dirt path. I should have listened to Nausika. When I finally arrived, I was rewarded with a sunset so breathtaking I soon forgot my poor decisions. Skinopi Lodge is a private nine-acre property comprising seven stone villas concealed by lavender, thyme and olive trees on a grassy cliff overlooking the sea. The sunsets here sweep over the land, cloaking everything gold. At the edge of the property, I discovered a staircase that led to a secret cove with a small deck. I plunged into the water before making my way up for an early night – and the best sleep of my life.
Afflicted with jetlag, I woke up just before the sunrise and decided to make my way to nearby lunar Sarakiniko beach to enjoy a swim ahead of the crowds. I arrived at 5:30 a.m., just as the sun cast a purple tint on the beach's chalky volcanic rock. I got into the water and floated on my back, watching the sun slowly creep above the horizon.
Purified by the Aegean’s cooling waters, I felt energised for the day and knew there would only be one place to go at that hour where I would find activity. I drove over to Klima, a fisherman’s village famous for its colourful syrmata, traditional Cycladic fisherman huts and boat garages, built along the water’s edge. While Klima is more popular in the late afternoon, there’s something special about beginning your day here, taking in a slow morning and watching as the local fisherman prepare for their day at sea. Strolling along the narrow sandy beach, I popped into the few souvenir shops housed in whitewashed cabins with colorful shutters, as shop owners and fishermen’s wives peddled handmade dreamcatchers and mobiles made from seashells, marine rope and scraps of wood from old fishing boats.
From Klima, I drove 10 minutes up to Plaka, Milos’s main town, for a breakfast of baklava and portokalopita at Cafe Palaios. I opted for a slice of the ladenia kimolou, an ancient Greek flatbread hailing from Kimolos topped with tomatoes, onions, oregano and olive oil.
Time for another swim, I got back into the car and drove a short distance towards Firopotamos, a small sandy beach etched into a cove with crystal clear water. After taking a nap under the shade, I dove into the water and swam towards a rock staircase leading to a plot of arch ruins and a small, beautiful church.
Having worked up an appetite, I got back into the car and drove to the beloved, family-run O!Hamos! Tavern, famous for its farm-to-table approach. If they can’t grow it or rear it on their own land, they won’t serve it, the owner tells me proudly. The whimsical decor adds to the allure here, with quirky plastic table covers and handwritten menus detailing the family’s history and commitment to the slow food movement. If you need a break from seafood, you’re in luck here, as their specialties are lamb and goat I ordered lamb kebabs with a side of their traditional cheese pie, all served on the family’s own handmade terracotta.
After lunch, I continued along the main road to visit one more beach, Tsigrado, located on the southern coast of the island. It’s more commonly frequented by boat, as the descent from land requires a steep crawl down two wooden ladders squeezed between boulders. The rocky passages deposit you onto a secluded plot of sand surrounded by calm turquoise waters.
Despite the many majestic corners of Milos perfect for a sunset, I couldn’t resist a visit to Medusa, my favourite local seafood spot. I pulled up just as the sun was about to set, and the friendly owner handed me a glass of wine while I awaited my table. I sat there on a bench outside the restaurant looking out over the village, observing children playing with a family of stray kittens while their parents finished their meal with friends. Nearby, fisherman detangled the octopuses that hung on the line before delivering them straight to the kitchen. As my glass neared the bottom and the sun took its final bow above the horizon, I was escorted to my table for one final meal in Milos. “I’ll take the octopus.”
