When I first read the itinerary from Camino Women, an Australian-based travel company specialising in women’s walking adventures, I thought, This sounds incredible.
A 14-day hiking journey with 14 women over 50 from Australia and NZ, Yanni our Greek guide and an adventure through Athens and four Greek islands. Climbing mountains. Following ancient trails. Exploring tiny villages. Experiencing parts of Greece that most tourists never see.
I was in.
What I didn’t realise was that somewhere over the next 200 kilometres of rocky trails, crystal-clear bays, mountain peaks and island sunsets, I’d be reminded of some important lessons about health, simplicity, happiness and what really matters.
After a few days exploring Athens, our group set off across Naxos, Iraklia, Amorgos and Santorini.
The itinerary promised epic views from Mount Zas, ancient pathways, homemade Greek feasts, untouched islands and a glimpse into a slower, more traditional way of life.
And to be fair, it delivered all of that.
But the greatest gifts weren’t the destinations themselves.
They were the reminders that emerged along the way.
A Journey Shared, Not Planned
I had originally come across this trip and noticed there were only a few spots left—three at the time I booked mine. It wasn’t something I overthought, just one of those quiet decisions that felt like a “yes” before I had fully rationalised it.
Not long after, I was sitting having a coffee with my Naturopath friend Beverly, when I noticed there was now only one spot left.
Beverly said she would love to do a trip like this, but she wasn’t sure her lungs would cope with the hiking. With reduced lung function from COPD diagnosed as a teenager, it felt like a genuine barrier for her.
I remember saying to her, almost casually, what if you could?
She didn’t answer straight away.
She just sat with it for a few hours.
And then she came back and said she had booked that last remaining spot.
From that moment, the trip shifted from being something I was doing on my own into something shared—built not on certainty, but on possibility.
Walking those ancient trails together added a depth to the experience I hadn’t expected. And boy was I happy she came along with me.
The Rocky Path is Often the Right Path
Many of the trails were far more challenging than I had imagined. The terrain was rugged, rocky, uneven and, at times, relentless. There were stretches where every single step required concentration. The only way through was to focus on the next safe foothold.
It struck me how much this mirrors life.
Whether we’re navigating illness, uncertainty, grief or change, we often want to know how the entire journey will unfold. Instead, life usually asks us to trust the next step, and then the one after that.
The rocky trails reminded me that progress isn’t always smooth. Sometimes it’s slow, uncomfortable and requires patience. Yet those difficult stretches often lead to the most spectacular views.
As someone who has faced a cancer diagnosis and spent years learning how to navigate uncertainty, I found myself thinking about this often as I moved across ancient stone paths—often with Beverly alongside me, steady, determined, and quietly resilient in her own way.
Conquering Mount Zas
One of the highlights was climbing Mount Zas, the highest peak in the Cyclades and, according to Greek mythology, where Zeus himself spent his youth.
Standing at the summit felt like a genuine achievement. The views stretched endlessly across the islands and sea below, and there was a quiet sense of perspective that only comes from earning your way to the top.
Not because of the mythology—but because the climb demanded something from us.
And I have to mention Beverly, because her presence on that mountain gave it an entirely different meaning.
With reduced lung function from COPD, she had every reason to doubt whether a trip like this—or a climb like Mount Zas—was even possible. But she trained for it. Quietly. Steadily. Without fanfare.
And she made it.
Step by step, breath by breath, she reached the summit with extraordinary determination and grace.
In many ways, she didn’t just climb the mountain—she expanded what she believed was possible for herself.
It was a powerful reminder that capability is not defined by labels or limitations, but by preparation, will, and the willingness to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
And isn’t that often where the greatest rewards lie?
Iraklia: The Island Time Forgot
The itinerary described Iraklia as a place where you could experience the Cyclades as they were generations ago, and for once, the description wasn’t an exaggeration.
With only around 80 permanent residents, the island immediately felt like stepping into a slower rhythm of life. There was a simplicity to everything—the kind that’s hard to describe until you’re standing in it. No crowds moving through the streets, no traffic, and none of the endless rows of shops that dominate more heavily visited places. Instead, there were quiet homes, warm and welcoming locals, and a rugged landscape that seemed to stretch on without urgency.
Life on Iraklia unfolded gently. Days felt less structured, more spacious. Even the sunsets seemed to linger a little longer, as though the island itself wasn’t in a hurry for them to end.
In a world that so often celebrates speed, scale and excess, Iraklia offered something quite different. It carried a sense of enoughness—an unspoken reminder that a meaningful life doesn’t need to be constantly expanding or filled in order to feel complete.
One afternoon, while much of the group chose to stay back and enjoy cocktails, Beverly and I followed a different pull and set off along the coastline. After a 30-minute walk, we came across a secluded cove with clear turquoise water and not another person on the land, just a yacht anchored quietly in the bay offshore, adding to the feeling of stillness rather than disrupting it.
We spent the afternoon swimming, sitting quietly, and simply taking in the stillness of the place. Nothing about it was planned or curated, and that was what made it feel so memorable. It remains one of the most vivid moments of the entire journey, not because it was extraordinary in a conventional sense, but because it was so quietly real.
An Unexpected Observation
One thing I wasn’t quite prepared for was the drinking culture of the group of women I was with.
Perhaps because this was a hiking trip and many of the women were interested in health and wellbeing, I had unconsciously assumed alcohol wouldn’t feature heavily.
I was wrong.
As someone who rarely drinks, I found it fascinating to observe how central wine and cocktails became for many in the group. Some evenings involved copious amounts of wine, and often the preferred evening activity shifted from exploring to sitting at tavernas overlooking the views.
What surprised me even more was that two of the women had previously experienced breast cancer.
This isn’t a criticism. Everyone is free to make their own choices, and everyone travels in their own way.
But as someone who has spent years immersed in health, healing and recovery conversations, I couldn’t help but notice the disconnect that sometimes exists between what we know and how we live.
Then again, perhaps that’s simply human nature.
Travel has a way of reflecting these patterns to us—not just in others, but in ourselves.
Naxos and the Wisdom of the Blue Zones
One of the highlights of the trip was spending a day on an organic farm in Naxos, taking part in what was described as a cooking experience. In reality, it was so much more than that.
From the moment we arrived, we were welcomed into the rhythm of everyday island life. Rather than simply being shown how to prepare a few traditional dishes, we became part of the process. We wandered through the gardens collecting fresh vegetables, learned about the produce grown on the farm, and then worked together to prepare traditional Naxian recipes using ingredients that had travelled only a few metres from the soil to the kitchen.
As we explored the property, it became clear this wasn’t a staged tourist attraction. We met the animals, wandered through ancient 2000-year-old olive trees and vineyards, and listened to stories about how families had lived and worked on this land for generations. There was something refreshing about the authenticity of it all. Nobody was trying to impress us. They were simply sharing their way of life.
The day culminated around a long shared table overflowing with the food we had helped prepare. There was local wine, music, dancing, laughter, and yes, even a little plate smashing. People who had arrived as strangers only a few hours earlier found themselves celebrating together like old friends.
As I sat there taking it all in, I couldn’t help but think about the Blue Zones—those regions of the world where people consistently live longer, healthier lives.
Fresh food grown locally and prepared from scratch. Natural movement built into daily life. Time spent outdoors. Strong social connections. A sense of purpose and belonging. Community. Conversation. Shared meals.
The things that contribute to health and longevity weren’t being taught as a wellness program or sold as a lifestyle package. They were simply part of everyday life.
It was a gentle reminder that wellness isn’t always about finding the next thing to add to our lives.
Sometimes it’s about returning to the things we’ve forgotten.
And perhaps that’s why this day stayed with me long after we left Naxos. It wasn’t just about the food or the beautiful setting. It was a glimpse into a way of living that felt deeply human, deeply connected, and surprisingly relevant in a world that often feels anything but.
Amorgos: Ancient Paths and Unexpected Perspective
By the time we arrived in Amorgos, we had already covered many kilometres on foot across Naxos and Iraklia, but there was something about this island that felt different from the moment we stepped ashore. Perhaps it was the dramatic landscape, the slower pace of life, or the sense that this was a place still deeply connected to its traditions. Whatever it was, Amorgos quickly became one of the highlights of the journey.
Our longest hike of the trip took us through three traditional villages and eventually to the remarkable Panagia Hozoviotissa Monastery, one of the most iconic and extraordinary landmarks in the Greek Islands. The trail wound through rugged hillsides and ancient stone pathways that have connected these communities for generations. Along the way, we passed whitewashed homes, tiny chapels, goats and sheep making their way along the paths.
As we continued towards the monastery, the landscape became increasingly dramatic. Perched impossibly on the side of a sheer cliff face overlooking the deep blue Aegean Sea, Panagia Hozoviotissa is a sight that almost defies belief. Built more than a thousand years ago, the monastery appears to emerge directly from the rock itself, blending so seamlessly into the cliff that from a distance it looks almost unreal.
Reaching it required climbing a series of steep steps, but the effort only added to the experience. Standing there, gazing out across the endless expanse of sea and sky, I found myself wondering about the determination, faith and resilience of those who built it so many centuries ago. It is one thing to admire a beautiful building; it is another to appreciate what it took to create it in such a remote and challenging location.
The welcome we received from the monks was equally memorable. After our climb, we were offered a small glass of raki and a piece of Turkish delight, continuing a tradition of hospitality that has been extended to visitors for generations. It was a simple gesture, yet one that perfectly reflected the warmth and generosity we encountered throughout the islands.
As the day unfolded, I found myself reflecting on how different this experience felt from so much of modern travel. There were no queues, no ticketed attractions, and no carefully curated experiences designed for social media. Instead, there were ancient pathways, living history, meaningful conversations and landscapes that invited you to slow down and pay attention.
Looking back, Amorgos wasn’t memorable because it was dramatic or famous. It was memorable because it felt real. In a world that often encourages us to move faster, consume more and seek constant stimulation, this small island offered something entirely different—a reminder that there is great richness in simplicity, and that some of life’s most meaningful experiences are found when we slow down enough to truly notice where we are.
Santorini: Spectacular Beauty, But Not My Favourite
Our final stop was Santorini, and after nearly two weeks of hiking through Naxos, Iraklia and Amorgos, it felt like stepping into a completely different world.
There is no denying its beauty. The volcanic cliffs, whitewashed buildings and sweeping views across the Aegean are as breathtaking as the images suggest. The Fira-to-Oia hike was a fitting finale, with unforgettable views and a sunset that lives up to its reputation.
But after the simplicity and authenticity of the smaller islands, Santorini’s energy felt very different.
The streets were busy, filled with luxury boutiques, souvenir shops and restaurants positioned for the view. Everywhere you looked, people were filming, photographing or curating moments for social media.
What stood out most was how performative it all felt at times. Influencers livestreaming, others posing repeatedly for the perfect shot, and even dress-and-photography packages, turning the island into a kind of open-air studio.
It was fascinating, and undeniably impressive, but also overwhelming in contrast to what we had just experienced.
One small moment cut through it all. Sitting outside a taverna while Beverly was inside, a woman approached me and asked, “Are you Justine?” She was a friend of Jenny’s from Christchurch, who had been told to look out for me. In the middle of all the noise, it was a quiet reminder of genuine connection.
Still, the contrast with the smaller islands remained.
In Iraklia, Amorgos and Naxos, life felt simpler, more grounded, and more connected to place.
Santorini was breathtaking, but the smaller islands stayed with me.
The Greatest Souvenir
When I think back on these 14 days, it won’t be the luxury stores, the expensive meals, or even the famous sunsets that stay with me.
It will be the rocky trails.
The summit of Mount Zas—shared with Beverly, whose decision to step into possibility changed the shape of the journey from the very beginning.
The tiny island of Iraklia.
The hidden cove we discovered together.
The simplicity of Amorgos.
The farm in Naxos, where food, land, and community came together so naturally.
And the quiet reminder that health, happiness and meaning are often found in the most ordinary of places.
More than 200 kilometres across four islands taught me many things.
But perhaps the biggest lesson was this:
The most meaningful journeys don’t just change your location—they shift your perspective. They have a way of deepening appreciation for the life you return to, and for me, that included an immense gratitude for living in New Zealand.
And perhaps most of all, they remind us that what we’re searching for is often already here, quietly present in our everyday lives, if we’re willing to slow down enough to notice it.
Camino Woman Greek Islands adventure – their next group departs in Sept, and there are still 2 spots left, so if this has inspired you, check them out! …Here
