Monday 4th September 2017  

Skyros 

The time is 5.40 am and Dave and I are sat at the gate at Chania airport awaiting our flight to Athens.  Our next flight is just after 1pm so we have a few hours to kill in the airport there.

Skyros, our destination today is one of the Sporades Islands, which are situated in the northwest Aegean Sea.

Our return flight home is in twelve days time from Skiathos.  Between now and then we have no set plans.  However, we hope to explore three or four of the inhabited Sporades which are named Skyros, Skopelos, Alonnisos and Skiathos.

We climbed the narrow five steps to board the 50 seater propeller plane which would take us from Greece’s capital to Skyros.  A bumpy thirty minutes later, we started to commence our descent above beautiful green pine trees into the island’s military airport.  The tiny airport according to the internet closes on Tuesdays!

Our aircraft is the only one on the ground and as we disembark, two luggage handlers are waiting, one with an empty luggage cage and another full of suitcases.  We guess that the small plane will do a return journey to Athens within the next half hour or so.

We noticed a public service bus with its driver patiently waiting outside the small terminal building.  I asked the driver (in Greek of course) if he was going to Skyros Chora. Chora/Hora, Χωριό in Greek is the word for village.  Often, on these small Greek Islands, a white washed village that is perched on the top of a hill or cliff is known simply as the Chora.  With narrow streets and traditional homes, the Chora usually gives a glimpse of island life. 

The driver confirmed that he did indeed go to the Chora and added that it would take 30 minutes or 10 minutes more if he had to go to Molos first.

The passengers put their luggage into the storage compartments, one side of the bus for Molos, the other for the Chora and the bus finally set off.

Two military jets took off with their sound erupting as the bus manoeuvred slowly through the small gate of the airport. The intense noise came as a complete surprise as we hadn’t spotted the jets on the ground.

The driver stopped 6 or 7 times, shouting the name of an hotel or an area, getting off the bus to retrieve luggage, shaking his passengers hands and giving further directions as required. The bus was more like a private taxi service than a public service vehicle with all the assistance, all of which was offered with a smile!

‘Αυτό είναι; This is it?’ I enquired when the bus eventually pulled into a lay by next to another bus and a tiny wooden ticket office. ‘Ναί, yes’, he replied.

I asked him one final question relating to the bus journey to the port before getting off the bus.

We headed up the hill into the Chora hoping to find a pension, B+B place or just a simple room to rent.  According to the internet both rooms, and apartments were available for rent in the Chora but we could not find them.  We stopped three or four people who all told us the same story, ‘there are no rooms up in the Chora.’  So we headed back down the hill again.

The small shops we had passed were now closed for the daily siesta and the first hotel we came across had its doors firmly locked.  However, a notice did offer a phone number to ring, I called and a few minutes later a tall elderly Greek man arrived and showed us a room up some steps that were adjacent to the hotel.  The room had no balcony and although we had passed a ‘breakfast room’, the man informed us that breakfast was no longer available but stated that the room would still be the same price.

We decided to look elsewhere and our next stop was a pension, again with telephone numbers to ring for assistance.  This time a young man arrived on his scooter. Unfortunately, when he checked his diary he had availability for only one night and we wanted somewhere for three nights.  The kind young Greek made a couple of phone calls and then told us that there was a room available not far away and then offered to drive us there in his car. Leaving his scooter behind, he took us to the small pension and introduced us to the landlady, Zoula.  We thanked him for his help and his reply was the typical Greek ‘τίποτα’ – ‘it was nothing.’

We had a choice of two small apartments; both had a tiny kitchen area separate to the bedroom and a bathroom.  We chose the one with the tiny balcony.  It was very dated and worn looking but clean and there were white crisp bed linen and new white towels.  Zoula brought us a kettle and told us that she was just next door if we needed anything.

We quickly unpacked and popped to the nearby supermarket for a few essentials.

We passed the effigy of the ‘γέρος’, (old man). The Skyros ‘goat dance’ that originated in Pagan times has local men dressed as old men in shepherds clothes and a mask made from goat skin. Heavy and noisy goat’s bells are hung around their waists. This dance takes place as part of the pre Lenten festivities.

It was nearing 4pm, too late for lunch if we wanted to do justice to dinner, which we did!  So we relaxed on our tiny balcony with a beer and some crisps.

The view from our balcony is quite a rustic setting. There is a small olive grove where hens run freely in the cool shade of the trees, there is also a cockerel that clearly hasn’t a clue what the time is!  There is a pomegranate tree and a tree bearing the yellow fruit, quince. Above this scene, we have a view of an old monastery high upon a cliff and perched on the very top of the cliff is the ruins of a castle.  Not a bad view at all!

As we set off in the direction of the Chora, we saw the moon rise above the cliff, at 4am this morning we had seen the moon set when we woke early for our journey.

We noticed a place that hired scooters and saw a quad bike and a buggy.  However, our enquires revealed that the latter were customer’s vehicles and only the scooters were available for hire.  The proprietor knew only of one place that hired cars and mentioned that quads were no longer available  to rent on the island.

We wandered up the narrow windy main street. The small shops and bars were all open again, the staff refreshed after their siesta.

We located the travel agency and purchased our tickets for Thursday morning when we will move on to Alonissos.  We had already gathered information from our friendly bus driver earlier in the day regarding the times of buses to the port.  Our priority when we island hop, after finding a suitable room of course is always to check the ferry timetables.

 

Sometimes, especially in the low season which we are now in, there may be only one or two ferries per week to the next island where we wish to travel to.

The cobbled path was slippery in places and many people were helping their partners to stay upright when they slipped.

We chose a small corner taverna and sat outside watching couples and the odd small family walk past.  We ordered traditional Skyrian dishes – fried pork served with cheese and peppers, served in a small frying pan, beef and aubergine and a ‘λαδόπιτα’ with goat’s cheese.  This traditional pie is prepared fresh and its description in the English section of the menu described it as ‘fried bread with sour goat’s cheese’. All dishes were delicious as was the rose wine.

We sauntered back up the main street, and then stopped to check out the bus timetable.  Only two or three routes are offered and these routes are operated only once or twice a day.  Therefore, we will continue to look for a quad bike.

We ended our evening with an ouzo and lemonade on our tiny balcony listening to the bells of the sheep nearby.  Dave spotted very tiny lights a short distance away which we worked out were from the oil lamps and tea lights in a cemetery.

 

Previous                   Next