to, but the most peaceful coves are the most remote,
only accessible on foot or by boat.
I swim into a coastal cave and shelter in its cooling
shade, and when I get too cold I swim out into the
sunshine. The crystal-clear water seems especially salty
and buoyant, and I effortlessly float in surrender.
Higher up, I discover ruined villages, abandoned and
left to nature and goats after a catastrophic earthquake
in 1953. Wandering amid overgrown mulberry and fig
trees, I come across remnants of the colourful stucco
and ornate iron balustrades of the Venetian architecture
that was once ubiquitous on the island, now gradually
returning to wilderness.
At even higher elevations, the car tackles switchback
after switchback in a slow climb upwards. Mount Ainos
towers over the island, and I park as near as I can to its
mile-high summit, to hike through the forest of rare
Kefallonian fir trees, and spy equally rare Kefallonian
Myrtos Beach with
Asos in the distance
on the northwest edge
of Kefallonia