On the old roads to Chora

Mid-1970s. July, with an early meltemi wind. The “Cyclades” ship, battered by six hours of struggle with the strong north wind, takes a sharp turn at the cape of Diakopti, glides gently into the calm waters of the large bay of Livadi, and finally moors at the pier of the port of Serifos. Voices, names and exclamations of joy, the dragging of bagpipes, running and rushing make up the bustle of the pier, before it is a few hours later, back in the familiar company of the lonely lovers of line and reed.

The leader of the small group with the colourful backpacks approaches the grim port officer. He, raising his sailor’s hat to his eyebrows, slowly scratches his head and with doubtful confidence points with his hand to the south. The little party follows the coastal road of Livadi for a while, climbs up to the small cape, Pundi, passes the blue-domed chapel, Agios Georgios, built in the Capadocian style from the mid-11th century AD, It crosses the 300 m of the sandy beach Livadakia and disappears behind the dunes of the small bay of Karavi.

There, in the blonde sand dunes of the wonderful Serfiotiki corner, overlooking the white Chora, perched on the rock, and next to the turquoise waters of the sheltered bay of Karavio, which has a small ship of the Roman times tufted on the bottom… my love for Serifos was rekindled. And like all loves… over the years it became a tender love, full of worries and deep understanding. And it is this last one that is absolutely necessary to digest the many changes that take place on such a beautiful earthly body, like that of Serifos, with the encroachments of the coast, the threats of huge wind farms and the expansion of fish farms, the destruction of old cobblestones, the rape of nature in the name, supposedly, of ‘development’, leading beauty to its decline.

But Serifos is strong, full of iron, earthly wisdom and beauty, full of legends, history and nobility, that’s why it still resists… and that’s why we will always run with longing close to it… like today when we didn’t even make it two and a half hours from Piraeus with a high-speed ship.

In the 30 or so years that have passed, the pier may have lost in severity, since the grim dockmaster has long since retired, but it has gained in grace and beauty thanks to the kind and beautiful presence of the brown-haired, lanky dock guard in the blue beret. The harbor acquired a boat refueling station. The houses in Livadi and the neighbouring Livadakia up to the Rammo became crowded, roads were opened. Many shops, taverns, cafes and night spots, most of them with good music and views. Several hotels are now open not only in summer but all seasons, such as the Naias,which for some years now has been the welcoming corner of the hikers-tourists who visit the island to enjoy the amazing trails of the wonderful Serfiot countryside.

And Serifos is one of the most beautiful islands for mountain and coastal hiking. Castro-monastery and picturesque villages, chapels, dovecotes, cells and mitas, windmills and medieval buildings, terraces, terraces of land and culture, make up a painting with a continuous flow in the visitor-hiker’s path.

As on most islands, the best time for walking is spring, when Serifos is dressed in green and adorned with an incredible range of colours from the many varieties of wildflowers, which give it an appearance so different from that of the dry golden-yellow image of the summer months.

Of course, we do not forget that by the time you read this article, summer will be well and truly underway and the cool beaches of the island will certainly have their due. There are, after all, so many of them and they are so beautiful that, although they are not the subject of this article, it would be an omission, due to the season, not to mention them.

Next to the harbor with the little, even in summer, traffic, Avlomonas, the longest beach, with sand and tamarisks and a little further south, Livadakia, the most organized beach of the island, since it is located within the limits of the tourist zone, with tavernas, camping, cafes with umbrellas and the necessary beach volley. A little further on, the famous sand dunes of Karavi, the little paradise of the naturist nudists of decades past, groan under the heavy concrete of the maisonettes which, if there was a more correct designation for the protection zone of the seashore, would have been placed a little higher and would not have destroyed yet another coastal natural beauty of the overgrown Aegean. To the east stands out the wonderful Psili (Thin) Ammos, with its golden soft sandy beach, shallow waters, low but so useful tamarisk trees and two good tavernas…, a beach suitable for everyone. Next to it is the beach of Ai Giannis, mixed with sand and pebbles and a little further south the wonderful double cove of Ai Sostis, one of the safest coves on the eastern side of the island. The eastern beaches close with the small sandy beach of Lia, a haven for lovers of free contact with nature, suitable for minors only with parental consent.

The beautiful Sykamia, with its few shadows and the organic tavern of Vitos, is northern and sensitive to the strong games of the honeymoon. Platys Gialos, another one of the northern gems of the island with good sandy beach, beautiful big slabs, a taverna for lunch and tamarisk for after.

In the south, in the middle of the bay of Koutala, for the Venetians Porto Cadena, lies the famous Ganema, for many the most beautiful beach of the island, at a length of 350 m. Blue-green clear waters sheltered from the summer weather, as is the neighbouring Koutalas, with pebbles and octopus sunbathing and grilled for a spirited take-off, suma with saffron (local tsikoudia) at the ‘Superior’ of the incurably Kazantzidic, Anthony Moustakias.

The trio of the bay’s beaches is completed by the Afro-look, until a few years ago virgin, Vagia, lying under the absolute sun, with a unique wandering shadow, that of the seagull (Note.: The virginity was lost when profane cement production by mesonites invaded its magnificent sand dunes, disregarding the fact that they have been designated as a Site of Outstanding Natural Beauty Natura 2000).

A more suitable beach for the colours of the west is the small sandy beach at Mega Livadi with the large tamarisks, the calm waters of the sheltered bay and the wonderful flavours of Kyklopas and Marditsa. And if you are still so lucky, the dusk in the picturesque Mega Livadi will find you travelling together with sourauli and tuba or violin and lute on the unwritten musical paths of the memories of Glykos and his brother Thodoris Livanios.

But don’t think that these are the only beaches on the island. There are many others, such as that of Karavas, Ellinika, Avessalos, Kalogeros, Kalo Ampeli and other smaller ones, hidden among rocks and sea caves, hideouts of pirates and lovers of adventure and the unexpected.

On the paths of myth and history

It is on one of these beautiful beaches of the island that the myth of Perseus, son of Zeus and Danae, begins.

At that time, in mythical times, Serifos was a green island with dense vegetation and huge trees. Its king was the cunning Polydektes and his benevolent brother Dictys was his heir to the throne. At the same time in Argos, King Acrisius had lost sleep over the Delphic oracle, which wanted him murdered by his own grandson. So he locked his only daughter Danae in an underground chamber in perfect isolation. But Zeus, ever-present, discovered her and, transformed into golden rain, entered the underground chamber and more… and little Danae became nearly pregnant. Danae gave birth to Perseus, and the panicked Akrisius bundled them into a wooden urn and tossed them into the waves of the Argolic. The sea brings them out onto a Serpian sandy beach where Dictys finds them and takes them in to the palace of his brother Polydektes. The years pass, Perseus comes of age and Danae becomes more and more beautiful, taking over the mind of Polydektes. He, having the young Perseus in the way of his plans, premeditates that he will marry Hippodamia, while he has his eye on the beautiful Danae and asks Perseus for the head of Medusa as a wedding gift. This terrible mermaid with serpentine hair cast her gaze upon all who beheld her, and symbolized dependence on material goods and departure from the virtues of the spirit. Polydektes rubbed his hands in glee at the harm that would befall his beloved’s son. But when Perseus returns to the verdant Seriphos, bringing in his baggage the head of the dreaded Medusa, who killed with a weapon the mirror-polished shield of the goddess of spirit Athena, Polydektes is stunned to stare at it. But dry, stiff, they also stayed all over the island that has since been called Steriphos-Serifos. Thus, after the spirit has dominated the matter, Perseus leaves his mother to the good King Dictys and he with his beloved Andromeda returns to Argos where he…

But let us leave Perseus and Andromeda to their myths beyond Serifos and let us follow for a while the course of the island on the road of history.

The first inhabitants of the island were the pre-Hellenic tribes Leleges and Pelasgians and Kares from Asia Minor. Cretans of the Minoan period (1700-1500 BC) and Phoenicians, who were most likely the first to start exploiting the island’s mines (Mutula Galanis). They were followed by the Mycenaeans, who were the first to find Serifos on their way out to the Aegean (1450-1400 BC) and dominated the island until 1200 BC.

In the middle of the 7^th century BC the island became a colony of the Athenians, led by Eteocles. In 650 BC the Seriphia abolish the monarchical regime and establish a Republic. Together with the inhabitants of Naxos, Mykonos, Tinos and Delos, they form the first nucleus of the Delian Amphictyony. In the Persian wars, the Seriphians ignored Hippias’ enticing proposals and aided the Athenians, then necessarily joining the Athenian alliance against the Spartans.

Then they follow the history of the Aegean islands under the rule of the Macedonians, the Ptolemies of Egypt and the long occupation of the Romans (146 BC – 320 AD). During the Byzantine years, Serifos experienced the indifference of the Byzantine emperors, falling prey to the predatory raids of foreign and local pirates. Self-defence and the flight of the inhabitants to the safer mountainous parts of the island, unseen from the sea, was the only measure of protection in those difficult years. In the 13^th century AD the island retains its autonomy, although pirates have it as their base. During the Frankish rule that followed (1261 AD), the island of SERPHINO began to experience an economic boom. The safety of the inhabitants is a concern of the Venetian nobles. Hermola Minotto brings in hundreds of slaves and mining activity begins again after a long period of inactivity. In 1434 AD the Venetian family of Mikielli builds the castle of Chora and dominates the entire island for about 100 years. On July 13, 1538, coming from Andros, Jaredin Barbarossa occupies Serifos. The island is on the Cycladic trade route. The diagonal axis that crosses the archipelago. So, in these years, piracy flourishes again.

The period of Ottoman rule begins in 1566 AD. During the War of Cyprus (1570-72), the Monastery of Taxiarches was founded, to which almost all the properties of the Venetian nobles were transferred.

In 1680 AD the island was hit by a terrible plague epidemic in which a large percentage of its population perished. This was followed by a major land reparcelling and a new measurement of land with a new unit of length, the Venetian rope. The paths were changed, new cobbled paths were created in this structure and in the form we see today.

At the beginning of the 18th century, the cultivation of vines covered most of the island’s surface. The Turkish occupation was interspersed with a short period of Russian rule (1770-1774) and the flag of revolution was raised on May 22, 1821 at the church of Agios Eleftherios in Chora.

In the first post-revolutionary years, refugees from the Peloponnese and from the islands, which were attacked by Ibrahim’s fleet, the Moisirides, arrive in Serifos. The villages of Panagia, Pyrgos, Galani and Kallitsos, which until then were small settlements of cattle farmers, are created in the northern part.

The years of ‘Mining Fever’ found the island at the forefront of mining activities. Work begins by Greek and foreign entrepreneurs essentially in the 1880s. Koutalas and Mega Livadi are born. The Hellenic Mining Compan and Serifos-Spiliazeza, in the interests of Syngrou-Serpieris, are the largest companies operating on the island. The German metallurgist Emilios Groman quickly takes over the management of the operations, followed by his son and then his grandson. In 1916, Konstantinos Speras arrived on the island as a representative from the Piraeus Labour Centre.

The working conditions are tragic, with no working hours and meagre wages. The miners wake up, found unions and a few months later they start a big strike, culminating in the heroic uprising that led to the bloody events of 21 August 1916 at Mega Livadi (six dead and dozens seriously injured).

However, the beauty of Serifos is not limited to myths and history, nor to the wonderful beaches, the picturesque settlements, the ancient and Christian monuments, the mining galleries, nor to the unique Chora with its thousand faces. And this beauty has the feeling of unfulfilled, like a poem without end, like the paths and cobblestones of the island, which now may no longer lead you to destinations, but they certainly lead you to the very essence of the route, like a trip to Serfiot Ithaca.

On the old roads to Chora

The second part of this small tribute is the old strata for Chora. Together we will walk from Kallitsos to Chora. We will follow the miners’ road from Livadera to the mills, climb up to the Venetian castle, wander through the narrow streets of Chora and descend down to the coastal meadow.

And these three routes are a suggestion for afternoon walks, which will fill your holidays on the island with beautiful images from a somewhat more inquisitive, somewhat more restless perspective.

Route 1

Kallitsos (Centaur) – Chora

Marking: “1”    Duration without stops: 1h 30min       Distance: 4,2 km.

One of the most beautiful routes of the island, covering the mountainous eastern part of the island.

We come from Chora by road through Panagia-Galani-Moni Taxiarches and at the last bend before we meet the first houses of Kallitsos, we see on our left side, pens and ruined cells. Among them and at a short distance from the asphalt road in the Kambos position is a domed building, the tomb of the most likely Roman centurion, from whom the village took its name Kentarchos. Above here, high on the ridge of Skarfiotis, we see a ruined windmill. This is the famous Kallitsos Tablel mill, the oldest mill in Serifos and one of the oldest in the Aegean (15^th century AD). It operated with a vertical axis of rotation and its wings were made of wooden boards.

The village is one of the most picturesque on the island. Originally built higher up in the valley, it was called Xero Chorio. However, it was completely destroyed during the pirate raids of the Saracens (8^th – 10^th century AD) and many years later during the revolution of 1821 it was developed in the place where it is today. Built in a green valley leading to the sea, it was not named by chance. Calliston in earlier years is one of the jewels of today’s and hopefully tomorrow’s Serifos, although in recent years a few houses have been built, fortunately, but they alter its traditional residential character quite a bit.

One stop before the end we start descending the steps shaded by a cluster of pine trees. In 2-3 minutes we are in the small square with the fountain, a balcony above olive trees, pine trees, fig trees, palm trees, almond trees and the scent of angelica strolling back and forth. Yannis with his flashlights wanders back and forth through the ruins chasing the colors of April. I, with the block cap, look for sources, and just when I begin to get frustrated, high up behind the prickly pear tree, a female figure looms inquiringly, the only human presence in the half-deserted, at this time of year, village.

–You don’t look like a government man! You’re not from the electric company, are you? And if you’re looking for antiques, apart from me and about 20 others who are left here, you won’t find anything else in the village. Anyway, my name is Zambeta and I was born, don’t ask me when, of Callician descent… I didn’t have time to get a pineapple. This is not a source, I thought. This is a water-maiden…

Introductions to the small courtyard quickly lead us to the small everyday room with the hearth and kitchenware on the shelves. In the company of her husband Nikolaos Antonakis and neighbor Thanasis Mitrofanis, people warm, kind and welcoming. And they had a lot to tell us, both from the difficult stone years of their youth and from the stories of their parents and grandparents, the ones that write the real history of a place from mouth to mouth.

–This square here in ’62 had two cafes, says Mr. Thanasis. Until ’63, when the mines were closed, the village had over 100 inhabitants, a school with 30 children and on the terraces, on the leashes as we call them here, we tended the vines. The baskets, the 80-octave baskets, were filled with large bunches of the gold of the place, the famous aidania, the Mavroliatika and the Fischrosirika. And good vinegar was produced, which reached Syra, Hydra, Perea and, much earlier, as far as Venice and Marseilles by large boats. But the aroma of the village was dominated by the orchards with vegetables, lemon, orange and tangerine trees, with the king of fruit trees, the fragrant stravoria, at the top. Sweetest pears you’ve never seen.

-As for the masonry paraphernalia, the old Callicans were unsurpassed in this, says Mr.Nikos. Samaria, ploughing, scraping, pits and all the necessary things, such as these, the special ones used by Zabetta’s father, Emmanuel Chrysoloras by name, who was the dentist of the island.

-What a hand that was, says Zabeta… No infections, no medicines and antibiotics, nothing. A firm and sudden tug with this little tantalizing stick, a salt water rinse and … let the other one go. Every Sunday when the mines were closed, 20 to 30 workers would find their health and on leaving the island they would take the gold tooth from the safe deposit box, which was well hidden.

She talks and with the movements of a little girl fills plates and glasses. Local small olives, capers and myzithra of the trench, shining rhododendron and in the pan sun-dried tomatoes with plenty of porridge and tasty eggplant, nourished by animal fertilizer, like pigeon droppings with plenty of nitrogen.

-Tell Mamalaki that we are not sitting here and if he wants to work hard, because for us cooking does not start from the pot but from the pot. Before you can do the art in the kitchen you have to fight in the field for the ingredients. We don’t find them ready, she says with smiling confidence as she serves sweet quince, Serfiot, with mygdalos and fragrant arbaroriza.

The rhoditis wine has roused us and so Zambeta holding the mobile phone in her hand, playing a song by the Serfiot Antonis Gerakaris, drags us beautifully in a circular dance and by setting aside the bard of the door we end up in the small courtyard with the geraniums.

–Good luck, she says with humour and kindness. We part, as if we have known each other for years.

Guided by the signs “1” we climb up the asphalt road, a few meters later we follow the uphill cobblestone road with large flat slabs with the colourful spring blooming between them. We pass by a wine cellar, choked with almond and olive trees. Here and up here, some ten years ago, some brainless people had the idea of opening up a carriage road, which resulted in the Roman cobblestone pavement being thrashed out.

Mr Tasos with his goats, the only human presence in the area, watches us from the hill. In 20 min. from Kallitsos we reach the Vouni pass, which is the highest point of the route. The view from here is beautiful. In front of us and to the left the coast of eastern Serifos, Ai Giannis, Psili Ammos, Tsilipaki, to the south Chora, the long beach of Avlomonas, Livadi with Rammos and beyond in the distance Sifnos and Milos.

The road on the right leads a little higher to the completely ruined Xero Chorio with the white, elegant house with the dovecote. A last look backwards with Kallitsos and the islets of Serifopoula and Piperi and we begin to descend on a wide cobbled road towards Palia Mitata, where there used to be a small settlement of cattle farmers. The eye finds it difficult to distinguish the building of nature from the building of man. Small stone-built cells, wine presses, stables and pigsties in continuity with the rocks and dry stone. A little further down on the left of the path, at the red marks, a huge cluster of rocks could be said to form the petrified head of the mythical Polydactus. Now we pass by huge granite rocks. Here it is said that there was an ancient dam which provided the carved boulders for the building of the ancient wall of Chora.

A lush green picture, with olive trees, almond trees, a spring and a little further on the white cube of Pano Stavros (Upper Cross) creates a pleasant feeling. In our minds, the words from Aunt Zabetta’s song come to mind:

When I climb the cross and lean on the vine

My little heart opens like a rose bush.

The Pano Stavros exterior is typically a cube-shaped chapel. Internally, however, it is of architectural interest because of its light curvilinear surfaces and three small domes. We are in the middle of the route. We stand for a breath on the small courtyard and walk downhill guided by the red markings, which stand out like stone poppies among the vines. We enter a narrow corridor with dry stone walls and quickly reach the bridge of the Kipi or Skipi… “There the villagers believe that there are Nereids and therefore there are very few who have the courage to cross this place in the night…” writes Theodoros Argouzakis in 1904.

Open ravine, with bushes, reeds, reeds, oleanders, fig trees and small vineyards with vines and olives. Opposite us is Kato Stavros (Lower Cross), surrounded by small stone cells. We ascend, seeing on the left and below beautiful dovecotes in the myrtle trees and vines. A landscape of beauty and peace. At the end of the climb, the chapel of Agios Stefanos, known for the custom of amades, which takes place on the small plateau on 27 December.

With a permanent view of Chora, we descend and in a short while we are at Palio (Old) Well, the large fountain built under an old stone mono-arch bridge. This is where the inhabitants of Pano Chora used to get water from, carrying it with pitchers on their shoulders.

We, without full pitchers but full of the many pleasant impressions of the march, climb the last few meters of the route and after a while we drink coffee at the square of the Myloi in Chora.

Route 2

Livadera – Chora

Marking: “2”         Duration without stops: 50 min.      Distance: 2,2 km.

The very interesting but simple hiking route starts from Livadera, which is the largest plateau and is located in the center of the island. The bus on the Chora-Mega Livadi route drops us off at the Gyftika bus stop, at the junction for the helipad, next to the rainwater tank fountain. This location takes its name from the iron fittings workshops (gyftika) that were used in the old mining tools.

A little higher on our left stands the white-white Agios Vlasis, patron saint of shepherds, who several years ago lived in the surrounding area. We walk for 250m on the tarmac and at the first bend in the road to the helipad we follow the signs with 2 on the left in an easterly direction. Low vegetation with asters, crossbrier and other toadstools. Behind us to the north is the mountain range of Troullos with the highest peak of the island (alt. 587 m). To our right to the south rises proudly the Oros (alt. 510 m) and to our left the Petrias (alt. 570 m). The northerly winds are getting stronger and the hunched shape of the wilderness just below shows that at this point the winds are far from rare. The well-marked and clearly marked trail passes by a stone paddock with a small ruined wine cellar and in 15 min leads to the cube-shaped Agios Georgios at Plakes. Architecturally, it has the typical, simple, flattened form of most of the island’s chapels. In the sanctuary we see the altar resting on a marble base of an ancient column. In the iconostasis, to the right of the Beautiful Gate, an icon with the date of the temple is placed. 28 October 1841.

We continue on the path that widens and quickly becomes a wonderful cobblestone road, perhaps the most beautiful in the Aegean. We pass by a medieval stone watchtower, which here in Serifos is called ‘kliftokeli’, while to the right and below is one of the most beautiful paintings of the Aegean with the all-white houses of Chora, a spar of wild flowers, clinging to the granite rock, crowned with the small Agios Konstantinos on the top of the castle.

Now we walk on the smooth descent with the wide, 2.5 m wide, cobblestone pavement and the sparse steps. This is the road that thousands of miners used to follow to get to the dozens of mines on the western side of the island. Reconstructed in some places in 1858 and again in 1960-62, it had been used for many centuries before and is a living testimony to Serifos’ important mining history.

A stop just before we reach the Mills is necessary to enjoy the wonderful view of Chora, Livadi, the island of Vous, all the way to Sifnos.

Behind us, in the gap, the last rays of light are shining on Ai Giorgis and disappear in a hurry behind Petrias. Ahead, the moon appears triumphantly between Sifnos and Serifos. The lights in Livadi slowly begin to turn on. We arrive at the Myloi of Chora. The wind has dropped completely.

Route A

Chora – Kastro – Livadi A – B

Marking: “A”     Duration: 50 min.    Distance: 2900 m.

It is true that at the mill you wake up in a different mood. You want the atmosphere of its premises, you want the accumulated energy from its dozens of years of operation, you want the lulling micro creaks of its wings… as well as the sleep in the most beautiful windmill of the Aegean of my friend Rena from the Mountaineering Association, was full of dreams with heroes of Cervantes.

It is close to noon and I am waiting for John the photographer at the bus stop on Chora. The sun, although in April, is not joking. My gaze follows the bright straight stone line of the cobbled punic pond clinging to the ridge of the Petrias.

I wonder if this is what Elytis was looking at when he wrote ‘En leuko’?