Which island is Homer’s Ithaca?

In Homer’s epic tales, The Iliad and The Odyssey, Ithaca is the homeland of Odysseus – the wily hero of the Trojan War and the man whose long journey home defines The Odyssey. So, where is Ithaca? Easy, you might say – there’s an island today called Ithaca. But that island got its name relatively recently, and it doesn’t quite match the descriptions in Homer’s text.

This mystery has puzzled people for centuries – since at least the 2nd century BC. Scholars, explorers, and enthusiasts have combed through Homer’s words and studied the geography of the Ionian Islands to try and identify the “real” Ithaca.

One strong candidate is Lefkada. And, in my view, it makes a very compelling case. I often think about this when I’m standing at the Skaros or Katharia Rachi viewpoints (photos here from Skaros). From here, the view aligns uncannily with Homer’s description. Here’s the original passage, first in Ancient Greek, then in English:

εἴμ᾽ Ὀδυσεὺς Λαερτιάδης, ὃς πᾶσι δόλοισιν
ἀνθρώποισι μέλω, καί μευ κλέος οὐρανὸν ἵκει.
ναιετάω δ᾿ Ἰθάκην ἐυδείελον· ἐν δ᾽ ὄρος αὐτῃ
Νήριτον εἰνοσίφυλλον, ἀριπρεπές· ἀμφὶ δὲ νῆσοι
πολλαὶ ναιετάουσι μάλα σχεδὸν ἀλλήλῃσι,
Δουλίχιόν τε Σάμη τε καὶ ὑλήεσσα Ζάκυνθος.
αὐτὴ δὲ χθαμαλὴ πανυπερτάτη εἰν ἁλὶ κεῖται
πρὸς ζόφον, αἱ δέ τ᾽ ἄνευθε πρὸς ἠῶ τ᾽ ἠέλιόν τε,
τρηχεῖ᾽, ἀλλ᾽ ἀγαθὴ κουροτρόφος· οὔ τοι ἐγώ γε
ἧς γαίης δύναμαι γλυκερώτερον ἄλλο ἰδέσθαι.

I am Odysseus, son of Laertes, known among men for all manner of wiles,
and my fame reaches to the heavens. I dwell in clear-seen Ithaca,
where stands mount Neriton, clothed in waving woods, visible from afar.
Many islands lie around it, close to one another—Dulichium, Same, and wooded Zacynthus.
Ithaca itself lies low, the furthest on the sea line, towards the darkness,
while the others lie toward the Dawn and the sun.
A rugged land, but a good nurse of young men; and for me,
there is nothing sweeter than one’s own country.

Now, if you stand on Skaros in Lefkada, you can see that very same panorama. Perhaps, just perhaps, Odysseus stood on this same huge oak tree-covered mountain in his youth. From here, you can spot the surrounding islands: Same (modern Ithaca), Dulichium (Kefalonia), and Zacynthus (still known as Zakynthos) – all lying roughly where Homer says they should. And Lefkada itself? It’s close to the mainland, further north than the others, rugged – and it fits many of Homer’s clues: tick, tick, tick, tick.

But it’s not that simple. Ancient Greek is notoriously tricky to translate, and meaning can hinge on context – especially in poetry. Take the phrase “towards the dark” (πρὸς ζόφον). Some interpret this as “toward the west” (opposite of Dawn), suggesting the westernmost island. Others, for example the Roman historian Strabo, see it as possibly meaning “opposite the sun” – i.e., to the north. And Lefkada is the northernmost and closest to the mainland. Although that phrase is sometimes interpreted as “farthest out to sea,” which muddies things further. Of course current “Ithaca” is neither most west, north, closest nor furthest out.

Then there’s the archaeology, caves, rocky paths, and other nearby locations that play into the saga. It’s been debated for over 2,200 years, and if you Google “Homer’s Ithaca,” you’ll find a sea of theories and passionate defenders of each. Internet arguments are just the latest chapter in a very old story.

But here’s the thing: it is a story. Yes, perhaps based on real events, but just like modern films, it’s shaped by the imagination of the storyteller. There were probably no one-eyed giants, and maybe “Ithaca” was a poetic amalgamation of several places familiar to Homer.

Still, stand on Skaros, read the lines aloud, and imagine a young Odysseus taking in that same view 3,500 years ago. Maybe. At the very least it is the same archipeligo. And if nothing else, it’s a view worthy of a hero.

Now… who threw that spear?

Line-by-line interpretation:

• εἴμ᾽ Ὀδυσεὺς Λαερτιάδης
  I am Odysseus, son of Laertes — standard heroic intro.
• ὃς πᾶσι δόλοισιν ἀνθρώποισι μέλω
  known among all men for cunning — “δόλοισιν” (doloisin) = tricks/deceits.
• καί μευ κλέος οὐρανὸν ἵκει
  and my fame reaches the sky/heavens — classic Homeric “kleos” (glory).
• ναιετάω δ᾿ Ἰθάκην ἐυδείελον
  I dwell in clear-seen Ithaca — “ἐυδείελος” (eudeielos) is tricky: often translated “sunny” or “clear-seen” (visible), possibly because it’s open or not mountainous.
• ἐν δ᾿ ὄρος αὐτῇ Νήριτον εἰνοσίφυλλον, ἀριπρεπές
  There is a mountain in it, Neriton, shaking with leaves, conspicuous — “εἰνοσίφυλλον” is poetically beautiful: literally “leaf-shaking,” likely meaning windy and forested.
• ἀμφὶ δὲ νῆσοι πολλαὶ ναιετάουσι μάλα σχεδὸν ἀλλήλῃσι
  Around it many islands lie, very close to each other — this suggests a cluster of nearby islands, which is key to geographic arguments. “Many” could imply more than just the four named islands.
• Δουλίχιόν τε Σάμη τε καὶ ὑλήεσσα Ζάκυνθος
  Dulichium, Same, and wooded Zakynthos — these names survive today as Kefalonia (Dulichium most likely), modern Ithaca (Same?), and Zakynthos.
• αὐτὴ δὲ χθαμαλὴ πανυπερτάτη εἰν ἁλὶ κεῖται
  Itself (Ithaca) lies low, furthest on the sea line — “χθαμαλὴ” = low-lying; “πανυπερτάτη” = furthest out to sea or highest in some translations, creating confusion.
• πρὸς ζόφον, αἱ δὲ τ᾿ ἄνευθε πρὸς ἠῶ τ᾿ ἠέλιόν τε
  toward the darkness, while the others lie toward the dawn and the sun — “ζόφος” can mean west or north; “ἠώς” (dawn) is east; “ἠέλιος” (sun) often implies south. So “towards the dark” = maybe west, maybe north. “The others” could mean just the named islands or “many” islands.
• τρηχεῖ᾽, ἀλλ᾿ ἀγαθὴ κουροτρόφος
  rugged, but a good nurse of young men — a land that’s tough but nurturing.
• οὔ τοι ἐγώ γε ἧς γαίης δύναμαι γλυκερώτερον ἄλλο ἰδέσθαι
  there is nothing sweeter to me than one’s own land — timeless sentiment.

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Why translation is so debated:

• Words like ζόφος (dark) and πανυπερτάτη (furthest/highest) are poetic and context-dependent.
• In many translations the description fits modern Ithaca the least.
• Homer was probably drawing from oral tradition, not cartography, so the “directions” might be more symbolic than literal.
• Some believe Homer never visited the islands and based them on hearsay or combined elements from various locations.

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