SECRETS - 20 Skiathos hidden treasures

1. The Hidden Fishermen’s Taverna at Agios Georgios

Ah, "To Kouti"! You even know its nickname. We call it "The Box" because it's no bigger than one, just four walls and a charcoal grill. Yiannis is my cousin's cousin, a man whose hands are as rough as the rocks he fishes around. The place is exactly as you say, tucked away behind the main beach of Agios Georgios, near the old, dried-up salt pans where my grandmother used to collect salt. Tourists walk right past it, looking for the colourful signs and menus with pictures. Here, the menu is Yiannis's voice. He'll walk to your table, wipe his hands on his apron, and say, "Today, the sea gave us barbounia (red mullet) and a fine sinagrida (dentex)." That's it. You just nod. He grills it whole, with nothing but coarse salt, oregano from the hills behind the beach, and a flood of ladolemono that he makes with oil from his own trees. The palamída is a local favourite, a strong, oily fish that he sears on the grill until the skin is black and crispy. And the astakomakaronada... my friend, that is a holy thing. He only makes it when he catches a big lobster himself, and it's not on any secret menu; you have to know to ask if he has astakos that day. He’ll serve it in a huge platter with thick spaghetti swimming in a rich tomato and ouzo sauce. It's a meal for two people that could feed four. And yes, cash only. He thinks card machines are a government trick.

2. The Abandoned Mansion of the “Mad Count”

Villa Neraida, the "Fairy's Villa." We grew up with this story. It's hidden deep in the Koukounaries forest, off the main path to Mandraki beach. You have to know where to turn off the dirt road. The story of the Italian count is true, his name was a long one, but we all just called him o Kontes (the Count). He came here in the 1930s and built this grand house to impress the daughter of a wealthy shipowner. She was the most beautiful girl on the island, with hair like dark honey. The legend says she vanished from the villa the night before their wedding. The heartbroken Count became a recluse, and his ghost is said to search for her. The truth, as my grandfather told me, is less romantic but still tragic. The Count lost all his money in the war, the family of the girl called off the wedding, and he left the island in shame. The villa was looted for its marble and wood during the hard years of the occupation. Today, it’s a beautiful, eerie ruin. The roof has collapsed, but the stone arches and the grand staircase remain, covered in ivy. The local kids do sneak in, and I've seen the remnants of their bonfires. We tell our children the ghost story to keep them away, not because we believe it, but because the structure is dangerous. It's a place of sad beauty, a monument to a broken dream.

3. The Secret Nudist Beach at Banana Beach’s End

Kolymbithres! You know the old name! "Banana Beach" is the tourist name, from the 80s. For us, the main beach was always Krassa, and the hidden cove to the right was Kolymbithres, "the swimming holes." It’s a place of freedom for us. You have to be steady on your feet to climb over the big, smooth rocks that separate it from the main beach. It's not a difficult climb, but it's enough to deter most people. The cove is small, perfectly sheltered, with golden sand and incredibly clear water. It has been the unofficial nudist spot for decades, a holdover from the hippie days of the 70s. The blue flag on the pine tree is a real signal, an old code. It means "the coast is clear," but not from tourist boats—it's a signal to warn of the Port Police, who occasionally used to come and give warnings. Today, they mostly turn a blind eye, as long as everyone is discreet. It's a place for quiet sunbathing, not for parties. You will see people of all ages there, from 20-year-olds to 70-year-old couples who have been coming to that same spot for 50 years. It’s a little piece of old Skiathos, a place of quiet rebellion and natural beauty.

4. The Underground “Rebetiko” Music Scene

This one is very, very secret. It is not for tourists, and there is no invitation. It is a gathering, a parea. The place is a katoï, a basement cellar of an old stone house in the warren of streets between Papadiamanti and the old port. Stelios, the owner, is a character. He sailed the world, and his stories are as rich as the tobacco smoke that fills the room. On Friday nights, after the tavernas close, the musicians gather. These are not professionals playing for money. This is a builder who is a master of the bouzouki, a fisherman with a voice that can break your heart, a retired teacher who plays the baglamas. They play rebetika, the old songs of love, loss, exile, and pain. It is raw, emotional, and deeply Greek. The only way in is to be brought by a member of the parea. If a local befriends you, if they see you have a real soul and a respect for our culture, they might say, "Come, I will take you somewhere." If you are ever given this invitation, accept it. Do not speak much. Just sit, listen, accept the glass of tsipouro they offer you, and let the music wash over you. It is one of the last truly authentic cultural experiences on the island.

5. The Pirate’s Treasure of Lalaria Beach

The story of the pirate treasure is as old as the rocks of Lalaria itself. The cave is real, located just to the left of the famous Trypia Petra (the Holed Rock). It is small, and at high tide, the entrance is almost completely submerged. The story goes that pirates in the Ottoman era used it as a temporary hiding place for their plunder before they could move it to a more secure location. The fisherman who found the coins in the 60s was my great-uncle, Sotiris. It wasn't a huge hoard of gold, just a handful of silver Ottoman akçe, but it was enough to ignite the imagination of the whole island. For years after, men would dive there with homemade snorkels, hoping to find more. Today, the story is mostly a romantic legend. But... there are still a few old-timers, men in their 70s, who go out in their small boats at dawn on the calmest days. They will tell their wives they are going fishing, but everyone knows they are going to have one more look in the cave. They will never find anything, but the hope, the dream of the pirate treasure, is a treasure in itself.

6. The “Forbidden” Monastery of Evangelistria

The Evangelistria Monastery holds many secrets, but the sealed chamber is the most tantalizing. It is located beneath the main church, the Katholikon. The official story is that it is a crypt, a burial place for past abbots, and is sealed for reasons of sanctity and respect. But the local rumour is far more interesting. During the Greek War of Independence, the monastery was a revolutionary headquarters, a filiki eteria. It is where the first flag was woven, and where heroes took refuge. The belief is that this chamber holds sensitive documents from that time: lists of conspirators, battle plans, and perhaps even communications that could change the accepted history of certain famous revolutionary families. The story of the historian who was escorted out in the 1980s is true; he was a professor from Athens who came with too many questions. The monks are very protective. The idea of smuggled relics from Mount Athos is a more recent addition to the legend, but it adds to the mystique. For me, the real secret is what the monastery represents: a place of fierce independence and a guardian of our nation's deepest history.

7. The Best Souvlaki is from a Gas Station

This is 100% true, and one of the best-kept secrets among the year-round residents. "Oasis," the gas station on the main road heading towards Troulos, looks like any other. But next to the air pump, Kostas has set up a small, professional charcoal grill. He is only there in the evenings, from about 8 PM until he sells out, which can be very late. His souvlaki is a different class. The pork is not the cheap, fatty stuff. He uses good quality meat, cut into thick chunks. The marinade is the secret. It’s a mix of olive oil, lemon, oregano, and a generous splash of ouzo, which tenderizes the meat and gives it a faint, aniseed aroma when it hits the hot coals. He serves it wrapped in a thick, fluffy pita bread that he gets from a special bakery in Volos, with fresh tomatoes, red onion, and his famous kapnisti melitzanosalata (smoked aubergine dip) instead of the usual tzatziki. It is the food of the gods. You will see police cars, taxis, and ambulances stopping there for their late-night meal. That is how you know it is the best.

8. The “Witch” of Skiathos Town

Kyria Eleni. She is a treasure of the island. Her little blue house is near the old bus terminus, with pots of basil, mint, and dittany growing outside. To call her a "witch" is a dramatic name; we see her as a praktikos, a practical healer who holds the old knowledge. Her grandmother was indeed part of the population exchange from Asia Minor in the 1920s and brought with her the botanical knowledge of her homeland. Kyria Eleni doesn't have a shop. People go to her with their problems. A young man is nervous about his exams? She will make him a tea from lemon balm and St. John's wort. A fisherman has a bad cough? He gets the "kryptonite" tonic, a powerful infusion of garlic, oregano oil, and tsipouro that could kill a horse but cures any cold. She is most famous for her "love spells," which are really just wonderfully fragrant sachets of lavender, rose petals, and other herbs that are meant to bring confidence. She never asks for a set price, you just leave what you feel is right in a small bowl on her table. She is a living link to the island's mystical past.

9. The Illegal Rooftop Parties in the Old Town

This is the secret of the younger generation. The official closing times for bars are more strictly enforced now than they used to be. So, the after-party scene has gone vertical. There are a few specific rooftops in the Plakes area, the old neighbourhood behind the Bourtzi, that are used for these gatherings. The one above the old leather shop is the most famous. It has a perfect, hidden view of the harbour. Access is through a rickety wooden staircase in a back courtyard. You have to be brought by someone who is known. The atmosphere is not wild and crazy; it's more of a chill-out session. The guy who hosts it is a DJ from Athens who spends his summers here. He plays old funk and soul on vinyl on a small portable turntable. People bring their own drinks. It’s a place for the local summer workers – the waiters, the bar staff, the hotel reps – to unwind after their shift. The police know about it, of course. As long as the music is not too loud and there is no trouble, they let it be. It's part of the summer ecosystem.

10. The Last True Boatmaker of Skiathos

Nikos "the Wooden," or o Xylourgos. His real name is Nikos Mastrogiannis. His small boatyard, his tarsanas, is near the new port, but hidden from the main road. It is one of the last of its kind in the Sporades. To step into his workshop is to step back 100 years. The air is thick with the smell of pine tar and freshly cut wood. He doesn't use power tools much, just his adze, his saws, and his hands. He builds the traditional fishing boats, the kaïkia and the smaller trehandiria, using the same methods his father and grandfather taught him. He chooses the wood himself from the mainland, looking at the grain and the curve of the tree to know which piece will become the keel or a rib. The belief that his boats are "lucky" is very real. Fishermen will wait for years for him to build them a boat. He is a quiet, thoughtful man. If you approach him with respect and show a genuine interest, he will talk. He might show you how to steam a piece of wood to bend it into shape. He is not just a craftsman; he is a living archive of our island's maritime soul.

11. The “Mafia” Bakery with the Secret Cheese Pie Recipe

"Fournos tou Yiorgou" is a legend. Calling it a "Mafia" bakery is a joke, of course, but it comes from how fiercely they protect their secrets and how loyal their customers are. The bakery is tiny, barely a hole in the wall, tucked into a narrow alley behind the police station – a very clever location! George, the owner, is the third generation to run it. The tyropita is unlike any other. The phyllo pastry is handmade, rolled so thin you can see through it, but it bakes up into a hundred crispy, flaky layers. The filling is the secret. It is not just feta. It's a mix of local feta, a soft, slightly sour cheese called anthotyro, and a harder, saltier cheese from the mainland. And the rumour about the mastiha is true. Just a tiny, powdered tear of Chios mastiha resin goes into the dough, which gives it a unique, faint aroma of pine and cedar. It elevates it from a simple pie to something extraordinary. He opens at 5 AM to serve the fishermen and night workers, and by 9 AM, every single pie is gone. People queue up for it. The story of the €20,000 offer from the hotel is true. He told the hotel manager, "My grandmother's soul is not for sale."

12. The Underground Gambling Den in the Old Olive Press

This is a deep secret, and one that is not taken lightly. The abandoned olive press, or liotrivi, near Megali Ammos is the perfect cover. The "No Entry - Danger of Collapse" sign is very convincing. Inside, the old stone millstones and rusted machinery remain, but in the back room, under a single, bright hanging lamp, is the real action. Kostas "the Owl" (o Koukouvayias), they call him, because he only comes out at night. The main game is tavli (backgammon), played for very high stakes. A single point can be worth €20, €50, even €100. The clatter of the dice is like gunfire. Poker is played too, but tavli is the game of honour. The players are a mix of all parts of Skiathos society. It's a place where social status is left at the door; only your skill and nerve matter. It is absolutely true that no tourists are allowed. The only way you would ever see it is if you became a trusted friend of a regular player over a long period. It is a closed, parallel world that coexists with the sunny, happy tourist island, a place of shadow, smoke, and adrenaline.

13. The Ghost Ship Wreck at Tsougria Islet

The wreck is real. It is a German cargo ship from WWII, an armed transport called the J-21, which was sunk by a British submarine. It lies in about 18-20 meters of water off the rocky northern coast of Tsougria, not the side with the sandy beaches. It is not an easy dive, as the currents there can be strong. The story of the Nazi gold is a classic post-war Greek island legend, attached to almost every German wreck in the Aegean! There is no proof of it, but it makes for a great story. The wreck is broken in two, and you can swim through the cargo holds. It is an eerie and impressive sight, covered in marine life. The story of the German diver who disappeared in the 80s is, unfortunately, also true. He was exploring the wreck alone and got tangled in some old fishing nets inside the hull. His death added to the wreck's "haunted" reputation and made local divers very cautious. Today, it is a popular site for experienced local divers and some of the dive schools on the island, but they only go in good weather and always in groups.

14. The Forbidden “Nymphs’ Cave” Near Kastro

The cave is real, and the local name is Loutra ton Neraidon. It is a small sea cave in the cliffs not far from the Kastro, but very difficult to access. You have to climb down the cliff face, which is dangerous. The story of the shepherd in the 50s is a classic piece of local folklore. The Neraides, or Nymphs, are figures from ancient belief who were said to inhabit wild places like caves, springs, and forests. They were beautiful but could also be dangerous, luring men to their doom. The church blessing the cave was a way of Christianizing an old pagan site and warning people away from a dangerous location. The "sweating" walls are a natural phenomenon called condensation, caused by the temperature difference between the cool rock and the warm, humid sea air. But for the old people, it is the tears of the Nymphs, trapped inside. The teenagers who sneak in are just looking for a thrill, but the place has a genuinely strange, damp, and isolated atmosphere. It's a place where mythology feels very close to the surface.

15. The Hidden Vineyard That Makes “Black Wine”

Uncle Lefteris is a legend. He is not a commercial winemaker; he is a man who makes wine for himself and his friends. His small vineyard is hidden in the hills above Troulos, behind a gate that looks like it hasn't been opened in 50 years. He grows a rare, old grape variety that he calls mavroudi, which is not the same as the famous mainland grape of the same name. His is a unique Skiathos clone. The wine is not truly black, but it is an incredibly deep, dark ruby colour that is almost opaque. It is thick, powerful, and not for the faint of heart. It tastes of sun-baked black cherries, leather, and the wild herbs that grow around his vineyard. He only makes a barrel or two, and he bottles it himself in old, recycled bottles with no labels. He gives it to his friends and sells a few dozen bottles to the owners of two or three of the most traditional tavernas on the island, who in turn only sell it to customers they know will appreciate it. The custom of bringing a loaf of bread as a gift of respect is an old one. If you find him and he likes you, he will sit you down at his stone table, cut some of his homemade cheese, and pour you a glass of his "black wine." It is a taste of the true, wild earth of Skiathos.

16. The Secret Swing at Xanemos Beach

This is one of the island's sweetest little secrets. Xanemos beach is right by the airport runway, so it's noisy and often windy, and most tourists ignore it. But if you walk to the far left end, past the rocks, there is a small, sheltered cove. And there, hanging from a thick branch of an old pine tree that leans out over the sea, is the swing. The story of the old hippie is true; he was a German man named Klaus who lived on the island in the 90s and put it up for his girlfriend. After they broke up, it became "The Swing of Lost Love." It is a quiet, contemplative spot. I have seen many people there over the years, not just heartbroken teenagers, but people of all ages, swinging gently over the water as the sun sets and the planes roar overhead. It's a place of strange contrasts. And it is true, the rope is mysteriously replaced every spring. We think it's a few of the old-timers who knew Klaus and want to keep his small legacy alive. It’s a simple piece of rope, but it holds a lot of stories.

17. The Abandoned “Villa of the Swedish Millionaire”

Villa Sjöberg. That was his name. He was a Swedish industrialist who came to Skiathos in the late 70s and built this huge, modernist villa in the Platanias valley. It had a swimming pool shaped like a kidney and floor-to-ceiling glass windows, which was very unusual for Skiathos at the time. The story is true: he was involved in smuggling antiquities, specifically ancient amphorae that he was dredging from the sea floor around Alonissos. He got a tip-off that the authorities were coming for him and he fled the island in his private yacht in the middle of the night, leaving everything behind. The villa has been in legal limbo ever since, caught in a battle between his estranged heirs and the Greek state. Because no one can touch it, it has slowly been reclaimed by nature. The local kids do break in. The "blonde ghost" is probably just the moonlight reflecting on a piece of broken glass, but the story of the slamming doors is true – it's caused by the wind whistling through the empty, broken window frames. It's a monument to 80s excess, slowly rotting in the Greek sun.

18. The Midnight Fishermen’s Market at the Old Port

This is not a market for the public, but a direct, under-the-table exchange. It happens on the back quay of the port, where the fishing boats unload, usually between 1 AM and 3 AM. This is when the lampopoula (night fishing for squid) and the paragadia (long-line fishing) boats come in. They sell their prime catch directly to a trusted network of restaurant owners and a few savvy locals before the official auction in the morning. This way, the fishermen get immediate cash, and the buyers get the absolute best of the catch. You can't just walk up and buy something. You have to be known. Yiorgos the Whistler is a real person; he is a fisherman who is famous for the loud, piercing whistle he uses to signal to other boats. And yes, he loves his Karelia cigarettes. If you manage to get an introduction, you will see a side of the island that is gritty, real, and smells wonderfully of the sea. You will see fish and seafood so fresh it is still moving. It is the hidden engine of the island's gastronomic scene.

19. The “Haunted” Plane Wreck in the Woods

The wreck is a small, twin-engine Dornier Do 28, and it crashed in 1986. The official report said a double engine failure on takeoff, but the local rumours have always been more colourful. At that time, there was a lot of smuggling between Greece and Italy, and the plane was flying at an unusual time of night. The most common story is that it was carrying undeclared Italian art or jewellery. The wreck was too difficult to remove from the dense pine forest near the airport, so they just left it there. It's a surreal sight, a metal carcass slowly being consumed by the forest. It is covered in graffiti, and it is a rite of passage for local teenagers to spend a part of the night there. The story of the radio static is, of course, a ghost story. But if you are inside that dark, silent cockpit, with the wind moaning through the broken windows, it is very easy to let your imagination run wild.

20. The Last Shepherd of Skiathos & His Secret Cheese

Stathis is a true islander, a man who seems to be carved from the same rock and olive wood as the landscape itself. He is in his late 70s and is indeed the last full-time shepherd on Skiathos. His small stone hut, his kalyva, is on the rugged, unpaved road that leads to Kechria beach. He has a flock of about 50 goats, and he knows each one by name. His cheese is a thing of myth. He makes a fresh, soft cheese (chloro) and a hard, aged one (graviera). The secret is in the aging process. For his graviera, he wraps the cheese wheels in muslin cloth and buries them in piles of dried wild thyme and seaweed, which draws out the moisture and infuses the cheese with an incredible, salty, herbal aroma. The story about him singing to his goats is absolutely true. He plays a small wooden flute and sings old folk songs to them, claiming it keeps them calm and makes the milk sweet. He does not sell to anyone he does not know. You have to find him. If you show up empty-handed, he will ignore you. But if you bring him a bottle of good tsipouro and show him respect, he will treat you like a king, cutting you a thick slice of his cheese with his pocketknife and telling you stories of the island as it used to be. It is more than just cheese; it is a taste of a disappearing world.