I left the southern beaches behind in the early morning and followed the winding coastal road toward the far west of Rhodes. The road curved through small villages, each with a café opening its doors and the smell of fresh bread drifting into the street. The landscape became wilder the further I went, with pine-covered hills on one side and the open Aegean Sea on the other. Eventually, I saw it, Monolithos Castle, standing high on a rocky cliff, looking out over the endless horizon.
There is a small parking area at the base of the hill. From there, a stone path climbs toward the castle. It is not a long walk, but the stones can be uneven, so good shoes help. The air was fresh, carrying the scent of pine and sea salt. As I climbed, the sound of the waves far below seemed to get louder, like a steady heartbeat of the island.
Monolithos Castle was built by the Knights of St. John in the 15th century to guard the coastline. Today, only parts of the walls remain, but the location is what makes it unforgettable. At the top, the ground falls away on three sides, leaving you with an uninterrupted view of the blue sea and the small islands scattered offshore. The white chapel of Agios Panteleimon stands quietly inside the ruins, its walls bright against the weathered stone.
I walked slowly along the edge, looking out at the water. A fisherman’s boat moved far below, its wake trailing like a thin white thread. Behind me, the inland hills rolled into the distance, covered in green. There were only a handful of other visitors, and for long moments I felt as if I had the entire place to myself.
I had brought a bottle of water and some fruit, knowing there are no shops up here. A local in the nearby village of Siana had told me to take my time and stay until the sun began to lower, when the light softens and the sea turns a deeper shade of blue. He was right. As the afternoon stretched on, the view seemed to grow calmer, almost timeless.
On the way down, I stopped in Siana for a late lunch. The village is known for its honey and souma, a local spirit. I chose a small taverna where the owner served me grilled lamb with oregano, a salad of tomatoes and cucumbers, and a piece of bread still warm from the oven. He offered me a small glass of souma, smiling as he told me it was made from grapes grown just outside the village.
Driving back along the coast, I kept glancing in the mirror at the cliff where Monolithos Castle stood. From a distance, it looked even more like a watchful guardian of the sea. The visit had been simple, quiet, and free, yet it felt like one of the most powerful places I had seen on Rhodes.