Fourni, the Island of Pirates

Fourni. The small swell of rock far on the horizon from my Papou's village of Agios Kirikos on Ikaria. We knew from prior visits to Ikaria that my great grandmother had come from the island of Fourni, but no one from our family had every visited.  The gravitational pull of Ikaria was too strong, the story that Fourni was a "backwater" island with nothing to see was lore retold over the years, the logistics to get there seemed to daunting.  This time on Ikaria we met someone from Fourni who told us my dad looked just like the men on Fourni, the bloodlines strong from pirates, or so went the story. So this time we were inspired to venture over to what we learned was an ancient pirate hideout.  Turns out Fourni was a delightful surprise and the stories of a backwater island were probably the result of snobbishness from many decades ago.

We left Ikaria on a beautiful day, watching the village of Agios Kirikos disappear into the horizon.  The crossing was a mere 30 minutes but it took us to a completely different environment and vibe.  We weren't sure what to expect but were excited to explore a place that had old family roots hidden behind a veil of mystery.

As we motored towards Fourni, and then along its coastline, we instantly understood why it was a haven for pirates in years past.  There were endless little dips and curves that provided shelter and hiding.  Later, as we drove around the island, we saw with more clarity that the island was actually made up of countless small islands and spits of land.

  

When we pulled into the main port of Fourni we were greeted by cheerful fishing boats bobbing in the water, a sandy beach, a main promenade that houses a few restaurants and a collection of white buildings scattered up the hillside.

We walked the few meters to our hotel, a small inexpensive spot that was the nicest place we stayed in Greece, with comfortable beds, an expansive breakfast and great view of the harbour. From our balcony we could watch the boats, often manned by very old men, motor in and out.

Our view of the harbour.

Church on the far hill

Fourni was such a delight because it had a mix of unspoilt rugged beauty mixed with a surprise elegance in the main town.  Our hotel was very comfortable, we had our best meals at a restaurant meters from the lapping edge of the water, there were a couple of wide boulevards off the main square that were lined with broad leafy trees and quaint shops and artisan boutiques.  It all conspired to create a sense of comfort and sophistication, far exceeding expectations of a sleepy backwater we had been led to expect.

One day we rented a car, as well as a motorbike. There were no rental cars that would fit all seven of us, which is a reminder that it truly is a quiet island with less than robust traffic.  From the little office on the main road we took off and tooled around for the day, exploring the island.  We encountered sheep and goats, saw families preparing the fishing nets in small inlets, gazed out at sweeping curves of land as it met the sea, and meandered among fragrant mountain herbs.

Looking down at the main town.

Traffic

The kind of place where your kid can play on the road.
Worry beads in one hand, stick in the other.

We came across this awesome mural. 
As we wandered around to look at it we were enveloped in the smell of the mountain sage and herbs.

We made our way back down to sea level on the far side of the island, where we enjoyed a simple meal by the water's edge.  On the dock fishing nets were prepared and kids splashed in the water.

High up the mountain, as the road ran flat between swooping descents, there was some abandoned machinery that had become the playground for a tribe of goats. The scene begged to be photographed and both Sol and my dad got into capturing the evocative images while the rest of us explored nearby.

Our final destination for the day was a beach.  Fourni has many hidden beaches and small coves to explore and, as many places on the island, you often have the place to yourself.  We parked the car and walked down to a beautiful spot where we swam and lounged for a few hours.  

In the evenings we would wander the few steps from our hotel to the main boulevard where we had our choice of restaurants and tavernas.  There we enjoyed leisurely meals savoring some of the best food we had this trip.  We could wander back to the kitchen to see what had been prepared for the day, large metal trays filled with succulent dishes; stews, veggies, layered pasta, braised meats.  We would point to what we wanted, and then order another few at the recommendation of our gregarious host.  We'd return to the table, the kids exploring the streets around us, and wait for the feast to arrive.  While waiting we'd watch as people started to trickle into town, ready for the evening meal, and we'd make conversation with our server who had been working at the restaurant since he arrived in Greece many years earlier, as a young teen, fleeing conflict in Pakistan.  He now had EU citizenship and could move freely back to his home and his family, but returned every summer to work on Fourni.  I had flashes of my grandfather, a hundred years ago, fleeing this part of Greece, to make a life in another land, benefiting from its bounty, but always returning to the motherland where he felt most at home.

The view from our table.

The most delicious pastisio we had in Greece!

The final hurrah was on our last night on the island the woman who owned the restaurant told us she had made a special dessert.  "Loukamades" are a fried dough soaked in honey and cinnamon.  These are a favorite treat but we had not had any yet as the bakeries on Ikaria that we used to frequent were no longer making them.  So imagine our delight, on our last night on the islands, when we were presented with a huge plate of hot loukamades to enjoy.  The perfect cap to a delightful couple of days.

Loukamades!!!

Our final morning we woke up and wandered down to enjoy breakfast before catching our ferry back to Ikaria.  We had a late afternoon flight off of Ikaria to Athens and our short hopper of a ferry from Fourni was to arrive early morning.  It was with a rush of panic that we heard that "no, the ferry is not coming today, it has been cancelled." WHAT!? Absolute panic.  There were high winds and apparently the ferry company made the decision overnight  to cancel.  Telephone calls were made, anxiety sky rocketed, and finally we were told that the decision had been reversed and the ferry was travelling, but they might not be able to leave again once they arrived.  So now we each had our own version of dread churning through our system.  Was it better to leave the island on a small ferry that could just barely tolerate the winds, or was it better to miss our flight back to Athens?

With tension coursing through our veins we quickly gathered our bags and walked down to the dock.  There people were gathering in anticipation of the ferry's arrival.  We looked out at the water and did not think it looked too choppy.  Indeed there was a wind in the air but it did not seem severe. ... or so we told ourselves.  The boat appeared in the distance, people disembarked and with barely a chance to register what was happening we were hustled on and hurried into seats.

Before we were all seated we were off. And those not yet in seats tumbled into them. And then the crew walked between the aisles and handed out sea sickness bags. In fact they just gave them to everyone.  And within seconds the waves hit. We were rocked up and down and side to side.  As we exited the harbour there was land on either side and the waves ricocheted in all directions, toying with our ferry like it was a mere plaything.  Retching could be heard throughout the cabin.  My mom asked where the life jackets were and the crew member handed her paper towels.  Me, who prides herself on not getting motion sick, held the paper back at the ready up to my mouth and had thoughts of disaster that bounded around as vigorously as the ship.  Only the boys seemed to think the entire experience was hilarious.

Eventually, in more open water, the waves were a bit less tumultuous.  It was still rocky, more rocky that any ship crossing I've experienced, but tolerable. I was struck with a sense of immense sadness for the thousands of migrants who were so desperate that they had fled into this volatile ocean in search of freedom and instead had died.  We were close to the area where rafts and boats attempt the perilous crossing.  It seems so trite to say, but somehow, even having grown up near water, I had a false illusion of the sea around the islands being manageable, especially as land is often in sight, but that crossing showed us in clear detail how cruel and dangerous the seas can be, buffeted by the notorious winds of the Northern Aegean.

Shaken, green around the gills, and incredibly thankful to have survived the crossing unscathed, and in time to catch our flight, our grand adventure on Ikaria and Fourni was drawing to the close.  The last hurdle was to get off the island on the little plane that would take us to Athens, and that too went smoothly, the strong winds at our tail.

The relief to be on firm land.  

Our time on Ikaria and Fourni were magical.  We all enjoyed the rhythm of life on the islands, we enjoyed exploring the less traveled roads and we loved connecting with family and family lore.  As we moved through our final days in Athens and prepared to fly back to North America there were lots of mixed emotions.  We were excited to venture to the Pacific Northwest, a place that holds lots of memories and a special place for our family, and return to more familiar culture and routine, but also sad that the more "exotic" part of our grand trip was winding down.

This picture shows it all. Exhaustion, sadness, boredom, anxiety, anticipation, heat. 
We had a lot of travel under our belts and we were heading into the final stretch.  It was bittersweet.

Saying goodbye to my folks at the Athens airport.
We would see them in a little more than a month when we arrived back in Canada.

And we are off.
An overnight at Gatwick and then one more long flight, to Seattle.