Leros at the Tail End of Winter
You may recall that back in late December,I’d had plans to go to Leros but was thwarted by ferry schedules (the only connectionswould have landed us in the port of Lakki late at night, with nowhere to stay) andwent to Symi instead. But in the last week of February, my work schedule easedup a bit, the ferries were favourable and I was feeling the call of travelagain. I was looking forward to eating some food I hadn’t cooked myself,and seeing something new.
Packing my stuff and Lisa’s, we boardeda ferry to Kos on a Monday lunchtime under darkly brooding skies, yet it was exciting to be on the move, passing the coastline of Tilos and thenNisyros. In Kos we wandered the beach and then town, gorging on delicious bakerytreats in the afternoon and mezes in the evening: oven-baked aubergine loadedwith tomato and feta, sweet potato chips, juicy meatballs and good retsina. Thenext day, the weather had cleared, and we continued our journey in brilliantsunshine, past little Pserimos (thinking I must go back) and up the wonderfullyrugged and untouched east coast of Kalymnos, the sky a deep blue, lightglittering silver on the sea.
Leros, just a stone’sthrow from the north of Kalymnos, is a similar size to Tilos but has a comparatively big population, with several villages. I’ve often heard from Greeks that it’stheir favourite island. Back in the early Noughties, I’d hopped off the ferry therein September with a bicycle, found the roads around Ayia Marina too busy forcycling, and left a few days later after getting not much further than the impressiveArchaeological Museum. Arriving with my dog and a backpack on a bright, warmlate February day, I looked forward to discovering more.
From Ayia Marina port at lunchtimewe manoeuvred through a busy section of street, then made our way in aleisurely manner for a few kilometres along a broader, quieter road heading northeastto Alinda, stopping on and off for Lisa to jump in the clear blue sea. For awhile, I sat on a little stretch of beach, laughing at how beautiful it allwas. I was on holiday, it felt as though winter might be over and it feltgreat. When you're in luck and have perfect days at the tail end of winter with nobody around, it's the best time to be on an island.
The dog-friendly accommodation I’dfound online, four rooms above a taverna, was right at the end of the road,around a few curves of headland with lovely little beaches below, at the foot ofa limestone ridge. We passed a carpenter’s workshop before arriving atVareladiko: named for the barrels the carpenter built for the wine the owner’sfather used to make. The owner, Spiros, later told me that he’d first set up amakeshift place here when it was only accessible by boat. Then the road wasextended, and in summer it got very busy, but for now I was the only guest, andSpiros and his wife were busy doing maintenance every day on the rooms to getready for opening. All around, the grass was filled with bright yellow Bermudabuttercups.
The room was beautiful, with ahuge terrace overlooking the bay, and Spiros found a foam mattress for Lisa tosleep on. As dusk began to fall, I realised the lights weren’t working, andwent downstairs to ask if there was something I was doing wrong. Spiros and hiswife sat watching TV in the closed taverna and, surprised, said they’d lookinto it. Meanwhile I walked back along the bay for twenty minutes as far as thegrill-house and ordered a mixed grill to take away for my and Lisa’s dinner,and wine to drink while I waited, chatting for a while with some local guys, banteringabout whether Leros was better than Tilos.
When I got back to the room, theelectrician and his wife were just finishing up rewiring the light fixturesinside and out, and mosquitoes were having a party in my room. In future, I’d besure to keep the terrace doors closed at dusk. My double bed creaked and the mattresssprings were prominent, and for hours the bedsprings squeaked as I got up to findand squash another buzzing intruder. Ah well, I'd get used to it... Meanwhile, I must have sortof poisoned Lisa. In Kos, I’d managed to get to the vet tobuy an anti-tick pill for her, since spring was coming. But the pill was fordogs from 25 to 40 kilos, and I put the whole thing in her food, probably a bad idea. What’s more, her dinner was some of the mixed grilltakeaway, was supposed to be a treat but I hadn’t realised that some of it was spiced with chilli. My poordog.
In the morning, however, it feltpeaceful. A few people walked or jogged to the end of the road for their morning exercise. I worked for a while at the table onthe terrace, listening to the electricians fixing the wiring in the next rooms.I hadn’t expected such a perfect beach right below, with sand and pebbles androcks to snorkel around – and not expecting swimming weather, I hadn’tbrought my mask. I swam, got ready to go out for a walk, then we got as far asthe next beach and stopped again, sitting for a while as three ducks startedquacking, marched out to the water and bobbed over a little way to see us, thenreturned complaining to the safety of their tree.
Eventually we continued to NewPalatino for lunch, where a local woman called Vayia made me a delicious Greeksalad with good vegetables and cheese and herbs. She fussed over Lisa, bringingher water and talking to me about her own dog, getting quite emotional as shesaid the only sad thing is they don’t live long. Afterwards, we continued alongthe road and veered uphill on the road leading north to an area called Kamarawith a cluster of shops. I peered in the window of an old-fashioned lookingbakery, and the woman inside started telling me all about how dogs are good andpeople aren’t, then gave Lisa a biscuit. I also saw a bedding shop, andwondered if I could surreptitiously sneak a new mattress into my room.
We followed the road a little furtherthen turned onto a lovely rocky track through green hills, andsweet-smelling yellow broom flowers, and bushes full of white cistus flowers,and more buttercups… There were wind turbines on the other side of the valleybut it was all gorgeously lush, with the sound of goat bells as we got down toAyios Nikolaos beach. A family arrived by car and the little girl asked if shecould pat Lisa.
We continued along arough track around a stunning piece of coastline, the hills looking rugged to thenorth, while to the south there were hills covered in tractor-tilled fields. Istopped mesmerised for a while to watch and listen to a shepherd whistling toround up his goats, his dog running back and forth, the only sound thewhistling and goat bells and the sea crashing in below.
In the distance, I saw a man on a motorbike leading two horses. Further on, a middle-aged man ina checked shirt waited patiently for his cows to graze on a lush patch of grass.We passed through a little settlement with fields and trees and barkingdogs, then back to the road. When I stopped at a little supermarket, the prettyyoung girl in charge introduced herself as Stamatia and told me a long storyabout how her dog went calling on another dog overnight, then insisted onfeeding a handful of dog biscuits to Lisa. I asked about local wine and learnedinstead they had Raven, a locally brewed pale ale. Wow. I might be staying onLeros a while…
‘Are you from Leros?’ I asked,intrigued by her.
She was, she said, ‘but from Partheni,far away…’
Partheni was right in the northof the island, and I decided to go there the next day.
