The tourist season is supposed to have a beginning, middle, and end. On Kimolos, that tidy narrative does not quite fit. After a summer where ferries arrived with unusual regularity and tavernas stayed open past their usual patience, the island’s mayor, Constantinos Ventouris, is not ready to wave goodbye. He insists that demand will carry on into the fall — proof that the smallest Cyclades can stretch their season, if only a little.
The mayor’s optimism rests partly on the calendar. On October 4, Kimolos celebrates its patron saint, Methodia. The feast is no minor affair: it draws pilgrims, curious travelers, and anyone in search of a reason to stay another week by the sea. “Businesses are open and the Feast of Saint Methodia is likely to draw even more visitors,” Ventouris told the Athens–Macedonian News Agency, clearly pleased that religion and tourism can still shake hands when necessary.
Saint Methodia, once a figure of local piety, has become an anchor in the municipal plan to keep tavernas humming and rooms booked after the last summer charter flight leaves Athens. On an island where every celebration has to double as a form of survival, it makes perfect sense.
Ventouris credits this late-season resilience not to luck but to strategy. According to him, Kimolos has been quietly reinventing its presentation. “We analyzed market trends in Greece and abroad and developed a modern, targeted strategy, which was systematically implemented to achieve the best outcomes,” he explained, as if speaking from a conference stage rather than a wind-swept municipal office.
The plan, approved by both the Tourism Committee and the Municipal Council, emphasizes what officials call the island’s “experiential character.” Translation: Visitors are invited to slow down, meet a fisherman, perhaps learn why goats wander through the village square, and realize that Kimolos does not have nightclubs, but it does have conversations under vines. It is less about services and more about a mood — which is exactly what the island has to sell.
A Different Kind of Cycladic Stage
Kimolos is often described in relation to its more glamorous neighbor, Milos. The comparison is unfair but inevitable. Where Milos now counts boutique hotels and Instagram queues at Sarakiniko, Kimolos still trades in understatement. Its landscapes are wild, its houses modest, and its main beach, Prassa, wears its turquoise water without apology.
That humility, oddly enough, has become a marketing tool. Travelers who tire of the “must-see” lists of Santorini or the club prices of Mykonos end up on Kimolos almost by accident — and then stay because the island does not bother to impress them. It is the sort of destination that wins by doing less, and the mayor knows it.
Whether the island can truly sustain this momentum into October is another matter. For now, the evidence is anecdotal: more bookings than usual, tavernas keeping their doors open longer, and an unusual willingness among locals to see strangers hanging around past September. But as every Cycladic mayor knows, extending the season is the holy grail of tourism policy. Kimolos, with its small scale, is unlikely to lead a revolution, but it can set an example.
The challenge is practical: ferries thin out as autumn deepens, weather turns moody, and even the most devoted traveler has to weigh the romance of isolation against the cost of being stranded. Still, Ventouris is confident that with planning, marketing, and the occasional miracle from Saint Methodia, the island can squeeze more out of its brief moment in the sun.
Ultimately, Kimolos is unlikely to become the next Santorini. It is simply refusing to retreat into hibernation the moment the cicadas fall silent. By leaning on tradition, modest promotion, and a steady dose of faith, the island hopes to keep its narrow lanes alive with visitors a little longer.
And if the mayor’s predictions hold, Kimolos might prove that in the Cyclades, even the smallest players can stretch the season — one feast, one ferry, and one turquoise beach at a time.
