“Have you ever seen so many people here? Not even on the 15th of August!” exclaims a young woman from the village of Stefani to her friend, her eyes bright with joy and sentiment as she watches 400 people with musical instruments fill the village square. Musicians Ex Machina is a group of motorcycle-riding musicians who each year breathe new life into remote Greek villages through their events. And this September they chose her village. Stefani of Aspropotamos (or Skliniasa in the Vlach dialect) is a village located high in the mountains of Trikala near the border with Epirus, sitting at 1,480 meters and surrounded by three mountain peaks.

During winter, the village has no permanent residents. Andreas and Antigone, who have taken over the village café, come up only on some weekends with friends. In summer, things are a little better: a few expatriates return for their holidays, along with shepherds who still bring their flocks here and a few hunters when hunting is permitted. Historically a transhumant Vlach village, Stefani has never had a significant population in the winter, but in the summers it used to be vibrant. And up until September 2023, there was a paved road that led to the village, but then the area was devastated by Storm Daniel. Now, the entire Aspropotamos area is accessible only by dirt roads, as streams, rivers, and the Aspropotamos River itself—that is the Achelous—turned into a massive torrent that swept away everything in its path.

Stefani is not the only village touched by solitude. For decades, as is well known, Greece’s mountain villages have been steadily emptying. In winter, wild boars, wolves and bears pass through untroubled, and nature, in the absence of humans, reclaims what’s hers. The villages lie blanketed in snow and silence. And while post-COVID a desire to return to the countryside has emerged, life in mountainous regions still poses significant challenges for young families due to the absence of schools, medical facilities, public transport, and even passable roads.

In defiance of this gradual desertion, Musicians Ex Machina have been riding their motorcycles into these isolated villages for the past six years. They aren’t a collective or an association but a tight-knit group of motorcycle-riding musicians who organize spontaneous, three-day festivities, an idea sparked by musician Dimitris Mystakidis and embraced by others. Many among the group already traveled around the mountains of Greece with their motorbikes, instruments and tents – the idea was simply to do it at the same time all together and work with locals to symbolically revive a remote village for a brief spell. “No one leads, no one follows, no one is left out,” says Mystakidis, who of course understands that the initiative is unlikely to change the situation in these villages from one day to the next, but believes it may shift a few perspectives and bring joy to local communities. Sharing and solidarity are the core values here.

And Mystakidis stays true to his motto: he doesn’t lead. Each person contributes as they would on a trip with friends – even if the group has now grown to 400-500 people. To support such gatherings, the musicians collaborate with a local association in each village, which helps secure food and drink for the travelers. Nevertheless, the group always arrives prepared with their own supplies, as these remote villages may not be in a position to cover all of their needs.

That said, the residents of Stefani were ready to host, prepared like true professionals. Dozens of young volunteers from the surrounding area, along with the cultural association from the neighboring village of Krania, organized everything brilliantly, spending three sleepless autumn days and nights both hosting and celebrating. The revenue from visitors’ purchases always goes toward local infrastructure projects, which Musicians Ex Machina confirm with each village beforehand. In Stefani, they raised €8,900, which will go toward restoring the stone path that leads to a scenic viewpoint above the village. What’s more, this year, the village of Helidona in Evrytania – last year’s destination for Musicians Ex Machina – donated an additional €300 to Stefani, a form of solidarity that appears to be creating a network.

Nature, music, coexistence

These gatherings aren’t your typical village festivals, nor are they for everyone. They come with their own set of challenges – outdoor living in autumn, damaged roads, and a lack of cellphone service. And there are a few rules: there must be no involvement of political figures or sponsors, and the villages selected are only those that have populations in the single digits, are difficult to reach and have a clear need for support—like the fire-ravaged Tsapournia in Evia two years ago, or Stefani this year whose road network and electricity grid have yet to be repaired following the impact of Storm Daniel.

Amid the indescribably rich nature of Aspropotamos, we saw electricity pylons snapped and dangling from their lines, roads that had been swallowed by rivers, slopes eroded into landslides, and giant uprooted tree trunks scattered across the landscape. Yet, we also saw 400 people arrive from the Friday onwards – some in groups, others solo – each ready to contribute to the experience, knowing they’d all be united here. Tents popped up in playgrounds, open spaces, the courtyard of the church of Aghia Paraskevi, and even nestled in the gardens and balconies of homes that had opened their gates for the gathering.

We saw guitars, bouzoukis, accordions, and toubeleki drums played impromptu day and night, without a set list, amplifiers or microphones, the music flowing naturally. We saw people from all across Greece – Anchialos, Thessaloniki, Komotini, Kalamata – brave the fractured roads, the chance of rain, and a humidity so intense it made everything drip at night, and sing until daybreak beneath the great plane tree. We saw locals playing their clarinets, weaving Epirote melodies into the air and voicing their concerns over hydroelectric projects that threaten the Aspropotamos landscape. We saw the women of Krania arrive laden with trays of pies, cauldrons of bean soup simmering in the open air, and a grill serving up endless souvlakia. The Greek Rescue Team from Trikala gave workshops on first aid in the event of a motorcycle accident.

For three days, we heard beloved rebetika tunes fill the air as people sang, danced, and reveled together in an extraordinary show of connection and joy. At 8 a.m. on Sunday, we heard the bouzouki of one Apostolis, who had played through the night, echoing across the mountains with “Prin to Charama” (Before the Dawn) – then total silence. It was like a manifesto against the state’s neglect of nature and mountain communities, yet also a message of hope: that perhaps those people who think and act collectively can create a better world.