Greece - Patmos

Cruising the Twelve islands

Story and photos by Keith Kellett

On most days, you can see the Old Fisherman. He spends most of his time sitting on the quay at Grykos, on the Greek island of Patmos, patiently mending his nets. When he’s out fishing, you can tell when his boat is due back, because his friends are waiting for him. Two cats and a seagull sit patiently on the nets. Their patience is always rewarded, because, no matter how meager his catch, he always has a fish for them on his return.The Old Fisherman shows only one side of Patmos. Not far from Grykos lies Skala, the island’s main port, where the ferries and cruise-ships call and where most of the tourists hang out. Nevertheless, it still retains some charm, and an air of Greek-ness. A third facet can be found up the hill in the main town, Hora.Quaint, white-painted Hora has a narrow, higgledy-piggledy network of alleys and passageways, designed to allow the passage of donkeys, rather than cars – that’s an expression you could really overwork in many of the Dodecanese Islands. It surrounds the Monastery of St. John, who is said to have written the Book of Revelations while exiled to Patmos.

Along with the "Apocalypse Cave," where the saint is supposed to have worked, it’s an attraction for pilgrims, as well as tourists. It’s also a great photo location, but you do need to get up there early, before the crowds arrive.

Patmos is only one of the many islands that make up the Dodecanese Islands, Greek islands off the Turkish coast. "Dodecanese" means "Twelve Islands," although there are many more, ranging from tourist hot spots such as Rhodes or Kos to uninhabited rocks such as Aspronissi, which is still good for swimming and bird watching.

The way to see them all is to take a sailboat cruise with Seascape Sailing, a small, independent company, operating out of Lakki, on the island of Leros.

"We call it ‘Adventure Sailing,’" said Seascape’s owner, Diane Edwards. She told me it’s different because no two trips on her yachts are exactly alike. Itineraries depend upon prevailing winds and the wishes of the passengers. For instance, if a day’s planned destination isn’t possible, the Skipper might offer possible alternatives—even staying put for an extra day is possible, if guests so wish.

There are many ways to sail with Seascape. You could gather up a group of friends—typically about eight people; more, if you’re really close friends—and, if one of you is a qualified skipper, you can arrange a "bare-boat" charter, and go where you will. Or, your group could charter the boat and its crew, who will take you wherever you want to go, within the bounds of reason and practicability.

If you’re alone, it’s just you and your partner, you can join a "share-boat" cruise, with other individuals and couples. Sailing experience isn’t necessary; you can help to sail the boat if you wish, or confine yourself to helping out with the domestic chores, like cooking and washing up. There’s also the option of leaving everything to the crew—but, really, there’s no "adventure" in that!

The big attraction is that you will NOT be called at 3 a.m. to help to scupper the deadlights, or something of that nature. Most nights are spent either moored up or at anchor, and the evening meal is usually taken ashore. The deal is, the price includes everything on the boat (including soft drinks, beer and cocktails) but not meals ashore, sightseeing, etc. However, dinner is never too expensive, and provides a literal, as well as a metaphoric "taste of the real Greece."

I sailed on the 50-foot Vassilis from Lakki to Lipsi, then on to Arki, then Patmos, where I transferred to the Anna Maria, which had accompanied us, and would be returning to Lakki at the end of the week. Vassilis would be continuing on along the Turkish coast.

The islands we were to visit form a T shape, and many of them are so close together, it seems that people on neighboring islands might be able to have a conversation, if they shouted really loudly!

On the eastern bar of the T lies Agathonissi, which was planned to be our first port of call. But, the wind was against us, and we headed for Lipsi instead—thereby missing a chance to meet Agathonissi’s famed "ouzo king". Maybe that was a good thing? I suppose it depends on how you feel about ouzo, which is something of an acquired taste!

Lipsi is called the Island of Churches, because there are 42 churches serving an island of barely 700 souls. Only a few of them are used for regular worship, the rest are in the nature of family chapels, in which occasions such as weddings and name days are celebrated.

The blue and white theme is continued throughout the little town, which clings to the slopes of the hills surrounding the harbor, with its steep, narrow streets meandering between the houses. Occasionally, there’s a bright splash of contrast from a bougainvillaea or a pot of blazing red geraniums.

 Arki lies to the north east of Lipsi, and is part of the same island sub-group. It’s almost a miniature, of Lipsi, with not quite as many churches, but with not quite so many people, either. The narrow streets, once more with white and blue dominant, cry out for exploration; a winding maze, designed for negotiation by donkey, rather than motor cars. But, again, it offers a good, if rather rough walk up to a church at the top of a ridge. It’s seldom used, for the hilltop community it once served is now in ruins around it, but it’s still in good condition, and many visitors make the ascent for the views.

Apart from that, there’s a Solar Panel Farm (if you’re interested in such things), which provides most of the island’s electricity, one shop—really a kiosk—by the harbor, and three tavernas, which surround the miniature plateia, or village square. The purpose of having two of them, I’d guess, is to take the overflow from visiting yachts and boats, which the genial Manoli, who keeps the most popular one, can’t handle!

Marathi lies just a loud shout across the water from Arki, and is home to about 30 souls, who share one church and three tavernas between them. They say that one of the tavernas is wired to the stars, and when Pandoli turns the generator off at night, the stars come full on. Surrounding the church on the hilltop is a ruined, abandoned village and, when you’ve checked that out … well, that’s it! Between worshipping, stargazing and taverna-crawling, there’s not much more to do apart from swim, soak up the sun and just veg out. Maybe it’s a sign I’m getting old, but this island was my favorite!

Maybe Marathi is the place to hang out for a month or two if I ever get around to writing that novel? "Remoter" than this would be hard to find, in Europe, anyway. If you don’t believe me, try running a web search on it sometime. You’ll probably end up at Seascape’s website … or … even here!