An original photo-essay on connecting with family, nature, and figs.
The day began before sunrise. It took two hours to drive through the harrowing, mountainous highways just to get to the beginning of the hike. My father, brother, uncle, and his fateful dog Marley drove from the Chora (capital) of the sleepy island to the village of Arni.
The guide and his son were born on Andros, experts of this trail. While they navigated the terrain with ease, I kept catching myself to avoid falling into the valley below.
And yet I was at peace. We were one with the trees, with the vegetation. Wild rosemary and mint filled the air as we trekked through winding paths and balked in the view. Rumors of figs hung heavily as the sun beat against our necks, but we were lost to our senses. All that existed was the trail.
Marley, like us, couldn’t help but admire the view.
At last, the figs! Many thanks were offered to the wasps that sacrificed themselves for the fragrant aroma and succulent flavor of this fruit that fits in your palm like a dream.
All that was left was to soak in the waves at Paralia Lefka. A title befitting of the sand that sparkled like diamonds juxtaposed against marine debris.