Walking to Mavri Rachi: A Reflective Journey on the Island of Psara

The day started with a walk. I had no particular destination in mind but wanted to head along the main road to see what I could see. As Psara was famous for its Thyme honey, I thought I might stumble across a local farm or smallholder selling it.

After my daily visit to the charming little bakery close to my accommodation, I set off in an easterly direction out of the village. Although I’m not a person who can lie on a beach all day, I did come prepared with my swimming things just in case. It was hot with temperatures soaring into the high twenties.

The coastal road took me past the beaches of Katsouni, Agia Kyriaki and Megali Ammos until I came to a fork in the road. The left prong led up a hill with two wind turbines and to the island’s only petrol station. If you continue down this road, you’d end up on the western side of the island. I took the right-hand fork and continued along the coastal road.

Before long, I began to get the sense that I was venturing into the back and beyond. The only vehicle to pass me along the way was a pickup truck loaded with beehives, so I knew there was definitely a bee farm somewhere. After nearly an hour of walking, this particularly uninspiring road didn’t seem to be getting me anywhere. In addition to that, the temperature was rising and any breeze that had existed had dissipated into nothing.

I made a judgment call and decided to turn back. By the time I reached Agia Kyriaki Beach, I fell onto the sand and stayed there for the rest of the afternoon. Sometimes, you just need to know when to call it quits! At least I was able to do a bit more work on my ‘art installation’.

On previous visits, I’d wandered this little cove, collecting heart-shaped pebbles and placing them on a rock at the back of the beach. For someone who can’t lie under the sun for hours on end, this small ritual kept my hands busy and my mind still. I liked to imagine that others might stumble upon it and add their own pebble — a quiet, wordless way for strangers to connect across time. But in truth, I knew the wind would scatter them sooner or later, returning each one to the sand and then to the sea from which it came. And that feels right. Things are meant to be temporary. Fleeting. Just like us.

Although I hadn’t been able to find some of that famous Psarian thyme honey, it was enjoyable day walking and spending time on my favourite little beach. Although my videography skills aren’t the best, the video below hopefully shows why Agia Kiriaki Beach went straight into my top 5 best beaches of Greece.

Having been thoroughly lazy today, I decided to climb Mavri Rachi before dark. As I reached the village, I could hear music and singing from one of the tavernas along the harbour. There were several families seated together on a long table, eating, drinking celebrating someone’s birthday. It’s at times like this when it really brings home to me how much I miss my family when I’m away. I know that we’re connected by video calls, etc, but there is nothing like sharing your experiences with people that you care for.

My favourite people to speak with when I’m away are my two youngest granddaughters, 6 and 7-year-old cousins. No matter what scene I show them, whether it be the beach or a view from a balcony, I can guarantee that they will always say “Wooooah!” Show the same to other family members and it’s “What evs!” I loved that they are still full of wonderment at anything and everything. At what age does this stop? When does that natural curiosity become disinterest? We must always be curious. You can’t be a real traveller without it. Anyway, seeing the families together brought a little pang to my heart. I’ll have to get climbing that hill as a distraction.

The sky was already tinged with pink, and I suspected that the sunset would be a good one tonight. The stoned paved path looked newly built, and the staggered steps snaked up in a gradual incline. Nonetheless, it was still a bit of a challenge for an unfit sexagenarian like myself. As I continued to climb, the music and laughter from the taverna faded out until there was nothing but the sound of the high-pitched squawk from the seabirds nesting on the cliff face. They always seemed to be at their noisiest at dusk.

After a few stops to take in the view (or rather catch my breath), I made it to the top. Although it was hardly Mount Kilimanjaro – just a mere 60 steps, I felt a great sense of accomplishment.

My eyes were drawn first to the monument perched on the cliff edge, stark against the fading light. Erected in 1956, it honours the Psara holocaust of 1824, yet standing there, the event felt far less like history and far more like something still pulsing beneath the rock. To think of the men, women and children who chose this precipice over surrender is deeply moving. The silence of the place seemed to hold their final breath. I stood there for a while, letting the weight of it settle, trying to absorb what happened on this very spot.

As if on cue, the sky began to take on all the hues of the rainbow, its final performance before the curtain of night came down. I realised that within minutes, the top of the hill would be plunged into darkness, so the edge of a cliff wasn’t the place to be!

Like a volume button on a radio, the voices from the taverna began to be dialled back up. As I approached the bottom few steps, The Glory of Psara was bathed in the orange glow of the fading sun, making her marble skin look iridescent. The sunset is at peak brilliance right now and is reflected in the water in the still waters of the marina.

As a finale to the birthday celebrations, fireworks were fired into the sky. As I passed by, children were letting off firecrackers on the harbour front, the smell of sulphur rising in the air. It was one of those moments that made me realise how special this place was. There’s a certain something about Psara that I couldn’t quite articulate. But I could feel it.

I’ve earned my dinner. I don’t know how far I’d walked, but I’d certainly built up an appetite. Aldebaran was busy with the party, so I decided to eat at Resalto. I planned to rotate around the tavernas anyway, and Resalto was the best place to watch the Psara Glory come home. Tonight, she arrives right on cue. As usual, several locals were waiting to pick up various packages from the ship. Once all the goods were offloaded, the Glory’s lights were switched off, the crew left for home, and she rested for the night. All observed from the taverna table.

Greek salad, grilled chicken and white wine. It’s not that I’m such a creature of habit, but that the menu is very limited now that the season is almost at its end. It’s good basic food, so I have no complaints. The entertainment was the same too. Same cats – same old story!

During dinner, I reflected on the day and my stay on Psara so far. Although it was only Day 3, I felt that there were still many layers of the island to peel away. Psara was beginning to feel like a tough nut to crack. When visiting new islands, I like to leave with a bit of a sense of the place. That doesn’t necessarily mean that I need to learn everything about it, just to ‘feel’ it. Maybe it’s about being able to connect in some way. My host, Diana, as wonderfully helpful and kind as she was, didn’t speak much (if any) English, and my Greek was pretty lame. In most instances, this wasn’t a problem, but here, it wasn’t allowing me to ask questions and therefore get the answers I needed to satisfy my curiosity. The other frustration was feeling confined to the village. There weren’t any car hire facilities here (always a last resort anyway), and definitely no public transport. Not even a taxi. If the temperatures continued to soar, walking would be unbearable.

I decided to drop an email to Diana using Google Translate. I knew that it was a bit of a long shot, but I asked her if there was any way that I could get to see the monastery or the archaeological site. I also asked her where I could buy the island honey. Whilst I was at it, I asked her if I could come and pay her for my room and buy my ferry ticket back to Chios. When I’d asked her before, she just said “No problem!” and shooed me away.

She responded to my message right away, and it looked as though I could visit both the Monastery and the Archaeological Park. This also meant being able to see a bit more of the landscape, which is what I really want to do. However, I wasn’t sure how a child was going to take me. Maybe on the back of his bicycle! Anyway, that was brilliant news to end the day on!