Walking Guide to 42 Greek Islands

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A WALKING GUIDE TO 42 GREEK ISLANDS (1987)

GERALD THOMPSON


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A WALKING GUIDE TO 42 GREEK ISLANDS (1987)

GERALD THOMPSON

© Gerald Ephraim Nektarios Thompson, Mesagros, Aegina, Greece, 2014.

Transcription by David Royle, Scarborough, North Yorkshire, England.

First Edition: 15 March 2014.


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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

For some years I had been aware that Gerald had written the first volume of a Walking Guide to

Greece, but I had always understood that there was no surviving manuscript. I had the names of

several publishers with whom Gerald had corresponded in 1987, and in December 2013 something

prompted me to try to contact them. I soon got in touch with Denise Harvey, now resident in the town

of Limni on the island of Evia. Call it chance, serendipity or divine intervention, but Denise, although

unable to publish the guide herself, valued her copy of the manuscript so highly that she had kept it

safely in her archives, even though, as is common in publishing, it had been sent to her on a non-

return basis. It is therefore thanks to Denise that I have been able to complete this transcription.

I would also like to thank Chris Knight for the cover photograph of Gerald, taken in Ithaca in 1972.

Chris and I accompanied Gerald on his visit to Greece that summer, which also included Mount Athos

(The Holy Mountain), Epirus and Lefkada.

David Royle

March 2014


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FOREWORD

Gerald Thompson was born in 1933 in the Northern English industrial town of Wakefield, West

Yorkshire. His family was working class Methodist, closely involved in church music and song, and

music has played a central role throughout Gerald's life. Wakefield is a short drive away from the

Pennine Hills and the Yorkshire Dales, fine open, hilly countryside which helped to inspire his love of

walking. A turning point in Gerald's life was winning a scholarship to Queen Elizabeth's Grammar

School, Wakefield, where he was introduced to Classics, becoming so enthused by Greek in

particular, that he won a Hastings Scholarship to study Classics at The Queen's College, Oxford.

Gerald taught Classics at Hymers College, Hull from 1957 to 1985, inspiring several generations of

students, not least through his legendary Easter school trips to Greece, and achieving outstanding

success in University entrance exams, especially to Oxford and Cambridge. When, in 1985, Hymers

College removed Greek from the curriculum, Gerald took early retirement and taught Greek at Hull

University for several years before moving permanently to Greece, working part-time as a tour guide.

Since 1990 Gerald has lived in Mesagros, Aegina, and established the Aegina Rambling Club, also

publishing "A Walking Guide to Aegina" in 1997, which after several editions, remains in print and is

on sale at the island's bookshops in English and Greek versions, as is his story of his experiences with

an Albanian family in Aegina "Illyrian Monopoly", originally published in 1995. In 1993 Gerald

converted to Greek Orthodoxy, taking the name Gerald Ephraim Nektarios Thompson, abbreviated by

many of his friends to GENT. Gerald celebrated his 80th birthday in 2013, and continues to live in

Mesagros, now in quiet retirement.

In transcribing the manuscript I have made corrections to typographical errors, hopefully not adding

too many of my own. I have also in some cases tried to make the conversion of Greek names to theLatin alphabet consistent, at least within a particular chapter. This is not straightforward. English

readers are used to the Latinised versions of Classical Greek names - k, kh, u, ai, oi becoming c, ch, y,

ae, oe respectively. Modern Greek versions tend to reflect modern pronunciation, simplifying the now

like-sounding ē, ei, i, u, ui, oi to the single letter 'i', and the classical versions b, ph, kh, ai, eu, g to v, f,

h (or ch), e, ef (or ev), y (or g) respectively. In addition, some islands have medieval Italian names

still in use (eg. Corfu, Zante, Santorini).

So the island Αίγινα can be represented as Aigina, Aegina, Egina or Eyina;Εύβοια as Euboia, Euboea

or Evia. The Prophet Elijah (Προφήτης Ηλίας), whose chapel stands at the top of many Greek

mountains, has 16 possible transcriptions, varying from Prophetes Elias to Profitis Ilias.

In other respects the transcription is exactly as written by Gerald. I have added a Glossary to help

those who are not so familiar with Greek language and culture.

Finally, the reader should remember that the guide portrays the Greek Islands as they were in the

period c. 1976 to 1985, and that many of the paths and tracks described will have changed or

disappeared during the intervening years.

David Royle

Scarborough, North Yorkshire

March 2014


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CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS .................................................................................................................... 2

FOREWORD .......................................................................................................................................... 3

CONTENTS ............................................................................................................................................ 4

PREFACE ............................................................................................................................................... 6

INTRODUCTION .................................................................................................................................. 8

ISLANDS OF THE AEGEAN ............................................................................................................. 15

CHAPTER I: THASOS, SAMOTHRAKI, LIMNOS........................................................................... 17

THASOS ........................................................................................................................................... 17

SAMOTHRAKI ................................................................................................................................ 24

LIMNOS ........................................................................................................................................... 30

CHAPTER II: SKYROS, SKOPELOS, ALONISSOS ......................................................................... 40

SKYROS ........................................................................................................................................... 40

SKOPELOS ...................................................................................................................................... 49

ALONNISOS .................................................................................................................................... 58

CHAPTER III: EUBOIA, ANDROS, TINOS ...................................................................................... 66

EUBOIA ........................................................................................................................................... 66

ANDROS .......................................................................................................................................... 73

TINOS ............................................................................................................................................... 76

CHAPTER IV: AEGINA, CYTHERA ................................................................................................. 79

AEGINA ........................................................................................................................................... 79

CYTHERA ........................................................................................................................................ 87

CHAPTER V: KEA, KYTHNOS, SERIPHOS .................................................................................... 90

KEA .................................................................................................................................................. 90

KYTHNOS ....................................................................................................................................... 98

SERIPHOS ...................................................................................................................................... 103

CHAPTER VI: SIPHNOS, KIMOLOS, MILOS ................................................................................ 107

SIPHNOS ........................................................................................................................................ 107

KIMOLOS ...................................................................................................................................... 115

MILOS ............................................................................................................................................ 117

CHAPTER VII: SANTORINI, PHOLEGANDROS, SIKINOS, ANAPHI ....................................... 120

SANTORINI ................................................................................................................................... 120

PHOLEGANDROS ........................................................................................................................ 126SIKINOS ......................................................................................................................................... 132


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ANAPHI ......................................................................................................................................... 138

CHAPTER VIII: PAROS, NAXOS, AMORGOS .............................................................................. 145

PAROS ............................................................................................................................................ 145

NAXOS ........................................................................................................................................... 150

AMORGOS..................................................................................................................................... 156

CHAPTER IX: IKARIA, SAMOS, PATMOS ................................................................................... 164

IKARIA .......................................................................................................................................... 164

SAMOS ........................................................................................................................................... 175

PATMOS ........................................................................................................................................ 181

CHAPTER X: KARPATHOS, KOS, KALYMNOS, LEROS ........................................................... 185

KARPATHOS................................................................................................................................. 185

KOS ................................................................................................................................................ 193KALYMNOS .................................................................................................................................. 200

LEROS ............................................................................................................................................ 205

CHAPTER XI: SYMI, TILOS, NISYROS, ASTYPALAIA .............................................................. 207

SYMI .............................................................................................................................................. 207

TILOS ............................................................................................................................................. 216

NISYROS ....................................................................................................................................... 221

ASTYPALAIA ............................................................................................................................... 227

CHAPTER XII: CHIOS, LESBOS ..................................................................................................... 231

CHIOS ............................................................................................................................................ 231

LESBOS .......................................................................................................................................... 234

CHAPTER XIII THE IONIAN ISLES (1) ......................................................................................... 237

ZACYNTHOS ................................................................................................................................ 239

CEPHALONIA ............................................................................................................................... 244

ITHACA ......................................................................................................................................... 260

CHAPTER XIV: THE IONIAN ISLES (2) ........................................................................................ 265

LEFKADA ...................................................................................................................................... 265

CORFU (KERKYRA) .................................................................................................................... 274

APPENDIX – TRAVEL, CLOTHING, FOOD, ACCOMMODATION ........................................... 287

GLOSSARY OF GREEK TERMS ..................................................................................................... 295


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PREFACE

This book is the product of frequent visits to Greece which it has been my good fortune to

enjoy both at Easter time and in the Summer holidays ,during the last 25 years, and in the

course of which I have amassed almost 3000 colour slides. It has been written largely at theinstigation of enthusiastic friends and pupils whose flattering remarks about the quality both

of my photography and accompanying commentary have at length persuaded me to offer my

experience of Greece to a hopefully somewhat wider audience. But lest that perhaps more

discerning public be deluded by false expectations, may I at the outset define more precisely

what has been my chief intention in writing.

In the first place this book does not pretend to be an erudite, comprehensive survey of the

country's enormously rich archaeological and historical heritage. For this field, important as it

is, has already been more than adequately explored in numerous guidebooks directed

specifically towards this end. Such archaeological and historical references as do appear in

the text I have included mainly because the relevant sites have either been too recently dug,

or have been regarded as too insignificant to receive detailed treatment in the wider context

of the unquestionably more prolific and more accessible sites of the mainland. Nor, on the

other hand, is the book a travelogue of intrinsic literary merit, as for example Henry Miller's

'Colossus of Marousi', or Lawrence Durrell's 'Bitter Lemons'. Its purpose is less ambitious

and more severely practical. First, in the Introduction, my main aim is to encourage the

tourist to exchange the overcrowded and now often polluted beach for the less publicized but

more genuine and salubrious delights of the countryside. For it is my firm conviction that,

even despite the alarming depopulation which the rural areas have suffered throughout thiscentury, here alone can one discover the true Greece. In the second and main section of the

book, after a brief general survey of each island and its lines of communication, I give more

detailed descriptions of the more successful excursions which I have made during my sojourn

there. Finally, in the Appendices, I offer those who are prepared to follow my advice one or

two hints on accommodation, travel, language and food, in the hope that by saving valuable

time, and being spared needless frustration, they may thereby be able to extract maximum

satisfaction from their efforts.

The main section is arranged in 12 chapters, each chapter dealing with a relatively compact

geographical area which could be visited comfortably within the span of a two or three

weeks' holiday, both avoiding excessively long and expensive journeys, and also leaving

ample time for relaxation, swimming, and all the other manifold activities which Greece

provides for her visitors' delight and enjoyment. I have for three reasons totally excluded the

mainland. In the first place the mainland is so rich in scenery of incomparable magnificence

and variety, it would require at least another volume to do it even the scantest justice.

Secondly one of the avowed objects of the book is to allure the beach-lover into the

countryside; and it seemed to me that my chances of success might be slightly higher on an

island, where the sea might either be dangled as the ultimate objective of a successful

excursion or alternatively might serve as a refuge in the event of failure. And thirdly, self-confessed land-lubber though I am, I must admit that the constant prospect of the sea not only


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gives one a comforting sense of security, but also vastly enhances the attractiveness of any

walk.

I have also deliberately omitted from the main section of the book, all the islands on the

periphery of Greece - namely both the so called Ionian Isles which lie off the West coast ofthe mainland , and also Crete and Rhodes which occupy the Southern and Eastern fringes of

the Aegean Sea. Again my reasons for so doing are threefold. First and foremost, most of

these islands are so large and varied that they each merit a book to themselves. Secondly in

the course of many years' travelling I have developed a distinct preference for the smaller

island, where both because of the more intimate scale of the landscape, and the relative

paucity of the population, one can more quickly and easily feel at home and accepted within

the community. Thirdly it is on the smaller and often neglected islands where one can best

discover in all their pristine integrity those traditions and values which are the very essence of

what is most distinctive and most precious in the unique heritage of Greece. Furthermore, it is

also here that the effects of depopulation have often been most severe, and where in

consequence there is the most urgent need for tourism, albeit on a modest and judicious scale,

to implant 'the kiss of life' to communities now sadly in danger of becoming totally

moribund. Conversely, my main motive for observing a tactful silence about such renowned

resorts as Mykonos, Skiathos, Ios and Hydra, is precisely the fact that excessive exposure to

tourism has regrettably stripped these areas of much of their former charm and tranquillity, to

such an extent that I can no longer in honesty commend them to the prospective walker.

With the single exception of the island of Aegina, with which repeated visits have made me

reasonably familiar, I an painfully aware that I have barely scratched the surface of the otherareas described, each of which would require a lifetime to know in intimate detail, as even the

local residents would admit. Nevertheless this book, however unworthy, will have achieved

its main purpose if it stimulates the reader to explore for himself, and possibly even to

pioneer for others, the long neglected footpaths and bye ways , upon which and by which he

may discover some of the enduring and inexhaustible treasures of Greece.


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INTRODUCTION

Why walk in Greece?

Before stating the positive case for walking in Greece, may I attempt first to remove the fearsand demolish the sophistries of those who regard walking in any high temperature as both

physically harmful and as certain evidence of mental instability. For be assured, when the late

Noel Coward in his affectionate, inimitable satire categorized those who go out in the midday

sun as 'either mad dogs' or 'Englishmen', he reflected a very popular misconception regarding

the risks and wisdom of perambulating in the heat of the day. But before I begin to expose the

fallacies inherent in this widely held prejudice, let me confess quite frankly that I am by no

means averse to the siesta, an institution which I regard as eminently civilized, and of great

practical value, enabling one as it does to enjoy without fatigue far longer waking hours.

Moreover if the siesta be taken, as is generally the case, immediately after the consumption of

a substantial midday meal, it can be further justified on the grounds of sound medical

practice. In point of fact, however, it is my unvaried conclusion that the hottest hours fall not

at 12 p.m., as Coward's verse would imply, but rather between 4 and 6 in the evening.

Furthermore the midday meal once so much esteemed by all nations, and medically the

principal cause and justification for the siesta, can be dispensed with entirely, or at least

reduced to a modest slice of bread and cheese followed by fresh fruit, without any apparent

adverse effects upon the body, and with considerable benefit to the purse!

But to proceed to the argument. It is often helpful when seeking to dislodge a firmly

entrenched prejudice to examine the motives and define the characters of those who adhere toit with such vehemence and conviction. Who, then, are these people who aver that they

'couldn't possibly walk in all that heat'? In my experience they fall into one or other of two

distinct categories. Either they are the people who lie motionless as mummies on sultry

beaches, hour by hour exposing their limp flesh to the searing rays of the sun, in the

misguided belief that they thereby improve their outward appearance and their inward health.

Or else they belong to that ever-increasing band of morons who imagine that by filling the

atmosphere with diesel fumes and dust, and shattering the serenity of nature with the

cacophonous roar of the internal combustion engine, they somehow exhibit a virility and skill

and intelligence vastly superior to that of the humble pedestrian. If in fact the members of

these two classes could just for once raise the courage and the common sense to subject their

unexamined prejudices to the sure test of personal experience, they would soon discover that

their fears were almost entirely unfounded and illusory. For in the first place, even in areas

like Attica which have a high mean summer temperature in the region of 88ºF, the coastal

districts excepted, the humidity is relatively low, and consequently the heat is far more

tolerable than the more humid variety with which we are familiar in the British Isles.

Secondly, in a country as mountainous as Greece one rarely walks long at an altitude of lower

than 1000'; and for every 1000' climbed the temperature falls by 4.8 degrees F. Indeed on

several occasions even in mid August I have been reduced to wearing two shirts and a

sweater, when climbing in the early morning or late evening at over 3000'. Thirdly,throughout the whole of August and July most parts of Greece, and especially the Cyclades,


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are exposed to the full fury of the Meltemi, a powerful wind sucked down from the central

Balkans into the Aegean Sea. The force of this gale – for it is far from the gentle Zephyr of

classical mythology - has to be experienced to be believed. I have literally been swept off my

feet in exposed mountain areas like Dirphys in central Euboea; and any who have been

caught sailing into its dynamic force will need no argument of mine to persuade then of itshazardous power. There have been times when even in mid-summer I have asked for

blankets, even when sleeping indoors at a height of only 1000', but exposed to the brunt of

these freezing N.E. blasts. Fourthly, that more leisurely, liberal race who, as yet uncorrupted

by the specious advantages of speed, pioneered the paths from village to village, had more

regard for the frailty of man than to forge their routes through desert wastes devoid of both

shade and water. Even a small shrub can afford protection from the merciless shafts of

Apollo, provided that the track be sufficiently narrow: only on the wide carriageway is one

roasted alive. Finally and this is not as foolish a claim as the uninitiated might imagine - the

very motion of walking produces a draught which can at least palliate even the fiercest heat,

and enable one sensibly equipped with broad-brimmed hat to reach his destination unscathed.

'Very well' says my antagonist. 'I concede that my fears of the consequences of walking in the

noonday heat have been proved groundless, or at least vastly exaggerated. But I have come

here for a holiday, for a rest: to enjoy the sun and the sea; to relax rather than to exhaust

myself traversing those arid, scrub-ridden hills.' By what argument can I counter such an

eminently reasonable position? It would be foolish to deny that Greece has an abundance of

sun and a superfluity of clear, crystal sea; and it would be more foolish still to deny anyone

the right to enjoy them, in short to enjoy his leisure time in the way he chooses, in the

activities and pursuits which he feels will yield the maximum satisfaction and pleasure. May Ihowever with great deference urge my adversary to direct his thoughts to the following two

considerations. 'First, if it's only the sun and the sea that you require, why come to Greece?

Spain has just as much sun, possibly better beaches cheaper hotels and food: and so do

Majorca, Corsica and scores of other popular Mediterranean resorts. Surely you come to

Greece to get to know Greece, the land and its people, its history and its culture, its unique

flavour and contribution to Western Europe. And you certainly won't discover all these by

lying on a beach or peering into the sea. Secondly, if you will only make the attempt, and

refuse to be deterred either by the superficially intransigent nature of the terrain or by the

apparent but deceptive difficulty of the task, you will find the experience certainly

memorable, and hopefully far from unpleasant; and you may well discover that those wild,

initially forbidding mountains conceal hidden treasures beyond your wildest imaginings.'

Assuming that I have convinced you that walking will damage neither your health nor your

sanity, and may in fact yield unexpected pleasure, may I now attempt to outline some of the

positive advantages to which my own and others' walking experience in Greece have led.

Admittedly the rigid and once revered Platonic dichotomy of body and soul has long since

and with good reason been exploded by contemporary philosophy and psychology alike.

Nevertheless, for the sake of my argument I should like to analyse the accruing advantages

under the convenient headings of physical and spiritual, while freely admitting that thesecategories are by no means mutually exclusive.


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First, then, the physical benefits. Let me at the outset state quite categorically that at no time

and in no place do I feel better in health than when walking in the Greek countryside.

Moreover the allergic asthma of which I had been a victim since childhood first began to

improve after my first visit to Greece, and has now almost completely disappeared. Nor is myexperience by any means an isolated one. I have heard several Greeks claim that they have

been cured of pulmonary tuberculosis by climbing this or that mountain, whilst our own

Utilitarian philosopher J.S. Mill adds further corroborative evidence of the ameliorative

effects upon this condition consequent upon mountain climbing in Attica. (Vd i Later Letters,

Nos 233, 235, 236, written 1855 when Mill was age 49).

'But what,' you may ask, 'are the reasons? How is it that totally inexperienced walkers often

suffering from chronic, malignant disease, can achieve prodigious feats of endurance with

minimal fatigue, and without the usual aches and pains that customarily follow unfamiliar,

strenuous exercise?' .I believe that those brilliant pioneers of philosophic and scientific

enquiry who in Ionia in the sixth century B.C. proclaimed, with characteristic insight that the

basic elements from which the universe is constructed are Earth, Air, Fire and Water, have

given us the clue. It is often stated, and most frequently by Greeks themselves, that Greece is

a poor country; but this is of course only partially true. Poor it may be in the expendable

luxury articles of the West: but in the basic essentials required for a happy, healthy existence

Greece is a veritable Eldorado. Can anyone, for example, who has tasted the succulent

produce of the land - grapes, figs, tomatoes, oranges - ever doubt their first-rate quality, or

question the fecundity or a soil which produces fruit in such amazing abundance? And the

reason? The incalculable richness of the earth, the air, the sunlight and mineral-laden water.And where is the best quality food produced? Not, as you might imagine, in the lowlands of

Thessaly or Boeotia, but in the small mountain plateaux. For it is there that you will find the

purest air, air which has the texture of silk, and refines like fire; and water most devoid of

harmful impurities and most rich in life-giving minerals. And what better place to imbibe

these vital waters, to inhale this vibrant air than at their elemental source - the gushing

mountain spring, the windswept mountain peak? What better way to enjoy these delicious

fruits in all their pristine freshness, than to pluck them straight from the branch that bears

them? All of which is possible only for those who will walk.

Such then are some of the positive physical delights that lie in store for those who walk. But

before I proceed to examine the spiritual benefits, I should like to advance a theory which I

have evolved over the years to account for the curious absence of muscular pain to which I

alluded in the foregoing paragraph. Careful examination of the evidence has led me to

conclude that it is the sun and the absence of humidity which are responsible for this

remarkable phenomenon. For I have observed that the very rare occasions on which I have

felt stiff have invariably been days of oppressive cloud and humidity. I venture the hypothesis

that the prime cause of muscular pain is the presence of impurities in the blood, impurities

which are normally dispersed almost instantly by the copious perspiration which takes place

when the temperature is high and the humidity low. Thus again, by a curious paradox, thesun, so often advanced as a pretext for not walking, turns out in fact to be an excellent reason


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for walking, and thereby ridding the body by evaporation of the harmful poisons which

would otherwise accumulate and damage the system.

Foremost among the spiritual benefits I would place the intense pleasure afforded by the

distinctive beauty of the Greek countryside. Only a poet's pen could do justice to the fabledclarity of light and contour; to the stark grandeur of mountains tumbling into the sea's vast

embrace; to the purity and vividness of the prime colours that decorate the fields in Spring; to

the radiant simplicity of beetling villages sparkling in the sun against a backcloth of

unrepentant grey; to tall cypresses set against an azure sky; to white, foaming torrents

cascading over smooth, glossy rocks. Sufficient to say that in no other landscape am I made

so acutely aware of the presence of the divine demiourgos of Plato's Timaeus; nowhere else

in the world do I discern more clearly the hand of the craftsman creator, tenderly moulding

each hillside, deftly sculpting each massive rock, intricately carving each bay with the

delicate tracery of filigree silver.

Another pleasure, intellectual rather than spiritual, which as a Classicist I esteem especially

highly, is that of observing the continuity of history in Greece, a continuity all the more

remarkable when one considers the almost unparalleled timescale and the incomparable

vicissitudes involved. It is a truism that the countryside tends always to be more conservative

than the city; and hence it should not surprise us to discover that the deeper one penetrates

into the remote villages and hamlets of Greece the further one penetrates into antiquity. Here

alone can one still hear played instruments long since rejected by the city-dweller as obsolete;

can see performed measures once trod by the ancient Greeks of Periclean Athens and beyond;

can observe rituals adopted and perpetuated by the early Christian church, but having theirorigins in the far distant, pagan past. To give but one illustration. In the Summer of 1972 it

was my good fortune to visit the Great Lavra Monastery on Mt. Athos on the final day of the

annual feast commemorating the death of Athanasios who in 953 A.D. founded this the first

and richest of the eventual community of twenty ruling monasteries. As the elaborate services

came to an end and the impressive column of richly clad clergy slowly filed from the ancient

church towards the refectory an extremely energetic monk mounted the carillon and rang a

deafeningly joyous peal of bells to herald the breaking of the fast which is a necessary

precursor of all religious festivals in Greece. At this sign two other brothers appropriately

clad in aprons and equipped with trowels began to distribute to the excited crowd of pilgrims

an enormous cake whose surface had been skilfully decorated in cinnamon and polychrome

sugar to represent the famed double-headed eagle of Byzantium. On subsequent inquiry I

discovered that the cake, which is called Kolyva, and is traditionally offered at funerals and

commemorative services of all kinds, has as its chief ingredients pomegranate seeds and corn,

both symbols of the great regenerative power of nature and tokens of immortality. Now cast

your mind back two and a half millennia to the Eleusinian mysteries into which at puberty

every freeborn Athenian male was initiated, and what do you discover?. Precisely this: that

the culmination of the whole elaborate ceremony was reached when in the great initiation hall

the youthful ephebes were presented by the priestess of Demeter with exactly the same two

objects - a pomegranate and an ear of corn. What more convincing proof could anyonerequire of the astonishing tenacity of tradition in Greece?


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Finally it is in the heart of the country that one is privileged to enjoy the traditional Greek

hospitality on its most lavish and generous scale, whether it be organized publicly beneath the

banner of the church in the form of some local panegyry or in the more intimate, informal

atmosphere of the home. It cannot be mere coincidence that the most genuine expressions of public joy survive only in the remoter areas, centred for example around churches like that of

the Phaneromeni built on a deserted headland some 8 miles West of Sitea in Eastern Crete, or

that of the Prophet Elijah on the 4500' summit of Mt. Ochi in Southern Euboea. To

participate in the solemn ritual of the elaborate service, and then share in the uninhibited

ebullience of the subsequent festivities is indeed an experience never to be forgotten. But no

less moving and memorable are the acts of spontaneous hospitality extended to complete

strangers in the simple dignity of the home. Out of countless examples which I could cite I

select the following as typical, as well as being most recent in my memory. I was on the

island of Cythera and had walked from the village of Mylopotamos, where I was staying with

several friends, to visit the monastery of Myrtidion some six miles distant. Anxious to avoid

returning by the same route I decided., against all attempts to dissuade me, to make my way

to our prearranged rendezvous by means of a rough coastal track ascending precipitous cliffs

which command superb views over the sea. As I had been warned, the path soon degenerated

and finally disappeared completely, leaving me to scramble down the steep, rugged hillside in

the midday sun in order to reach the bay where we had agreed to meet. I arrive somewhat

bedraggled and scan the beach in vain for my friends; but all I find is a lonely cottage at the

far edge of the bay, and outside a young man beckoning me to come inside. I readily respond

and accept with manifest gratitude the customary refreshment - water, ouzo and Turkish

Delight. After chatting for half an hour I am invited, much to my amazement to stay forlunch, a magnificent meal of freshly grilled fish, salads, bread, cheese, fruit and wine, all of

which are produced in an instant as if prepared especially for my arrival. 'But how on earth

did you know that I was coming?' I ask, dumbfounded and overwhelmed. 'Oh, I have a pair of

binoculars,' came my host's shy reply, and I spotted you coming down the hillside.' The meal

over, I am offered a bed to rest, lulled by the gentle lapping of the waves against the shore,

refreshed by the cool breeze that blows in through the open window and out through the

opposite door. Where else in Europe may a total stranger enjoy such touching courtesy, such

sincere and prodigal generosity and friendship? The receipt of such entirely unsolicited,

unconditional kindnesses not only provided one with encouraging proof of the amazing

continuity of tradition in Greece, but also - what is far more important - it restores one's faith

in the fundamental dignity and goodness of man.

But I must avoid painting too idyllic a picture of life in the countryside. It would be dishonest

to deny that there will undoubtedly be times when you will curse the moment you were

persuaded to exchange the lazy security of the beach and the cool comfort of the sea for the

torrid, rocky heights, where the insistent sun's tormenting rays and the deafening cicadas'

perpetual hiss both drain one's physical strength and even threaten one's very sanity. Either

your well-defined path will suddenly bifurcate into a thousand winding ways, threading a

tortuous - wilderness of thistles and lizards, thorns and briars, Or amid some stifling ravinewill instantly vanish into impenetrable thickets clinging to precarious ledges down which you


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slither and slide, only to find that you must forge an even more exhausting path up the

opposite side. Or you will find yourself shipwrecked in a sea of abandoned, rocky terraces,

too high to jump down with safety, but whose crumbling walls collapse on top of you as you

endeavour to scramble down. Or trapped in a deep chasm you will be ferociously attacked by

a plague of mosquitoes, hornets, dragon flies and wasps, all of monstrous size and obsceneshape. All these things and more will surely happen to you: but take heart, they will pass. The

very moment you imagine you will expire of thirst, as if by some divine intervention in

answer to your desperate cry, the barren rock will suddenly burst forth into a crystal spring

whose freezing waters seem to mock the very laws of nature. Or perhaps benighted on some

lonely moor you resign yourself to sleeping on the hard flint; when miraculously from the

shadows there emerges the shy figure of a shepherd who offers you his simple dwelling for

the night. Or again, after toiling for hours up a scorching ravine, progress impeded now by

dense undergrowth, now by loose scree, the parched rocks too hot to touch, one's water-bottle

almost empty; finally, shirt torn, hair matted, legs scratched and bleeding, one arrives at the

summit, to be greeted by a view of such surpassing beauty that all one's pain is instantly

vanished, and one's whole being becomes a paean of grateful praise.

But that is not all. It is not simply that the pleasures and delights so far outweigh the pains

and hardships that the latter soon pale into insignificance in the formers' dazzling brilliance.

No those very pains which initially one endures with such bad grace and bitter complaints are

finally seen to have their own peculiar purpose. In a familiar passage in his Republic Plato

describes those importunate requirements of the body as leaden weights which, until exposed

for the counterfeit currency they are, and firmly renounced, prevent the soul from reaching

those exalted heights which are the only worthy goal of human endeavour. ( VII 519b) Neoplatonism had a profound, though little acknowledged effect on the philosophy of the

early Christian church, and was undoubtedly one of the prime causes of its rigid asceticism. It

was not purely considerations of defence which led those pioneers of Christian architecture

so often to site their monasteries on inaccessible crags, and to found their churches on remote

mountaintops. Equally responsible was the deep conviction that only by mortifying the flesh

could the spirit attain to its full perfection. In yet more recent years that great novelist, Nikos

Kazantzakis, though certainly no conventional exponent of Orthodoxy, and still less an

apologist of the established church, has yet perpetuated this apparently ineradicable tradition

in his own personal philosophy of life. As far as I understand his views as presented through

the medium of his novels, it is the search, and not the solution, that is the true and only reason

for man's existence on this planet. The search will inevitably lead us into hazards and

difficulties which will wrack the body and torture the soul. But in some strange,

incomprehensible way these self-inflicted wounds are the essential catalyst in that mysterious

process whereby the physical is transmuted into spirit. And in the final stage of this

miraculous transformation the soul, now released from the restricting, inhibiting clutches of

those two most imperious masters, Fear and Desire, achieves at last its fully-fledged freedom

to soar at will through regions of pure, celestial light.

Only in Greece, and chiefly when walking in that strangely evocative landscape, do I begin tohave the first intimations of that perfect freedom to which Kazantzakis so often alludes. Not


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through the cold logic of the mind, but rather in that deeper, intuitive perception in which

sense and intellect are united in a single, cognitive act, I experience the first signs of that

blissful release into higher realms, above the understanding and beyond the senses. Alone on

a dazzling mountain peak, my weightless body absorbed into the radiance of sky and sea, my

soul momentarily suspended in a miracle of blue and white, slowly and silently I repeat these proud words with which Kazantzakis' Odysseus bids farewell to this life and hails the next:

I FEAR NOTHING, I HOPE FOR NOTHING:

I AM FREE.


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ISLANDS OF THE AEGEAN


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CHAPTER I: THASOS, SAMOTHRAKI, LIMNOS

THASOS

Thasos is most easily approached from Kavala, whence a regular ferry-boat crosses over toSkala Prinou on the N.W. coast in about 1½ hours, while from there a frequent bus service

transports passengers in a further ½ hour to the capital, Limen. Visitors, however, who are

either coming from, or destined for Eastern Thrace or Turkey may prefer the much shorter

crossing to Keramoti, almost due N. of Limen, which by avoiding Kavala completely could

easily reduce their journey by two to three hours.

It seems likely that the Phoenicians, attracted by the island's considerable mineral wealth, had

a trading station here from very remote times: but Thasos' recorded history begins at the

opening of the seventh century B.C., when it was refounded by Telesikles, father of the lyric poet Archilochus of Paros, on the advice of a Delphic oracle which has been preserved by the

historian Eusebius. Henceforward the island prospered to such an extent that it soon

controlled the mainland opposite, including the celebrated gold mines of Skapte Hyle on Mt.

Pangaion, later to become one of the main sources of Philip of Macedon's vast wealth.

Impressive evidence of the island's prosperity is still visible in its two adjacent harbours, one

commercial and the other military, the former, though now submerged, clearly paved with

marble, and even more in its superbly constructed and uniquely preserved 3 mile circuit of

walls, furnished with massive gates and adorned with fascinating sculptures. Of the island's

many natural resources, its plentiful supply of magnificent spring water has undoubtedly

exerted the greatest influence upon its development. For the consequent proliferation of

forest, much of which still survives, must surely have provided a great stimulus to ship-

building, to serve the needs of both commerce and defence, while it remains to this day,

along with its fine beaches, Thasos' major tourist attraction. In antiquity, however, it was to

its wine rather than to its water that the island owed its chief renown; and the extent of the

demand and the intensity of its production are well attested by the enormous number of seals,

bearing the names of both city and producer, which have appeared not only throughout the

whole Mediterranean, but also in areas as far afield as Russia, Germany and Egypt. Since the

comparatively recent discovery of off-shore oil - yet another potential source of wealth and

employment - the islanders, now less dependent on attracting foreign markets, discreetlyreserve the local produce for internal consumption, while the tourist has to be content with a

counterfeit brand which is in fact produced in Germany. Notwithstanding, the verdant

grandeur of the landscape, with its shining pine-clad peaks, copious cool springs, and

profusion of shady paths will offer the sturdy walker ample compensation for this regrettable

deprivation, and guarantee him many hours of exhilarating, challenging and rewarding

recreation.

The main town, known as either Thasos or Limen, is perhaps the best centre from which to

explore the whole island, either by bus or on foot, or by a judicious combination of both, andit also contains both a good museum and without doubt the island's most extensive classical


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remains. Since the island enjoys great popularity both amongst Greeks and foreign tourists,

especially from the Balkans, accommodation in the high season may pose problems and is

not as cheap as elsewhere. To do justice to the excavations in the harbour quarter, the walls,

the Acropolis and the charming little theatre, in which productions of both tragedy and

comedy are still staged, requires at least a whole day. To the adventurous walker Irecommend the following three excursions, with the caveat that the distances are quite long,

the going sometimes rough, and the probability of losing the path is quite high.

1. The ascent of Mt. Ypsarion – 3747'

In view of the distances involved and the toughness of the climb, it is advisable to take the

bus to Potamia, and so conserve one's energies for the main task. In any case, both Panagiaand Potamia are worthy of an independent visit, and if time permits they could form part of a

circular walk, returning via Chrisi Ammoudia and Makryammos – two very fine beaches –

along the coast.

Leave the main square of Potamia by the Panagia road, and after a few minutes turn left along

a lane at first concreted and then loosely paved. On either side run water conduits irrigating

orchards of magnificent apples, pears and damsons, vineyards laden with tantalizing grapes,

and fields replete with sturdy maize, artichokes and all manner of vegetables. After 20

minutes be careful to avoid a tempting right fork which leads to a quarry, and thence plunges

headlong down a gorge. Instead continue straight on until in some 10 minutes you reach a


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wonderful spring, shaded by an enormous plane tree, and deriving its water, so my Eleusinian

informants assured me, from distant Bulgaria! After 5 minutes, where the road forks, take the

right branch, and then in two minutes look out for a path on the right which is marked by a

red arrow placed on a fir tree by the E.O.S of BEROIA. Continue to follow the arrows and

spots which are strategically located on trees or stones, and in 20 minutes you will pass over a patch of scree, and in a further 10 minutes reach another alluring path ascending on the right.

This too is best avoided, as I learnt by bitter experience. For I soon found myself in a forest

of scree up which I toiled with some difficulty, the branches snapping, and the loose stones

splintering or breaking away, only to descend eventually to the forest on the left where I at

last discovered the right path. Entering into the forest, in a while one must again avoid the

temptation to diverge into a grassy ravine on the left, which is climbed only with difficulty, as

I found to my cost! The true path in fact climbs on the right of the ravine, ascending zigzag

through the trees, until eventually one emerges on a plateau. From here the path to the right

reaches a secondary summit with a circular trig-point below and West of the bald eminence

which I had earlier all but scaled in my ignorance of the correct path. If one turns to the left,

however, one travels through bracken until in about ten minutes descending slightly one

reaches a cool spring on the left and slightly above the new dirt track. Here you will be glad

to pause a while and relish the ice-cold water which is guaranteed to refresh you for the final

assault. There is no proper path up to the summits, of which there are three, the first two

crowned with great lumps of fragmented rock of volcanic origin which is friable and easily

dislodged. Below on the East face of the mountain are huge precipices and yawning ravines,

so take care with footholds. On the West side fir trees grow even to the very topmost crag,

several split and charred - clearly the victims of violent storms. On the final summit is a

square trig-point resting on a curious base rather resembling an oven, and from it one enjoysa spectacular view of the whole island, the other summits, and the villages of Potamia and

Panagia spread out in the foothills below. On clear days Samothraki is also clearly visible in

the East, and the triple pinnacle of Mt. Athos rises dramatically from the sea an almost equal

distance in the South West.

A dirt track reaches to within a few metres of the final summit, and it is possible to take this

on the return in preference to the rough scramble. It loops round to the right; but at the next

bend you may ascend on the right by a path which avoids the everlasting bends and leads

direct to the aforementioned spring. The whole ascent should take somewhere in the region of

2½ - 3 hours, assuming that you manage to avoid the errors to which I have alluded, and

which added at least another hour to my own time. The descent from the spring to the square

of Potamia is accomplished at a very steady pace in exactly 2 hours.

2. The circuit of the island.

This is possible in the span of a single day only by making optimum use of public transport.

If you plan the trip carefully you may alight at three different points for a variety of activities

ranging from eating and swimming to sight-seeing and walking, and still arrive back by early

evening. There are infinite possibilities to suite all tastes: the following version took exactly


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10 hours from 9 a.m. to 7 p.m. and in 1978 the bus fare was exactly 124 drachmae. There are

at least three buses a day, but check times at the K.T.E.L. before departure.

( a ) Alyki

Leave on the 9 a.m. bus via Panagia, Potamia and Kinyra, and make your first stop at Alyki.

The two lovely bays are separated by a pine-clad headland on which one finds a Classical

shrine, two early Christian churches, and several ancient marble quarries, some right on the

sea. Despite weathering one can easily detect the various shapes hewn from the living rock.

The bathing is magnificent in pure turquoise seas. After two hours you may resume the bus as

far as Limenaria on the S.W. coast, passing the southernmost headland of Akri Salonikos

with its desolate off-shore island of Panagia, and the town of Astris with its fine Hellenistic

towers.

(b) Limenaria

To be frank, the town, which was built in the last century by the German company Spidel and

Group to accommodate workers in the zinc mines, is not particularly prepossessing, although

the company's head offices, known locally as the 'palataki', have been much admired. At least

one can have lunch before proceeding by the next bus to Skala Sotiros. Almost all the

villages in mediaeval times moved inland to the shelter of the mountains, but retained their

'skala' for fishing and commerce.

(c) The Monastery of St Pantaleimonos.

The monastery itself is rather disappointing, unless you happen to arrive on July 26 when a

large panegyry is held, but the walk there and back is very enjoyable and lasts about 4 hours

in toto. First take the road up towards Sotiros, but after a mile or so diverge onto a quite

broad path on the left which narrows as it runs through olive groves for about 2 kilometres.

As soon as it rejoins the road cross over and take the path which branches off this time on the

right, and reaches the village in a couple of minutes, making the total time from Skala just

about 1 hour. In the centre of the square is a spring with most refreshing water, and from here

the path zigzags up a few yards before turning left. It is clearly marked with red spots and

arrows put there by some Swiss tourists, and is most pleasantly shaded by olives and pines.

After a few minutes there is a surprising left turn, clearly indicated by a red arrow, and one

descends for a short time to cross a ravine. From here the path climbs very gradually to reach

the monastery in about 1 hour. There is a wonderful spring just past the guest rooms, and

from the spring a path descends to Prinos, and is again marked by red spots. You will be

lucky not to lose your way, as I did; but eventually I descended by a rather precipitous route

by the telephone wires to a small path which finally met a track running parallel with the

asphalt road. After about ½ ml turn off right down a stony but well defined path which

eventually leads into Prinos itself, where with luck you will board the last bus back to Thasos.

The circular trip from Skala Sotiros to Prinos takes about 4 hours, allowing for a fairly briefstop at the monastery.


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3. Theologos by bus - return to Potamia on foot via Pr. Elias.

My original intention was that this should be a rather restful day, involving nothing more

strenuous than a fairly long bus ride to Theologos, a leisurely stroll round the village, andfinally a fairly simple and sedate excursion to the hamlet of Kastron about 3 miles distant.

Dis aliter visum est: for though possessing neither compass nor map, I was tempted into

embarking on an enterprise which proved to be one of the most hazardous and exciting of my

whole stay on the island. It would therefore be irresponsible in the extreme to suggest that

anyone should even attempt to follow the route which I here describe, especially if they were

as ill-equipped as I was, alone, and with nothing to sustain them except 3 pears, a small box

of processed cheese, and a thin slice of halvas which some strange impulse had led me to

purchase in the village. But the story is worth telling both as a cautionary tale, and also

because it illustrates so well the truth of the frequently quoted aphorism – 'journeys devoid of

adventure don't exist'. Ταξίδια χωρίς περιπέτειες δεν υπάρχουν.

Theologos used to be the capital of the island in mediaeval times , but now its grey-roofed

houses despite their gay gardens present a forlorn and abandoned appearance, and at least on

that occasion threatened to induce a melancholy which I was anxious to escape as soon as

possible. Having reached the cemetery on the fringe of the village I got into conversation

with a group of men laying telegraph poles, and learnt from them that the dirt-track ahead led

to Potamia via the church of Prophetes Elias. Preferring however to use narrower and hence

better shaded paths, and being assured that the parallel path also led to my desired

destination, I hastily drank from the spring, filled an old can with water, and with someexcitement began climbing steeply up the hill. Imagine my disappointment when after half an

hour I met a lonely shepherd and seeking confirmation that I was on the right course was told

that I should have followed the dirt-track in the first place, and that I had no option but to

return to the cemetery. Even this operation I achieved only with some difficulty, having taken

a wrong turning somewhere, as a result of which I ended up on the wrong side of the stream,

to cross which involved hacking my way through dense undergrowth and clambering over

several abandoned terraces.

My second attempt proved equally abortive: for after a few minutes the track divided and I

opted for the right fork, only to meet shortly afterwards two fellows who assured me that I

should have taken the left, adding the further advice that as soon as I reached the water

cistern I must turn left up a path which would save me much time by cutting off all the

tedious bends in the track. Needless to say, this advice turned out to be even more disastrous.

To find the path and the cistern was no problem; but then for two hours in the fierce midday

heat I toiled up a steep rocky slope desperately sucking 'Navigators' to provide energy and

avert my parching thirst, until I reached a plateau on which sheep were sheltering – how

much more wisely! – in a cool cave in the rocks. For a while I joined them, and hoping that

Prophetes Elias couldn't be far away, ventured to eat the second of my pears. With renewed

vigour I pressed on yet higher, and finally emerged, with a mixture of amazement anddismay, on one of the secondary summits of Mt. Ypsarion! From here I could see clearly the


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route that I had followed two days earlier, and for a moment I contemplated adopting this

solution. By now however I had located the elusive chapel of the prophet nestling alluringly

in a col of the mountain some two miles to the East, and approached with disarming comfort

by the dirt-track. I resolved therefore to descend the steep rocky slope and attempt to contour

round to a spur to which I fancy that I see a tiny path leading round, traversing the bald coneof the mountain. So much I successfully accomplish, but then am horrified to discover that

the path having climbed onto the shoulder ends abruptly at a sheer face which no one but a

fool would essay without ropes. I sit down to survey the situation and eat my last pear, and

conclude that I must retrace my steps, and somehow hack my way through the forest and

dense undergrowth with the invaluable help of my faithful Athos stick.

It was 5.20 when I eventually reached the chapel - almost 6 hours after first leaving

Theologos! With no little sense of relief I went inside to light a candle for my deliverance,

and to eat a wonderfully sour orange which I found at the bottom of my bag, and along with it

a little bread and halvas. After a well-earned half hour rest I resumed my journey, and as the

path now seemed so clear, I fondly imagined arriving back in Potamia in about 1½ hours.

Alas, no such luck. Within 10 minutes the path disappeared amid waist- high ferns, and I

plunged into a frightful ravine with steep ledges and choked with boulders, trees and

impenetrable undergrowth. After a quarter of an hour of lamentably slow progress,

negotiating ledges and forcing my now weary limbs through the dense vegetation, being of

the opinion that anything must be better than this, with great difficulty I extricated myself

from the ravine on the left where I imagined that I saw the faint vestiges of a path. Toiling

upwards for about 20 minutes I look across the ravine and am furious to see the proper path

zigzagging beautifully down the opposite side. By now however, nothing could induce me toenter its vicious jaws again, so I press on, somewhat encouraged by the sound of a dog

barking furiously from a ledge about 100 feet above. A path of sorts appears, and I am

relieved to find that it at last begins to descend; for much though l love mountains, I did not

relish the prospect of spending the night on the top of Ypsarion. At first the descent is quite

gentle: but before long I find myself on a bracken covered slope so steep and rendered so

slippery by fallen pine needles that to keep one's balance is a sheer impossibility. So sitting

down, clutching bag in left hand and stick in right, I perform an extraordinary bum-slide,

steering a perilous course amid the pines, shirt ripped to shreds by passing branches, arms

lacerated and seat of my pants rapidly disappearing by friction as I gather speed, but

mercifully managing to come to a halt each time ledges appeared. These I gingerly

negotiated, planning each step with utmost caution, and yet prevented from panicking by the

sheer absurdity of the whole situation. Half an hour of this crazy skiing act brings me minus

purse and its contents, lodged in the now vanished rear pocket of my jeans, but miraculously

life and limb still intact, to a marvellous spring in whose refreshing waters I hasten to quench

my raging thirst and bathe my wounded arms.

From here the path descended gently and comfortably, mile after mile, cushioned below by

fallen leaves and shaded above by the immense forest, until just as the light began to fail I

reached a camping area where I was very lucky to find a man in a van who readily agreed togive me a lift into the village of Potamia. On the way I explained my adventures, and


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received a good-humoured reprimand for my temerity in exploring the unknown alone and so

badly equipped to face the hazards which are the inevitable concomitant of such foolhardy

enterprises. Once arrived in the village I dashed into the nearest cafe to enquire whether the

last bus had left for Thasos. As I suspected, it had: but at least I was able to drink several

tumblers of water before I noticed an expensive limousine preparing to leave the square andhead northwards. It transpired that the driver was Italian; but by a combination of sign

language and Italicised Latin I succeeded in communicating my request and was kindly

offered a lift as far as the junction where the roads to Thasos and Chrisi Ammoudia diverge.

At this point Fortune relented her cruel sport and at last played me fair: for the driver missed

the turn, and by the time he realised his error decided to deliver me right to the door of the

pension where I was staying – an act of kindness for which I shall be eternally grateful.

In order to obtain a spare key to gain access to my much needed bed I was obliged to appeal

to my landlady, who viewed my tattered appearance with concern and was all agog to hear

my explanation for it, and insisted on immediately switching on the immersion heater so that

I could have a hot shower. Even more touching were the solicitations of her husband, a rather

solemn man named Socrates, who sought me out the next day both to remonstrate against my

suicidal folly, and extract a faithful promise that I would never again embark upon such a

dangerous mission alone.

I have told this tale in some detail mainly to illustrate the importance of knowing and keeping

to the correct path, and of always carrying a compass, especially in forested areas where one

can so easily lose one's sense of direction. Should anyone still be rash enough to attempt the

walk, I strongly recommend that they stick to the dirt track as far as Prophetes Elias, andfrom there be careful to avoid falling into the ravine by searching for the zigzag path which

descends on the right side of the valley.


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SAMOTHRAKI

In view of the uncertainty of the direct boat link between Thasos and Samothraki, and of the

notorious ferocity of the seas in this turbulent N.E. region of the Aegean, prospective visitors

to Samothraki are best advised to take the land route via Alexandroupolis. The proximity ofthe latter town to the Turkish border means that it is invariably swarming with soldiers, most

of whom are national servicemen whose faces indicate all too clearly the acute boredom and

resentment induced by their enforced exile to this the most sensitive and distant of Greece's

frontiers. The place is also sadly lacking in even the most basic amenities, including hotels,

but at least the 6 hour journey there by ferry to Keramoti, and thence by bus through Thrace

is broken up into 4 relatively short stages by the necessity of changing at Xanthi, Komotini,

and Chrysoupolis. Nor is the journey itself devoid of interest: For girded by fabled mountains

like Rhodopi in the North, and well watered by rivers like the Nestos which comes gliding

down in full majesty from Bulgaria, Thrace possesses one of Greece's most prolific plains,

producing sugar-beet, maize, cotton, and above all tobacco. In antiquity its most renowned

son was Democritus of Abdera, inventor of the atomic theory. But nowadays, apart from the

comparatively recent mechanization of its agriculture, the area still has a very decidedly

oriental flavour which is particularly evident in its music, and in the traditional long black

dresses and white cowls worn by almost all the women, young as well as old. But my most

abiding memory of the whole trip remains that of the public lavatory at Xanthi, whose

squalour was so repugnant and odour so pungent that my acute pangs and urgent need were

immediately overcome. But not so the shameless avarice of the attendant, who expostulated

most indignantly at my refusal to pay the customary exit fee, on the grounds that it was too

filthy even for a pig to use. As I have already intimated, Alexandroupolis is scarcely moresalubrious, while the state of the foreshore, which seemed to be used as a public rubbish

dump, was a positive disgrace. Fortunately the boat to Samothraki leaves at about 7 a.m. so

you will not be obliged to spend longer than half a day in this most unprepossessing town.

Most people who visit Samothraki will be motivated by one or other of the following three

desires: to climb Mt. Phengari, from which Homer tells us in Iliad XIII Poseidon observed

the battle at Troy; to bathe in the therapeutic springs at Loutra; or to visit the famous

sanctuary of the Great Gods at Palaiopolis. But whatever be their motive, let them understand

that the island is as yet not geared to tourism, that accommodation is limited and simple, and

that their diet will of necessity be restricted to goat meat and salad. The boat journey lasts

about three hours, can be extremely rough, while not infrequently all attempts to land at the

small harbour at Kamariotissa are thwarted by tempestuous seas. A bus climbs up to the

capital Chora, which is hidden in a fold of the hills and contains almost half of the island's

small population. On my arrival there a kind old man tried, unsuccessfully, to find me a

room, and meanwhile I spent an hour exploring the ruined Venetian castle and the

extraordinarily crammed general stores. Everywhere soldiers sat in groups and older men in

baggy breeches and leggings strode around the narrow streets.

From Chora a good path leads down in about an hour to Palaiopolis, and since a cool,refreshing breeze had sprung up, even though carrying my full pack, I didn't find the journey


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arduous. At Palaiopolis there is a Xenia Hotel, but the cafeneion also has a little

accommodation on a more modest scale and at rather cheaper rates. The site and museum are

certainly worth a visit, and since the former is so extensive and one can easily lose one's

bearings, the best part of four hours will be required to do them justice. It was here that the

famous statue of Nike (Victory) was found; and here too Philip of Macedon first met and fellin love with Olympias, later to become the mother of Alexander the Great. Hence the

sanctuary was lavishly adorned by the Ptolemies, Queen Arsinoe dedicating to the Great

Gods a rotunda which is the largest in all Greece.

Should you wish to stay in Loutra – or Therma, as it is often called – the walk there is quite

simple, especially if you make an early start; for you will find a strong breeze blowing from

the sea, and as an extra bonus for your efforts will see the sun rise from the ocean and flood

Mt. Phengari – which means the Moon – with its radiant light. The distance is about 7

kilometres, but the road is quite level, and traffic almost non-existent. The village folk are

very friendly and I soon found a kind shepherd who offered me a glass of sweetened milk and

bread while he made enquiries for accommodation on my behalf. His name is Vassili, and he

guides tourists up Mt. Phengari, 1000 drachmae being his standard charge in 1978. This was

rather more than I could afford, especially since being alone I had no one who might have

shared the cost with me. Sympathising with my predicament, Vassili very obligingly agreed

to take me up for only 500 drachmae, on condition that I allowed him to do some jobs while

we were up the mountain. Loutra has several 'pensions', some quite recently built and

possessing modern facilities, and there is a least one good restaurant serving wholesome if

not very varied fare. In addition to the usual all-purpose store - the pantopoleion - there is a

lorry selling fruit and vegetables, whose arrival is announced by a noisy bouzouki tape. Mostof the visitors tend to be Greek, and despite the 5 tavernas they generally prepare their own

food, as of course do the locals. It is a fascinating and instructive experience to wander

through the village either at midday or in the evening, and to observe the housewives

preparing meals in the shade of the trees, where they sit peeling potatoes or cooling their

karpouzia in the rivulets that flow unceasingly down the hillside, their bubbling a perfect

accompaniment to the incessant chirping of the cicadas, and each a perfect foil to the other -

the latter epitomizing the frenzied heat, and the former the refreshing cool. Everywhere pots

are on the boil over crude hearths built over log fires, and the whole air is redolent with

appetizing odours.

But by far the most curious feature of the village is the springs, one freezing cold, and by its

side several hot ones of varying temperatures ranging from tepid to well nigh boiling. The

proximity of the cold to the hot springs caused me to wonder whether this might indeed be

the origin of the identical phenomenon described by Homer in the Iliad, and there located at

nearby Troy; and it certainly gave me the chance to witness the amusing spectacle of people

depositing their drinks and vegetables and fruit to cool in the one, while doing their washing

in the other! Since I suffer from a rheumatic knee, I was induced by Vassili the guide to essay

the cure on the evening after climbing the mountain; and I can vouch that if you can bear to

immerse your limbs in the boiling water, the intensity of the heat certainly eases the pain.There is another spring said to be good for the feet, and when I went in search of it the


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following morning I found a little man now sitting at the entrance, where he charged a small

admission fee of 5 drachmae, and recorded in a catalogue the number of bathes taken, after

which he directed me to the relevant spring. As. I arrived a couple of men were just leaving

so I had the tiny pool to myself. The water here is only tepid, and the smell of sulphur is

strong where the water oozes from the earth, enters the pool, and thence trickles away downthe hillside. As I finished my bath an old man hobbled down the slope, and slowly began to

divest himself of all his clothes – sweater, shirt, trousers, long-johns, all except his woolly

vest. "Twenty years I've been coming," he proudly asserts, "and twenty minutes a day is what

the Doctor prescribed, in an open place." At which with great solemnity he laid his watch on

the concrete surround, gently lowered himself into the water, and proceeded to time the

treatment to the exact second. With amazement I discovered that he was 92, and had been

cured of all manner of ailments, from rheumatism in various joints, varicose veins to cardiac

embolism! Many Greeks whom I have met have implicit faith in the efficiency of

hydrotherapy, and consequently the spas remain extremely popular. When I next visited them

in order to take photographs the far bath was full of women who chatted as they bathed, their

heads either swathed in towels or shaded with umbrellas. Three or four men were impatiently

waiting their turn - for mixed bathing would be totally unacceptable – and as more and more

women came along to join the others, friendly banter was exchanged. When I explained my

reluctance to take photographs, lest the women might misinterpret my motives, the men

urged me to forget my embarrassment, and take my snaps by stealth - advice which I

hastened to adopt before the light failed.

The ascent of Mt. Phengari (Saos) – 5250'.

The route up this vast granite eminence takes 5 or 6 hours from Chora, but only 4 from

Loutra; and although there is not much difficulty in finding and following the path in its

initial stages, the last section of the climb could be tricky without intimate knowledge of the

mountain, and I would therefore strongly recommend taking a guide. As I have already

explained, the guide Vassili had agreed to take me up at a reduced charge on condition that he

could do some work while up the mountain, and when I found him at about 6 a.m. he was

busy preparing provisions for the journey and eating his breakfast of milk and bread. He

offered me some too, but as I had already eaten some yoghurt I declined, and we went off to

fetch a couple of mules which were tethered behind the cafe. A large bundle of hay was

fastened on the larger animal, who immediately began filching it bit by bit. The saddles were

fixed and at 6.30 we were away, Vassili riding the larger animal, myself on foot, and Irma,

Vassili's 5 year old bitch, the most gentle and abstemious of animals, and obedient too,

running along behind.

The first half hour is spent climbing quite steeply through the bushes, which trap the heat,

although the sun is barely up, and make the atmosphere sultry. Then comes a delightful 1½

hour's journey winding gently up beneath a vast oak forest affording welcome shade, Vassili

seated majestically on the mule behind, whilst I forge ahead with Irma, who clearly knows

every inch of the path, and all the short cuts too! Having reached the edge of the forest wetether the mules and begin the second, more arduous stage of the climb through a veritable


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morass of boulders, the sure-footed Vassili now leading, and I trailing behind, the uneven

surface giving some pain to my right thigh, since I had had the misfortune to fall and pull a

muscle the previous day. All around tower the glistening peaks of the mountain, darker in the

East, radiant in the West where the fierce sun catches every surface with its searing light. We

toil upwards, stone by stone and in about 1½ hours we reach the first summit whichcommands an extensive view of the Western half and Southern side of the island, with its

seaward plain and several small villages nestling in minute crannies in the huge granite mass

which sprawls towards the encircling ocean. Formidable crags plunge down on the right, and

we marvel at the audacity of the goats which scramble on these dizzy ledges gathering

fodder. They are wild and fend for themselves, thus providing the islanders with a free supply

of meat when the time comes for them to be rounded up and slaughtered.

From this summit the second, slightly higher one known as Phengari appears on the left. The

footpath, a rather perilous affair, which I certainly would not have relished finding unaided,

creeps along the ridge, with a sheer precipice on the South side, and severe crags on the

North, where a great ravine carrying the river sweeps down to the North coast. The view from

this final summit is all embracing - to the North the harbour of Kamariotissa shelters behind

the sun-scorched peninsula with its patchwork of burnt fields; further East Palaiopolis comes

into view, and then Loutra with its long jetty; in the far South the shimmering beach of

Ammos. Only Chora is hidden from sight, tucked away in a fold of sheer rock, a mountain

stronghold secluded from the inquisitive gaze of strangers. On clear days even Troy is dimly

seen in the East, as indeed it was more than 3000 years ago by Poseidon from this very spot,

according to Homer's account in Iliad XIII;

"No careless watch the monarch Neptune kept:

Wond'ring he viewed the battle, where he sat

Aloft on wooded Samos' topmost peak,

Samos of Thrace; whence Ida's height he saw,

And Priam's city, and the ships of Greece.

Thither ascended from the sea he sat;

And thence the Greeks, by Trojans overborne,

Pitying he saw, and deeply wrath with Jove.

Then down the mountain's craggy side he passed

With rapid step; and as he moved along,

Beneath th' immortal feet of Ocean's Lord

Quak'd the huge mountain and the shadowy wood.

Three strides he took; the fourth, he reached his goal,

Aegae, where on the margin of the bay

His temple stood, all glittering, all of gold."

Musing on such thoughts we sat eating our picnic of cheese, tomatoes, cucumber, bread and

peaches, and drinking the water still miraculously cold. Vassili stuck a slice of cucumber on

his forehead to cool his brow, and then ate voraciously, unlike Irma, who when I threw her a piece of bread, promptly began scratching away at the stony earth to bury it for some future


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occasion. Shortly after 11 a.m. we began the descent down a rocky shoulder, picking our way

carefully from boulder to boulder, and thinking enviously of Poseidon's rapid step, and four

confident strides! In ¾ hour we reached a point where Vassili recalled that the army had

encamped when making the cement trig-point in the early 50s. The Bulgarians had built the

foundations in 1942 during the occupation, but the Greek military cartographers erected the pillars. "The mules brought up the cement all this way, without a path, carrying small loads of

50 kilos, poor creatures," he observed, his voice filled with sympathy for their wretched

plight. Indeed his great consideration for and skill in handling these beasts impressed me

continually, and the peculiar language he used when giving them instructions was fascinating

to hear, and never failed to evoke the desired response. Only on one occasion did he show

displeasure; and that was when the smaller one, which has a mischievous delight in taking

short cuts, fell down and lay sprawled helplessly and kicking furiously, unable to right itself

under its huge load of timber. Vassili charged down the hillside, and with a mighty heave set

the foolish animal on its feet again; and then with menacing imprecation he delivered to its

rump a kick of truly Herculean force, under the impact of which it went scuttling down the

stony incline, raising clouds of dust as it went.

Soon the rock gives way to a patch of ferns, after crossing which we climbed down to the

river to replenish our water bottles. Because of the long drought it was barely a trickle: but

Vassili assured me that in the winter it's a veritable torrent whose thunderous roar echoes

around the mountain with terrifying noise. By 1 p.m. we had reached the mules again, and.

Vassili began to hack away at several mighty trunks brought down by winter storms,

wielding a great felling axe with enviable ease, and occasionally lopping off the lush foliage

and flinging it over to the mules to munch. Then using a forked branch to support the ropecradle he proceeded with consummate skill to load the two patient beasts of burden with logs,

finally securing the huge bundles with crafty knots. By one of those curious coincidences

which in Greece occur with remarkable frequency, two or three days later I happened to be

reading the thirty third book of the Iliad, where Homer recounts the elaborate preparations

made by the Greeks for the funeral of Patroclus. How little life has changed in Greece during

the intervening 3000 years! For in lines 130 ff. one may read a graphic description of felling

operations on Mt. Ida, exactly resembling in every detail the events which I had witnessed

with my own eyes on Mt. Phengari.

"From all the camp, by Agamemnon sent,

Went forth in search of fuel men and mules.

Their felling axes in their hands they bore,

And twisted ropes; their mules before them driven;

Now up, now down, now sideways, now aslope,

They journey'd on; but when they reached the foot

Of spring-abounding Ida, they began

With axes keen to hew the lofty oaks;

They loudly crashing fell: the wood they clove,

And bound it to the mules; these took their wayThrough the thick brushwood, hurrying to the plain."


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Vassili's task completed, we too began to descend to the plain by the same zigzag path as we

had ascended in the early morning. Once back in the village Vassili began to distribute the

fruits of his labours - a bag of wood chippings he has carefully gathered for an old woman to

fertilize her flowers; a large bundle of 'tea of the mountain' picked for an elderly couple; andthe oak logs for his wife to fuel their hearth in the depths of winter which on Samothraki can

be both long and severe.


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LIMNOS

It would be hard to imagine a starker contrast than that presented by the island of Limnos and

the other two members of this trio of islands, Thasos and Samothraki. For whereas the latter

are for the most part covered by immense forest, and dominated by high mountain masses,Limnos is almost entirely treeless, and with the exception of the modest range of bare, rocky

hills which borders the West coast, extremely flat and featureless. And yet in area Limnos is

quite 1arge, and currently supports a population of some 15000, 3000 of whom live in the

capital, Myrina, situated towards the South of the West coast, and dominated by the extensive

r

Documents

Walking Guide to 42 Greek Islands