The casual tradition I began after first moving onto boats some eight years ago involves me going for a sail on my birthday. Last year was sailing in the Azores—a difficult experience to top—but this year certainly ranks high, not only because of boisterous sea conditions, but from a multitude of unexpected surprises including a last-minute visit from a new friend.

We met Dave last year while gallivanting in the UK, and he just so happens to be in Athens for work and can afford a few days off to come join us over my birthday. Not only does he help us get our dive gear back in order, but he also manages to smuggle in a few gifts, which—coupled with hidden items left by the Jenkins’ Clan during their recent visits and the covert purchases of Clare made in my presence (I guess male obliviousness isn’t always a bad thing)—means I have a delightful bag of unexpected goodies to open while we sip coffee and snack on baklava on the morning of my 35th birthday. Thanks again to one and all.

But back to sailing…The Aegean islands have a hearty reputation for stout summer winds (called the Meltemi), and they do not disappoint on this special day. With sails doubled-reefed and the windvane working overtime to steer the boat, we make the 20-plus-mile sail in good time and ensure the decks are well-washed with toppling seawater along the way. Dave is a trooper and is quick to offer help even though the conditions force him on several occasions to feed the fish. With about a hundred dives under his belt he is no stranger to being on a ship at sea, but admits that “this is the first time I’ve ever been seasick.” Sorry bro, but thanks for taking one for the team.

We drop the sails as we make our final approach into the anchorage—all of us at this point ready for a break—when an alarm screeches to life forcing us to kill the overheating engine. We find ourselves immediately adrift beam-to the seas unable to raise the mainsail with strong winds blowing us rapidly out to sea—much better than onto rocks though, I must admit. Turns out the engine is leaking coolant, so a top-up of fluids gets everything humming again and we do manage to finally get the boat securely anchored after three different attempts—busy anchorage, deep water, and strong winds make for a tricky combination, but at least our newest addition to the boat performed admirably…

Although not a birthday gift per se, you can definitely argue that the 55-meters of brand new 10-mm chain we purchased just a week prior helps to ensure that my birthday doesn’t go awry. Buying new chain is never a “fun” purchase (especially because it costs a small fortune), but the rusted links of our “old” chain (which was only in service for one year!) had already jammed our anchor winch twice and we weren’t excited to deal with the potential consequences a third time—so yes, having new chain in good working order during difficult conditions can undoubtedly be counted as a birthday boon.

After finally settling the boat it takes us all a bit to recover our energy, but it is my birthday after all and the plan is to go out and experience Greece’s most hedonistic island—Mykonos. A tall shot of tequila on the bow before we set off gets the juices flowing, and a timely catching of the local bus keeps us in positive spirits. Naturally, Clare has already been to this island some time BZ (Before Zach), but either way we are all a bit taken aback at the scene.

“It’s like tourism on crack,” I believe is how Dave puts it, and as we ramble through the narrow winding alleyways—climbing spiraling stone treads here or ducking under overhanging balconies there—I can’t help but think we are wandering through some sort of vogue tourism theme-park: An ancient and magical whitewashed Cycladic village lined with designer fashion boutiques branded with minimalist signage, chic hipster bars with carefully designed mood lighting warmly glow from every periphery, and open-air debonair restaurants silently hawk their wares from butcher block menus set elegantly within centuries old stone. It is beautiful, and therefore it attracts the beautiful—indeed everyone here is on display, to see-and-be-seen—but behind such lustrous veneer lies a gnawing hollowness, a dissolute quest to quiet an insatiable hunger for stylish consumption. But that doesn’t mean that we don’t have a good time! (And don’t be fooled by these photos which are NOT representative of my above description…we must have been too busy looking at the glitz and never ended up pulling out the camera.)

Turns out the dizzying array of streets and alleyways were in fact designed to be windy and convoluted in an attempt to breakup and confuse the nearly incessant winds—something we very much appreciate as we satisfy our cravings with a meal, and then an ice cream, and then a drink (or perhaps in a different order), gawking and giggling all the while at all the ponies on display, remembering that in truth we are no different than all the rest.

But even with all of the glam and glitter of old town, Mykonos is most renown for it’s modern dance clubs. Clare and I had lots of fun joining the ranks of partygoers at a club in Ibiza last year, and Mykonos is considered the Ibiza of the Greek islands. Considering that we don’t go out all that much, I thought my birthday an appropriate chance for a dirty night out dancing…and having Dave along with us—who also loves to shake his tail feathers—is just icing on the cake. The more the merrier!

Unfortunately, the end of June is not the end of July, and apparently even on holiday not everyday is Saturday. Rather than a dance club packed with carefree youth throwing their hands up for some hot new up-and-coming European DJ, we find ourselves in the middle of an almost deserted dance floor with speakers blaring the wrung-out attempts of an aging Mykonos resident act who goes by a trade-name not even prefaced with DJ, but simply “TERRY” is projected in large glowing letters over the sound booth. The club is chic and well-designed, but is woefully under-crowded and painfully over-staffed, and the tunes leave a lot to be desired. But when given lemons make lemonade and so we do, and by an by have a good time. By the end of the night we even make some new friends with whom we watch the sunrise at the adjoining beach before all splitting ways.

With the wind still howling, we move the boat twice more before dropping Dave off the following day, where CJ even manages to snag him a free ride to the airport from some polo-clad yacht worker on his way to pickup new clientele in a fancy private car. Alas Dave, enjoy the final luxury of tinted windows and air conditioning before returning to your office job in the dreary UK—cheers mate, it’s been a blast!

We opt to hop a bus back to old town so as to experience it in daylight, however soon after arriving the wind begins to shift and the sky threatens havoc with dark billowing rain clouds and thunderous lightening. Rather than a leisurely afternoon taking in the sights, we instead hustle back to the boat, pack up our mess, weigh anchor, and run for cover from the strong winds which have now clocked 180-degrees and leave us vulnerable to a lee-shore. Our only good option is to slowly claw our way a handful of miles over to the small and uninhabited islands of Delos and Rineia, where we manage to anchor just before sunset. The glow and sparkle of Mykonos are visible each and every night, causing a restless agitation in CJ who would prefer to be ashore, but I’m quite content to sit in peaceful isolation as we wait for the wind to calm, and quietly contemplate the successful celebration of another year gone by.

Perhaps it wasn’t the raging-est birthday party ever, but I certainly have nothing to complain about. A bagful of gifts in the morning, a brisk sail in the afternoon, an eye-popping stroll in the evening, and a dedicated dance through the night, all of it punctuated by the surprise visit of an enthusiastic friend. It may not have included flour and sugar, but I couldn’t have asked for a better cake.