I have an old pal, and every time I see him I thank him for one of his bouts of dreadful seasickness. It was 1994 and we were on a rust bucket of a ferry heading to the Greek island of Amorgos for a rendezvous with a shipwreck.
‘Look,’ I yelled, sympathetically, as Digger lost his lunch over the side, ‘it’s all in your mind.’
‘I’ve got to get off,’ he barfed. ‘Please, Steve, I’m going to die.’ Honestly, some people.
We disembarked at an island I’d never heard of and could barely pronounce: Folegandros. At first sight, there seemed to be nothing there; a port café and a long, uninviting pebble beach. And that was it.
My first thought was of Amorgos, our intended destination, and the shipwrecked Olympia, lying off the south coast. It featured in the 1988 film The Big Blue and I had wanted desperately to dive it. But that was before our unscheduled stop at Folegandros. (Thank you, Digger.)
And so we found ourselves aboard a battered old bus cranking its way up the bare mountainside to Chora, the topmost settlement of our accidental island. There, we found a fairytale village spread across two bougainvillea-lined squares, overlooked by a vertiginous monastery and flanked by a 200m-tall cliff that just happened to face west. And, of course, the sun was setting.
What followed was one of the best holidays of my life, in a magical setting arrived at by chance. And that wasn’t unusual; in Greece, serendipity fell like warm rain. You see, back then, the ferries were irregular and unreliable. We couldn’t get off the island for days, and that was what made it so special.
But then came the Athens Olympics in 2004 and the rust buckets were replaced by shiny new ferries and catamarans that were – heaven forfend – reliable, punctual and comfortable. Thanks to this new ease of travel, the Cyclades archipelago – previously a port of call for scruffy backpackers like me – suddenly became a must-visit destination, with islands such as Santorini and Mykonos earning international reputations and attracting the cruise-ship set. Nearby islands such as Naxos, Ios, Sifnos and Milos took in the overspill.
As a tourist, I was as much at fault as anyone else – I’ve been to more than 50 islands over 40 years. But I have never stopped searching for that innocence, that magic when you could choose isolation one day, jump on a ferry to somewhere a little wilder the next, and then climb aboard again, maybe to seek a touch of sophistication.
So, where to go now? It is impossible to say which of Greece’s 227 inhabited islands are best – they each have their own charm – but here are nine of my favourites (see the map on the next page for their locations).
One to three are in the Small Cyclades, scattered between Naxos and Amorgos and serviced from Naxos town by an ancient but charming little ferry called the Skopelitis. The northernmost of the group, Donousa (1), is possibly my favourite island in Greece – not least because there is hardly anything there (and not just because it was named after Dionysus, the Greek god of wine). When you arrive, you will be mesmerised by a white sandy port beach and water as blue as any you’ll find in the Caribbean.
Much of the food served in the four or five tavernas here is locally farmed and staggeringly good. If you feel like a break from Greek food, try the ossobuco at the dreamy Kedros Beach Bar, which sits over a headland to the east of the port.
Heading south, again on the Skopelitis, and avoiding Koufonisia, which has become far too much of a tourist trap, you come first to Schinoussa (2) and then, 15 minutes farther on, Iraklia (3). On both of these gems you will find lovely (if sometimes hidden) beaches as well as superb and well-signposted walks, breathtaking scenery and surprisingly good food. You will feel you’re on a different planet – a quieter one, with gently rolling hills, goat-grazed peaks, pristine beaches and few people.
On Schinoussa, eat upstairs at Deli for peerless views over patchwork islands and a modern take on Greek food. On Iraklia try the taverna Araklia, where Michelin-quality food is served to laid-back guests idling in flip-flops.
After the peace of the Small Cyclades you may well be ready to up the pace a little. So hop over to Paros (4), home to my favourite boutique hideaway in the world, Roses Beach hotel in Parikia. It might not be the most expensive stay in Greece but it’s one of the prettiest. Its sweeping view across the bay is perfect for watching Greek island ballet – the arrival and departure of vast ships delivering and collecting people and cars, lorries and food, bricks and mortar, all in a few frantic yet perfectly choreographed minutes. It is your front-row seat to a magical performance that happens several times an hour.
Naoussa Harbour, Paros
Old Town, Antiparos
This is where I stay on Paros – but you may want to try Naoussa, with its tiny harbour. Here you will find upmarket restaurants, clothing and jewellery shops, and the nightlife you may be craving.
If that seems too noisy after the Small Cyclades, take the ten-minute ferry from Pounda across to the delightful little island haven of Antiparos (5). Here you will find a mix of old-school tavernas and high-end style; nudist beaches and fairy-lit bars. It hasn’t yet ‘flipped’ into tourist hell, but it might, and soon – Tom Hanks has a bolthole here, while Madonna, Bruce Springsteen and Ryan Gosling have been sighted over the years.
If the Cyclades have grown in (sometimes unwelcome) popularity, visiting island groups elsewhere can feel like taking a stroll down memory lane. They all have their big islands, the ones easy to fly to but often advisable to leave. I think of Kos, Rhodes and Skiathos in the same vein as Mykonos and Santorini: all of them too busy, overpriced and depressingly Instagramable. Once you escape, the tiny, less-visited, jewels beckon.
Last year, my wife Suzanne and I flew to Kos in the Dodecanese and quickly hopped off to Tilos (6). There we decided that our first simple meal – roasted baby goat, fasolakia (green beans with potatoes stewed in tomato sauce) and horiatiki (Greek salad), all washed down with a litre of wine – was the best we had enjoyed in 27 years of travelling together in Greece. And it cost just €22 for us both. We spent the afternoon watching dolphins in the bay and drinking cold beers at Bozi beach bar east of the port, Livadia.
Next comes Lipsi (7), a pristine, low-lying island 8km long, with fabulous beaches and remarkable food. It felt like going back to Greece all those years ago. Our only regret is that we fell asleep after a dinner of local sea bream and fennel, and missed the party with local musicians we had been invited to, at Dilaila beach bar in the south of the island.
In the northern Sporades group of islands, hop over to Alonissos (8). Architecture here is Venetian rather than Cycladic, the vibe is much more relaxed than on crowded Skiathos. This was the first place I tried to speak a little Greek in a family taverna 30 years ago. The waitress’s jaw hit the floor – and I didn’t pay for another drink all night.
Kokkinokastro Beach, Alonissos
Fishing boats, Ithaca
Similarly, if you’re in the Ionian island group, tempted by the fabulous but package-touristy beaches of Kefalonia, jump on the 40-minute ferry to Ithaca (9) and feel the difference. These days the port, Vathy, is dotted with flotillas of sailboats but over the centuries the warships of Romans, Venetians, Ottomans and even the British weighed anchor here. The result is lovely architecture and a friendly welcome.
But isn’t all this moving around a bit daunting? Well, no – not with a little research and patience. To become proficient as an island-hopper, get acquainted with the best online ferry timetable guides: openseas.gr and ferryhopper.com. Openseas is particularly good because you can input where you are, and it will provide a list of islands you can get to. Ferryhopper has an app on which you can buy your tickets in advance. This has become increasingly important as the larger islands have grown in popularity, and to get to your quieter ones, you might have to hop on – and quickly off.
What is vitally important is to use the ‘slow’ ferries – the ships – rather than the high-speed catamarans wherever possible, because you will save a fortune. It is not unusual for a €10 ticket on a slow boat to cost more than €50 on a fast catamaran. If you can tailor your whole trip to travel on the slow boats (which, by the way, are big, modern and actually fast – just not as fast as the catamarans), you will have become an island-hopping ninja.
A word of warning: you will find that, as the Rolling Stones once said, you can’t always get what you want. There will be occasions when you can’t sail to the island seemingly at touching distance because no ferries are scheduled for that day, so you’ll have to wait until you can. Or, as in the good old days, just head wherever the next ferry is going. You might enjoy the randomness.
And that date I missed with the shipwreck on Amorgos? I made it back there a couple of years later and was scared witless when I came face to face with a giant moray eel poking out of rocks beneath the sunken hull. It was one of those unexpected moments that take you out of your comfort zone and make life worth living. A bit like Greek island hopping – if you do it right.
