The remote hamlets of Karpathos: Olympos
A rocky and lush diamond set in the blue of the ocean. Something different from any other Greek island scattered in the Aegean we have visited.
Steep cliffs that plunge into the sea, now with a green and lush forest, now with the hard red rock, now with a peaceful tongue of sand. Coastal villages cling firmly to the rocky slopes to the east, and descend more gently towards quiet harbours to the west, while inland villages, in symbiosis with the rocky spurs on which they stand, withstand the winds watching the island from above.
It is not by visiting the main centre of the island, Pigadia, that you will get an idea of the soul of this pearl of the Aegean. There is no other way but to get into the car and take the road that skirts the small villages scattered on the island.
The island of Karpathos extends northwards, much narrower in its transverse dimension. A road that leads to the main beaches and the most important villages makes a ring around the largest southern part, now following the coast, now more protected inland. About halfway through its extension, the island narrows in a thinner part, like a finger pointing towards the coasts of Turkey much further north, more remote and populated only by a few small villages that until a couple of decades ago were only connected by sea. Today an impervious road cut into the landslide rock of this harsh territory, reaches the villages in the north, up to the port of Diafani, the last town that can be reached by a normal means of transport. Some even more remote villages remain isolated in the final part of the island, in front of the islet of Saria, where only with a long trek on foot or with some off-road vehicle you can get there by land.
The only way to reach the smaller villages by car is to drive along the steep roads, the bare rock exposed to the wind, the lush pine forests that smell like sea. We start our journey by road, heading south from Pigadia, and reaching the village of Menetes: from a distance, a small cluster of houses that animate a large hill, flanked by a large white church that stands out on the dark rock. We leave the car near the church, and after admiring the view that extends to the sea from its terrace, we enter among the colorful houses of the village, where some old men play cards and peel figs sitting at the tables of a deserted bar.
Continuing towards the west coast, you can admire the rocky coast on which break mighty waves until you get to the quiet port of Finiki. The road descends towards the sea among the fish taverns. The pier full of pretty fishing boats dries in the sun, along with a small group of people who bathe in the tiny piece of sand in front of the port. A beautiful white and blue church overlooks the group of houses and allows you to admire the port from above.
The last village before the ring closes and flows into the only road that continues north is Mesochori. It descends steeply towards the sea, and the road that arrives there, making a small detour from the main route, offers a beautiful view. You can get there by car to the beginning of the village, and then proceed on foot, going down the steep stairs that separate the buildings by a few centimeters, crossing the balconies and some roofs, without interruption, going up and down between the terraces with the laundry in the sun, the open doors of the kitchens from which comes the scent of fish and tomatoes in the oven, among the small churches that blend into the ruins of abandoned buildings.
The road becomes increasingly scenic, high on the cliff, overlooking the sea for hundreds of meters. Here the woods thin out and the street continues on the bare rock, while vast expanses of woodland descend furrowed by dirt roads to the distant beaches of the North. After another bend in the distance, the enchanting village of Olympos appears as a dusting of icing sugar on the rock. Light, white and colourful buildings, a church with red domes, and some old windmills that age on top of the promontory. An incredible place out of time. You park at the entrance of the village, and proceed on foot up and down steps between the houses, mostly abandoned, of the deserted village. Tourists and locals concentrate around the church that dominates the village, as well as the few shops selling local products and the taverns, whose terraces, lashed out by the wind, overlook a steep cliff over the sea, varied in all shades of blue.
Heading west, you reach the area where the windmills are set on the mountain, now abandoned and falling, but offering a privileged view of the town. The latter is distributed on both sides of the mountain saddle and thins as the cliff becomes steeper. The incessant wind blows through the alleys reversed by basil smell and through the craft shops selling leather shoes, all in a peaceful and silent atmosphere of yesteryear.
We went beyond Olympos, to the tiny rural village of Avlona, where there are a few houses surrounded by stone walls that separate the plots of land, drying in the sun, between herds of sheep and thick fig trees.
