The Long Road to Fira

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I arrived on Santorini on a Blue Star Ferry out of the port of Piraeus still jet lagged and unsure. I hadn’t found my traveler’s legs yet, and now it was time to disembark.

The port of Athinios, where most people first step foot on this island’s soil is rather other worldly. It feels like some abandoned old quarry at the water’s edge of a caldera. I walked off the boat expecting to find a semi-organized taxi rank. However, what I found was mobs of people, a fleet of vans and buses, and signs for rooms to rent. Being a bit confused what to do I paced to and fro eventually extricating myself from the crowds and sitting down on an out of the way stone wall. As I sat there my gaze turned upwards. Rising high above me were the massive steep sides of the caldera.

The roads out of the port were narrow, long, and with numerous hairpin switchback turns. It would be hell to walk out of here. Hey, why did that thought even cross my mind? I wasn’t actually thinking of walking out of here was I? In fact once that idea crossed my mind I couldn’t shake it out. So with my trusty silver adidas bag on my shoulder I set off for what I knew would be an arduous journey.

After about five minutes I was thinking how this was worse than I thought. It was far steeper, dustier, and more dangerous with buses narrowly missing pushing me off the edge time after time. Not to mention I still had so much further left to go. However, I pressed on.

Eventually, a van stopped and offered not to take me to Fira, but up to the top of this infernal hole I was trying to climb out of. I readily accepted his offer and hopped in. In fact, if not for him I probably would have met my maker. I had vastly underestimated just how difficult and large the trek would be.

After a pleasant conversation, the driver took me to the top and pointed me in the right direction with the advice to just start walking down toward Fira in the distance. On my map it looked like about 4km still to go. It was long, dusty, and heavy with my bag digging into my shoulder, but I wouldn’t have done it any other way. It was a kind of a earning my traveler spurs kind of deal. I felt strong and accomplished and I even was rewarded with a spectacular first view of the mighty caldera of Santorini, the rumored resting place of the lost city of Atlantis.

I had also rediscovered a love of walking. It brought me to remembering my original plan of walking the Camino de Santiago before my life was blown off kilter. At last I trudged triumphantly into Fira. I found my hotel surprisingly easily, and hit the hay. Sleeping the sleep of the just.

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Photos

Port of Athinios
Dropped off in a foreign land.

An Arduous Journey
Fira was still somewhere in the distance.

The Road to Fira
Earning my traveler spurs.