A WALKING GUIDE TO 42 GREEK ISLANDS (1987) GERALD THOMPSON

Transcription

1 A WALKING GUIDE TO 42 GREEK ISLANDS (1987) GERALD THOMPSON

2 A WALKING GUIDE TO 42 GREEK ISLANDS (1987) GERALD THOMPSON Gerald Ephraim Nektarios Thompson, Mesagros, Aegina, Greece, Transcription by David Royle, Scarborough, North Yorkshire, England. First Edition: 15 March 2014.

3 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 nonreturn 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 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

4 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 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 the Latin 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 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

5 CONTENTS ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS... 2 FOREWORD... 3 CONTENTS... 4 PREFACE... 6 INTRODUCTION... 8 ISLANDS OF THE AEGEAN CHAPTER I: THASOS, SAMOTHRAKI, LIMNOS THASOS SAMOTHRAKI LIMNOS CHAPTER II: SKYROS, SKOPELOS, ALONISSOS SKYROS SKOPELOS ALONNISOS CHAPTER III: EUBOIA, ANDROS, TINOS EUBOIA ANDROS TINOS CHAPTER IV: AEGINA, CYTHERA AEGINA CYTHERA CHAPTER V: KEA, KYTHNOS, SERIPHOS KEA KYTHNOS SERIPHOS CHAPTER VI: SIPHNOS, KIMOLOS, MILOS SIPHNOS KIMOLOS MILOS CHAPTER VII: SANTORINI, PHOLEGANDROS, SIKINOS, ANAPHI SANTORINI PHOLEGANDROS SIKINOS

6 ANAPHI CHAPTER VIII: PAROS, NAXOS, AMORGOS PAROS NAXOS AMORGOS CHAPTER IX: IKARIA, SAMOS, PATMOS IKARIA SAMOS PATMOS CHAPTER X: KARPATHOS, KOS, KALYMNOS, LEROS KARPATHOS KOS KALYMNOS LEROS CHAPTER XI: SYMI, TILOS, NISYROS, ASTYPALAIA SYMI TILOS NISYROS ASTYPALAIA CHAPTER XII: CHIOS, LESBOS CHIOS LESBOS CHAPTER XIII THE IONIAN ISLES (1) ZACYNTHOS CEPHALONIA ITHACA CHAPTER XIV: THE IONIAN ISLES (2) LEFKADA CORFU (KERKYRA) APPENDIX TRAVEL, CLOTHING, FOOD, ACCOMMODATION GLOSSARY OF GREEK TERMS

7 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 the instigation 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 this century, 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, selfconfessed land-lubber though I am, I must admit that the constant prospect of the sea not only 6

8 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 of the 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 other areas 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. 7

9 INTRODUCTION Why walk in Greece? Before stating the positive case for walking in Greece, may I attempt first to remove the fears and 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 to it 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, 8

10 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 its hazardous 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 I however 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 these categories are by no means mutually exclusive. 9

11 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 my experience 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, the sun, so often advanced as a pretext for not walking, turns out in fact to be an excellent reason 10

12 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 fabled clarity 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 their origins 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 anyone require of the astonishing tenacity of tradition in Greece? 11

13 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 for lunch, 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 ravine will instantly vanish into impenetrable thickets clinging to precarious ledges down which you 12

14 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 obscene shape. 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 to have the first intimations of that perfect freedom to which Kazantzakis so often alludes. Not 13

15 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. 14

16 ISLANDS OF THE AEGEAN 15

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18 CHAPTER I: THASOS, SAMOTHRAKI, LIMNOS THASOS Thasos is most easily approached from Kavala, whence a regular ferry-boat crosses over to Skala 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 shipbuilding, 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, discreetly reserve 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, and it also contains both a good museum and without doubt the island's most extensive classical 17

19 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 I recommend 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 Panagia and 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 18

20 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 enjoys a 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 19

21 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 brief stop at the monastery. 20

22 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, and finally 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 some excitement 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 and dismay, on one of the secondary summits of Mt. Ypsarion! From here I could see clearly the 21