Skyros

Listen first. Somewhere on the hillside a bell clinks, then another, from a goat you cannot see. The wind comes in off the Aegean and carries thyme and dry stone with it. Underfoot, the paths are hard and uneven, worn smooth in places by generations of feet. This is Skyros, and it moves at a slower pace than the mainland behind you.

Skyros is the largest island of the Sporades, a scattered group of islands off the east coast of mainland Greece. It sits further out than its neighbours, and that distance has shaped it. Fewer ferries come here. Fewer crowds arrive. The island kept many of its own customs, crafts and habits for longer than places closer to Athens. Visitors often say Skyros feels like two islands joined at the waist, and the landscape gives them good reason.

Look at the land itself. The northern half is greener, with pine forest running down toward small coves. The southern half is rockier and more bare, with steep slopes, low scrub and a harder, wilder coastline. A narrow strip of land links the two halves. Driving from one end to the other, you can watch the colours change from deep green to grey and pale gold. It is one of the clearest contrasts you will find on any Greek island.

The main town is called Chora, a word Greeks use for the chief village of an island. Here it climbs a steep rock on the eastern side. White cube houses stack up the slope, close together, with narrow lanes and steps between them. At the very top stands the old fortress, known locally as the Kastro, and the Monastery of Saint George. From below, the whole town looks like it was poured down the hill and set in place.

Now for the myths, because Skyros has two famous ones. According to ancient legend, the sea goddess Thetis hid her son Achilles here as a boy. She knew a prophecy said he would die at Troy. So she disguised him as a girl at the court of King Lycomedes. The story goes that clever Odysseus arrived with gifts, including weapons. When the young Achilles reached for a sword, his secret was out — and he sailed to war.

The second legend is darker. Ancient tradition says that the Athenian hero Theseus came to Skyros at the end of his life. King Lycomedes, the same king, is said to have pushed him from a cliff. Centuries later, in the fifth century before Christ, the Athenian general Cimon claimed to find the hero's bones on the island. The ancient writer Plutarch records that he carried them back to Athens with great ceremony. Whether those bones were truly Theseus... nobody can say.

The island also holds a much older, and very real, past. On the northeast coast, archaeologists have excavated a Bronze Age settlement at a site called Palamari. It shows that people lived, traded and built defences here thousands of years before the classical Greeks. If you have an interest in deep history, this is a quiet place to stand and imagine an early harbour town. Do not expect grand ruins. Expect low walls, open sky and the sea close by.

Now, a surprise that many visitors miss. Skyros is linked to an English poet. Rupert Brooke, known for his poems of the First World War, died in 1915 on a hospital ship anchored off the island. He was on his way to the Gallipoli campaign. His friends buried him in an olive grove on the south of the island, near a bay called Tris Boukes. His grave is still there, simple and remote, among the rocks and scrub.

Back in Chora, the town remembers him in a striking way. At the edge of the village, in a small square named after the poet, stands a bronze statue of a nude young man. It is called the Statue of Immortal Poetry. Some older residents found it shocking when it first appeared. Today it is a favourite meeting point, and it looks out toward the sea. Stand beside it, and the whole eastern coast opens up beneath you.

Step inside a traditional Skyrian house, if you get the chance, and you will find another world. The rooms are small, but the walls are full. Families display plates, copper pots and embroidered textiles on shelves and racks. Carved wooden furniture fills the space, often decorated with detailed patterns. Woodcarving is a long-standing craft on the island, and local workshops still produce it. The local folklore museum in Chora is a good place to see this domestic world up close.

Here is a second surprise. Skyros has its own breed of small horse, the Skyrian pony. These animals are tiny, gentle and very old as a breed. Many people believe they are related to the small horses shown on ancient Greek friezes, though that link is debated. The ponies are now rare, and local groups work to protect them. In the wilder southern hills, you may glimpse a few grazing, often far from the road.

If you visit before Lent, you may hear the island before you see it. During the carnival season, local men dress as figures called Geros. They wear goat-skin masks and capes, and they carry heavy bells strapped to their bodies. They move through the lanes of Chora, swinging their hips so the bells crash together in a deep, rolling noise. It is loud, strange and joyful, and it is one of the most distinctive carnival customs in Greece.

For now, take a moment wherever you are standing. Notice the white walls, the blue of the sea, the bare hills behind. Listen again for the bells of the goats and the wind across the stone. As you walk on, look up toward the Kastro at the top of Chora. It has watched this island for centuries — and on Skyros, the old rhythms still hold.