Trip 44 — Ikaria Walk

Day 5: Evdilos to Faros
Monday, 28 April 2025

Today: 48658 steps/36.63 km/22.76 mi/7h 11m
Total: 152237 steps/116.04 km/72.10 mi/22h 58m

My legs experienced a new issue apart from the strain: large itchy spots just above the back of both feet. Did I brush against a poisonous plant? Was I stung by bees? Did a spider bite me? It was strange to have the affliction in the exact same place on both legs.

My comment about all the recent sunshine must have teased the weather gods, because today I woke to a light rain. While I waited for it to clear, I visited the pharmacy at the Evdilos harbor.

The pharmacist couldn't identify the issue, but she recommended a cream of fusidic acid and betamethasone, a combination antibiotic and anti-inflammatory ointment, three times a day. It quelled the itching, and when the rain stopped, around 9:40, I headed out.

At a junction, a sign pointed the way I was headed, showing distances to the next town (Karavostamo, 8 kilometers), Agios Kirykos (40), and the airport (50). This was disconcerting, because I was headed past the airport and expecting to go only 36 kilometers.

I'd gotten accustomed to some odd math on Greek road signs. Yesterday, for instance, as I left Armenistis, I saw signs in succession, at intervals of about a kilometer, showing Evdilos at 15, 11, and 12 kilometers away.

So I had a hunch that nobody really knew how far away the airport was, and when it was time to paint the sign, they just picked a big, round number.

"Split pace nine minutes, fifty seconds," Helga announced after the second kilometer. And then she said it again after the third. I was encouraged. After days of plodding along at 12 or even 13 minutes per kilometer, I was back at around my target of ten. But I knew that the day would entail a lot of climbing and descending and a lot of heading inland to hairpin bends that crossed over gorges before going back up and toward the sea again.

There were six of the latter even just as far as Karavostamo, which was seven kilometers away and thus reasonably estimated on the sign. Karavostamo was a sizable town with a noisy dog whom I never saw but who announced my presence to the whole population.

At Karavostamo the road took a long detour toward a gorge, and I cut through the town by taking a series of steep streets down to the harbor, a miniature version of Evdilos's, before taking an even steeper route out — part of the street was impassable to cars and consisted of stairs.

Karavostamo was the last town of any size that I would see for the next several hours. The next turn led me a kilometer and a third inland along a gorge, past a few sure-footed sheep grazing at the top of a steep slope, and then back outward the same distance. Somewhere in the middle, halfway down the gorge, were the remains of a water mill. You can get there from the Karavostamo side, but you can't climb up the other slope to continue.

I rounded the next headland and saw ahead of me a big, belligerent-looking crag. The road was near the top, looping carelessly around it, as if someone had flung it up there like a lasso. In maybe 20 minutes I would reach it, after clearing the gorge in between it and me.

Although there was a guardrail, I felt vulnerable walking near the edge, facing traffic. There were few cars, so I often walked in the center of the road. Sometimes I'd see a car starting down the road on the other side of the gorge, as if inserted there to fall like a Plinko chip, and several minutes later I'd know to move to the side to let it pass. I was grateful for the occasional car to keep that human connection in a place dominated by nature.

Just before noon, the sun almost poked through the clouds for a few seconds, and then it was hidden again. It was much cooler today, so I wore full-length pants and a jacket. Besides their keeping me warm, it meant I didn't have to carry them.

Several gorges and three settlements — they were barely large enough to be called villages — later, I left the main road and took a lower road toward the village of Perdiki. It led sharply downhill, with numerous hairpin bends. Nestled in one of them, among trees, was a tiny, white church; I'm not sure I could have entered without bending over. Greece has extraordinary placement of churches. They're often plunked into the hillside, far off the road: gentle beacons of peace, reached by dramatic ascents or descents.

Beyond the church, the road turned to dirt and gravel. I'm always nervous when this happens, because it's only one degree away from becoming overgrown and impassable. But this one was wide; there were even recent tire tracks. For the next hour only one car passed me, but I passed many on the road: vehicles that had clearly made their last moves years ago and were now useful only as haphazardly artistic, inextricable additions to the landscape.

Perdiki had a taverna and, ostensibly, a folklore museum, but I saw no evidence of the latter and I was right not to have counted on the former. The only signs of recent use inside were an uncleared ashtray and playing cards strewn across a table in the center. Still, I took a break on the stairs next to the restaurant and finally ate the Emirates wasabi peas. I'd gone almost 28 kilometers and taken only one other break, near the little church an hour earlier.

I had only about nine kilometers to go before reaching Faros, but my pace had been shot since Karavostamo. I was back up from 10 to around 12 minutes per kilometer. Those two minutes may not sound like much, but they mean an extra hour over a 30-kilometer journey.

The last mountain stretch was a long descent to Ikaria's airport, signed from Perdiki and located in the island's extreme northeast. It surprised me that such a connecting road was unpaved; it was a mess of small, uneven rocks, though it could, like the lower road to Perdiki, probably be managed in a normal car. The stones were obnoxious and I lost time trying to find the most comfortable way across them.

I saw no one on this stretch, except groups of goats. Some lay across the road, almost like a blockade, until my presence got the better of them and they hustled away. Except for dandelions, there were few flowers here, and instead of bees, there were flies buzzing around my head.

"There are millions of goat droppings!" I told the flies. "Why do you want me?"

Then a gust of wind would kick up, blowing them away.

"That's good," I told the wind. "Keep it up." I'm not usually very talkative, but after six hours even I like to use my voice a bit.

Except for Wednesdays, Ikaria's little airport gets one to three arrivals and departures each day, connecting Ikaria with Athens and the island of Limnos. As I passed it, people were preparing to board an Olympic Air plane arriving from Limnos and continuing on to the capital. I proceeded along the road near the airport's edge and soon saw the incoming little turboprop coming straight at me, seemingly not much larger than a drone.

First the cats, and then Eleni, welcomed me to Drakano Rooms, on a hill overlooking Faros town (also called Fanari). She was casual about the particulars of paying and departing.

"Do you want to pay me now or tomorrow?" she asked. "If you pay me now, then you can leave whenever you want."

"Well, I'll still come say goodbye if you're here. But I can pay you now. Can you take a card?"

"Do you have cash? I don't have a machine for cards."

"Sure," I said, looking at my notes. "I have forty-seven euros, including breakfast."

"Breakfast is already in the room," she said. "There's bread, cheese, yogurt, coffee, and tea."

That was very good news. I hadn't eaten today except for two little almond cookies from Karkinagri and the bag of wasabi peas. I could have part of tomorrow's breakfast as today's afternoon snack.

"Is there anything else you'd like?" she asked.

I had seen a large fruit tree near her house. "May I take an orange?" I asked, gesturing toward its branches.

"Yes, but those are not oranges," she said. "They're bitter, but if you like them, take what you want. They're called nerantzi."

"Thank you."

"You're in room one. If you want hot water, flip the last electrical switch up; then put it back down after about ten minutes. Also, make sure the cats don't follow you into the room. They'll hide and you won't find them."

There were a lot of them hanging out by the entrance to my building, which was downstairs from her house. It was as if she had read my mind: In addition to the breakfast items, there was a package of creme cookies, and in the refrigerator were a bottle of water and — I'm not sure this was intentional — a single-serving bottle of Coke. It was Coke Zero, but a cold Coke Zero in front of me was better than a Coke that I had to find 15 minutes away in the town.

The bitter orange lived up to its name. I snacked and thought about dinner. But first, my legs needed cream and rest. How did I manage almost twice today's length in one day on Kangaroo Island?

Go on to day 6