Walking the restored ancient mules tracks on the Greek island of Andros

In the shade of a grapevine that has already weathered more than a century, I’m savouring one of the most labour-intensive lunches I’ve ever consumed. There’s lemonade from fruit fertilised with manure painstakingly heaved up Andros’ Achla slope on the broad back of farmer Lefteris Karystinos; salad crisp from spring water that has travelled nearly a mile from the roof of the island’s mountains; and a fluffy omelette loaded with sausages that took four days to make – not to mention rearing the pigs, of course. If this had been my gig, I’d have struggled to watch a stranger demolish literally years of work in under 10 minutes. However, Despina Karystinos, Lefteris’ mother, actually seems pleased when I go in for seconds. She’s used to it, I suppose – her family has been working this land for more than 400 years.

 “These are exactly the kind of traditional farmers the Andros Routes project seeks to support,” says Olga Karayiannis, co-founder of Andros Research Centre, the environmental NGO behind the routes’ revival, as she flogs our poor Fiat up a fierce slope to the beginning of our walk. “The trails bring visitors to remote places where the old ways are very much still alive.” She lets the clutch bite and steadies the car as the farm’s guard dogs strain on their ropes. “There might be a chance to support the village economically, but actually I think the bigger value comes from locals seeing visitors get excited about their culture. Everyone needs affirmation that what they’re doing matters from time to time.”

The Andros Maritime Museum

The routes she’s referring to are the network of mule tracks that expand like a venous system through Andros’ terraces and meadow-covered hills. Having been the island’s lifeblood for literally centuries, they fell into disuse when cars arrived post-WW2. It was during the 50s and 60s that Andros moved away from agriculture and embraced shipping as its main source of income, which gave way to tourism in the 90s. However, locals have not forgotten their agricultural roots – or the routes that once played such an important role in their ancestors’ lives. Since 2012, a dedicated community of volunteers coordinated by Olga has been working to restore these trails, recording oral histories and ancient traditions as they go. “The routes are like the skeleton of the island and lead to places of unimaginable beauty. I had been visiting family here since I was three, but when I started exploring on foot it was like a totally different world,” she adds.

The routes are the network of mule tracks that expand like a venous system through Andros’ terraces and meadow-covered hills

For our first walk, photographer Mark Rammers and I start at the Panachrantou Monastery and follow Route 1 for six miles back to Chora, Andros’ grand old town which extends into the Aegean Sea on a narrow finger of land. The first section is down steep stone steps with a galaxy of flowers bursting through every crevice. The monastery looms above us; below cottages like Christmas cakes covered in royal icing gleam in the clear light of the Cyclades. Slivers of emerald in the dark green foliage indicate where underground rivers flow to the ocean through fierce ravines. Once, I glimpse the remains of a plough in a meadow that can only be accessed via this route. I ponder how much land there must be in the world where the whispers of our ancestors are slowly fading away, like nature’s equivalent of Sleeping Beauty.

A wooden staircase

A bougainvillea covered house

We push on towards the village of Menites, a tumble of sugar-cube houses high up on a hill shrouded in mulberry and walnut trees. Lia Zerva, a member of the village’s cultural association, is waiting in what she calls the heart of the community – a spring where fresh water gushes from the jaws of four marble lion’s heads. Over Greek coffee and a spoonful of lemon rind in sugar syrup, she explains that every village has a similar spring and how the routes help today’s residents understand how the island’s resources were managed in the past.

“Water was historically the most precious commodity on Andros and ‘water rights’ – the hours per week when you can redirect the village’s canal to flow into your own garden – still come with each house.” She flicks through an album which contains moments from Menites’ annual fiesta between its yellowing pages. “Many of the walking routes run beside water sources. We can learn a lot about how to manage natural resources from the old days."

For several miles, Route 1 leads through rippling terraces supported by dry-stone walls. Andros’ agricultural ghosts gather around us. As the path falls into shadow, we walk beyond a grove of olive trees as twisted as the face of a centenarian but with new shoots emerging from them yet. It’s twilight when we arrive in Chora. Elderly couples stroll streets flanked by solid Byzantine mansions that once belonged to Venetian merchants. Men sip coffee and clack worry beads outside cafes. It could be any given period within the last 200 years – if it wasn’t for the children glued to their phones outside To Giataki tou Kebab shop.

Gavrio’s port

After a comfortable night at Pension Stella, we rumble down the dirt track to Livada Farm in our Fiat. Like his beekeeper neighbour, Nikos Christidis, who sells exceptional honey under the brand Erma, Alexandros Kostis is one of a new generation of young Athenians moving to Andros to pursue a slower life. “Andros is where I have grounded myself, and I feel a deep connection to the community here. Working in nature every day is a blessing,” he says. “We’re an island and that sometimes fosters a bit of a closed mindset, but actually I feel connected to a worldwide movement here.” The movement in question is regenerative, organic farming using companion planting to minimise space and water consumption. Welcoming visitors for tours and lunches is a key part of the vision as the team aspire to teach more people about how to grow in harmony with nature.

It’s May, and Kostis continues harvesting while we talk. Despite the demands of the farm, he tries to hike whenever he can. “I feel connected to the island’s history on the routes. Every rock has been put there by hand. I’m touched to explore them with my son and imagine that perhaps he will walk them with his children one day.” As we leave, he and Christidis press jars of pickles and creamy thyme honey into our hands.

Breakfast in Andros

Poppies in the foreground of a small beach near Gialia, on the isle of Andros

After imam bayildi (aubergines stuffed with tomatoes) at Arxipelagos Restaurant, we tackle the six-mile trek from Ormos Korthiou to Chora (known as Route 3). A steep scramble for the first few miles metamorphoses into a flatter section as we approach Agios Nikolaos Church. The smell of Spanish broom rises from behind dry stone walls.

Something about the vastness of the sky and ocean thousands of feet below makes me feel even more attuned to the micro than the macro – poppies, rock roses, dandelions, golden grasses and seed heads like ballerina tutus all bloom in a space as long as my hiking boot. As a stiff northerly breeze rolls in, I notice that we are not alone. A host of tiny winged creatures including honey bees are using the sheltered trails to make their journey across the island more enjoyable in much the same way we are.

Something about the vastness of the sky and ocean thousands of feet below makes me feel even more attuned to the micro than the macro

The next day, as Olga drives the precipitous route to the ferry, she tells me that the Andros Routes project has inspired other islands in Greece to revive their old trails too. However, in some cases these efforts are led by the municipality rather than locals, meaning that when funding runs out there’s no one to maintain them. “The routes are living things: they are born and die every year with the seasons. But they also live in the community’s hearts – and it’s only because of this that we’ve been able to bring them back to life.” I think again of the tiny creatures that thronged the trails on yesterday’s walk. It seems the routes really do complement life on the island in a multitude of different ways.