By foot and ferry

25/8/2017


From my perch in a cafe near the top of the 900 stairs of the Kali Strata, the Mediterranean stretches from the foot of Symi to the Turkish coast. The hills are shockingly bare, a few hardy trees survive the goats, the climate, the limestone, centuries of depradation including by man.
Despite this there is a stark beauty, and admiration for the grit and ingenuity  of the people who now wrest a living from tourism.  Industries of sponge diving, fishing, ship building are long gone.


We've left Santiago moored at the top of the Bingley 5 rise, while we head to visir friends on their Greek Island.

We walk to beaches, along tracks past little white churches, dry stone walls, winding down the steep hills. Pebbled fringes to the cool embrace of the sea, a cantina or taverna behind, with welcome local beer. The sea like the land is almost denuded, with only tiny fish to be seen.

By bus along the ridge of the island to its furthest point, and an ancient monastery. From large ferries tourists pour, with one woman on her knees, crawling as a penitent to the icon decorated church. 
From there we hitch a lift to the track to Marathounda, to swim, lunch, accompanied by goats importuning us for handouts. A ferry through a choppy sea along the cliffs back to the harbour.

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