Just one last swerve before embarking for Northern Spain ...

* a quick diversion to a favourite Greek island
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Above: Kate's first trip to Paxos, in 1993, when she was three years old.

It turns out that we're soon to be grandparents and our daughter, Kate, and son-in-law, Andrew, are luring us away for one last fling before nativity day in December. For one week on an island we all know well; in a proper house with a swimming pool ...

... and returning home in the middle of the night with 36 hours to go before we needed to set off to France on the first leg of our Interrail Extravaganza incorporating France, Spain and Portugal!

We've been visiting Paxos (in fact the town of Loggos to be precise) in the Ionian Islands off the West coast of mainland Greece since Kate was a 3-year-old. As an only child, she was gregarious from the moment she could interact with other people. We had not yet had a family holiday, other than trips to South Africa to show her off to relatives, and I had been remiss in not taking the time off work. I was running a small consultancy at the time and in Shan's words:
"You never want to take leave when you have a contract because of the lost income and you won't take it when you don't have a contact because you feel guilty for not looking for the next one."

As these contracts were usually of significant durations (a year, perhaps). She had a point. This is a bit of history with the last instalment being right up to date.

1993 - sociable  child

So now, in 1993, we were having that holiday. The island had been recommended to us and it proved to be just the thing. And it has remained so until the present time.

Above [top-bottom, l-r]: Mornings were on Marmari beach, just below our accommodation; afternoons incorporated a welcome siesta; early evenings were for socialising; and making new friends; and then we ate, the lovely Dina directing affairs; rounding off with other new friends before returning to our villa; meanwhile the Lakka to Gaios bus made an appearance on the narrow quayside; the next morning the derelict old soap factory put in an appearance in the background.

There was one terrifying incident in 1993 that came back to haunt us (details a bit further down) on a later visit to Paxos. We had a nailbiting trip with a seafarer named "Captain Biky" who may or may not have been a pirate for all we know. He did definitely have the gift of the gab and managed to persuade us that he was the man to ferry us from Loggos to an island called Antipaxos which was reputed to have glorious sandy[1] swimming beaches. The 16 km boat ride is mostly sheltered by Paxos apart from a notorious channel[2]​ of approximately 3 km that is open to prevailing winds at both ends, one facing Italy and the other mainland Greece. 

The channel was like a mill pond as we choofed down to the Antipaxos Marina and were offloaded for the sandy beach 2 hilly km away. The sea was sublime, though, and we soon cooled off from our walk in the clear water with its white sandy bottom.

We hadn't been there all that long, though, before the wind seemed to get up and we sought refuge in the bar adjacent to the beach. Next thing a frantic Biky came tearing down to the beach shouting to us to get back to the boat ASAP. It turned out there was a weather warning and we had to get off Antipaxos immediately. He had mitigated the 2 km walk back by bringing the boat into a closer cove and we had to clamber off the rocks to climb aboard.

By the time we reached the channel the swells had grown into terrifying waves. There was no land visible when we descended into the troughs between them. 

"Can we have lifejackets," someone, maybe Shan, demanded of our "captain". It turns out there weren't any in the "hold" and all we had for Kate were some inadequate armbands. It was debatable if anyone could have swum to shore anyway.

We eventually lurched into the lee of Paxos and it was like instant relief. Biky opened the "hold" to reveal a box of warm beers, which he handed around to those to whom some alcohol fulfilled a need. Hysterical giggling ensued until we were much closer to Loggos.

As we put-putted into the bay we spotted our landlord, Nikos, in a frantic state. As we stepped off the boat he asserted that, had he known we had been headed for Antipaxos that day he would have stopped us. He (and other seasoned Paxiots) had known the weather was about to turn foul. We were so relieved to be on terra firma we let Biky and his boat slip away from the quay. Remonstrating would've been pointless.

​2001 Sub teen

​We'd often discussed a family trip to Paxos with my parents - they had friends who owned some olive trees on the island[3] ​who had sung its praises. Cath, my sister, her two boys, William (the older) and Alex (4 months older than Kate), and husband John were up for it. As were our mum, Shirley, and dad, Woody. Only Dad went and died while plans were being finalised. We decided to carry on with the trip in his honour
​

Above [l-r]: Same place on Marmari beach 8 years on; new friends and setting about some underwater goggling; Mum and me; the child is now in her sub teens; Shan and Mum.

I have searched for photos of Cath, John, William and Alex, because I'm sure there were some, but have failed miserably. Cath, if you have any that you can lay your hands on, they'd be gratefully received and inserted into a new version.

2004 Full on teen

By this time Kate and Sophie Cave (our next-door-neighbour) were joined at the hip and we managed to persuade her parents, our friends Joanna and Tim, to join us together with Sophie's brother, Robbie, for another Paxos-bound expedition.

Our day times were spent gainfully doing nautical stuff but then we allowed ourselves to repair to one of Loggos's dockside bars to consume our share of a treasure trove of ​Bacardi Breezers as the sun went down. On this trip, supper was mostly cooked up in one or the other of our kitchens and eaten in siitu. I suspect, though, that Kate and Sophie spent some of that time slipping out to engage in a local form of passeggiata[4].

Apart from the normal stuff mentioned above, Shan and I took a bit of time out to walk across the island to peer down at the cliffs below before returning. The hilly trip amounted to 10 km.  We did the caves again shortly afterward, this time with the Caves in an organised boat with a far superior safety provenance than the vessel that had ferried us to Antipaxos 11 years earlier.

Above [top-bottom, l-r]: A view of Loggos bay from the top of the adjacent hill; we had finally managed to score digs in the yellow Manor House (with spectacular views) after slumming it in one of the servants' quarters in the adjoining white building the year before; Communism was still quite a thing in the islands back then; Kate and Joanna entering the caves on our boat trip; a view from inside one of the caves; Shan and the rest of the Caves checking out the cliffs; Kate gets a chance to drive a boat; it was hot and the geese knew where to hang out.

OK, so while Shan and I were walking back from our expedition to the other side of the island we were striding through some woods at the very top of a steep hill and, guess what? We stumbled upon the Biky boat. How the hell it got there is anyone's guess.

Above: the only certainty about the depiction of the Biky boat above was that Shan was feeling the heat - I'd like to think it was the shock of re-encountering the offending vessel but it probably had more to do with her recent ascent. 

​2008-2009 defected to Corfu

We had always foresworn the practice of going to the exact same place every year for our summer holiday. It might have been a cop out but North-East Corfu beckoned. We'd always flown through Corfu Town to get a boat to Paxos and it seemed we'd been missing out on one of the choice destinations in the Mediterranean. The cherry on top in 2008 was that a venue named the "Rou Estate" had just been opened and was offering extremely tasty rates to attract customers. Basically, an ancient village had been renovated to luxury standards in as eco-friendly a way as possible. Downside: just short of 9km by tortuously twisty road from the beach and most eating facilities. We went for it.

While staying at the Rou (Greek name Pou) we did two things: visited Agni Beach and took a drive around the rugged Corfiot mountain hinterland. We had a 2009 holiday in mind. The hinterland was spectacular but a bit forbidding for a fortnight's holiday. Agni selected itself, especially if we could secure the cottage wedged between the ocean and a damn fine restaurant.

We secured the cottage for the following year, so Agni it was and we decided to invite Sophie to keep Kate company. There is no doubt they had a good time, their gregarious nature again attracting a crew of new buddies, some of whom had pretty much free rein to a speedboat. 

Above: we weren't kidding ... our digs in Agni, complete with balconies, as photographed with a waterproof camera from the sea ... nirvana perhaps?

Above [l-r]; first morning in the Rou Estate with breakfast gazing over the Straits of Corfu to Albania; Later in the day, across the straits from the Rou infinity pool; a bit more than rustic, the VILLAGE "TOYRIST" SHOP in a hinterland settlement; les girls on the lower terrace of our Agni pad avec moi reflected in the window; do we have to go home?

That was the end of Shan's and my experiences of the Ionians for 15 years.

​2010-2023 Kate flies alone

Kate and Sophie and Andrew made various forays to Paxos during this time but it is/was not up to me to provide any detail. Suffice to say that 2024 was to be her 8th visit to the same part of the world during her 35 years on the planet so averaging once every 4-and-a-bit years. She had to have a top-up.

​And the parents came, too!

2024 Mum-to-be

Our baby was no longer a baby, and was, instead, due to produce her own little bundle of joy. Time was running out for it to be safe to fly. Some time relaxing on a beach was just what the doctor ordered and our daughter was happy for Andrew and the two of us to make an occasional excursion while she lay quietly on the beach

​The beach was (still is) Marmari Beach, which had been the first swimming destination when we initially visited the island in 1993 and our accommodation had been a short walk through an olive grove above. We had often been the only people there or perhaps there'd be a few others scattered thinly across the pebbles and among the olives that came down almost to the water's edge. Sun, sea and shade.

​With ensuing visits Marmari had become more popular despite the kilometre from the centre of Loggos but never claustrophobically so. It still hadn't quite got to that stage this time but the middle of the day wasn't as carefree as it had been and the swimming pool back at the ranch was merciful after a morning's sojourn on the beach.

Above: there were some gorgeous classic yachts that put into Loggos harbour, enhancing the scenery on the walk to Marmari ...

It was also essential to have the mandatory bus ride into the main town of Gaios for a bit of window shopping and to procure the odd bottle of slightly more exotic Greek wine, something that has come up in the world dramatically in the last 10 years. Andrew demurred from the bus and shopping in favour of a little more peering thorough his goggles at the fish without distractions for half a day.

Evenings were different. Sophisticated cocktails had supplanted the Baccardi Breezers and the restaurants had really upped their games since we had last visited 20 years previously. Kate's toddler crush, Dina, was still around and at the helm of her family restaurant, Nassos, with altogether more sophisticated cuisine, which was interestingly more reasonably priced than most of her competitors.

One constant was the Gaios to Lakka bus, which still plied its trade along the water's edge. The one that required stomachs to be pulled in at the narrowest restaurant. It seems to have become a cherished institution ... we recognised the driver and the conductor, the very same son and mother who'd plied that route from the days of our first visit all those years ago. It was wonderful to see this tradition had persisted, albeit with a new bus towering above the overall traffic that could become a little oppressive at certain times of the day. Why on earth did more solo-motorists not use this wonderful service.

Above [top-bottom, l-r]: morning on the beach was still reasonably peaceful; Mum-to-be emerging from the clear water at Marmari; a bit later in the day and the crowds have started to invade with all kinds of craft requiring mechanical pumps, unlike our blow-up lilos; three of us made (well 2 were OK and this only refers to one of us) an unedifying repeat walk to the other side of the extremely hilly island (10km up and down there and back), something two of us had done with aplomb 20 years previously; one of the few handsome Venetian buildings in Gaios that survived the devastating 1953 Ionian earthquake; an atmospheric backlit Gaios bar at lunch time; patient customers at the fish shop; perhaps sleeping off a fish dinner in a comfy spot; lounging around at cocktail hour in Loggos; who knows?; play on words labelling the pretty special Greek wine procured in Gaios; the ballistic missile that transported us back and forth from Paxos.

Of course relaxation is a primary reason for visiting Paxos and especially Loggos. The beaches, the small harbour and the decent choice of cocktail bars and restaurants have always put it at #1 in our books. I doubt that any of the four of us, now confirmed Paxiots, would choose anywhere else on the island to pitch our metaphorical tent.

Above [top-bottom, l-r]: one can do a lot worse than rent a boat for the day - it remains a cinch to escape the small crowds that inhabit the water off the beaches; breezy afternoons mostly turn into serene evenings of peaceful contemplation of the ocean at Levrechio beach; cocktails have largely replaced Bacardi Breezers, allowing Kate many alcohol-free options at the Le Rocher Bar and the perennial Roxi, that seems to have been there for ever; part of the entertainment at Vassilis Restaurant is the nocturnal bus that squeezes past just to the left of Shan's right arm - the food is worth it, though; peaceful scene looking at the Roxi Bar and others across the water; a bit of a  panorama of the Loggos waterfront with Dina's Nassos right there in the centre - Shan, unable to be peaceful for too long, seeking out skimming stones.

Just behind the stone-skimming spot lies the "old soap factory". Some would say this has festered there since time immemorial, others would claim it had lent a tranquility to the waterfront on that edge of town.  Do not ask us to be the judges ...

Above: The old soap factory, which had remained a dormant ruin for the 30 years we'd been visiting Loggos is finally being completely revamped into a luxury hotel, managed by Skinner and Skinner Design who have also been involved with the Rou Estate (see defected to Corfu above). Only time will tell what the impact will be on Loggos but it will no longer be the sleepy little port we fell in love with in 1993. The transport infrastructure will no doubt require an upgrade and it's hard to see how this won't have an impact. 

So apologies for turning this latest visit to the Ionian into a picture comic/ graphic novella but, after all, what is it they say about a thousand words?

On our last day we had some time to kill between returning to Corfu on the Hydrofoil and our late evening return flight to Bristol so Andrew hired a car for a quick nostalgia boost harking back to 2008/9. I almost wished we hadn't done that because of the rampant development and crowds that are now drawn to the area. Parking, in particular, was pretty insane so we decided to miss out on revisiting Agni, which we guessed would be rammed on a sunny Sunday. We recalled our last night in the place when, even in 2009, manoeuvring a car was a challenge and thought better of it with a plane to catch. On that occasion we were interrupted by a commotion outside our waterside pad. Someone had thought they could turn around at the bottom using the beach. It didn't do well and the car was still there when we left the following morning. Lucky for the motorist tides in the Straits of Corfu are fairly minimal.

Coming next

We really will be headed by train to Spain (in the main, with some rain on the plain) this time. A sojourn in Portugal adds a little spice ...

[Endnotes]:

1. ​Most/all of the beaches on Paxos itself are pebbly/stony and not very comfortable to wade out on.
2. Even salty yacht skippers of great experience are wary of this stretch of water.
3. Weirdly, due to the communal nature of the island, the trees were not in a grove of their own but scattered around Paxos. Harvesting the olives was always a matter of some honesty.
4. Italian word but has earned a general understanding of promenading along the most visible stretch of a resort but giving it a slightly more beguiling label.