An Octopus in my Ouzo: Nisyros and late summer

A couple of weeks ago, a travel editor for a British newspaper got in touch asking if I’d like to write a piece for them. I suggested one about exploring the islands of the Aegean on foot in the wonderful months of September and October; they loved the idea and we discussed fine details – then they changed their minds and said they’d rather do it in spring. I was gutted. Then I realised – woohoo! I don’t have the stress of having to write a newspaper article. More time for relaxing and enjoying these amazing days.

Because these months just beginning are maybe the best of the year.

In the height of August, even the cheeriest business owners are often secretly muttering that they can’t wait for the month to be over. It’s not only the busy-ness; customers are impatient and demanding, while the shop owners are working in forty degrees. Everyone looks forward to the cooler temperatures and relaxed atmosphere of September.

With the light spectacularly clear and golden, the sea warm and silky, it’s time to clear your head, stretch your muscles, breathe. The fierce summer sun mellows and you can make the most of the days, walk to remoter beaches, and that taverna dinner tastes better than ever as you watch the moonlight on the water. Nights begin to get cooler, good for sleeping.

Twenty years ago, with a job that kept me busy all summer, I first went to Nisyros in September. My then boyfriend and I packed our bikes on a cheap flight to Kos and freewheeled down to Kardamena where we picked up the local boat to the little island, the only people on deck. I can still feel the magic of that trip, when we cycled around the island and into the volcano’s caldera.

Nowadays, Nisyros still tantalises as from home in the north of Tilos I see its distinctive outline, the white village of Nikia perched up high on the caldera rim. Of course, having Lisa, I’ve switched the bike for walking boots. Once September is within our sights, my journal pages always fill with jottings of ferry connections for Nisyros, Karpathos, Astypalea, Ikaria... But this year I couldn’t wait, so I sneaked away to Nisyros for a few days in the last week of August. My friend Ariana was staying at my house and happy to look after things.

Shortly before 8am, I boarded the lovely little Nisyros boat Panayia Evangelistria, which has been doing the local routes for Tilos this year. From a mirror-calm Livadia bay, with hornets buzzing around the Greek coffee that Maria had made me very quickly at Special, we travelled into the breeze, slowly up the east coast of Tilos, the morning light bringing out the knife-edge shapes of rocks, the pink and ochre colours of others dotted with green caper bushes.

Waves rocked us as Skafi bay came into view and I thought about the pleasure of being close to sea level. The day before, in the heat of midday, from home I had had a long swim to a tiny beach where I lay on wet pebbles close to splashing waves, and watched periwinkle sea snails slowly moving around a rock pool using hair-thin feelers.

Here on the boat, Lisa was happy in the breeze, moving position to avoid the sun, only half a dozen people on deck. When I’d booked a room at Three Brothers Hotel, Antonis the owner, knowing me well, had said, ‘The island’s still busy – I don’t know if you’ll like it.’ The main village, Mandraki, gets packed in the middle of August. But I had dog treats to stock up on, at least, and would enjoy some human treats too.

Soon we were approaching Nisyros, passing hills thick with dark green trees that gently sloped down to the long, flat coast of Lies beach. Emborio village came into view up on the ridge, white and stone houses in rows, then Cape Katsounis with its layers of white pumice, ochre, dark red, dark grey.

There are so many places you can wander freely on these islands, simple but spectacular places to take in the moment. The islands I love are ones where nature dominates. You don’t have to visit the craters to feel the volcano.

Soon the boat docked, and within minutes we were on the breezy terrace of Three Brothers. As I waited for my room to be ready, I talked to Antonis about why travelling in September and October is so good.

‘It gets cooler and you can start walking around the nice paths we have,’ he said. ‘It’s not crowded. In the middle of season people are stressy but by September we have more time to take care of you. The accommodation gets cheaper, too. If we get a little rain in October, the island starts to get greener. And the sea temperature is warmer than July.’

I went to see his brother Vasili downstairs, who rents out e-bikes and vehicles and does small boat trips (and even water taxis to Kardamena for Kos airport!). On his phone, he showed me photos of some of the tiny beaches he’d recently taken people to on the obsidian-and-pumice island of Yiali, twenty minutes away. He said Lisa would be welcome on the boat if I wanted to go along one day. It must be lovely in the calm of late summer.

Eventually I left my bags, went to buy dog treats at Pachos (greeted with ‘How is Tilos?’) and then for a swim at Hoklaki. I passed a fish-seller with his little truck, playing music, exchanging banter with people. I came back and ate walnut cake at the café on the harbour as the day-trippers gathered to return by boat to Kos.

That evening, I sat at Hoklaki taverna with a green-beans salad and marinated anchovies and cold white wine, listening to good Greek music and the waves crashing up on the wall right below as the sun set into the sea. The village felt rather quiet, in fact. Post-sunset, the waves became black and palest blue, the horizon a smoky grey with crimson and pink and peach and gold.

In the morning, I got up early, left Lisa snoozing and walked through the quiet alleys with their wooden balconies and frangipani flowers, locals on scooters zipping by to start their day, a quiet ‘’mera’ from someone sitting in a doorway, someone else carrying a bag of goodies from the backstreet bakery. I walked up the long alley that runs below the medieval monastery, up to the start of the path to Paliokastro, the ancient castle. Standing up on the walls of massive stone blocks, I looked across to the back of the island.

Places to walk in cooler months, I hope.