Three Points of the Compass hiked the Corfu Trail in April 2024. Visiting this Mediterranean island in advance of the tourist season meant a quieter trail but an increased chance of rain.

Travelling to the Mediterranean island of Corfu in April meant I could get in some backpacking, in hopefully decent weather, quite early in the season. The cost of flights was reasonable at this time of year too, a one way direct flight out of Stansted was £58. Though I decided to check my backpack as hold luggage, which added a few quid to the cost. Backpacking this trail ‘out of season’ need not be a costly affair. What follows are some thoughts on the first two-thirds of this beautiful trail, the final third will follow in a few days.

Those walking the trail have to rely mostly on occasional daubs of yellow paint on trees, posts, stones and walls to determine they are still on trail, these are frequently difficult to see or find. There are also many surviving original signs on posts and walls. These have been added to recently by many small rectangular metal waymarks with the more recent Corfu Trail brand and arrow. But they frequently abandon you in towns or are also almost impossible to find. I frequently had to use a map and/or guidebook (more on those in the second post) to ascertain direction and even they were insufficient on a handful of occasions. I then referred to the downloaded route map on Hiiker, on my phone. Relying on gut instinct simply won’t be enough for most of the trail. I never took a compass, never needed one and reckon one unnecessary on this trail. Be aware there are a great many other daubs of paint and signage along the trail of many types and colours. Ignore them all, follow the yellow markings and yellow signs only.

I was unsure how long I would take over the 150km trail. Those travelling with tour companies, with their luggage transported each day to their accommodation, usually take ten days or so. I chose to backpack (though wildcamping is illegal) so expected to take less than this, but allowed ten days anyway and was prepared to simply find accommodation somewhere if I finished earlier than this, prior to my prebooked return flight.

I won’t go into much detail on the trail each day as it is broadly similar each day. It moves from the south of the island to the north, occasionally wandering off to the opposite side of the island before returning to the other side. It most frequently follows beaches, both good and poor, badly eroded paths, dirt or concreted country tracks, with just a little road walking. There are hundreds of metres of ascent and descent each day, only made difficult in wet weather. While there are some clambers round some coastline rocky sections, they aren’t difficult and possibly the most challenging terrain is the rough karst plateau of Mount Pandokratoras in the north on the final section. The trail wanders through many lonely hillside villages, and I usually attempted to visit a café  or taverna each day if I found one open, which wasn’t always the case, to stop for a breather, buy some water, and possibly enjoy a simple meal or buy some tomatoes for later, and try and put a few euros into the local economy.

Day one- 15 April: UK to Corfu / Kavos to Neohori

I was on one of the first morning flights out of London Stansted. Which meant I landed at Corfu Airport, ahead of schedule, at 11.05 local time, but it then took an hour to clear Passport Control. All that time, beyond the oh-so-slow officials, I could see my pack going round and round the baggage reclaim carousel. Plenty of time for straps and buckles to get caught up on something, and another reason I usually encase my pack in food wrap when flying. But, no damage done and pack retrieved.

The airport is only a short walk from Corfu Town and within twenty minutes of exiting I was in a large Lidl supermarket. I had originally hoped to get my gas canister here but had emailed them in advance and been told they didn’t stock any, so just purchased some water and basic food stuffs to supplement the few items of food I had bought out with me. Then, a further fifteen minute walk into town, past the Corfu Green Bus Terminal I would be returning to. Green Buses serve the wider island while Blue Buses provide more localised services.

I found another supermarket and it was here that I purchased my gas. There was quite a large selection of fuel types and gas canisters of various sizes and connector type, but I ended up purchasing and lugging around with me a huge overkill 500g canister as there were no smaller canisters with screw type lindal valves. I had been prepared for being unsuccessful in finding fuel. I hadn’t bought any dehydrated meals with me from the UK for that reason, just a brew kit, some granola, mixed nuts and dried fruit. But, I do like a couple of brews each day in the morning and evening. By no means essential but that was my preference. So I carried the GSI Halulite Minimalist pot, silicone pot grab, insulating sleeve and Fire Maple Hornet stove, which along with a small ferro rod made for a simple lightweight cook kit on the Corfu Trail, and not too heavy if I had failed to find gas anywhere prior to setting off.

Back to the bus station and purchase a ticket (€4.80) for the B1 bus to the south of the island and the start of the trail at Kavos. The journey took one and a half hours and I was the only passenger left on board when we reached the sleepy, mostly closed, final halt. It was after five in the afternoon when I started the trail, but I was eager to start and get just a few kilometres under my feet. Weather was fine, dry and sunny and I paused at an open taverna not a few hundred metres into the trail to pick up a further three litres of water. Water is the major challenge on this trail. Food is easily dealt with but water should be purchased at every opportunity. Pre-tourist season, few tavernas, cafés and shops are open and it is important to ensure enough water is carried. I found this in the very first village I walked through. Everything was closed and tonight’s camp would have me relying on the water I purchased earlier in the day. I frequently carried three or four litres in the afternoon, to ensure I had sufficient for the remainder of the day, that night, and the following morning. I carried no water filter, there is no point, but did have a few chlorine dioxide tabs hidden away ‘just in case’. Later in the week on trail I used two of these when I found a village with a working tap outside a church, just to be sure.

From the taverna, it was up to the ruined monastery of Arkoudilas. I poked around there for a while and enjoyed the views over the Ioanian Sea, before the steady descent to the beach, which is followed for a few kilometres, involving a small amount of crossing headland rocks. I kept upsetting a small group of Cattle Egrets, making them fly further along the coast each time I approached. What I thought was an Egyptian Vulture left the cliffs and briefly wheeled overhead. Probably looking for me to break a leg and perish while clambering over those seaweed covered rocks. The trail then left the coast and turned inland for the first of its frequent wanders across the island.

I had no pre-determined destination in mind. I just wanted to get a bit of distance under my feet but still ended up walking just a little further than I might have preferred. I still had everything packed inside the pack for flying and had a bit of sorting out to do redistributing gear, attaching shoulder pocket, solar panel, contents of hip belt pockets etc. As it was, dusk overtook me and by the time I found a quiet olive grove to camp in I had little light left in which to eat a couple of flat breads, cheese and tomatoes, make my all essential brew and have the briefest of body wipe overs prior to slumber.

I was extremely tired and sat there in the dark considering my first day. I saw a flash of light amongst the olive trees, then another. Ten flashes of light, soon a hundred, within minutes a thousand. It was a synchronised bio-luminescent display from the fireflys. These are small carnivorous beetles in the family Lampyridae. I hadn’t really expected to see these as mating displays are normally in May, the following month. I have never seen such a sight before and sat enthralled. I would again see them on most subsequent evening but not in such numbers. The chirping of frogs joined in the evening entertainment. More annoyingly, dogs began barking in distant households. I tried to photograph the fireflys, failing miserably so just sat and enjoyed it but my head was heavy with sleep and reluctantly I had to pass out.

Day two- 16 April: Neohori to Lake Korission

I was stood outside the tent dressed in just a fleece hoody and skiddies, clutching a large tea. I heard a dog bark and could see it coming through the olive trees toward me. A voice called it back and the middle aged dog walker came down the path toward me, two more dogs followed in his wake. “kali mera” I called, “kali mera” he replied. He walked a few more paces and came to a halt. “what are you doing here?“, “leaving” I replied, “it was dark when I arrived“. “OK” he said with a wave, and walked off, whistling for his dogs. That was the only interaction I had with anyone while wildcamping on Corfu.

After Corfu Town, the largest settlement in Corfu is Lefkimmi. It is comprised of a sprawling string of six connected villages. I paused at Potami to purchase three litres of water at a shop then crossed the road bridge over the river outside the shop, turned right and, remarkably, found a short series of cafes, all open. Never look a gift horse in the mouth and I stopped at the first to order a cheese and ham toastie and large freshly squeezed orange juice. Corfiots don’t really ‘do’ breakfast and this is about the best you will manage to find.

My day then comprised of following the trail through many little villages while wending my way back across the width of the island to the southwest coast. This was then followed all the way to Agios Georgios South. Descending to the beach from a hill I passed a bunch of goats and their kids, grazing the herbs and grass beneath the shady olives. A dog barked and a goat herd emerged to see what was going on. I waved and called a greeting, receiving a wave in reply, and no, the lonely goat herd up on the hill wasn’t yodelling. Beyond them I could see the far side of the island, and beyond that, mainland Greece. Reaching the beach and no one around, I stripped for a wash in the surf. Soon after setting off again I was joined by a dog, who simply wanted a friend. She walked with me for over two kilometres and as suddenly as she had appeared, she was gone.

Agios Georgios South was a sprawling resort, looking a little tatty with workmen still sprucing up the place before the hordes of holiday makers descend on it. I saw just two young couples, beating the holiday rush, wandering along hand-in-hand, along the main (only) thoroughfare, both looking a little lost and in need of entertainment after a day in the sun and nothing open. Nearing the end of the seafront road, just prior to leaving the ‘town’ and heading back to the beach, I found a small supermarket open and chatted to the Brit running the till while paying for my small selection of provisions, mostly comprised of Snickers, tomatoes and water. She had lived there the past twenty years but still retained every part of her home grown regional accent. From there it was on to the sweeping curve of the Issou beach. Again following the surf to the end before striking inland up into the dunes.

I had my mind on camping beside Lake Korission this evening and was pleased to have made my intended destination. There is a wide track from the beach through the dunes, juniper scrub and trees, frequently by pedestrians, dune buggys and off-roading motorcyclists, but that is only used in-season, which I was not, and it is an extensive area and easy to get off trail and find somewhere secluded.

While I had a little difficulty in getting pegs to find purchase in the soft sand I managed with a bit of double pegging. Just as well as the wind began to blow later while rain set in for a few hours later that night but for now, I had plenty of daylight left and it was a warm evening with no flies or annoying mosquitoes. Another advantage of being here early in the year. I took my time over ablutions, evening meal and brew, padding around outside the tent in nothing other than a pair of sandals. Large fish or possibly terrapins were loudly surfacing and splashing in the nearby lake but beside that it was a peaceful few hours.

One thing of small note occurred this evening. I finally lost one of my large toe nails, damaged during a training hike on the Grand Union Canal back in January. A shiny new pink nail lurked beneath and it was a painless affair pulling off the redundant keratin. The other big toe nail followed suit a couple of evenings later.

• Trail talk: the Grand Union Canal

Day three- 17 April: Lake Korission to Kornata

Despite the insistent call of a local Scops Owl from the scrub, I slept well, just stirring long enough to ensure everything was still pegged down well and no water coming in when the rain began rattling on the shelter in the small hours. The wind had died down and rain clouds cleared off elsewhere by the time I groggily rose. I stood on the sandy rise above the lake, clutching my large tea, inordinately content with life. Breakfast comprised of just some spoonful’s of dry granola and bites from a lump of cheese. That would easily suffice for a few hours. I packed up, surrounded by the angry chattering of birds, annoyed that I had invaded their solitude. I had lost the way in I had taken when I found my camp site last night but simply wended my way through the scrub and trees, keeping the lake on my right, until I relocated the trail further down the shore.

The sandy path had soaked up any fallen rain without noticeable difference and the trail soon moved down to the lake’s edge and it was here that I paused for a breather, keeping a large Hermann’s Tortoise Testudo hermanni company for a while, but he looked concerned as to my presence so I left him to his grazing and walked on toward the cutting dug by the Venetians to connect the lake to the sea when they turned the lake to fish breeding. Beyond here, the track becomes even wider and is used by occasional cars servicing the handful of beachfront tavernas along this part of the coast. All were closed pre-season but I paused at one, taking advantage of the shade from what was already a hot sun. Today was one of the hottest days I experienced in Corfu, rising to the 30’s by midday. Annoyingly, the battery on my Thermodrop gave up the ghost today so I have no accurate temperatures for the rest of my trip.

Having reached Alonki Bay and left the lake behind me the trail kept zigzagging briefly inland before returning to the shore. This trail is truly a wander through the island’s olives and every day sees the hiker walking through terraced olive groves. I took time out to visit one of the oldest trees, The ancient pock-marked old lady is eight metres in circumference and reputed to be over 1500 years old and named Mitera by the locals, She is mother to over 196 000 olive trees in the area, between Gardiki and Skala. On a good year, she still bears over 10 000 fruits.

Late afternoon I began looking for a suitable halt for the night. This got a tad difficult as it seems every property has large dogs that deeply resented my presence. Growling and loud barking occurred ever time I walked past the many rural properties and the hounds from hell looked eager to escape their confines and rip me to shreds. I was slightly nervous that one might manage to do so. Even when I was half a kilometre beyond their home they still seemed to sense I was around and if I even paused to look at a possibly suitable spot they resumed barking, possibly alerting the next mutt further along as to my presence. I eventually wandered up a short path away from the track and found an ideal spot on one of the low terraces of an olive grove. Not only did I have the last few rays of light from the sun setting below the rise behind me, but I was also well positioned for the rising sun in the morning in front of me. Those dogs though, they kept up their barking for hours into the night, echoing around the valley. They knew I was there.

Day four- 18 April: Kornata to Aspes

It was a beautiful morning. The sun shone clearly from an almost clear sky. Cobwebs glistened from the low vegetation. I strode along the easy path feeling extremely pleased with myself, the trail, the day in general. Life was good. I rounded a corner and espied the dark figure of a large dog lolling across my path. I felt that it had been waiting all night for this interloper who dared to enter canine territory. I slowly walked toward it, making plenty of noise as it was looking away and I didn’t want to startle it. I was within twenty feet and it still didn’t turn it’s head, “hello” I said “kali mera” I tried. Cerberus turned his head to look, rose to his feet and the deepest of rumbling snarls was uttered. I kept pole tips at the ready and we circled each other. I don’t know who’s hackles were raised most. I walked on down the trail, backwards, he followed and I waited for the attack. He stopped, I breathed, at last, I walked on, faster, constantly looking over my shoulder. I like dogs, but many of them don’t like a backpacker in ‘their’ territory. The day had briefly lost a bit of it’s shine.

I was delighted to find a beautiful Slow worm Anguis fragilis on the trail. It lingered easily long enough for me to photograph it, unlike it’s cousins; any legged lizard being far too quick for me to capture an image. That’s my limit for nature photography it would seem- slow moving Slow worms and tortoises!

I needed water. Nothing had been open and I was down to my last half litre and knew I needed to get some somewhere to ensure I had sufficient for both later that day and the night. When I reached little Agio Deka I left the trail and wandered through the narrow streets, deeper into the village, hoping to find somewhere a shop or café. I passed a chap fixing his motor scooter and greeted him, receiving his reply I halted and asked him if he knew where I could buy some water. He said nothing, simply put down his tools and walked into his home opposite, returning almost instantly with a litre and half bottle of water. Passing it to me he waved me to the open door. I peered in, “what do you want?” he asked, opening his fridge door, “I have beer, Fanta, tonic water, fruit juice…“. I said the last would be welcome and he tried to give me a sealed litre container of the stuff. We finally settled on my sitting on his doorstep, drinking a large tumbler of tropical fruit juice, while the two of us put the world to rights. Costas had lived in the UK for many years and obviously took great pleasure in passing the time of day with a passing stranger.

Walking through Sinarades I saw a small Folk Museum down a side lane and climbed the marble steps to the entrance. It wasn’t actually open but the curator Makis was there and welcomed me in. I had planned on a short visit of perhaps twenty minutes but stayed well over an hour as it has a fascinating collection of objects in the authentic preserved interior. The two of us chatted at length and I learned a lot.

Late afternoon I was following a little used coastal road, high above the sea to my left. Expensive looking properties were spaced evenly along this stretch, perhaps a quarter of a mile separating each one, the usual olive groves between each one. Each house had it’s own dog. I tried to walk silently past gates but invariably set them off barking and they would find a bit of fence to jump up at me, crashing against it while barking frantically. I would walk on and eventually they ceased their racket behind me. Just in time for it to start all over again at the next property. I couldn’t see how I was going to find a quiet spot for tonight’s camp but then came to a property still in the process of being built. Concrete walls stood erect, metals reinforcing bars sticking out from them, newly bulldozed roads led down and around the front.

There was no-one there but I decided that if the owners had been there, they would no doubt have called me down and welcomed me to camp on the sea-facing terrace of their neighbouring olive grove. I quartered the area looking for the flattest spot with no rocks. Bee Eaters were flying around the tree tops. I had found my night’s halt.

Tent up and body wiped over before changing into my sleep clothes. Evening fare was the usual sliced peppered salami, cheese and increasingly stale bread. Accompanied by a couple of brews to enjoy while the sun went down and I considered my options. I had been checking the weather for the next few days and thought a day-off might be appreciated so spent some time looking for somewhere suitable. It was going to make it a long day but I booked, via Booking.com, what looked to be a decent location for the following night.

Day five- 19 April: Aspes to Gefira, Liapades

Late evening, a couple of fireflys lazily flew outside the Duplex, even through the material I could see their intermittent splashes of light in the dark. I closed my eyes, a Scops Owl was calling from the trees behind me, it was all very peaceful. WHAT THE HELL! The brightest of lights had suddenly flashed through my closed eyelids, the sky out to sea momentarily blasted into light, then dark again. A roll of thunder immediately followed and continued up the coast for many seconds.

The electrical storm was violent, anything but brief and preceded heavy drumming rain for much of the night. I closed my tent doors and gave up on sleep for too long. I slept eventually, but it was an interrupted non-recuperative rest and a good sized pot of tea was required to tempt me into rising when my phone’s alarm sounded. I wanted to be away early, before dawn, in case any builders turned up at the house being built not a hundred metres away.

Back on trail, it was yet again a lovely morning, even if there were again rabid dogs frantic to escape their compound and drag me to the ground with their jaws locked around my throat. A fine mist rose from the valleys as the early morning sun burnt off the moisture from last night. I was groggy from lack of sleep however and gratefully stopped in at a roadside café for a much needed coffee.

The trail headed inland, for just a short distance, beginning a short series of ascents, looping back round to the west coast. After the trail passed through the hillside village of Pelekas, it entered a bit of a roller coaster stage. I dropped down to the coast to visit Mirtiotissas beach, what Lawrence Durrell called the “loveliest beach in the world“. At the foot of the cliffs on my right, the waves were crashing against the rocks barely three metres to my left. Winter storms have washed much of this loveliest beach away and it must be a mere shadow of what it once was.

From the coast, in what I by now realised was in typical Corfu Trail fashion, the climbing began, up, up and over a saddle, before dropping down again to cross the Ropa Valley. This is what was once a flooded plain, long dried up and now a fertile area and important for crops, though less so today.

The Ropa Valley is dead flat, and soon after passing what appeared to be small-holdings with chickens and goats, it was into the more agricultural part of this wide expanse. Though it seemed as though a great deal was simply now lying fallow and weeds abounded. I was stood in a meadow, immersed in my thoughts, studying my phone and the messaged response from that night’s stop, Bee Eaters faintly “prruup“ing in the sky, Hoopoes were “hoo poo“ing from afar, bees buzzing round my ankles, and… I almost jumped out of my skin when Spiros loudly and suddenly addressed me from behind. I hadn’t even heard him approach. Spiros Aperghi not only works at his travel agency, guiding visitors on the trail, but also maintains it. It was a delight to meet him and a friendlier Corfiot you couldn’t find. We spoke quickly and on many details before I realised that we had probably been talking too long and his two guests, while appearing to be patient, were probably thinking otherwise. They had paid good money for a guided walk after all.

Spiros will walk the entire trail four times each year and is heavily engaged with it’s administration. It was him that had redesigned the trail logo, introducing conjoined CT letters and creating the new rectangular metal waymarking signs that go a long way to keep hikers on trail.

The small party of three went ahead and I passed them once. They were halted while Spiros was having what sounded like a very animated conversation with a farmer stringing up wire across the trail. I left them behind, for now. The trail does seem to enter the Ropa, settle in to it, then suddenly change its mind and quickly turn through ninety degrees and head back off toward the coast.

I had eaten no breakfast, a couple of sweet snacks and nuts for lunch and had doubts I would find a taverna for an evening meal. So on seeing a taverna open, had no hesitation on stopping in, requested a menu, determined to stock up on some calories. I still had a fair distance to cover and needed the energy. It was a large meal but I polished it off with no effort, washed down by two large glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice.

Should I have lingered so long over this lovely late lunch? Probably not. I was aware that the weather was supposed to deteriorate later that day and had anticipated a brief spate of rain, prepared to walk through it. How wrong I was. It started raining an hour or so after I left the taverna, gentle at first and eventually hard enough that I donned my waterproof. It then got heavier, never letting up. It rained solid for my remaining five hours of walking, all that evening and right through the night. I packed my phone away and relied on trail markings and map. The paths and tracks through the olive groves don’t handle downpours well. They frequently have low stone walls each side of the trail and the water gets hemmed in. I was often walking in two inches of rapidly flowing water and was a little relieved I wouldn’t have to attempt to find a well drained spot on which to camp tonight.

At Liapades I made a mistake. Rather than join the road and simply walk the half kilometre into neighbouring Gefira where my accommodation was, I decided, ever the purist, to stick to the trail. I lost it, where it went I haven’t a clue, I followed one slippery track after another, then a road, then another track, dropping almost all the way down to the wrong beach with no way round the headland. I turned and laboured my way back up the slippery sodden track, working my way round the hillside to eventually emerge, cursing, at Gefira. Two minutes later I dripped my way into the Medusa Tavern. A grinning Spiros and the proprietor Dimitris greeted me. I hadn’t even realised that Spiros and his small party were stopping here. They, of course, had followed the road in. Despite the bar not being open, the taverna reopening the following night having been closed since last October, Dimitris sold me some beer and wine to take to my welcome, spacious and very comfortable apartment for the next two nights and day off trail. It was time to get cleaned up, wash some clothes, carry out some minor repairs, rest, and look forward to the remainder of my Corfu Trail.