Testament to the Power of a Volcano

On my last blog post, I was mentioning ‘Jason and the Argonauts’ and their mythical connection to Santorini. Well, their story continues … after having quite an adventure searching for the ‘Golden Fleece’, our intrepid band of heroes apparently sailed past Thira (now Santorini) on their return journey, only to encounter a bronze giant known as Talos who stood on top of a mountain throwing giant rocks at passing ships in order to keep them away from his kingdom. Many historians have naturally drawn an analogy here with the violent volcanic eruptions that occurred on the island over 3600 years ago. By all accounts this must have been an apocalyptic event, with the devastation literally tearing the island apart and wiping out its Minoan inhabitants. There are also several theories that the Santorini eruption may have even caused the destruction of the legendary city of Atlantis.

Early into our visit, Jules and I had taken the bus to the archeological dig Akrotiri where an ancient Minoan village has been uncovered from around the time of the eruption. While it is nowhere near as large or as in tact as Pompeii, it is relatively well preserved and did give us some idea of what life might have been like before this catastrophic event. However, in order to get a real sense of what caused this devastation, we had to do no more than look across the water from our verandah to the baron looking island of Nea Kameni to see the remnants of the burnt out volcano. Not that its completely finished yet, because as recently as 1950 it has been providing small eruptions just to remind everyone that it is still a force.

So early one morning we boarded one of the many wooden boats that take visitors over to the desolate island to allow them to come as close as they dare to an active volcano. On our particular boat, there was a large contingent from Finland who I think were actually more interested in enjoying the sun, beer and swimming in the crystal clear waters than actually hiking up a steep hill to see a dormant volcano, but it was all part of their tour package so they were happy to go along. When we docked, what struck us immediately was the unearthly quality of the landscape. What looked from a distance to be scrubby spinifex, turned out to be piles of misshaped rocks that had obviously been a result of the volcano long ago. There was little in the way of plant life at all, so much so that if a film director wanted to produce a sci-fi movie set on a distant planet, here would be a very good place to start.

The trek to the highest point of the volcano was dry and dusty and while there was plenty of evidence of previous volcanic activity, there appeared to be very little happening today. Deep chasms of crumbling rock suggested the areas where the volcanic vents may lay, but for now we would just have to be satisfied with the desolate landscape the unnatural views provided. More tangible evidence could be found at the other side of the island with the promise of a swim in the hot springs that lay just off shore. This greatly excited our Finland friends who were the first to leap off the boat when we arrived. By the time I finally hopped in and headed toward the warm waters, I could see them already in the shallows, caking themselves from head to toe in volcanic mud amongst much laughter. The mud is apparently good for the skin, but to me it just gave them the appearance of having been covered in chocolate sauce, which I guess was part of the fun.

Reading some earlier background information about the volcanic eruption, it was claimed that its force was the equivalent of 1000 atomic bombs. While such an impact is almost unimaginable, the end result was that Santorini, which was originally one island, suddenly was split into several islands of various sizes. One of the largest pieces to detach itself became the island of Thirasia, which we could see quite clearly from our apartment verandah. With a resident population of around 200 people, it is quite an isolated existence, however what the locals do rely upon is the daily visit of tourists and so that would be our next destination. With the Fins finally cleaned up, back on board and happily sitting back with a beer in hand, we headed across the straight to the next island.

Thirasia is an idyllic little settlement with all the scenic benefits of its larger neighbours but without the noise of traffic or other problems that result from a larger population. Things here are pretty much as they have been for decades, with ‘mod-cons’ only slowly beginning to infiltrate their traditional existence. A few small open-air tavernas nestle along the coast with families selling all kinds of meat and fish dishes cooked over wood fire coals. While the folk from Finland were tucking into lunch, Jules and I decided to walk the shore to find a nice secluded spot for a swim. While the beaches consisted purely of washed pebbles, there were still plenty of nice spots off the rocks to experience the pristine waters of the bay. Later, we walked down to a small wooden platform overlooking the water where ‘Tony the Greek’ prepared us both the best souvlaki we had ever tasted.

Back on the boat late into the afternoon, everyone appeared relaxed and subdued. Whether it was the long lunch, the heat or the copious amount of beer drunk by our Finnish friends, there was a certain quietness that had not been there earlier. The afternoon breezes had picked up as we held onto our hats and sailed on to the village Oia on the main island. Here a few of us would get off to enjoy the setting sun while others including group from Finland would head back to Fira. As we climbed the steep steps to the town, it was tempting to call on the services of a donkey as many seem to do but Jules is more principled than that and simply wouldn’t expect an animal to do something that she couldn’t do for herself, so we pressed on. When we finally reached the top, we could see our little wooden ship heading off into the distance against the backdrop of the two islands we had visited. Both of these islands had been born through the violent power of nature, but what had been created remained truly unique. It had been an enlightening and enjoyable day and in the end we both felt that it was somehow testament to Santorini that such a major volcanic eruption could not destroy its rugged beauty.

Trekking with the Argonauts

When I was very young, I remember watched the 1963 movie version of ‘Jason and the Argonauts’ that told of the adventures of a band of Greek heroes who sailed the seas in search of the ‘Golden Fleece’. It was a movie with plenty of imaginary creatures and some impressive stop-motion animation that was way ahead of its time. Yet more significantly, it was a film chock full of references to Greek mythology, which at the time was all very new, but both exotic and exciting. I had just about forgotten the Argonauts epic adventure until I began to read about Santorini and its place within this legendary tale. According to the story, the Argonauts were gifted with a piece of earth by the God Triton, which was then tossed into the sea where it miraculously turned into an island. The Argonauts were so impressed with this island that they called it ‘Kalisti’ meaning ‘the most beautiful one’. Later renamed Santorini by the Roman Catholic crusaders, for centuries the island continued to shape and evolve as a result of a series of violent volcanic eruptions. However, despite the turmoil of its transformation, the beauty has somehow remained and the description the Argonauts gave to the island still holds true.

Jules and I decided to explore the rugged beauty of Santorini by breaking away from our tourist comforts in the village of Imerovigli and hitting the coastal trail. After all, our verandah faced directly onto one of the islands most prominent natural landmarks on the northwestern cliff face. ‘Skaros Rock’ is a geological monolith that looks as if has been lifted straight from a John Ford western and somehow placed into the Mediterranean. It is in fact an uninhabited outcrop of land jutting out from the cliffs and is an ideal place to view the entire coastline. This was exactly what the Catholic settlers of the Byzantine era thought too when they set about building a medieval fortress on the rock to warn the inhabitants of imminent pirate raids. Although this was a significant structure, repeated volcanic activity from the 1600’s-1800’s eventually resulted in it crashing into the ocean, returning the rock to its natural state. As we walked around we could spot just a few remnants of the original buildings but the giant rock itself appears to have been scarcely effected by the impact of man or nature’s elements over the years by remaining as prominent as ever.

Looking northward down the coast and despite the 30+ degree temperature, we thought that we might tackle the challenging 5 kilometre trek from Imerovigli to Oia around Mousaki Bay. In doing so we were walking a path that still remains largely unaffected by the ever-widening string of white wash apartments that stretch along the peaks of the northwestern cliff face. As we walked on a dusty track worn by the gradual disintegration of ancient volcanic rocks, we could certainly appreciate the dramatic nature of this harsh landscape, as well as the difficult existence for the Islands earliest inhabitants. This can be so easily overlooked by today’s visitors, who tend to stick to the villages or choose to simply lay back on their sun beds next to their infinity pools while occasionally peering out at the vast ocean views. On the track, the views are just as impressive, but here they contrast against a stunningly rugged coastline where the notion of a swim remains temptingly out of reach. This must have been quite exasperating for the early inhabitants, as down below there is a sheltered bay that looks as if this might have been an ideal place for a port, if it wasn’t for the sheer steepness of the surrounding cliffs.

However what you do have here, in addition to the view, is silence and isolation. This is a place for contemplation and possibly a spiritual connection, as in this most deserted of areas you can find a number of small iconic chapels. For some reason these tend to appear in some of most secluded places on the island, as if a testing pilgrimage to an uninhabited spot was something of a requirement for followers of the Greek Orthodox faith. As expected there was indeed a tiny white chapel at the highest point of the track and from here we could also clearly see the picturesque town of Oia jutting out from the most northerly tip of the island. This is the jewel of Santorini; meticulously maintained white washed buildings, blue domes and its distinctive marble footpaths. It’s no wonder that the town remains the most photographed area of the island and certainly the most sought after spot to watch the setting sun.

As we headed down the slope for the final leg of our trek, Jules and I could almost taste the ice cold beer that was waiting for us somewhere down in Oia and at that stage we knew it would be well deserved. As we came closer we could once again see many of the high-end apartments staggered along the cliff face overlooking a bay dotted with luxury yachts. Tanned bodies were baking on their sun beds while others splashed in their glistening blue pools. I’m not quite sure what the Argonauts would make of their island today but I would like to think that high up on the wind swept cliffs, Jules and I experienced just a taste of what they and the original pioneer settlers saw in this ruggedly beautiful island, with its dramatic coastline and endless sea views.

Serendipity in Santorini?

Several years ago, Jules had one of her most disappointing traveling experiences. It wasn’t the loss of luggage or passport or some other dramatic episode that can suddenly bring a holiday to a crashing halt, but to her at the time, it was equally upsetting. It was in fact a missed opportunity to visit the Greek Island of Santorini. This was a very significant place that had loomed large in her childhood, with her mum having had a ‘Shirley Valentine’ moment many years before, resulting in a lone pilgrimage to the island only to return to Australia to enter into what is now referred to by the family as her ‘Greek phase’. The result was that for several years, Jules was exposed to images of the Greek islands, ate just about every Greek dish imaginable and lived in a house filled with the constant soundtrack of Bouzouki music. So when we finally managed to book ourselves onboard a cruise ship touring the Greek Islands, she was understandably excited.

All was going well until the day before we were about to visit the iconic island and the ships Captain made the disappointing announcement that due to rough seas, we would be unable dock. It appeared that the small boats used to tender passengers from cruise ships anchored off shore to the coastline below the steep cliffs would be unable to cope with the choppy conditions, so the reluctant decision was made to bypass the stop completely … Jules was not at all happy! From that point onward the episode would be forever referred to as the ‘Santorini Incident’ and as a rule was not to be spoken about, such was the painful memory that the ‘non-visit’ resurrected. It was felt for a long time that the opportunity to visit Santorini had been lost and that we would possibly never experience this place, having already seen several other aspects of Greece during the cruise. However, I underestimated Jules’ desire to satisfy her longing to visit the island’s iconic cliff top villages and failed to realize that she was would eventually plan to rectify what she considered to be the fateful injustice of not being able to visit Santorini previously.

So four years after the infamous ‘Santorini Incident’ we found ourselves onboard a Blue Star Ferry taking the seven-hour trip from Athens, with Jules feeling quietly happy with herself. This was the final leg of a marathon 48-hour journey from Japan, but tiredness was certainly not going to spoil the satisfaction of finally achieving her much anticipated goal. Her smile grew even wider as she eventually caught sight of the classic white dwellings and blue domed churches perched high on the cliff tops … we were finally there!

 As the drawbridge dropped and all manner of vehicles and passengers simultaneously jostled their way off the ferry, there was clearly a collective sense of excitement at finally arriving in Santorini. The summer sun was baking the island as it always does in July, but the dry heat was nicely tempered by a cooling sea breeze. Somehow amongst the chaos of the dock, we managed to find a shuttle bus that would take us to the outlying village of Imerovigli. Jules had diligently researched the various options available and had opted to position us away from the more tourist orientated main town of Fira. She had booked a traditional apartment on the western side of the island that sat on the highest ridge of the cliff. From here we could view the full length of the dramatic coastline spanning the volcanic caldera from which an eruption had created the rugged island formation thousands of years ago. Looking out to sea, the view toward the horizon looked infinite, revealing far away islands that seemed to fade away into a distant haze.

As we finally sat down on our white washed terrace on our first night, sipping a glass of chilled Rose, we couldn’t quite believe that we had finally made it. Looking northward along the coast, we could see the picturesque town of Oia with sailing boats setting out in readiness to view a typical Santorini sunset. As the glowing sun slowly approached the horizon, it seemed that just about everybody had the same idea as us and emerged from their dwellings to marvel at the spectacular scene and enjoy the serenity. In that moment, the ‘Santorini Incident’ had been relegated to a distant memory and from then onward any references to the island would only conjure up warm and enduring memories.

 However the story wasn’t quite over yet, because when we awoke the next morning and stepped onto our verandah, we spotted in the distance an ocean liner slowly approaching. As the ship began to anchor in the sheltered waters of the bay, we realized that it looked strangely familiar. In an amazing coincidence, this was the very same cruise ship that we had been on board four years earlier. This time it seemed that seas were calm enough and it was about to stop for its scheduled day trip to the island. For a brief moment, memories of the disappointment all those years ago returned with the realization that this particular group of passengers were about to experience what we had originally sought when we had booked our Greek Island cruise. But then we thought again; if the ‘Santorini Incident’ hadn’t happened, would we have ever returned?

Somehow destiny had demanded that we spend much more time here. It appeared that we were meant to soak up the spectacular scenery, linger over delicious Greek meals and ponder life while watching glorious Santorini sunsets. We now realize that a day trip would not have been nearly long enough to fully appreciate what the island truly had to offer. After all, this is the quintessential Greek island, so familiar to us all from countless coffee table books, calendars and postcards. During the week we stayed, we never tired of its scenery, nor the unique qualities of the island lifestyle. In the end the serendipity of this trip had become obvious to us both with our stay here effectively turning disappointment to delight!

  

A Journey to the Birthplace of the Olympics

Jules and I were quite excited about visiting the ancient site of Olympia during our Mediterranean cruise. For many years we had viewed scenes on TV of maidens in classical Greek garb catching the rays of the sun to light the famed Olympic torch. Having been the site of the original Olympic games in ancient times, by tradition this location has always been the place where this global sporting event was launched every four years. We docked in the tiny town of Katakolon and were quite surprised to find that Olympia is actually 45 minutes away by train. We arrived at the small town of Olympia with its pretty little railway station, renovated especially for the tourists, with the realisation that this ancient site is quite isolated. However, as you enter the historic site itself there is an immediate sense of its cultural significance. This is a sacred location (after all, the Olympics was originally a religious event), where some of the greatest athletic events were born at around 700 years BC. We walked freely around the ruins that spoke of a civilisation long disappeared with its various temples to the Greek Gods and Grecian pillars that surrounded once grand buildings. Eventually we made our way toward the site of the very first Olympic stadium, which is remarkably humble by modern day standards. I was tempted to run a quick lap around the track, but as it was a very hot time of the year, just stepping onto the track was quite enough. As you walk through the arched entrance way you can imagine the scene of the first Olympics with cheering crowds watching running, javelin, discuss and other events, while athletes competed for the glory of victory and a simple olive wreath. These were simpler times that seem a far cry from the multi-billion dollar event the Olympics is today!

Afternoon in a Greek Taverna

For the final leg of our Greek odyssey we spent a little time in bustling Corfu. We were aware that this is a favourite tourist destination and could immediately see why. The township sits on an island off the north west coast of Greece and is particularly picturesque with its steep rolling hills that drop straight into a clear blue ocean. Being an important strategic location for ancient battles, it is dotted with early fortifications that are perched high in the hills and provide wonderful views of the undulating coastline. Within the old town itself there is a labyrinth of narrow cobblestone streets crammed with tourist shops and eateries. It was here that Jules and I would begin our much anticipated search for an authentic Greek meal… something that eluded us so far, due to our busy sightseeing schedule. We were being very particular about our choice of venue as we looked for the freshest seafood we could possibly find (no frozen food for us). Eventually we found an accommodating owner who assured us that his fish was fresh off the boat today. Taking him on his word we sat down in a comfortable alfresco spot that provided a view of the harbour. Clearly the owner was determined to backup his word with actual proof, as within minutes he came running over with a massive platter of assorted fresh fish and seafood to meet our approval. He had certainly proved his point and we settled down to the delicious Greek meal of calamari, sardines, Greek salad, cold Greek beers and Greek coffee…an authentic lunch to remember! At that point we reflected on how lucky Australia was to have had such an influx of Greek migrants during the 50’s and 60’s and how much they had truly influenced our taste for food. We also realised that the Greek experience is not just about it’s ancient history, scenic beauty and beautiful waters, which are all in abundance, but it is very much about the simplicity of their lifestyle … good food, drink and company, shared in a climate that is not too dissimilar to home.

Tough Trail to the Acropolis

Continuing the Greek leg of our cruise of the Mediterranean, we awoke to see the amazing sight of Athens coming into view. It is so different to what we had imagined… very large and very white! There seemed to be hardly any greenery in the city itself with a mass of white washed buildings from the shore to the mountains. As we looked toward the mountains in the distance we could see the unmistakable sight of the Acropolis, which is of course the ‘must see’ tourist attraction of this great city. While the other ‘cruisers’ chose to travel there by coach and taxi, Jules and I decided to mix it with the locals and opt for the train (Jules is the master of railway systems). While others were stuck in a monster Greek traffic jam, we made our way up the mountain within 45 minutes after leaving the ship. We naively imagined that we would be the only ones up there when we reach the top…boy, were we wrong! Of course people come from all parts of the world to see this great monument and the pilgrimage begins very early. Weaving our way past camera-laden tourists, speaking a myriad of languages, we gradually made our way to the top. The scene was almost biblical in scale, as the massive crowd clung to the ruins in an attempt to get a view of the iconic Parthenon. Attendants encouraged us to move along and resist the temptation to take photos, which would inevitably slow down the procession. We eventually made it, but with a huge crowd kicking up ancient dust and combining it with a brisk warm breeze, it wasn’t particularly pleasant. We took a moment to catch our breath and have a drink of water and for a moment we were tempted to just head straight back down. This was not at all what we imagined! I eventually found a relatively quiet spot to pull out the sketchbook, only to be soon invaded by tourists who were buzzing around me to see what I was drawing. Eventually, with dust in our eyes and our hats blowing off, we gave up and headed back down. The Parthenon certainly looked as picturesque as you would imagine, but the postcards just don’t take into account the mass of people that come with it. An hour later, a little less hassled, we found ourselves walking the picturesque streets of the old town of Athens. Feeling hot, dry and dusty, we looked up toward the ancient mountain and reflected upon our experience. We both agreed that it was great to see it in the flesh, but we couldn’t help think that in the height of summer, the Acropolis was tourism out of control!

Bathing in the Waters of Crete

Many years ago, when Jules and I first met and I started to visit her house, it was clear that Greek culture figured prominently in the life of her family. Not that her family was Greek but anyone entering the house for the first time could have easily been mistaken. Her mother was going through her ‘Greek phase’ after just returning from a holiday to Athens and the Greek Islands. Greek bazuki music would be constantly playing on the stereo, while Jules’ mum would be in the kitchen cooking Moussaka, Dolmades or some other Greek delicacies. The country had made such an impression on her and in turn she had planted a seed in Jules and later myself, so that one day we would have to visit and experience it for ourselves. The opportunity was now here, all be it thirty years later, as we embarked upon a cruise around the Mediterranean. One of our first ports of call was on the legendary island of Crete, arriving on a beautifully warm day in July. Our ship docked in the picturesque little town of Agios Nikolaos and it’s not too long before we are down the gangplank and wandering the streets. We are so impressed with the many cafes that line the harbour and it’s simply too hot to go further without enjoying the local hospitality. As we sat sipping our drinks we looked out toward the ocean and became increasingly drawn to the brilliant blue waters. However, just one catch…neither of us had bathers! Having departed from England, we had simply forgotten what warm weather was and had neglected to buy some. It was too hot to go looking now! Not deterred, we drifted down to the rocky shore and away from the tourist spots for what we thought might be ‘a quick paddle’, but after noticing the isolation of the spot we had chosen it wasn’t too long before we were stripped down to our undies and hopping in! Well, I simply can’t describe how clear, cool and wonderful that swim was! We spent quite a while just bobbing up and down in the crystal clear waters, watching the boats sail by. I sat on a rock and sketched and then after a while we wandered back into town for yet another refreshing drink. Not surprisingly it wasn’t too long before we were back to the same spot (still without bathers) to do it all again. The simple pleasure of that day was a great introduction to the Greek Islands.