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Anafi: On the rock of Kalamiotissa

– Good evening, Mrs. Calliope, I say to the little woman.
She looks at me inquisitively for a few seconds. Then Anna. Suddenly her eyes light up.
– Isn’t that you, who climbed with the baby on the rock of Kalamiotissa?
– It was us. But how did you remember us after all the people who passed by here in two years?
– Do madmen forget? He laughs. I remember it was bad weather, windy and foggy. I told you not to come up, but you wouldn’t listen. And you had a baby. And now, what brings you back to Anafi?
– Tonight’s vespers. We even missed the rock.

Text: Θεόφιλος Μπασγιουράκης
Photos: Άννα Καλαϊτζή
Anafi: On the rock of Kalamiotissa
Categories: Tours
Destinations: AEGEAN SEA

ON THE ROCK OF KALAMIOTISSA

– Good evening, Mrs. Calliope, I say to the little woman.

He looks at me searchingly for a few seconds. Then Anna. Suddenly her eyes light up.

– Isn’t that you, who climbed up the rock of Kalamiotissa with the baby?

– Us. But how did you remember us after all the people who passed by here in two years?

– Are the madmen forgotten? he says laughing. I remember it was bad weather, windy and foggy. I told you not to come up, but you wouldn’t listen. And you had a baby. And now, what brings you back to Anafi?

– Tonight’s vespers. We also missed the rock.

 

Two years and some months have already passed since our first acquaintance with Anafi. We suddenly felt nostalgia for the island. I don’t know exactly why. The place? The people? The marches and the sweat? The incessant wind and the heat? The things we didn’t get to see and do? The charm of this humble but so proud island? Certainly all of these things together, but also something else: the vespers at the top of the imposing rock and the famous festival of Kalamiotissa.

So in Anafi again, in early September this time. The same people, the same weather, both old acquaintances. Many, as soon as they see us, they remember us. Others take a few seconds. The north wind doesn’t seem to have forgotten us at all. The closed shutters and the glass in the President’s room are ready to leave their place.

It’s nice to return to a place you loved and to be among friends again. And then to take the roads, by car or on foot, to discover places and corners that you couldn’t see the first time. In the bay of Symiakos and the “Sacred Road”, in the galleries of the old mines, in distant chapels, in lonely “residences” and in so many other unseen aspects of the Anafiotic land, which would need a big book to describe them as they deserve…

We say goodbye to Mrs.Kalliopi at the lower Monastery and we take the uphill, before the bell rings and the procession starts on the 5th of September, a day with tradition and importance for Anafi, since the vespers of the Nativity of the Virgin Mary will be chanted on the heights of the God-given rock, the highest single-pointed rock of the Aegean. Afterwards, those believers who can bear it will stay up all night. The rest will lie down and sleep on the floor of the church, in the small cells or wherever they can find.

At 5:30 the bells start to ring. From where we are, we can see the faithful gathering low down and preparing for the uphill march to the upper monastery, 461 meters above the surface of the Aegean Sea. In earlier times, unlike today, people did not hesitate – on the contrary, they aspired – to resort to distant and inaccessible areas, in order to build with much toil and sacrifice the places of worship of their Orthodox faith. All of Greece, both mainland and island, is full of monasteries and chapels, which arouse awe and admiration, not only with their elaborate – often – architecture, but mainly with the choice of the overall landscape in unseen canyons, on steep slopes or in the mysterious depths of huge rocks, far from people and closer to God.

A group of 7 foreigners has started earlier than the procession, passes us and continues. The bells ring again, the priest and the faithful slowly begin to ascend the path. Two monks break away from the others and lead the way. Their load is heavy; in addition to their tablets they carry a six-pack of bottled water. Young as they are, they climb their calvary with gusto and vigour. Nearly halfway up the path, there on the twisting angels, a woman from the group of seven foreigners is left alone, sitting on a stone outside the path. She stares at the sea with a blank look, a sadness painted on her face. I’m standing short.

– Do you have a problem? I ask her.

He shows me the flip-flops he’s wearing.

– I had not been prepared for such a course. I don’t think I can last much longer.

– And what are you going to do here?

– I’ll wait for them to come back. Unfortunately I will miss the view of the Aegean from the rock.

Sally is from Portsmouth, England, excited about Anafi but with incomplete information about the climb up the rock. I calculate the distance to the summit, taking into account the specifics of the conditions.

– If you’re really interested, I’ll take you on a relaxing ride upstairs in about 40 minutes.

He hesitates for a moment, but suddenly gets up resolutely and gets back on the path. I slow the pace, occasionally stopping for a few breaths. Sally is doing fine, she has regained her confidence and optimism. We reach the neck of the woods, the narrow stone path. The conditions of the first ascent come to mind with the fierce wind, the chill and the fog. And the weight, on my back, of the sleeping Athena, her little head swaying with each step, turned on my shoulders.

At the last steps, before the rock straightens out, we stop for a few deep breaths. The Englishwoman looks a little overworked.

– Are we too late?

– We’re here, I tell her.

Here we are, then, on the windswept heights of Kalamos again. At the sight of the horizon my joy is great, and still greater, mingled with pride, is that of the woman I accompany. She shakes my hand warmly.

– Thank you, he says simply.

A few dozen meters away, some people raise their hands and shake them enthusiastically. Sally’s English husband approaches. His eyes are wide with surprise. He embraces her and kisses her. He takes out his backpack and offers her a juice. Then he turns to me.

– I am grateful to you, he says. I never thought my wife would make it this far.

In the meantime, there is a lot of activity in the monastery. One of the two monks fills a bucket with rainwater from the adjacent cistern. Some women are washing the outdoor floor, sweeping inside and outside the church. The believers, who must be at least 50, arrange their belongings, bedding, sleeping bags, food and water, some in the cells, some in sheltered places and some in the church. The priest with the icon has already taken his place. The vespers service begins on the heights of this divine rock, a monument of nature and a bulwark of Orthodoxy over the Aegean Sea.

The sun is rapidly lowering on the horizon. Illuminated by the last rays, the rock of Kalamos casts a triangular shadow on the sea, which grows for a while and then disappears. After a few minutes the purple disc disappears behind the mountains of Santorini. And while we have our eyes turned to the west another disc, smaller and paler, emerges from the diametrically opposite curve of the sky. It is the moon, still slightly elliptical tonight but in two days it will be full. In this wonderful transition between the setting of the sun and the rising of the moon, the light in the sky wavers briefly between dark red and silvery gold. After a few minutes it finally takes on the shades of the moon.

We are not prepared for an overnight stay in the monastery and we do not want to intersperse other images and performances afterwards. The chanting from inside the temple sounds like a heavenly melody, carried by the breath of the wind and accompanying us on the nightly, but moonlit, path of return.

 

Vespers at the heights of Kalamos belongs to those special experiences that are hard to forget. If, however, this celebration takes place on the stunning summit of a unique natural monument, the corresponding celebration a few metres above sea level is equally impressive, since it takes place in an Orthodox monastery surrounded by the walls and architectural elements of an amazing monument of ancient Greece. It is, of course, the sanctuary of Apollo Anafaios or Aeglitis, defined by an impressive enclosure constructed from local stone of excellent carving. In the wider area, apart from the sanctuary of Apollo, there is an extensive building complex that served the worship and the faithful, while there were altars of other deities, such as Zeus Ktesios, Asclepius, Aphrodite and Artemis.

In the same precinct, where two and a half thousand years ago the ancients used to gather for the worship of their gods, hundreds of believers, local Anafiots from the diaspora, visitors from the neighbouring islands and other parts of Greece, as well as many foreigners, have gathered tonight. Countless cars have taken over the surrounding area and the rest of them are queuing hundreds of meters on the road. Inside the temple and in the courtyard there is chaos. It is very strange to see so many Christians gathered among ancient architectural elements, ribbed columns, carved beams and ancient inscriptions. The worshipful need of humans for a higher power continues unchanged through the ages. Only the identity of the higher power and some details differ. And of course I do not know of any place in Greece with such an intense coexistence of a temple of orthodoxy and an ancient temple.

The museum of the relics of the monastery is open tonight. Among the many old ecclesiastical books we can see one from 1770, another from 1817, a paralytic from 1778, a translation of Homer from 1835 and a Latin grammar from 1841; there are also old Gospels, sacred vessels and icons, vestments and many other ecclesiastical objects.

The service ends, the congregation spills out into the courtyard and the crowds reach their highest level. Suddenly some exclamations are heard and a few hands point to the sky. The moon, which two days before we had seen immature. Appears tonight all alone between the temple and the volume of Calamus, and adds its celestial light to the earthly illumination. The feast is already in progress, people embrace each other and exchange wishes, bean soup hot and very tasty is offered to all, wine excellent and fermented bread, sweets stuffed with almond and walnut and many other delicacies. We take our beans and our wine, find a quiet corner outside the precinct and gaze at the sea and the all-round moon. But at some point it loses some of its luster. A small arc in its upper left part is covered by shadow. It is not due to a cloud. It is a “Partial Lunar Eclipse”, adding to the many experiences of this evening.

 

SLEEPING THE REED

So far we have admired him from far and near. We have photographed his bulk at various times and many times. We have sweated on its hard, stony ground, from root to top. We gazed at the Aegean Sea from up there, the setting of the sun and the rising of the moon, we felt the wind’s windy breezes. The rock of Kalamos, however, still held hidden secrets. Down low, in its sythesis, where in the centuries the punching rocks caressed it and the waves of the sea beat it.

– And how do we get there?I ask Jacob Rousso, the President of the Fellowship.

– It’s easy. I give you my little boat and my son as captain. As long as the weather is fine.

This is the Anafiotic weather! With the maistars, the tramuntanas and the greys. Where they blow one from one side and one from the other. And once they start, they don’t stop! But here are the reports giving a drop in wind strength. A temporary one, of course. Whoever gets there first.

The dawn finds us at the port. It’s still early, the sun hasn’t come out. The sea is calm, the boats seem almost motionless. Here the north winds are powerless, cut off by the bulk of the island. George Roussos, a 20 year old captain, prepares the boat, we all jump in and we all jump back east, there at the edge of the island where the peninsula of Kalamos ends. Once in a while the sandy beauties of Anafi, so fanatically loved by Greeks and foreigners alike, pass by our eyes, half-dark and asleep. Kleisidi, Katsouni, Flamourou, Mikros and Megalo Roukounas, Katalymatssa, Megas Potamos, Agioi Anargyroi.

As we approach the bay of Prassies, near the monastery, the sun catches up with us, a fiery disc coming out of the sea, next to Kalamos. There’s the moon behind us, still holding out. Not for long. The higher the sun rises, the paler it becomes.

– So there’s Kalamos, says George. Have you ever seen a more enormous rock?

No, we have not seen a similar rock in the Aegean. Nor have we ever felt so insignificant, so insignificant, in the face of a geological upheaval of nature. This shocking immediacy, just a few meters from the base of the stone giant, suddenly shakes our mental equilibrium, fills us with awe of a new kind, almost fear. Our entire field of vision is covered by the rock, impossible to grasp its dimensions at a glance. Even Anna’s ultra-wide-angle lens is not enough to encapsulate the incredible volume that rises vertically above our heads. We open up several dozen metres to get the whole of it in front of us. Rocks are hard, sometimes reddish, sometimes yellowish-white and grey, an endless mass of solid rock, so solid that not a speck of dirt can find a crack to hide among them. Only the wild pigeons can find shelter. Some fly through a micro-cave, which draws from its bowels a hint of water, a sweet study in the saltiness of the sea. Some land climbing fields of Olympus, Mount Tempi, Meteora pass through my memory… This is a climbing field. Not for humans. But for eagles and seabirds.

Slowly-very slowly we are passing by Kalamos, taking with our eyes all that it has to offer us. We reach its edge, the easternmost point of Anafi. Here the waters change a little, escaping the surveillance of the rock and coming alive. I wonder if we could see what lies beyond? In two minutes we’ll see. It’s the north wind lurking, ready to punish every cut-off. It strikes us in the face and drives us away in an instant. We barely have time to turn around before the boat fills with water. No hard feelings. We’ve seen Kalamos. Perhaps another time, when we find him asleep, we’ll discover what the giant rock on the north side is hiding…

 

 

Warm thanks are due to the President of the Anafi Community, Iakovos Roussos and to his son George, a worthy successor of his father’s seamanship.

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Article Issue
Issue 58
Ιούλιος 2007
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