In the heart of Crete's winter, when the ancient stones of Knossos stand silent against steel-gray skies, visual artists find themselves in an unusual position. The bustling summer months, filled with wedding celebrations and tourist photoshoots, feel like a distant memory. Our cameras and drones, usually busy capturing sun-drenched memories for visitors, rest quietly in their cases.
Yet this seasonal lull brings its own kind of magic. While our booking calendars may be sparse, winter in Crete offers a different canvas altogether. The island transforms into a more intimate version of itself, freed from the summer crowds. The narrow streets of old towns, typically packed with tourists seeking the perfect Instagram moment, now belong to the locals and the occasional cat seeking shelter from the Mediterranean rain.
During these quieter months, I've discovered that my drone becomes less of a work tool and more of an adventure companion. On clear winter days, when the north winds pause their eternal dance with the island's shores, I take to the skies. From above, Crete reveals a different face – olive groves silvered by winter light, mountains crowned with unexpected snow, and coastlines where winter waves crash against empty beaches.
The waiting period between client bookings stretches like the long shadows of winter afternoons. But this time isn't wasted – it's invested in exploration. Some days, I wander through mountain villages where elderly locals, no longer busy with summer visitors, have time to share stories over cups of mountain tea. Other days, I scout new locations, marking spots where the winter light creates particularly dramatic scenes, mentally filing them away for future shoots.
This seasonal pause also offers something increasingly rare in our profession: time for creative experimentation. Without the pressure of immediate deadlines, there's freedom to play with new techniques, master complex drone maneuvers, or simply capture the island's winter mood for personal projects.
Yes, our phones may be quieter now, with fewer booking inquiries coming in. But in exchange, we get to experience and document a side of Crete that most visitors never see – an island wrapped in winter's contemplative embrace, waiting for spring's inevitable return.