I hadn’t planned to be in Rhodes this summer.

Back in late 2024, Sam Fender announced a run of stadium gigs for June 2025 at St James’ Park in Newcastle, my hometown, and at London Stadium. My wife and her best friend were desperate for tickets, and having seen Sam and his band live before, I knew how good they were. This time felt even more special though, with support from CMAT, who I’d seen and enjoyed previously, and The War on Drugs, one of my favourite bands.

On the morning tickets went on sale, I logged on early. After a long wait, I only managed to grab tickets for the Thursday night show in Newcastle, the one night The War on Drugs weren’t supporting. Frustrated but still determined to see them, I picked up tickets for their London date on June 6th.

Sam Fender - St James Park Newcastle, Thursday June 12th

But then, earlier this year, The War on Drugs cancelled their entire 2025 tour.

By the time we added up train fares, a night in a hotel, food, and maybe the odd attraction, the trip to London was going to cost over £500 each. For that kind of money, we figured we could get a whole week abroad. We already had tickets to see Sam in Newcastle, so we sold the London tickets and booked a holiday instead.

We knew we wanted to visit one of the Greek islands. I’ve always loved the scenery, it reminds me of one of my favourite films, The Big Blue, which was shot on Amorgos. The opening scenes, filmed in black and white, are breathtaking: whitewashed houses set against the sea, the contrast simple and beautiful. I wanted to capture something similar in my own black-and-white photographs.

We chose Rhodes, and more specifically, a quieter area called Plimmiri, about 30km from the coast of Lindos. The idea was to relax in peace and visit Lindos for a day.

When we headed to Lindos, we booked a taxi rather than hiring a car. It cost a little more, but it turned out to be a great decision. Our driver, Georgios, was warm and chatty. On the way, he spoke to us about the wildfires that had devastated Rhodes in 2023, how they’d destroyed land, wildlife, businesses, and left residents homeless. Even two years on, the scars were visible: thousands of dead trees stretched as far as the eye could see. Burnt-out buildings still stood in places, and construction efforts were ongoing.

After around 45 minutes, we arrived in Lindos and the heat hit me. It was 35°C, much hotter than the pleasant 26°C we’d left behind in Plimmiri. We were dropped off above the town and walked down through its narrow streets to the bay. I was taken aback by how busy it was. Sun loungers covered every inch of the beach, it looked like there wasn’t a single free spot.

It made me think about what’s happening in Spain right now, residents protesting against overtourism, especially on islands like Ibiza, where rising property prices are pushing locals out. People are paying up to €1,000 a month for tiny rooms. How long before that unrest spreads to other destinations? And am I part of the problem? After all, I’m just another tourist.

After lunch, we climbed up to the Acropolis. The heat made it hard going, and I took a few shady stops on the way, passing sensible cats sprawled out in the cool. At the top, I paid the €20 entry fee, took a few shots, and headed back down. Truthfully, I’m more interested in photographing the day-to-day than the main attractions. But even the smaller streets of Lindos felt overwhelmingly touristy.

I couldn’t shake the conversation I’d had with Georgios. His words—and the landscape, kept coming back to me. On the ride back to Plimmiri, I looked out at the blackened hills and wondered how many years it will take Rhodes to heal.

When disasters strike places like this, the media descend in a frenzy. But they leave just as quickly, and the islanders are left behind to rebuild—with little fanfare and even less help.

We spent the last couple of days enjoying the sunshine (and the drinks), taking a few local walks. I met some lovely horses and donkeys—and some less-than-lovely mosquitoes that left me with a few lasting souvenirs.

On the bus back to the airport—a three-hour journey—I found myself photographing the passing trees through the window. It reminded me, in a strange way, of the cover of Robert Frank’s The Americans—a reverse perspective, perhaps. That book explored class division in America, and this ride made me reflect on a similar split: the duality of life in Rhodes—the carefree holidays of tourists like me, and the everyday struggles of the locals still recovering from the fires.

Tourism once saved these islands. Now, in many ways, it’s pricing the people who live there out of their own homes. The balance is delicate, and possibly tipping.

As with all my blogs, these are just my thoughts. In the words of Sam Fender in Crumbling Empire:
“I’m not preaching, I’m just talking.”

The Left Behind

A Day In The Garden