Amorgos is the most remote, the most untamed of the Cyclades that travellers visit. Made famous by Luc Besson's film "The Big Blue" (1988), it remains well off the beaten tourist track. Behind the cinematic image lies an authentic Greece, made of ancestral trails, monasteries clinging to cliffs, and villages where everyone knows everyone. Walking in Amorgos is rewinding the thread of a time that other islands have sometimes forgotten.
The Monastery of Panagia Hozoviotissa
There are places that mark a traveller forever. Panagia Hozoviotissa is one of them. This white monastery, embedded in a three-hundred-metre cliff above the Aegean Sea, defies logic as much as gravity. You reach it from Chora, the island's small capital, along a stone path that winds across the mountainside.
The ascent is gentle, between low walls and bushes of thyme. Then, around a bend, the monastery appears: an immaculate white band pressed against the grey rock, as if painted on the cliff face. The effect is striking. You climb the last steps carved into the rock, pass through a narrow door, and enter a world apart.
Inside, eight levels of tiny rooms are stacked within the thickness of the cliff wall. The monks who live here carry on a ritual of hospitality centuries old: they welcome every visitor with a glass of raki, a loukoumi, and a smile. You sit on the terrace suspended above the void, facing the infinite blue, and understand why this place has inspired contemplation since the 11th century. The monastery was founded to house an icon of the Virgin brought from Palestine, and this distant origin adds yet more mystery. You leave feeling light-hearted, with the sense of having touched something essential.
From Chora to Aegiali: the great traverse
This is the signature walk of Amorgos, the one recommended to any hiker with a full day to spare. The trail connects Chora, in the south, to the bay of Aegiali in the north, crossing the mountainous spine that gives Amorgos its elongated, wild silhouette.
You leave Chora in the early morning, when the windmills still stand in silhouette against the mist. The path climbs quickly to the island's heights, through a landscape of low maquis, bare rock, and silence. Not a sound, except the wind and the distant tinkle of a goat bell. Tiny chapels, whitewashed and locked, guarding their icons in cool shade, punctuate the route.
As the hours pass, the panorama unfolds across both coasts. To the east, the sea stretches towards the Turkish shore. To the west, it reaches Naxos and Paros. You walk along the ridge, between sky and water, with the rare feeling of being at the centre of the Aegean world.
The descent towards Aegiali rewards all effort. The bay appears below, fringed by white villages clinging to the hillside like birds' nests. You arrive with tired legs but a full spirit, and sit down in a taverna by the harbour for a well-earned grilled fish. The evening bus takes those who prefer not to retrace their steps back to Chora.
Agia Anna Bay: the setting of The Big Blue
Below the Hozoviotissa Monastery, a small cove nestles at the foot of the cliffs. It was here that Luc Besson set up his cameras to film some of the most memorable scenes of The Big Blue. The water takes on shades of blue so intense they seem retouched, and yet they are not: it is the depth, the light, and the white rock that create this unreal palette.
You descend by a steep trail from the monastery in just a few minutes. The beach is tiny, made of smooth pebbles and flat rocks where you lie facing the sea. The cliffs frame the scene like a stage set. The silence is that of the ocean depths, barely disturbed by the lapping of waves.
Swimming here is entering the film. You think of Jacques Mayol, of that quest for depth that is also a quest for freedom. Then you climb back up, salt-haired, towards the white monastery watching from above, and you feel strangely light.
Southern coastal trail: Mouros and Kalotaritissa
The south coast of Amorgos is the hidden face of the island, discovered only on foot. A coastal trail follows the cliffs to the most remote bays, where the land seems to crumble into the sea.
Mouros is the first reward. This beach is accessible only by trail, which gives it an absolute calm. A few tamarisk trees offer shade, the water is transparent, and you are often alone. Further south-west, the bay of Kalotaritissa marks the end of the Amorgian world. Here, the wreck of the Olympia, a cargo ship, slowly rusts in the shallow waters, visible from the shore. The sight is strangely beautiful: the rusted hull, the turquoise sea, the wind-shorn hills.
The landscape is rugged, swept by the meltemi, almost lunar in places. You walk with the sense of being on the edge of something, at the frontier of the known world. This is the Amorgos of ancient sailors, an island that must be earned.
Tholaria and Langada: villages perched above Aegiali
Above the bay of Aegiali, two villages face each other on the mountain flanks, linked by a web of mule paths that locals have used for centuries. Tholaria and Langada are the soul of Amorgos, the beating heart of an island that cultivates its way of life far from outside eyes.
Tholaria is the smaller of the two, barely a handful of white houses around a shaded square. Here you find a legendary taverna, Nikos's, where family cooking changes daily according to the owner's mood and the fisherman's catch. In the evening, cats doze on the walls, the elders play tavli (Greek backgammon), and the golden light of sunset sets the bay below ablaze.
Langada is a little larger, a little higher, with a Byzantine church whose frescoes tell stories eight centuries old. The walk between the two villages is enchanting. The trail crosses terraced olive groves, passes goat pens, and winds past votive chapels decorated with fresh flowers. You hear the bells of the flocks, you breathe in thyme and wild oregano, and you sometimes meet a shepherd who greets you with a wave.
It is at sunset that this walk reaches its full splendour. From the heights of Langada, the panorama over Aegiali, its three white villages, and the sea turning pink composes a picture you will not forget.
The Big Blue: Luc Besson's island
In 1988, a young French director chose Amorgos to tell the story of Jacques Mayol and Enzo Molinari, two rival and friendly free-divers. The Big Blue introduced this confidential island to the world. Tourists flocked, then ebbed, and Amorgos remained itself.
This is what strikes today's visitor: the filming locations are still recognisable, but the island has not yielded to the sirens of cinematic commerce. No Big Blue museum, no branded souvenir shops. Just the sea, the cliffs, the white monastery, and the light that Besson's camera captured so well.
For those who have seen the film, walking these trails is a pilgrimage of the senses. Mayol's spirit seems to float over the deep waters surrounding the island. You understand, gazing at this bottomless blue from the heights of Amorgos, why a man might want to lose himself in it. And why a filmmaker chose this very place to tell a story of vertigo and freedom.
When to visit Amorgos
Amorgos is best discovered in spring and autumn. The months of May, June, and September offer the finest conditions: gentle warmth, trails in bloom or gilded depending on the season, and moderate visitor numbers that preserve the island's serenity. In summer, the meltemi blows strongly on the heights, which cools the walks but can make ferry crossings unpredictable.
To reach Amorgos, the most common route is by ferry from Naxos (about two hours) or from Piraeus, the port of Athens (seven to nine hours depending on the boat). Connections also exist from other Cycladic islands. On the island, a small bus network links Katapola, Chora, and Aegiali, the three centres of life. But the real means of transport remains walking: distances are short, trails are well traced, and every step reveals a slice of landscape that the road does not show.
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Solène Roux
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