June 7-10: Santorini

Santorini used to be a volcano, until one day in the 2^nd millennium BC, when a high-pressure accumulation of steam in its inner chambers caused an explosion twenty times more powerful than Hiroshima. The sound was apparently heard three times (travelling thrice around the earth) in China. The ash thrown kilometers into the air caused temporary global cooling. The subsequent tidal wave probably wiped out the Minoans. And the centre of the volcano collapsed, leaving a dramatic mountainous ring cracked into three pieces.

We stayed in Kamari, a beach town on the southeastern edge of the ring. Very Noosa-like – a laidback beachfront lined with a walkway, shops and cafes – except for the black sand beach. Most of the “sand” on the island is volcanic in origin, and in fact most of the “sand” is large round pebbles and stones. As a result, unless you bring a mat, it is impossible to lie on the beach on sunny days due to the hot black stones. Almost like one of those traditional Chinese massages, except without the massage.

Kamari Beach. 6 euros to sit on a lounge chair. Ripoff!

Santorini is blessed with many beautiful beaches, and for us the highlight was Vlihada Beach, a secluded black sand beach backed by a sheer sand cliff with a sponge-like surface – perfect for reading and getting baked (by the sun!).

Vlihada Beach. Prize for first person to correctly identify gender of lone bather.

The much-vaunted Red Beach was not quite as fun. Despite its striking similarity to the Martian landscape in Total Recall, the severe winds whipped up so much stingy volcanic red sand that we were forced from the beach. Even worse was Kambia Beach, which was surfaced with high piles of white seaweed where the sand should be, giving the impression we were walking on muesli.

Red Beach. Red sand on left, "muesli" on right.

To reach these isolated areas required a hire car, and Limmy was excited to get his first taste of left hand drive in the sporty “new” Hyundai Atos – a smaller, more fragile version of the Excel. After getting to grips with driving on the right and changing gears on the other side, we were so inspired by our new-found independence that we sought out the White Beach, the supposedly-beautiful counterpart to the Red Beach – accessible only by gravel road.

Just as “sand” means black pebbles, “gravel” must mean large rocks, soft sand and large divots. After an uninspiring 2 km descent down such a road – only to discover that the White Beach was so named for its bleached seaweed (ie Kambia Beach) – we proceeded to tackle the uphill return leg with the awesome two-wheel drive power of the Atos. Sadly, a mistake. On a particularly steep section, we found ourselves embedded in the sand, wedged between rocks, revving in futility.

Prior to the fateful sand bogging. T-shirt digitally added for modesty.

Unsure of the next step – and after digging around the wheels and trying to push (like on Japanese Story) – we were extremely fortunate that the only other visitors to the beach, two friendly middle-aged Portuguese couples, arrived thirty minutes later. They managed to push us out of our rut, but were unable to help us up the rocky incline after several attempts. We feared the worst (needing to be towed, paying a large excess) until, serendipitously, after rolling back down the hill, Limmy noticed a second route – clearly designed to go around this impossible section. As we cautiously, but successfully, drove away, the Portuguese shouted: “In life there is always an alternative way!” Amen. The rental agency seemed to turn a blind eye to the fact that both the Atos and Limmy were completely covered in dust upon our return.

Santorini is also considered beautiful for its cliffs, and prior to returning the trusty Atos we visited both tips of the main island. The southern tip bears a lighthouse perched high above the sea.

A rare sighting of the famous Santorini merman.

The northern tip is the clifftop town of Oia, a 40-minute drive away. Oia is a pretty maze of narrow marble streets and stairs coursing between whitewashed houses. It is renowned for having the best sunset vantage on the island. It was here that Vicky found herself being serenaded for the second time, this time by a bamboo-flute-wielding New Ager with mild resemblance to Hugh Laurie.

Oia.

The romantic streets of Oia.

Our last full day in Santorini was spent boating to the central islands of Nea Kameni and Palea Kameni, formed from smaller little eruptions in more recent times. The terrain of Nea Kameni is black, hilly and sharp, like Mordor. Palea Kameni is famous for its “hot springs”, a little inlet of lukewarm brown water with a seabed of mud that is apparently good for the skin. Highly doubtful, since the “mud” is actually iron oxide (ie. rust) and the “brown” is billions of iron oxide fragments. The highlight was Limmy’s discovery that he could actually swim the 30 metres required to make it from the boat to the springs.

More adventurous poses, Nea Kameni.

And now we’re on a ferry back to Athens, and thence off to Spain. Other memorable moments from Greece:

Getting mildly nauseated on the catamaran from Crete to Santorini, for two reasons: the choppy sea, and the screening of a special on the musical development of Christina Aguilera’s career.

The lightweight Flyingcat 4.

Descending the donkey-poo-lined stairs from the high cliffs of Santorini down to the port. Twenty minutes of careful foot placement.

Meeting Santorini’s most charming bus conductor, a squat, bald old man whose method of keeping the buses on time is to pack the passengers in, shrieking “Quickly! Quickly!” while pushing and muttering in Greek.

As previously stated, but worth reiterating, the culinary brilliance of the gyros.

Limmy enjoying a souvlaki, contrary to facial expression.