Fiskardo is a simply beautiful Cephalonian village...
…especially in early spring, well before the tourist hordes arrive. It is tiny with only 189 residents per the last census. It is peaceful and quiet now, with all but one of the tavernas closed. The sea water temperature is still only 17 degrees, so it’s still too cold for a swim, but the air temperature is perfect for a strenuous climb into the rocky, fir and pine covered mountains behind. The number of spring wildflowers in bloom is wonderful, protected by the terrain from the ‘improvements’ of agriculture.
The architecture around the harbour is simple, well-proportioned and pastel coloured, with red-tiled rooves. Many of the buildings are of the 19th century Venetian era, and of a rendered-rubble construction with limestone ashlar quoins. There are fewer of the modern, bland reinforced-concrete creations. This is because Fiskardo escaped the destruction of the 1953 Ionian earthquake, maybe because there is a layer of clay below the hard limestone and dolomite rock.
Of course, the ancient Greeks would have been here much earlier, but there is little evidence. Perhaps it was destroyed by previous earthquakes? By contrast, we know that the Romans were here because a graveyard, with intact and unrobbed sarcophagi containing precious jewellery, was discovered here in 2006. This was during excavations for a new hotel, that will not now get built. One can gaze into the archaeological site when walking from the harbour to the next small cove to the south. The Romans brutally conquered ancient Greece and taxed it heavily to fund Rome’s magnificence.
Our blog does have a previous link to Fiskardo. In last season’s ‘The Norman Conquest’, we learned how, after Robert Guiscard had marched on Rome [1], he immediately returned to his Greek campaign (to march on Constantinople). He had left Bohemund to lead, but progress had halted in his absence. In the end, his campaign was defeated by typhoid. Rod Heikell says local legend has it that Guiscard died in Vonitsa (in the Ambracian Gulf), but also agrees with other sources that he died on Cephalonia, along with 500 of his Norman knights.
The village of Fiscardo is named after Guiscard (Guiscardo, Phiscardo, Fiscardho). Heikell states that the ‘Norman’ ruins on the northern headland are part of a church built in his memory. However, the signs towards the ruins state that it is 6th-century Christian Basilica. When I spoke to the friendly Mikas (local chandler and amateur historian), he didn’t think the remains were Norman. I’m not so sure: the location is exposed and well outside the harbour and village, with commanding views over the straits to Lefkas and Ithaca. A perfect spot for a more defensive position?
Further towards the end of the headland – a delightful walk if you are ever here – are two lighthouses. The taller, square-section one is a much later erection, and a good navigation aid for a yachtie trying to find the harbour entrance. The shorter, round-section affair is older and Venetian. I walked around it’s based looking for a tell-tale lion of St Mark, but there isn’t one.
I delighted in the wildflowers, and the chatter of many elusive whitethroats, which I also love spying in Cirencester. I sat on the rocky ledge at the waters edge and watched the turquoise waters slosh in and out of the oblique sedimentary layers of almost white rock, studded with the odd crystals.
On my return, I popped into the chandlers – it’s an irresistible temptation – and got chatting to Mikas. I asked if I was his best customer of the year (I was probably his only one so far). He said that his best customer EVER was an English entrepreneurial engineer called Tim, who used to live in Fiskardo harbour onboard his 28-foot trimaran called ‘See Ya’.
In August 2021, Tim came running into the chandlers saying, “Mikas, my boat is gone, I’ve lost my boat”. In the melee of a summer’s day, when a thousand day-trippers can descend on Fiskardo, it seems that ‘See Ya’ had broken free from her moorings and disappeared. No-one had seen it. Tim even chartered a helicopter (Eu 6,500) to have a good look for his floating home. But she was nowhere to be seen. Tim had not only lost his boat, but his home, his belongings, his clothes and his food. So, Mika was able to sell his friend Tim far more stuff than he has so far sold to me!
‘See Ya’ eventually turned up on the north African shore (Tunisia I think). It had been completely stripped of everything. Tim planned (still plans?) to fly out there one day and recover his trimaran. In the meantime, he bought a beat-up old Jaguar 28 and started doing it up as his temporary home. Despite the impression I have that Tim was hard up, Mika told me that Tim had invented some amazing engine part - that was much smaller than the technology it replaced - and sold his company. I wonder if he haggled enough over the sale price?
[1] causing so much fear in the Antipope (Clement III) and Holy Roman Emperor (Henry II) that they fled leaving Robert to reinstate the Pope (Gregory)
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