The ravages of ‘kalimari and chips’ mass tourism in the Greek islands are not far from the lesser islands. Although the distance in miles is slight, in atmosphere they’re a world away.

Arki is a delightful miniature of nearby Lipsi. It has similar blue and white houses, relieved by an occasional splash of colour from a pot of geraniums, or a bougainvillaea tree. There aren’t as many churches … however, there aren’t as many people, either! One church in particular, which stands in a cluster of ruined, long-abandoned buildings on a hill-top, is a particular favourite with visitors, who like to hike up the rocky track to it for the views.

The little harbour is for small boats; if you want to go to Arki on a larger ferry, you must tell the Captain, who will arrange for you to be landed by tender.

There’s only one shop … really, a kiosk near the harbour … but three tavernas, grouped around a Lilliputian plateia, or village square, from which branch narrow, higgledy-piggledy streets, built for donkey rather than car. The host at the taverna we chose for dinner told us, with a grin, that the purpose of the other two was to take his overflow when there were a lot of boats in. But, it might be that he claims to have the best collection of CDs in the Dodecanese.

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At Grykos, on Patmos, we met the Old Fisherman. The crew of our boat said that he was almost always there, patiently sitting in his little red boat, mending his nets. When he was out fishing, his three friends would await his return.

Two cats and a seagull sat on the nets waiting, for he always had a fish for them, no matter how meagre his catch. It’s a sharp contrast to the island’s main port of Skala, where the ferries and cruise-ships call, and where the tourists usually hang out.

Patmos attracts pilgrims as well as tourists, for here, St. John wrote the Book of Revelations. You can see the cave where the saint is said to have written this work and, high on top of the hill, surrounded by the charming old white-painted town of Hora stands the Monastery of St. John. It’s marvellously photogenic, even if you aren’t interested in matters religious.

However, I did fall into one trap. I asked one of the monks if I could take his picture … and didn’t remember till an hour later, when a Greek shakes his head and says ‘nay’, he means ‘yes’!

We didn’t have breakfast on the boat; early in the morning, before the bulk of the tourists arrived, we ascended the hill in a collection of hire cars and mopeds. The crew advised us not to wear shorts to visit the monastery or the Apocalypse Cave; those sarong things that they hand out to cover your legs if you do look damn’ ridiculous on some people!

Another reason for arriving early is that there’s not too much of a crush in Jimmy’s Balcony Restaurant, noted for its superb views if the harbour … we were lucky enough to be able to watch the arrival of one of Star Clippers’ sailing cruisers.

It’s also noted for its excellent omelettes, which are almost worth hiking up the hill for!

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A newspaper article once claimed that, to visit Crete without visiting the Samaria Gorge was like visiting Egypt without seeing the Pyramids. (But, guess who did just that in 1997!!)

But, I’d agree with it to a point … IF you can walk about 18k. over rough territory, because, once you’re in, there’s only one way out … down the gorge to its mouth at Ayia Roumeli; either on foot, or on the back of the Ranger’s donkey! If you can’t, there are plenty of other gorges on the island. While I was heading down Samaria, Lorraine was exploring the Therissos Gorge, in the comfort of one of the many ‘land trains’

You can get to the Samaria Gorge by one of the many tours available, and I’d advise to price around the many travel agents around the resort towns … don’t grab anything offered by a tour company ‘rep’ without checking around first. Or, you can take the regular KTEL service bus; this will take you to Omalos, where most folk start the walk, and you can take the return trip from Hora Sphakion or Souyia, where the boat will take you after your walk … Ayia Roumeli, the seaside village at the mouth of the gorge, is accessible only by boat.

The first part of the walk is a descent into the gorge along a rough, stony path through the woods; the path then winds along the river-bank for most of the length of the gorge.

About halfway down is the abandoned village of Samaria; the villagers were moved out when the area was first designated a National Park. And, near the end of the walk, the Iron Gates are the narrowest, and most spectacular part of the gorge.

You have to pay a small fee to enter the gorge, and you’ll be issued with a ticket. Don’t lose it, because they check it before you leave the gorge …’and, if you lose it, you’ll have to go back and get another’ said the Ranger, with a grin.

There are plenty of places where you can get spring water, and, if you run out between springs, the river water’s potable. But, at the end is Ayia Roumeli … it’s jokingly said that it has more cafes than houses. And, here you can get beer!

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The Other Side of the Island

It took us five days to sail from Lakki to Pandeli. To do the same trip overland costs 5 Euros (including tip!) by taxi! On Leros, all roads, and all bus routes, lead to the main town, Platanos, which stands on a ridge joining two low hills. On the seaward of those hills stands Pandeli Castle, and if you descend to the right of this ridge, Platanos merges imperceptibly with Pandeli.

Descend to the left of that hill, and you’ll come to Ayia Marina, which is where, the guide-books allege, the action is. This is where the inter-island catamarans and hydrofoils dock, and around the bay, you’ll find most of the best hotels and restaurants.

But, it’s still a working fishing port, and it’s not uncommon to see an impromptu fish-market whenever a catch is landed. The harbour’s main landmark is a windmill of the traditional Greek type, right down by the water’s edge. Unlike those in Pandeli, this one hasn’t been converted to accommodation, just preserved in more or less the state it was in when last used.

Head for the windmill if you want a good meal; the ‘ouzo taverna’ right next to it is called the Neromilos.

Heading northward past the windmill brings you first to Krithoni, then to Alinda, which was the first part of Leros to be promoted as a resort … not quite as brash and bustling as Ayia Marina, but pleasant nonetheless.

I stayed at the Hotel Ara (not a Greek word; it’s based on the initials of the owner’s children) which stands on a low hill above Alinda. If this is your choice also, ask if rooms 18 or 19 are available, for the view of Ayia Marina Bay from their balconies can only be described as classic!

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To see Rhodes at its best, you need to have the timing spot-on.

We’d heard some bad reports about the place, mainly concerning loutish behaviour at the resort of Faliraki. When our friends, who live on the islands, met our cruise boat with their car, the first place we made for was Faliraki, to see if it was as bad as report claimed.

Maybe we arrived too early in the day, or too late in the season. But, if you like ‘kitsch’ … architecture so false and bogus it’s actually quite likeable, it’s a good place to stop for your coffee, even though, at the café we chose, they didn’t know how to make Greek coffee.

Then, we took a motor tour of some of the attractions. And, our friends had the happy knack of timing our itinerary so we left everywhere … the Acropolis, the Archaeological Museum, the Palace of the Grand Master and the city walls … just as the bus-tours from the ships were arriving.

The crowds finally caught up with us in King George Square. But, we’d just finished lunch, and so we were able to take a turn around the city walls before returning to the ship. That’s the trouble with cruises. They never stay long enough to see everything. But, maybe, they do that deliberately, so you’re tempted to return?

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Many places in the northern Dodecanese remind me of somewhere else. One bay reminds me of a Scottish sea-loch, another of a Norwegian fiord. The wide, enclosed bay in the north-west of the island of Kalimnos has the feel of an Alpine lake, while some of the mountains around the little town of Emborio reminded me of my ‘home ground, the English Lake District. I had hiking boots with me, but, alas, time didn’t allow a more detailed examination of those hills!


Even the crew of our boat hadn’t been to Emborio before. But, the winds had put us a day ahead of schedule, so they thought they would check it out, rather than return to port early.


Emborio is a compact little village, with an attractive little beach and a small fishing fleet. It’s lso the base for the work-boats servicing the nearby fish farm.

We had lunch at ‘Captain Costa’s’, one of the good selection of tavernas and restaurants near the landing jetty. The restaurant’s maritime décor would look affected and cheesy anywhere else, but here, it’s just right. The centrepiece is an old-fashioned hard-hat diving suit, as a reminder of the days when sponge diving provided the main income for Kalimnos and other Dodecanese islands.

Most of the local sponge-beds, alas, have been killed off by disease and over-harvesting, but if you want a sponge for your bathroom, you can buy one at Captain Costa’s. Some of them may have been brought in by the slight remnant of the island’s sponge-fishing fleet, but it’s probable that they didn’t come from a local sponge-bed. It’s even more probable that they were simply imported from elsewhere.

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