An Afternoon with the Horses
A slow afternoon in the wild south of Skyros, where one of the rarest horse breeds on earth still runs half-wild against the sea.
The road south runs out of tarmac and then, eventually, out of road. You leave the green behind and the island opens into stone and wind and a sea that is everywhere at once. This is the part of Skyros that feels oldest, and it belongs, more than to anyone, to the horses.
They are small, smaller than you expect, standing only to the chest of a grown person. They are also ancient: a breed some believe is depicted on the Parthenon frieze, now down to fewer than four hundred animals in the whole world. Most of them are here, on these southern slopes, doing what they have always done.
The stillness of them
We sat on a wall for an hour and did almost nothing. A few of the horses grazed, unbothered. One looked up, considered us, and went back to the grass. There is no spectacle in it, no performance. That is precisely the point. You are not there to be entertained. You are there to be quiet, in the company of something that has outlasted empires.
The wind did most of the talking. Somewhere above, a falcon worked the thermals along the cliff. The afternoon went nowhere in particular, which is the best place an afternoon can go.
Why it stays with you
You don’t come away from the horses with photographs you’ll show everyone. You come away lighter, somehow, having spent time at the pace of an animal that has never once been in a rush. It is the slow-living heart of the island, made flesh.
The full story of the breed, and how to visit responsibly at a conservation farm, is in our guide to the Skyrian horse. The land they roam is the subject of Mount Kochylas and the wild south.
More from the Journal soon. To weave a horse afternoon into your trip, start here.