Leros at the Tail End of Winter

You may recall that back in late December, I’d had plans to go to Leros but was thwarted by ferry schedules (the only connections would have landed us in the port of Lakki late at night, with nowhere to stay) and went to Symi instead. But in the last week of February, my work schedule eased up a bit, the ferries were favourable and I was feeling the call of travel again. I was looking forward to eating some food I hadn’t cooked myself, and seeing something new.

Packing my stuff and Lisa’s, we boarded a ferry to Kos on a Monday lunchtime under darkly brooding skies, yet it was exciting to be on the move, passing the coastline of Tilos and then Nisyros. In Kos we wandered the beach and then town, gorging on delicious bakery treats in the afternoon and mezes in the evening: oven-baked aubergine loaded with tomato and feta, sweet potato chips, juicy meatballs and good retsina. The next day, the weather had cleared, and we continued our journey in brilliant sunshine, past little Pserimos (thinking I must go back) and up the wonderfully rugged and untouched east coast of Kalymnos, the sky a deep blue, light glittering silver on the sea.

Leros, just a stone’s throw from the north of Kalymnos, is a similar size to Tilos but has a comparatively big population, with several villages. I’ve often heard from Greeks that it’s their favourite island. Back in the early Noughties, I’d hopped off the ferry there in September with a bicycle, found the roads around Ayia Marina too busy for cycling, and left a few days later after getting not much further than the impressive Archaeological Museum. Arriving with my dog and a backpack on a bright, warm late February day, I looked forward to discovering more.

From Ayia Marina port at lunchtime we manoeuvred through a busy section of street, then made our way in a leisurely manner for a few kilometres along a broader, quieter road heading northeast to Alinda, stopping on and off for Lisa to jump in the clear blue sea. For a while, I sat on a little stretch of beach, laughing at how beautiful it all was. I was on holiday, it felt as though winter might be over and it felt great. When you're in luck and have perfect days at the tail end of winter with nobody around, it's the best time to be on an island. 

The dog-friendly accommodation I’d found online, four rooms above a taverna, was right at the end of the road, around a few curves of headland with lovely little beaches below, at the foot of a limestone ridge. We passed a carpenter’s workshop before arriving at Vareladiko: named for the barrels the carpenter built for the wine the owner’s father used to make. The owner, Spiros, later told me that he’d first set up a makeshift place here when it was only accessible by boat. Then the road was extended, and in summer it got very busy, but for now I was the only guest, and Spiros and his wife were busy doing maintenance every day on the rooms to get ready for opening. All around, the grass was filled with bright yellow Bermuda buttercups.

The room was beautiful, with a huge terrace overlooking the bay, and Spiros found a foam mattress for Lisa to sleep on. As dusk began to fall, I realised the lights weren’t working, and went downstairs to ask if there was something I was doing wrong. Spiros and his wife sat watching TV in the closed taverna and, surprised, said they’d look into it. Meanwhile I walked back along the bay for twenty minutes as far as the grill-house and ordered a mixed grill to take away for my and Lisa’s dinner, and wine to drink while I waited, chatting for a while with some local guys, bantering about whether Leros was better than Tilos.

When I got back to the room, the electrician and his wife were just finishing up rewiring the light fixtures inside and out, and mosquitoes were having a party in my room. In future, I’d be sure to keep the terrace doors closed at dusk. My double bed creaked and the mattress springs were prominent, and for hours the bedsprings squeaked as I got up to find and squash another buzzing intruder. Ah well, I'd get used to it... Meanwhile, I must have sort of poisoned Lisa. In Kos, I’d managed to get to the vet to buy an anti-tick pill for her, since spring was coming. But the pill was for dogs from 25 to 40 kilos, and I put the whole thing in her food, probably a bad idea. What’s more, her dinner was some of the mixed grill takeaway, was supposed to be a treat but I hadn’t realised that some of it was spiced with chilli. My poor dog.

In the morning, however, it felt peaceful. A few people walked or jogged to the end of the road for their morning exercise. I worked for a while at the table on the terrace, listening to the electricians fixing the wiring in the next rooms. I hadn’t expected such a perfect beach right below, with sand and pebbles and rocks to snorkel around – and not expecting swimming weather, I hadn’t brought my mask. I swam, got ready to go out for a walk, then we got as far as the next beach and stopped again, sitting for a while as three ducks started quacking, marched out to the water and bobbed over a little way to see us, then returned complaining to the safety of their tree.

Eventually we continued to New Palatino for lunch, where a local woman called Vayia made me a delicious Greek salad with good vegetables and cheese and herbs. She fussed over Lisa, bringing her water and talking to me about her own dog, getting quite emotional as she said the only sad thing is they don’t live long. Afterwards, we continued along the road and veered uphill on the road leading north to an area called Kamara with a cluster of shops. I peered in the window of an old-fashioned looking bakery, and the woman inside started telling me all about how dogs are good and people aren’t, then gave Lisa a biscuit. I also saw a bedding shop, and wondered if I could surreptitiously sneak a new mattress into my room.

We followed the road a little further then turned onto a lovely rocky track through green hills, and sweet-smelling yellow broom flowers, and bushes full of white cistus flowers, and more buttercups… There were wind turbines on the other side of the valley but it was all gorgeously lush, with the sound of goat bells as we got down to Ayios Nikolaos beach. A family arrived by car and the little girl asked if she could pat Lisa.  

We continued along a rough track around a stunning piece of coastline, the hills looking rugged to the north, while to the south there were hills covered in tractor-tilled fields. I stopped mesmerised for a while to watch and listen to a shepherd whistling to round up his goats, his dog running back and forth, the only sound the whistling and goat bells and the sea crashing in below.

In the distance, I saw a man on a motorbike leading two horses. Further on, a middle-aged man in a checked shirt waited patiently for his cows to graze on a lush patch of grass. We passed through a little settlement with fields and trees and barking dogs, then back to the road. When I stopped at a little supermarket, the pretty young girl in charge introduced herself as Stamatia and told me a long story about how her dog went calling on another dog overnight, then insisted on feeding a handful of dog biscuits to Lisa. I asked about local wine and learned instead they had Raven, a locally brewed pale ale. Wow. I might be staying on Leros a while…

‘Are you from Leros?’ I asked, intrigued by her.

She was, she said, ‘but from Partheni, far away…’

Partheni was right in the north of the island, and I decided to go there the next day.