Walking to Dexia (Dexa) Beach – And Breathe ………….
Sunday announced itself with the pealing of bells from across the bay. As soon as a set of chimes from one church ended, another from another direction began. I’d already lost track of the days, but now there was no mistake that the day of worship had arrived. The warm egg-yolk yellow light from the rising sun illuminated the pastel-coloured houses set amphitheatrically above the deep harbour of Vathy. The houses were a veritable smorgasbord of colours from the traditional Venetian palette of blue, pink, yellow and ochre. Occasionally, the scene in front of us would be punctuated with a fuchsia pink or a vivid lime green – a feast for the eyes. Looming above the settlement of Vathy is a patchwork of deep forestation cloaking the slopes of the mountain.
During the night, Poseidon had a little tantrum, whipping up the winds across the bay, which rattled the doors and the chairs on the balcony. Now, all is calm and not even a ripple on the water. The shrill chirping of a sparrow on a neighbouring roof broke the silence, followed by the echoed barks of a dog from somewhere across the water. A cockerel announced the start of a new day as we sipped hot tea on the balcony.
Perichori, a small village above Vathy, had caught Peter’s attention. As he stared into the distance, I knew he had his sights set on the steep climb. He’s one of those people who will climb a mountain just to see what’s on the other side. So am I, but I don’t have the stamina nowadays. I attempted to distract him with the suggestion of a more leisurely walk to Dexia (also known as Dexa) Beach. And that’s what we decided to do.
After scouting around Vathy over the last few days, we’d already got the impression that Ithaca wasn’t an easy island to traverse. We’d discovered that the bus service delivered the children from the villages to school in Vathy every morning and then returned them home in the afternoon. If we were to catch the bus anywhere, we’d be stuck in whatever village overnight. Before arriving on Ithaca, I’d read that the roads in the north were steep – nay, precipitous, with unprotected sheer drops on one side. That, along with my acute vertigo, was not an ideal combination. There were plenty of comments on the Ithaca forums suggesting that it wasn’t for the faint-hearted. That was a good enough case to convince me not to hire a car. For now, we’d been quite happy tootling around Vathy, but we knew that we’d have to find a way of exploring further afield.
We made our way out to Vathy centre for breakfast. Along the way, we stopped at Ithaca Travel. The A board outside advertised a variety of tours and activities from history tours, island tours, e-scooter tours (err, no!), and rib safari tours. They seemed to have covered all bases. Inside, we spoke with a young lady called Stefania to see what they had available over the coming days. She told us that we could have a private tour tomorrow with their guide Vassilis, either a generic island tour or one that focused on Ithaca’s history. We opted for the former. The tour would cost 250€ and would begin at 1030 and finish at 1600. Let’s hope that the tour lives up to its price point! Anyway, needs must. Now for breakfast.
Just a few steps away, we discovered a bakery that did an excellent bougatsa(of course!) We sat at the tables in the square, devouring our freshly baked delights, washed down with another tea. An Egyptian can never have too much tea!
Time to set off to Dexia. Along the way, we wandered between the pastel coloured mansion houses along the front and into side alleys onto Odos Pinelopis that ran parallel to the waterfront. Amongst the modern homes, we discovered a cluster of old mansion houses crying out to be refurbished and turned into a beautiful home. Some of the houses were quite substantial, particularly those that sat at the foot of the slopes leading to Perachori. I couldn’t resist a peek inside one of the houses. The 1953 earthquake left its mark in many ways.
Once past the tavernas, shops and houses, the road began to climb. After 10 minutes or so, we reached a small petrol station from where the views over Vathy were quite something. Bougainvillaea at its absolute peak of abundance and beauty, draped itself over almost any surface that would have it. At some point, the relentless heat of the sun and power of the wind will punish it for being so showy.
I’d spotted a little landmark on Google Maps that intrigued me – the remains of a Venetian mansion house. When I tried to verify this later, the landmark had disappeared from the map. Further research seemed to indicate that it was a small fortification built at the beginning of the 19th century during the French occupation. The landmark is also known as ‘Panorama’ and shortly you’ll see why.
At the top of the hill, just beyond the petrol station as the road began to bend, we took a path to the right which led us to a white windmill. The path led us around the windmill and up to a little chapel called Parakklisi Pammegiston Taxiarchon dedicated to the archangels.
Adjacent to the chapel was a set of stone steps overgrown with wildflowers sprouting from every nook and cranny. Wild thyme, assisted by the heat of the mid-morning sun, exuded its rich and heady scent as we passed. At the top, the remains of the fort, French, Venetian or otherwise, presented itself to us.
The bay meandered out towards the gateway to the sea, which was still hidden from sight due to the deep curves of Ithaca’s landmass. What a view! The name Panorama is very apt. We took our time to absorb the sights, sounds and smells of this beautiful spot. There was no rush to move on. Our time was our own.
From here, we could get a sense of how deep and substantial Vathy Bay was. Little Lazaretto Island was almost lost amongst its vastness.
We eventually pulled ourselves away and made our way back onto the road. Just beyond a large villa was a sign directing us down to Dexia Beach. I had an inkling that we’d get a better view from the road, and I was right. More white windmills dotted the landscape as the pine-clad hills dropped down towards the sea. A strip of turquoise fading into a deep azure blue lined the edge of the beach. It was just breathtaking.
A few stone steps took us down to a deserted beach, which consisted of a narrow strip of pebbles delineated by a low stone wall. Running along the back of the beach was an olive grove surrounded by dry earth interspersed with patches of parched grass. There were signs that during the main season, there were facilities such as a beach bar, showers, toilets, first aid and disabled access. There is no evidence of that today, but it was a blessing for us who love solitude.
The outward-looking view from the beach is just gorgeous. The bay is encompassed by the deep curve of the land across the way, sheltering it from the wind. The water is crystaline and so clear that you can almost count the grains of sand below.
Our arrival brought a visit from a curious fish with a black ribbon-like body that glided over the pebbles, its movements fluid and almost balletic. At first, I thought it might be a piece of seaweed drifting with the current, but on closer inspection, it was unmistakably alive and had come to see who was encroaching on its territory. I’m no David Attenborough, and so I called upon Google to help us identify our new found friend. It threw up several answers, none of which gave us a definitive answer. However, it did narrow it down to a couple of species.
It could have been a pipefish (one of several varieties), a close relative of the seahorse, where the male, like a seahorse, carries the eggs. Apparently, they take on an inky black colour when they are spawning. The second suggestion was that it could be a juvenile trumpetfish that takes on a dark colouration during its juvenile stage. Google also told me that spotting either of these would be a rare occurrence, so on that basis, we considered this visit an honour.
The afternoon brought with it the scorching sun, forcing us to seek shade under an olive tree. The afternoon also brought a steady stream of families to the beach, though they didn’t come further than what we thought was the closed beach bar. It transpired that a children’s birthday party was taking place. Children’s party games and other jollities ensued. Later canoes were launched into the sea by the children whilst the adults socialised together on the beach. It was lovely to see, reminding us of our own families back home.
It was hard to tear ourselves away from this little paradise, but our stomachs were rumbling and we’d exhausted our supply of water. We decided to leave the beach by the signposted path we’d seen on the way down. The path was stony and weed-ridden, but a fairly easy walk. Large rosemary bushes released their heady scent as we brushed past. It never fails to amaze me how healthy and buxom the rosemary grows in this somewhat harsh and neglected environment. I have at least half a dozen rosemary plants in my garden, some in a herb border and others in pots, but they always seem to be struggling. Mediterranean plants are not best suited to the cold, wet weather in north-west England.
Halfway along, we found another curiosity. To the side of the path was a large rock which appeared to have been hewn into some kind of large receptacle. My first guess was a water trough for animals, maybe horses or mules. But why would it be located here? My second thought was a sarcophogus, but that was a little too far-fetched and also, why here? I threw my question out to the Neterati with a particular interest in Ithaca and waited for the responses. I don’t know whether I got many (or any) replies but being in so many Greek travel-related groups (a personal and an occupational hazard), I couldn’t track back to where I’d posted it. Anyway, I decided to settle for a watering hole for animals.
We took it at a leisurely pace back to town, taking in the views along the way.
As soon as we hit the town, we decided to find somewhere to eat right away. There’s something about preparing to go out to eat – showering, changing, makeup-ing (not that I do the latter anymore) that seems to suppress my appetite. It sometimes puts unnecessary pressure on me to eat, but inadvertently has the opposite effect. The less formal, ‘just grab a bit to eat when the mood takes you’ approach suits me much better.
Vathy is littered with fabulous tavernas to choose from, but today we decided to choose Taverna Kantouni overlooking the bay. No words needed!
