After three visits in the space of 20 years, I thought I knew Skiathos. I had swum at its most famous beaches, the “Koukounaries” and “Lazaria”, I had visited the house-museum of Alexandros Papadiamantis and I had walked for hours through its narrow streets. Furthermore, I had tasted the delicacies in its ouzeri and taverns and I had experienced the intensity of the night in some of its bars.

I thought I knew her most famous intellectual child, the ascetic Papadiamantis, just as well – and after all, who Greek doesn’t think so? – through passages of his works in school books or through some of his short stories.

In the summer of 2002 our good friends, Peter and Tatiana, were kind enough to give us a book.

– Here is a different book, for you who travel, was their comment.

The question marks started already from the cover.

At the top were written the words: “Photographic Travelogue by Yannis Magos” and in the middle: “Alexandros Papadiamantis’ The Murderess”.

What connection could the “Murderess”, set in the last decades of the 19th century, have with a Photographic Journey, announced on the cover?

The answer was given to us by the photographer-traveller himself, Yannis Magos, in his preface

………” So we invite the friends of Papadiamantis’ work, the friends of Skiathos, the friends of Greek nature to follow Papadiamantis to the places where he placed the wandering of the Murderess, walking through them not only with our imagination, based on the Papadiamantic text, but also with more direct experience through this photographic travelogue, in which these places are depicted in the order of the narrative, in photographs that depict the natural landscape as realistically as possible. Thanks to these photographs, it will be possible to visit the “Kakorrem”, the “Path to Klima”, the “Stamiboto” and those who would not have the courage to attempt it “by nature”, since the landscapes referred to in the itinerary of the wandering and pursuit of the Slayer are extremely difficult and, we can say, for the inexperienced hiker even dangerous”.

John Magos was not wrong. A first flip through the book revealed locations of Skiathos unknown, inaccessible, well hidden from the eyes of the summer visitor. It was a Skiathos so different from the one we had known so far. Later, a careful reading of the “Murderess” in correspondence with the inspiring photographic material that accompanied the text, revealed to us the magnitude of the effort, the originality of the conception and the difficulty of the project of Yannis Mangos. Thanks to his many years of searching and systematic “feeling” of the lands of Skiathos, always in accordance with Papadiamantis’ descriptions, we too were now in a position to understand the adventurous and desperate attempt of the Slayer to escape from her pursuers through hidden paths, dizzying cliffs and dangerous passages.

However, the biggest challenge, the idea that fascinated us more than any other, was to live to a certain extent the experiences of Yannis Mangos and at the same time to get to know this unseen part of the Skiathian hinterland. Yannis had no objection to repeat with us a part of this great journey. All that remained was to set the date of our arrival on the island………..

ON THE ISLAND OF PAPADIAMANTIS

Mid-July, sunset. The large ferry “Haroula” slows down and docks at the large concrete pier of the port of Skiathos, next to Bourtzi.

We are greeted by a forest of sailing masts, a few dozen luxury yachts and a motley crowd of people coming and going non-stop on the quay.

No matter how much imagination he had, Michael Peranthis would never have expected such a development when he sketched the image of the town of Skiathos in the mid-19th century.

“Skiathos is an island forgotten in the waves that the Aeolian Sea descends. Two wooden docks and a row of low shops are its beach. Then the houses begin. Stone steps whitewashed, small stained windows, wooden balconies with herbs. More balconies further in, other facades, all similar, all anointed with lime, halfway up the ashy hill, which kneels, as if, back there, to rest on its ridge the last houses of the township.”

A century and a half later, Skiathos is very different from the forgotten island of Peranthis, you have to search a lot in the streets of the settlement to discover the “small coloured windows” and the “wooden balconies with herbs”, crammed and exhausted among the countless shops, ouzeri, cafeterias and bars.

We laboriously make our way between wheeled vehicles and people. Some people get in front of us and almost stop us, insisting on giving us a card with their rented rooms and convincing us within seconds that theirs are advantageous. Others don’t even bother to extol the charms of their accommodations. They simply fling their cards through the open car window. Anna picks them up one by one and keeps them as a memento. Then she calls our hosts.

– Stay where you are, says Alexandra, wife of Nikos Riganas. I get on the motorbike and come to pick you up.

At first we think she’s a typical representative of the Scandinavian North. With her rich blond hair and her straight, straight body, she does not at all refer to the type of the oppressed Skiathian woman and even a mother with four children (!), described by Papadiamantis in his texts.

– Yet I am a genuine Skiathian, Alexandra says laughing. I lived most of my adult years with my farming parents on the next mountain above the town.

We follow the motorized Alexandra and in three minutes we arrive at the Riganas family’s rented apartments. The accommodation is located on the main ring road of Skiathos, in a spacious area with lots of beautiful flowers, fruit trees, well-tended lawns and a huge pergola with thick shade created by the dense foliage of healthy vines.

We are greeted by Nikos Riganas, a loyal subscriber to the magazine, who seems particularly happy once he learns the exact reason for our visit to the island. He proves it by bringing me a large number of books on Skiathos. Some of them, such as the volumes of Professor Fragoula’s famous ‘Skiathikoi’, have long been out of print and are already hard to find.

My eye falls on a book of small dimensions. It is the typical small format of the publications of the “bookstore of Hestia”.

– I intend to give this one to you as a gift, says Nikos.

It’s Michael Peranthi’s “Cosmokaloyer”.

I knew the Cosmo but I had never had the chance to read it. It is the fictional biography of Alexandros Papadiamantis, given in an astonishing way by Peranthis, which decodes all the philosophy and attitude of life, all the spiritual greatness of this brilliant thinker, who remained humble, ascetic and distant to the end of his life. (During the next few days of our stay in Skiathos I had the good fortune to complete the reading of Cosmokalogeros in Papadiamantis’ own homeland and to feel that special privilege one experiences when one drinks and enjoys an exquisite wine in the place of its production. For her part, Anna not only read but studied the Murderess, discovering in the soil of Skiathos many of the points described by the author in his novel).

That same evening we meet Yannis Magos in one of the ouzeri in the harbour. Beautiful time. After the heat and apnea of the evening, the sea bass wakes up from its lethargy and caresses us with its cool breath.

As John approaches, we recognize him instantly by the light gait of the hiker, athletic stature of the trainer, the lively and clear-eyed gaze of the nature lover. He is the man who undertook the radical yet difficult task of making Papadiamantis’ descriptions even more vivid by investing them with imagery.

But perhaps Yannis’ most important achievement is not the completion of his work per se, but the universal and willing participation of his students in it. Dozens of young Skiathians voluntarily spent their free time enthusiastically following in the footsteps of their teacher, who in turn traced and followed in the footsteps of Papadiamantis and his heroine in the unique nature of Skiathos. Old paths were traced, many of them were opened and preserved, forgotten churches and cool mountain springs were discovered, elements of the natural environment with herbs, bushes and trees were recorded, top viewpoints were marked and became places of relaxation, fun and exchange of views between the professor and his students. Through these healthy activities, the young Skiathians experienced the settled wisdom of the leading spiritual son of their homeland and at the same time the wisdom of the structure of the natural environment and the beauty of their land.

– And it is no coincidence that many of these children burst into tears when they saw the enormous destruction caused by the fire of 2000 in those dreamy pine forests of Skiathos, which a short time before they were resting in their shade, concludes Yannis Maggos.

DISTURBED SKIATHOS

Whoever attempts to systematically deal with Skiathos is lucky. There is an inexhaustible wealth of historical, geographical, geophysical and cultural data, either scattered in Papadiamantis’ more than 100 short stories or systematically recorded in Professor Fragoulas’ enormous literary and research work. Just a brief mention of the volume of these data would require a whole volume and would certainly exceed the aim of this article. We shall therefore confine ourselves to a brief reference to the geographical and geophysical physiognomy of Skiathos, which we consider necessary for the understanding of the itinerary to the various parts of the island.

According to Professor Fragula, its territorial extent is 47 square miles, with a maximum length from east to west of 6.5 miles and a maximum width of 3.5 miles. Its shape is irregular, more round in the eastern part and triangular in the western part. About 6 miles to the east is Skopelos, about 2 miles to the west is Sipiada edge of Magnesia, 16 miles to the south is Euboea, while to the north it is open to the stormy sea of the Thermaikos Gulf and is 95 miles from Thessaloniki.

The island is mainly mountainous but has several lowlands. In the eastern part of the island is the Kampia plateau, which ends northeast to the steep coasts of Lalaria, Kohili, Kouroupi and Sares. The north-western endings are milder, with the small plateau of Pyrgi and the coasts of Kastro and Agios Sostis.

To the southeast of the plateau are hills and valleys, the Ai-Taxiarchis, Lehouni, Platana, Vigles, while to the east the plain around Lake Kvouli from Xanemo to Ammoudia. To the south begins the great hill range from Aradia and Agios Konstantinos, which lowers to Kalamanis.

The western part of the island presents alternating hill ranges, such as Zorbades, Trachamomantra, Stiles, Kamarorrachi, as well as the small valleys and plains of Platanias, Strofylia and Aselinos.

The highest point of the island, with an altitude of 433 metres, is the rocky peak of Karafiltzanaka, in the northern part of the island, above the Kampia plateau. Other mountains are Stivotos and Molocha in the northern part, Kounistres and Anargyros in the western part and the mountains Katavothras, Aradia, Agios Antonios and Agios Konstantinos in the centre. As Fragoulas notes, ‘most of the mountainous parts of the island are covered with majestic forests of halepio pine and wild pine, which once provided the shipbuilding timber, as well as oaks, which in Skiathos are called ‘slavos’, maples, elms and other chamois trees, such as thickets, coumaris, holly, holly, boxwood, heather, heather, sparta, and schist. In the area of Struflia there is the famous pine forest, and plane and walnut trees in the wooded and shady gorges with gushing springs form attractive groves. And a multitude of edelweiss and other shrubs cover the island’s soil, such as thrumps, mint, oregano, fescue, sage, sage, ragweed, wattle, myrtle and ferns’.

The island is covered with olive trees in the lowlands and on the hills.

Streams and spring waters, which hold water all year round, are abundant on Skiathos, which is why water mills once operated. Such streams are the Doman stream in the periphery of the Castle, the Kehria, the Agallianous, the Leoniou, the Mamous, the Achilas, as well as the fountain of Ai-Lia, the Cold Well and the water of Aradia, which is ‘the only water of excellent quality on the island’, as George Apostolidis mentions in his history.

There are also two lakes, known as salt ponds. One is located at Ag. George in Kvouli, with an area of 120 acres, and the other at Struflia (Strofylia). In the past, both of them used to fish for mullets and eels and were famous for the egg-taracho that came out of the ‘bafes’ (a type of mullet) in the saltworks of St. George.

In the westernmost part of the island, the coast of “Koukounaries” is famous, which according to Fragoulas is “a sea of bright sapphires and golden sand, one of the most beautiful sandy beaches in the world, which shimmers strangely from the small – small shiny phalluses in it”. And Fragoulas concludes, that the cephalopods once caught in the Salt Lake of Strouflia, were certainly the famous fish of Skiathos called “kestres”, sought after at the tables of the ancients, as Athenaeus mentions in his “Dipnosophytes”.

The coastline of Skiathos is 44 kilometres long and is of great interest with its numerous bays and coves, capes and capes, peninsulas and caves, as well as numerous small and large uninhabited islands. In the east-southeastern part, the wider bay of the island is outlined, with the large port of Skiathos, which is protected from all winds except the south winds. This port is known since antiquity since, as Demosthenes mentions, it was used by the Athenians as a naval station in the operations against Philip II of Macedonia. In the years that followed, Roman triremes, Byzantine deamonas, Venetian galleys, Turkish warships, the cruiser flotilla of Nikotsaras and Yannis Stathas, as well as galleys, brigs and mistiques during the years of the 21st century Struggle, were stationed in this port.

The most historic peninsulas of the island are the “Kastro”, at the end of the north side, a giant rock, planted there despite the sea, projection of the land towards the pontoon”, and the “cheloniform and stone-tipped” Bourtzi. During the years of the Venetian occupation, both were walled, while the medieval town of Skiathos lived on the first.

One of the most spectacular islands of Skiathos is Kastronisia, just off the Castle peninsula. Papadiamantis writes of these islands that they are known ‘for the precious wild fish, the castrinas, which are not bought for any amount of money, only paid for, either with love and friendship or sometimes with a treat’. Always according to Papadiamantis, the islands are also known ‘for the most wondrous stone crabs and canteens in the world, with the red ones coming as branching eggs, which are very good to eat’.

So this wonderful island, where almost every part of its land exudes the aura of Papadiamantis’ unique pen, we set out to discover, with the valuable company of Yannis Mangos at first and the Riganas family later. I believe it would be too tedious to go into detail about the kilometric distances, crossroads, orientations and directions, main and secondary forest roads, gullies, paths, creeks and countless chapels. But I could not omit some of our experiences of the “unseen” Skiathos and its “hidden” people, who live and exist outside the reach of tourist reports.

One such place that initially impressed me is the area of Kehria, at the northwestern end of the island. It is a majestic valley of unspoilt vegetation, bounded in the southern part by the verdant slopes of Aradia. From the good forest road network of this area, a detour starts, which after 1.1 km of extremely rough and downhill road, leads to the Monastery of Kehria. The monastery with its simple facilities has been abandoned for years. The pine-wooded environment of the monastery is enchanting, with a stunning view of the sea and the slopes of Aradia, an ideal place for rest and contemplation. The natural scenery is complemented by huge cypress trees, arias, holly, holly trees and some olive trees, all healthy, since the fire and touched this area.

The Catholicon of the monastery is magnificent, with a tiled dome, the exterior walls painted in an unusual but striking combination of pink and blue, while in various places there are colourful decorative plates made by the masters. The interior wall surfaces are covered with frescoes of exceptional art, and the carved walnut chancel is also noteworthy. To the right of the entrance of the Catholic Church a fountain with cool water quenches our thirst from the heat of the strong afternoon sun.

An uninterrupted stream of crystal clear water runs through the Cheradra of Amber. A faithful companion alongside it, along its entire length, is a heavenly path, which leads to the sea, to the cove of the same name, famous for its picturesqueness. Half-hidden by the vegetation along this route, the ruins of old farmhouses and watermills can be seen from time to time.

But in this magical place, where you don’t know what to admire for the first time, there is another surprise hidden just a few hundred metres from the sea. It is the “hermitage” of Stavros Tsibliarakis, just above the stream, literally disappearing in the trees that Nature has given birth to and in the fruit trees that Stavros has planted. A stone sculptor, woodcarver, fireplace and faucet maker, a deep knowledge of the historical and cultural elements of Skiathos, Stavros is a multifaceted personality who spends much of his free time in nature. It is an extremely pleasant surprise to hear him tell us that he has been a friend and reader of our magazine for years. On our makeshift comfortable wooden bench he offers us coffee and a wonderful ruby-coloured natural juice, which he has prepared from the janeras of his trees. He gives us a fragrant herb, “beeswax”, an ideal remedy for stomach upsets. We bid him farewell with the certainty that this will not be the last time we meet.

We follow of course the good dirt road of Kehria, which after a while passes the nice stone-built chapel of Agia Anastasia of Pharmakolitria. The surroundings are dreamy, the sun’s rays hardly penetrating the dense foliage of the huge arias and maple trees. It is the place where Papadiamantis used to come when he was writing “Farmacolytra”. But the surprise comes a few metres from the chapel. It is the ruins of an ancient “fryktoria”, a signal station, which, with the other three, belonged to the fryktoria system of Skiathos. According to Herodotus, it was from these stations that in 480 BC the Greeks who were at Artemisio in Evia were warned ‘by fire’ of the Persian fleet’s departure from Thessaloniki.

From the existence of this ancient tower the site is called “Pyrgi”.

We continue for a little further along the dirt road that after about one and a half kilometers ends up at the northwesternmost tip of Skiathos, at the cape of Agios Sozonas. With a well-marked path through an olive grove we reach the top of the hill in just 4 minutes. Here dominates the “Agios Sozon”, the picturesque chapel, which according to a marble plaque, was renovated in 1911 in memory of the ruined temple, located on the small island next to the coast, just below the hill.

We are in one of the most spectacular spots on the island. From the altitude of the hill we can admire the steep coastline with the passage of Fonissa, while the rocky mass of the cape with the castle looms to the northeast. The Pelion coast dominates the entire western horizon and the magnificent bays of “Elia” and “Megalo Aselinos” spread out in splendour to the southwest.

We continue to the north, passing by the location “Bostani”, known from Fonissa. It is a route through difficult labyrinthine dirt roads, but it compensates us with the impressive views of the steep cape of the Castle. Often pheasant chicks appear in front of us, who don’t seem particularly bothered by our presence.

At one point along the route, John asks me to take a detour to the left. Our wondering doesn’t last long. In three minutes the difficult dirt road ends in front of the chapel of Agios Panteleimon, on the edge of a cliff. All around a magnificent olive grove and next to it a neat farmhouse.

– This is the ultimate retreat of the Rigana family, Yannis tells us.

It’s a place of seclusion, connected low down to the extensive coast by a very steep path. The view is stunning and becomes even more shocking when we face to the W-SW, under the cape of Agios Sozonas, the terrible cliff with the pass where Papadiamantis’ heroine drowned.

– In this place, where the elements will rage in winter, I would like to live a few days of complete isolation, I tell Anna.

(That same evening Nikos Riganas enthusiastically urged me not to hesitate if I did so).

But the surprises in this unseen part of Skiathos are not over. We return from Agios Panteleimonas and continue for a while more along the coast. After an extremely rough route, accessible only to high cars, we arrive at the chapel of Panagia Glikofilousa, on the edge of the cliff. Any attempt at description would do justice to the grandeur of the landscape that surrounds us. We turn our eyes in silence, sometimes to the gnarled ends of the cape of the castle to the sea, sometimes to the terrible crags and saras above the chapel, while later our eyes are tamed by the vast olive grove that peacefully embraces the steep lands of this northernmost part of Skiathos.

– In these hostile bits of Skiathian land you get a glimpse of the agonizing effort of the Murderess to escape from her pursuers, says John. They are places perfectly familiar to Papadiamantis himself.

In the company of Nikos, Alexandra and their two youngest children, we complete our exploration of the northern part of Skiathos. After the crossroads of Agia Anastasia in Pyrgi we head north towards Kastro. At some point along the route the open landscape of olive groves ceases to exist around us. We suddenly move under the shadow of our unexpected natural arch, created by the branches and dense foliage of huge arias in an incredible tightness. Immediately afterwards we arrive at “Panagia Kardasi”, a chapel restored in 1899 and built over a stream in an exquisite natural environment.

The strangest thing in the chapel is its bell tower, which is an iron ship’s albumen, with the observation post in the upper part and the cross on top.

Just below Panagia Kardasi begins a distinct path, which crosses the stream and goes down the opposite slope. In the pine forest the trail is wonderful, everywhere the place smells of oregano. After a 10-minute calm walk we are in front of the old chapel of “Panagia Domou”, one of the most unforgettable churches of the island. We quench our thirst with the cool mountain water and rest for a while in the evocative area with its amazing virgin vegetation. Then, fascinated by this beautiful walk, we return to Panagia Kardasi.

After a while, the road network in the northernmost part of the island comes to an end. We leave the cars in the area under the church of “Agios Ioannis the Beheaded” and stroll for a while around the extremely well-kept courtyard of the church, with its vegetable garden, fruit trees and century-old pine trees. There is cool water here, as well as the monument erected in memory of the four Skiathians who were tragically killed by lightning in 1929.

It takes less than fifteen minutes to reach the castle. And it is a lasting admiration of the wild splendour of Nature, in all those wild slopes that precipitate down to the sea and formed part of the dramatic course of the Murderess. Nine of Papadiamantis’ most beautiful short stories are set in the centre of the Castle, collected in an excellent publication by the “Development Department of the Municipality of Skiathos”.

We are already in front of the Gate of the Castle, which according to Papadiamantis is “a giant rock, planted there by the sea, a protrusion of the land towards the point, as if the land showed the land to the sea and caused it, a terrible, one-piece granite aliquot, where the gulls and seagulls were crying for possession”.

Always according to Papadiamantis, ‘the most prominent of the excursions was to Kastro, the old town of the island, deserted after 1821. This castle was a veritable seagull’s nest, a rock rising more than a hundred fathoms above the surface of the sea and connected to the land by a narrow neck, with which it is connected by a movable wooden bridge’.

We walk in silence through the grassy narrow streets among the ruins of the humble dry stone walls and the ruins of the 30 churches that once belonged to the lively state. Among them we can discern the remains of the Panagia of “Precla” and the Panagia of “Megalomatas”, which Papadiamantis so often mentions, along with so many other churches that no longer exist, in his stories. I have the feeling that at every step I take, the pious aura of this ascetic man follows me, and that some of the protagonists of his short stories are peeping at me from behind the ruins.

We arrive at the top of the Castle, just as the sun is setting behind the shores of Sepia. A strong hailstorm churns the sea around Castronesia and down the coast. And I think, instead of my impressions, it would be more fitting to daydream for a while through the authentic writing and experiences of the great Skiathian prose writer.

“That place was one of the wildest places that are found in our temperate climates and the most remote beaches. The old castle was at the northernmost point, in a shallow and inaccessible place, and the two islands adjoining it, rocks also more buried than the first, could not be covered by the wind. On those isles, which had no soil, there was strangely enough a kind of wild crabapple, a bitter but delicious food, and many a Polanian risked his life in his efforts to gather it on the steep rock. So strong did the north blow in that place, that the trees, being scourged, were blown and sat down in its breath, and only a few creeping bushes, taking refuge in the folds of the ground, found shelter.

What the visitor finds difficult to understand today, he wonders, is how people manage to live there on that virgin and worthy rock, but the reason for their presence and the need that attracted and attracted them was obviously necessity. The fear of the Algerians, the Venetians, and the Turks, oppressed them, and made them to stand upon that natural niche.

Within and round about that old fortress there were about thirty chapels, relics of a venerable past age, the keys of which were in ruins, but with the four walls standing, and other shrines and images still standing, only a few were still in use.

These were built picturesquely on proud rocks and on cliffs by the seashore, gilded in the summer by a lightless light, and in the winter wet by the waves, which the raging north raged and tossed, raging unhappily in that sea, and sowing wrecks and wreckage on the seashore, and grinding up the sea, and the wreckage of the sea, and the wreckage of the sea, and the wreckage of the sea.

The granites into sand, kneading the sand into rocks and stalactites, and widening the foam into radial sprays.

Deep and endless was the horizon, wide and vast was the sea. From there, it was possible to enjoy indeed the feeling of the high, which only the viewer in safety can appreciate from the height of the shore.

THE HIDDEN FASCINATION CONTINUES

We continue our wanderings in the central-western part of the island, climbing uphill over the “Great Sand”. The dirt road network is good and very quickly leads us to pine-covered plateaus and slopes. But the picture we face is painful. From everywhere we are surrounded by the terrible traces of the fire of 1990 and, a decade later, the fire of 2000. Countless pine trees, including many century-old ones, are still standing on the ground, but they are all blackened indelibly by the fire and without a trace of life. All that remains for them now is the axe of the woodcutter or the slow process of their natural extinction. The only note of optimism in all this tragic picture is the activation of the mechanisms of natural regeneration with the lush and impenetrable jungle of bushes and heather that has covered the ground between the sad remnants of the once dull pine forest.

– The chapel you see opposite us is St. John the Hidden of the Passover, John tells us. He was once unseen behind the pine trees, which is why he was called hidden. Today he is visible from a great distance. But the chapel itself was miraculously saved, ana and from all sides it was consumed by flames.

About two kilometers after St. John’s we arrive at a place that the flames respected. Papadiamantis tells us that ‘there the old desert monastery of Panagia still whitens, rising out of deep grass, among the pies and chestnuts, a little higher than the beautiful sea shoal of Aselinos’.

It is the monastery of Panagia Kounistra, which is the island’s creek, because here, around 1695, the holy icon of Panagia Kounistra, the patron saint of the island, was found by the Skiathian ascetic Simeon. In 1724 the church was renovated by the abbot Damaskinos and the hermitage of the old man Simeon was elevated into a monastery which later, in 1806, became a crusader monastery. The monastery was once a women’s retreat, while the first school of Skiathos operated here during the years of Turkish rule. Today it is deserted, but it is under the constant care of the good lady-Argyro, who now has a coffee, a cold water and a good word for her numerous visitors.

Immediately after the monastery the good dirt road resumes, which through an amazing pine forest untouched by fire takes us to the northwest coast of the island to the famous beaches of Megalo and Mikro Aselinos. The view of these two exquisite sandy beaches from above is a true visual bliss.

But here is another unbelievable surprise that this magical nature of Skiathos has in store for us. As the road descends, something whitens on the opposite slope, among the impenetrable green of the pine trees.

– This is the only spot from where a small part of the second St. John the Hidden, called “the Parthenis”, is visible, explains John. On the side of the road, a wooden sign and a well-maintained uphill path with wooden steps, well-secured in the ground, can be seen. Despite the steep ascent, in five minutes we are in front of the chapel, at an altitude of 90 meters.

The natural environment is magnificent, with dense, healthy pine trees, arias, kumarias and plenty of oregano of excellent quality. To the north-northwest, the view travels far away to the sea horizon and the Pelion coast.

The floor of the church is old, original and paved, the south wall has some fine frescoes, while the rest of the walls are whitewashed. Just below the chapel, frozen water flows continuously from a fountain dedicated in 1935 to the memory of another great Skiathian writer, Alexandros Moraitidis. It is perhaps one of the most beautiful mountain waters we have tasted so far.

LAST PICTURES OF THE BEAUTIFUL ISLAND

The Monastery of Evaggelistria does not belong to the unseen corners of Skiathos, on the contrary, it is one of the most famous places where visitors to the island, Greeks and foreigners alike, flock.

According to Papadiamantis’s description, it is located ‘in the middle of a deep ravine unseen among the rocks, a little higher than the torrent flowing through the rocky groove, below the high cliff top of Karafiltzanaka, below the mysterious fountain of Kanani, at the top of the stream of Lehounios towards the sea’.

The monastery offered great services in its heyday; here on the walls of the monastery in September 1807 the oath of freedom of the Greek chieftains was heard and the hands of Abbot Niphon blessed the first Greek flag with a blue and white cross on the background.

Amazing facilities, great restoration works, a wide range of religious souvenirs and pure products of the monastery, the abbot is kind, but it is so crowded on the day of our visit that after a while we hurry to leave.

– Let’s go somewhere quieter, John suggests.

We head north again, cross the Kampia plateau and at a junction turn east. After almost one and a half kilometers we reach the Monastery of Agios Charalambos, the northeasternmost religious building of the island.

At an altitude of 250m, the monastery has a stunning view, low to the east of the rugged Kakorrem and further out across the sea horizon, with Skopelos all along its length and further back a part of Alonissos. Here, according to Papadiamantis, ‘the sorrowful soul is revealed, if it rises and looks out of the window at the pale rocks of the mountain above and the sea to the north, reaching out towards Halkidiki and the sublime Athos’.

In the cool and shady courtyard we are greeted by Barba-Antonis who, together with his wife, takes care of the monastery. At 74 years old, Barba-Antonis is a source of knowledge about Skiathos, he knows every spring and every path. He buys us coffee and continues his work tinkering with an old samari.

–Any visitors coming, Uncle Anthony? John asks him.

–I haven’t seen a man here for four days.

Unseen Skiathos in the middle of the tourist season with so many thousands of visitors!

–And now let’s go and get to know perhaps the most spectacular unseen part of Skiathos, says Yannis.