Crime fiction set in WYOMING and MONTANA
Talking Location With Shelley Dark: HYDRA, Greece
4th July 2025
#TalkingLocationWith… Shelley Dark, author of Hydra in Winter: HYDRA, Greece
Hydra in Winter isn’t your typical Greek island memoir. Instead of sunlit beaches and sizzling sophistication, this is Hydra stripped bare, mostly silent, and strikingly beautiful. A place with no cars—just donkeys, handcarts, and stone steps echoing with the clip-clop of hooves.
When I first visited Hydra, I was on an urgent two-week mission to unearth the truth about my husband’s great-great-grandfather, Ghikas Voulgaris—an 1820’s convicted pirate rumored to be the son of a fabulously wealthy Onassis-style shipowner. Armed with a laptop, a cashmere scarf against the winter chill, and my most sparkly sneakers, I imagined uncovering hidden inheritances and scandalous bloodlines. Instead, I spent days watching the darling archivists hunch over yellowed documents in Hydra’s Historical Museum. And I fell, gloriously and absolutely, into the island’s off-peak rhythm: wandering deserted cobbled streets, eating at restaurants that cooked just for one, inducing in me an irresistible urge to climb anything that wasn’t nailed down. Just as well, because there’s only one direction on Hydra, and that’s up.
The Heights of Profitis Ilias
Choosing to hike solo to Profitis Ilias, the 1,500 foot hill above Hydra, in the middle of winter, might not seem sensible for a 70-year-old in sparkly sneakers. Indeed, I questioned my own judgment, checked my travel insurance, and didn’t mention it to my husband on the phone. But when his ancestor was a pirate and I’m chasing the elusive story, normal rules of caution don’t apply.
My trek began after lunch, wrapped in puffer layers which proved no match for the cold. Hydra in winter means winds that bite, skies that sulk, and bone-chilling drizzle. “Profitis Ilias?” said George from next door. “Where’s your umbrella?” Still, pirates don’t wait for fair weather—and neither do obsessive Australian grannies on historical quests. The trail from the port climbed steeply towards scudding clouds, past terraces green with soft winter grass, olive trees spilling down the slopes, a fall-in-love-on-sight stone ruin, and through a pine grove accompanied by the tinkle of sheep bells.
As I climbed in quiet broken only by my puffing breath, I experienced a Hydra few tourists encounter. I met only two people: the descending priest who gave a cheery wave, and a young French photographer named Sophie, accompanied by a stray black Labrador, who joined me halfway.
When we finally reached the summit, Hydra stretched below—tiny houses clustered around the semicircular port with rows of fishing boats. This was Ghikas’ homeland—now strangely peaceful.
Monastery and Memories
The monastery was built by Mt Athos monks before my pirate was born. A prison for one of the mainland’s generals during the Greek War of Independence, it’s dedicated to the Prophet Elijah—a figure famed for his mountaintop encounters and endurance through drought and exile. As a former cattle farmer in Australia, I’d weathered my share of droughts, and as a now-graduated mountain climber 1,500 feet above sea level, I felt Elijah’s trials in my bones, even as the wind threatened to whisk me straight off the mountaintop. Near my hand, I spotted a threatened species of fritillary known only on the Saronic Islands—delicate, defiant, and clinging to the hillside. It was where it was supposed to be, and it was thriving. I knew the feeling. I breathed in that impossible balance between insignificance and infinite possibility.
I imagined Ghikas—my husband’s ancestor—banished to a distant shore, longing for home.
Hydra’s Embrace
I’ll never forget the way Hydra held me. The chefs who opened their kitchens just for me, setting down steaming plates as if I were family. The archivists who pored over centuries-old books with the focus of treasure hunters. The restaurateur who sliced an orange to end my meal, the cat who adopted me. Even the silence of the port felt companionable. I stayed in a shipowner’s mansion—high-ceilinged, shuttered, magnificent—a house that remembered everything. I came to love Hydra not just for its history, but for the people who brought it to life—like Maria Voulgaris, who now calls me Aunty.
My light-hearted memoir Hydra in Winter has been warmly received—Samuel Bernard in Australia’s national newspaper The Weekend Australian generously described it as “one hell of an entertaining read,” and it’s topped the Amazon Australia charts. Dean Kalimniou in Neos Kosmos, called it “a real page turner” and said I was “a boon travel companion: knowledgeable, positive, entertaining and completely free from the psychological baggage that often afflicts the more emotionally vampiric fellow traveller.” I’m not entirely sure what that means—but he’s erudite, so I’m running with it.
So if you’re curious about a Greek island beyond the postcards, if you’re intrigued by history or pirates, or if you simply relish the idea of a bracing hike and a laugh, Profitis Ilias awaits. Pack your warm gear, leave your logic at home, and join me on a climb we won’t forget.
Shelley Dark
Connect with Shelley via her website and catch her on Social Media: Twitter, Facebook, Instagram
Join team TripFiction on Social Media:
Twitter (@TripFiction), Facebook (@TripFiction.Literarywanderlust), YouTube (TripFiction #Literarywanderlust), Instagram (@TripFiction) and Pinterest (@TripFiction) and BlueSky(tripfiction.bsky.social) and Threads (@tripfiction)
Please wait...
