Kato Koufonisi

In the morning I meet the cleaning lady who complains that the weather is cold and not possible to swim. I don't understand her problem, weather is fine and I've been swimming every day. The water is like it normally is in Estonia in the summer.

Today there's a plan to go to the neighbouring island, Kato Koufonisi. Upper island and lower island. Wind is too strong for kayaking and the kayak rental is closed. Boat ticket seller phones somewhere and says that I should go to the port at eleven. If there will be enough people then the boat will go. There are five more people and the boat will go. To pass time, captain Kostas bothers people and tries to understand how old I am.
The boat puts us on land near the church and promises to be back at half past five. All others go left to the beaches and I go right where there are big stones in water. There are beaches to the right of course as well but the wind is from that direction and it would not be very pleasant on the beaches. Except one hole where you can climb on ladder. Six hours on the beach would be way too much anyway, although I have two books with me.
As the map says there is a track visible. But no Swiss volunteers have been here to mark it as is the custom with Greek hiking trails. Still no risk of getting lost here and less thorny bushes than yesterday. There are goats, two sheep, a few houses, chicken, three men, tractor, a tent in a bush and at least two garbage heaps.
Wind and water have made huge orange and white sculptures of the rock and distributed those along the coast. The coast itself has holes in it and there's water in the holes. In one direction of the island towers Naxos and on the other side Keros. The latter is uninhabited. The wind is strong, it does not get hot and in two hours I aim to the beach over the middle part of the island. Nero beach seems to be the biggest and there should be some trees. Under the trees is some kind of hippie camp and I settle further between some rocks. I float among the waves, find colorful stones and almost finish the book.
'And they died with no thought of escape, displaying once more that national quality of passivity glorified by the poet Tiutchev and shamelessly exploited on later occasions by politicians of all levels.'
All the fun of visiting the island costs ten euros.
In the accommodation I cannot find anyone whom to tell that I'll leave tomorrow afternoon and not in the night so I would not like to pay for the last night. This is the only place that hasn't already taken money away from my card.

circle around the island
transfer to next island

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