Search for Serenity on the Empty Isle of Sifnos

Sifnos in Greek means “the empty,” and as we approached the fortress-like monastery looming above us at the summit of Mt. Profitias Ilias, the highest point on the island, the name seemed apt. My friend Sakura and I had not seen a soul during our two-hour climb up the mountainside.

Still, as the citadel’s gates came into view, I think we half expected to be greeted by a kindly old abbot and a coterie of monks. But we received a different welcome. Not 10 yards away a herd of menacing-looking mountain goats sporting long, sharp horns stood immobile before us as if guarding the entrance.

So we wouldn’t alarm them, we moved slowly away to a small knoll in front of the entryway. After what seemed like a long standoff, the staring sentinels suddenly bolted to the opposite side of the structure and, with a tinkling of bells that made them seem much less fearsome, climbed down the surrounding slopes.

The monastery, we quickly discovered, was abandoned. Constructed beginning in the 12th Century, it had once housed 60 monks. Now only the dimly lit chapel, in which our voices reverberated eerily, seemed to be maintained.

A guest book at its entrance indicated that only two other travelers had arrived before us on this early June day. Almost none of the entries in the preceding months were Americans.

Outside in the warm afternon sun, the expanse of the island lay at our feet, lined by a turquoise sea 2,300 feet below.

To the east, agglomerations of what looked like miniature sugar cubes formed the villages of Apollonia, Artemona and the coastal fortress-town of Kastro. To the south and west the land was dry, barren and sparsely populated.

For such a small and “empty” island, Sifnos has a remarkable amount to see and do, especially for those who don’t mind straying off the beaten path. How small is small? Try 11 miles long, five miles wide.

We had landed at the port of Kamares a few days earlier on a boat from Piraeus, the main point of embarkation to the group of Cyclades Islands. The majority of our fellow arriving passengers appeared to have been Northern Europeans. We heard smatterings of French, German and Scandinavian tongues, but little English.

Unlike some of the Aegean Islands, there had been no crowd of islanders waiting to offer rooms when we arrived at Sifnos. A good sign, I thought, as we rode on a bus crowded with other travelers up the valley to Apollonia, the island’s transportation and tourist center.

Apollonia, with a population of about 600, has the greatest number of hotels and restaurants on Sifnos, and is conveniently sited for visiting other parts of the island.

The bus ride to Apollonia took about a half hour. Arriving without reservations, we consulted our guidebook and soon found lodging at the Hotel Sifnos, which is on a narrow, car-less street a few minutes from the village square. We were given a pleasant room with a balcony overlooking the street below and the sea in the distance.

Exploring the second road, we found that it leads east out of Apollonia down a narrow valley to the Kastro, a citadel sitting on a promontory overlooking the sea.

Built in the 13th Century during the period of Venetian rule, the steep cliffs of the rock outcrop provided a natural defense from which to attack pirates who once roamed this part of the Aegean.

Inside the town walls, a jumble of sun-washed buildings piled on top of one another and honey-combed with narrow passageways form a three-dimensional maze that makes it as easy for modern travelers to get lost as it would have been for invading Saracens.

But the town is so small that eventually you will find your way. And you may come across a little terrace cafe where you can escape the sun and the intense glare of whitewash and cool your eyes by gazing over the mellow browns and greens of the countryside.

People still live in the Kastro, about 150 at the latest tally. It’s a little disconcerting to see TV antennas sprouting from a medieval fortress, but better that, I thought, than a ghost town or a restored outdoor museum.

Walking back down Mt. Profitias Ilias in the deepening afternoon sun, the massive walls of the monastery towering above us, I imagined how it must have been in centuries past. Inhabited since before 1500 BC, Sifnos has had numerous rulers, including Romans, Venetians, Turks, Russians and Italians.

My reverie was broken as a solitary figure riding in the customary side-saddle manner on a donkey approached us from the opposite direction. It was an old man--the monastery caretaker, I guessed--who passed and offered greetings.

Sakura and I saw no one else until we got back to the outskirts of Apollonia at dusk. Goats were the only creatures about, and we would have scarcely noticed them except for their faint bells in the distance.

In ancient times, Sifnos was known for its gold mines, which made it very prosperous. The legend here is that every year the islanders sent a solid gold egg to Delphi as tribute to the Greek god Apollo.

One year, instead of sending one of solid gold they sent a mere gilded egg. Apollo, enraged by the islanders’ greed, caused the mines to stop producing the precious metal. From then on the island was known as Sifnos--”the empty.”

If Sifnos seems almost devoid of people now, it must have had many inhabitants at one time. Stone walls and terraces that climb from the island’s lowest valleys to its highest peaks, testify to the arduous labor required of an earlier populace.

And sprinkled throughout the island, in some of the remotest sites imaginable, are a multitude of churches and monasteries, many more than the present population seems able to support.

The Church of Panaghia Chrissopigi is on a small islet of black rock at the entrance to Faros Bay, reached only by an arched stone bridge. It is especially beautiful. We visited it the day before when we explored the island by motorbike. Its double-vaulted whitewashed walls and turquoise dome, reflecting the intense Mediterranean sun, stand starkly against the opaque rock beneath and the surrounding ultramarine sea.

But in contrast to its dazzling exterior, the interior of the church, characteristically dark and solemn, shelters an icon of the Virgin Mary said to have healing powers.

Near the church is small Apokofto beach, where at a seaside cafe we revived ourselves from the afternoon heat by eating delicious Cretan melon under a shade tree. With its ragged coastline, Sifnos does not have an oversupply of beaches.

The best is probably at Platy Yialos on the southwest coast, at the terminus of the main road from Apollonia. Descending hairpin turns into the village on our rented motorbike, a teardrop-shaped bay lined with whitewashed hotels, bungalows and cafes came into view.

It was still early in the summer season, but the beginnings of the beach culture were already evident in the number of European tourists sipping beers in the beachside restaurants and sunbathing semi-nude on the sand.

Sifnos is not well-served by roads. Besides the main one to Platy Yialos and a side road that ends at the quiet seaside village of Faros, there are only three other paved highways on Sifnos. Each leads to Apollonia.

The first connects Apollonia with Kamares, on the south shore of a bay, sheltered by two sun-baked mountain peaks rising abruptly 1,500 feet above sea level. It’s a relatively bustling place.

There the inter-island ferries dock. The port’s shaded quayside cafes are pleasant places to while away a few hours watching the harbor activity.

Although it extends only a few miles, there is a palpable change in landscape as the road ascends from Kamares. From the dry and barren west coast the road rises through olive groves to the greener east coast of the island and the fertile fields that surround Apollonia.

Just north of Apollonia and at a higher elevation is Artemona. We walked the short distance there. Along the way we talked to an elderly Greek man who had moved back to Sifnos from Athens.

“The tourists began coming about 20 years ago,” he told us, “and the islanders learned English so they could help them.”

But so far as we could see, there were still relatively few tourists in Sifnos, though admittedly it was not yet the high season in the Greek islands.

Continuing through the narrow streets of Artemona, the town quickly gave way to terraced fields dotted with windmills, fields that slope steeply 600 feet to the sea.

That’s how it is on Sifnos. The countryside is just a few steps away. One feels uncrowded by other tourists, by traffic, by natives hawking rooms or souvenirs.

Sifnos, “the empty,” may not be a wealthy settlement, but it is rich in unspoiled scenery and in the hospitable character of its people. Its emptiness is the emptiness of tranquillity, not of desolation.

We were tempted to stay on Sifnos beyond our allotted time to explore some of those places which, like Mt. Profitias Ilias, are only accessible by foot. Our map showed trails that led to other mountaintop monasteries, tiny hamlets and hidden coves and beaches.

But other islands beckoned, and we soon found ourselves on a boat sailing out of Kamares’ calm, fiord-like harbor, making a promise that we would be back someday.