Journal

Kos was a bit of a shock when we arrived and docked within the shadow of Nerantzia castle, originally built by the Knights of St John. It is described here. Somewhat raucous by contrast with other islands we have visited. But once we got inside the castle and then out into the hinterland, to visit the Asklepieion, things settled down. The island was once famed for its wine – and for this huge shrine to Asklepios, the god of healing.

Also struck by the modern, floating shrines to Captain Jack Sparrow, of Pirates of the Caribbean fame, given that our own captain – Captain Ergun Malatyali – has much of the pirate to him. He is great company, excellent at engaging his passengers, but you only need to squint a bit to be reminded of the pirates who were such a feature of these waters for so long – and one of the key reasons that there were so many hilltop castles and fortifications.

Probably the best-known story of a pirate captive was that of Julius Caesar. As John Leonard recalled:

Julius Caesar, a prominent investor in the region, once endured an infamous kidnapping by pirates (74 BC), records the biographer Plutarch (Jul. Caes. 1,2), near the Dodecanese island of Pharmakoussa (Farmakonisi). Ultimately ransomed after thirty-eight days, during which he calmly wrote poetry and speeches, Caesar promptly hired a ship, tracked down his former captors and had them crucified. 

This, for me at least, was one of the real highlights of this remarkable series of islands. For me a real joy was our visit to the Castle of Pantelli, in fact three castles built one around the other, reviewing the history of fortification from the early works of the Knights of St John through to the arrival of gunpowder. And bastions.

While we were there, Michael did a tour de force presentation on the battles that raged across the island in October-November 1943, as the British were outwitted and Leros passed from Italian to German hands. Strong elements of Louis de Bernières’ Captain Correlli’s Mandolin lay in wait for some of the captured Italians.

The Greek curator of the castle, not a happy camper for other reasons, mentioned that the father of Ginger Baker, drummer with Cream, was among the British and Commonwealth forces killed. Their last signal: “Situation desperate.” Later, we visited a Commonwealth cemetery: hugely poignant.

Earlier, we had walked around Lakki Town, into which we had sailed that morning, once called Porto Lago, and a major Italian military town in the 1930s. The architecture is eerie. As Peter Sommers’ brochure put it: “built in the style of ‘Razionalismo’, an odd combination of fascist aesthetics, Bauhaus modernism and Art Deco eclecticism.”

One link to the books that I have been devouring as we sailed was that the Italians used seaplanes as a key means of scouting and communications at the time – and we saw the crane that used to list the seaplanes into and out of the water. On the flight across to Bodrum I had finished Graham Hoyland’s powerful Merlin.

One link here was the speech that my father, Tim, did at the Rolls-Royce factory in Derby back in 2015, to thank them for all their engines he had flown behind.

After the castle and cemetery, we had a glorious lunch at a small winery, the Hatzidakis Winery, in Smalou. I thought their dry white wine exquisite – indeed bought a couple of bottles to take home. Fell in love with the co-owner, Haridimos, and we said goodbye with an embrace.

Then we set sail for a cove off Kalymnos, en route to Kos.

We arrived in Pythagoreio yesterday, a port village built on the ruins of the ancient capital of Samos. Named after the island’s most famous son, Pythagoras. And make a mistake in interpreting a navigational structure on the harbour mole as an Antony Gormley statue in honour of the ancient mathematician. Even knowing I was wrong, I can’t help but still see the linkage. Here’s the structure closer to:

In any event, one high point of the visit to Samos was the Heraion, said to be the birthplace of the goddess Hera. I was fascinated to hear that because the massive shrine was originally built on a wetland, a marsh, liminal land, the buildings kept subsiding. The scale of the ritual slaughter that was practised here back in the day beggars the imagination. I wonder if there were animal liberation activists here back in the sixth century BC.

Afterwards, we visit the museum in the island’s modern capital of Vathi, which contains many fascinating finds from the Heraion site. Among them, a colossal kouros, or male nude figure. Then, the next day, 2 June, we visit the Tunnel of Eupalinos, on a hill overlooking the port. Dug in the sixth century BC, it is an engineering marvel, cut through solid rock for over a kilometre, and designed to be invisible to attackers and besiegers.

When it came to it, though, I chickened out. I put on a safety helmet and started down the rock-cut steps into the tunnel, but my age-old claustrophobia returned with a vengeance – and I decided to sit out this one with some older members of the party. The story of how the tunnel was cut from both ends simultaneously, and how they managed to meet in the middle, was some sort of ancient miracle.

One story that stuck in my mind was the, perhaps deservedly, grisly end of the tyrant Polycrates of Samos. He made the mistake of trusting another tyrant and went to the wonderfully named Magnesia. His fate is thought to have involved some combination of impaling and crucifixion, with one account suggesting that he may have been able to see Samos in the distance as he died. Perhaps wishful thinking on the part of his enemies?

Later in the day we set sail for Leros.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse have always haunted my imagination as I worked over the decades on the limits to growth and the looming climate and biodiversity emergencies. But it wasn’t until today that I learned that the famous Pale Horse was actually a Green Horse back in the day.

The identity of my namesake saint, John – the Patmos variety being variously known as the Revelator, the Divine and the Theologian – appears to be the subject of some considerable dispute. What we do seem to know is that the Patmos variant, whoever he may have been, wrote the Book of Revelation – an account of an apocalyptic future. A fuller description of this St John’s Four Horsemen can be found here.

By now we have met our two expert guides, Dr Michael Metcalfe and Nota Karamouna. They prove to be extraordinary, their expertises highly complementary, and their interactions wonderful to behold.

Today we get to know Pothia, capital of the island of Kalymnos, among other things meeting the Lady of Kalymnos in one museum and dipping into the history of sponge diving in another.

One story about The Lady is that she came from Asia Minor rather than the local seabed, which might account for her state of preservation, but that’s a matter for archaeologists and art detectives. Another account is that some fisherfolk know were she was found locally, but are staying mum because there could be more treasure down there on the sea floor.

Later in the day, we set sail for Patmos.