With all due respect to my parents, who are a few years older than me and toughing out a hot summer in the California desert, I know better than they do what it feels like to be a dinosaur. That is because, with one possible exception, I must be the oldest person on this often overlooked Greek island called Ios. 

I am thinking about how thoroughly depressing that is as I drink in the view of one of the most mythic beaches in Europe, Mylopotas. This golden curl of sand was once famous as a hippie hangout on the level of Ibiza, and still retains the vibe. 

Some say Homer died on this delicious heap of rocks in the southern reaches of the Aegean Sea, and there is a tomb here that more or less proves it. Starting in September though, Ios is going to have more cultural wind in its sails than a bust of the legendary poet in its small port and a footnote on its Wikipedia page. 

On September 14, the Gaitis-Simossi Museum will open on a hilltop overlooking the chora, or main town of the island, and the Mediterranean Sea behind it. It will showcase the life works of a renowned Greek painter, Yannis Gaitis — who spent the last decade of his life in Ios — and his partner, the sculptor Gabriella Simossi. 

As a measure of the significance, the president of Greece, Katerina Sakellaropoulou, will reportedly be on hand to inaugurate the museum, which was several years in the making. It was in the mid-1960s that Mr. Gaitis, according to Greece’s National Gallery, started making his “well-known figure of a little man, which he originally repeated around a central representation and later made into a schematic and standardized figure, constituting a symbol and ironic means of social criticism.”

The artists’ daughter, the architect Loretta Gaiti, recreated oversized elements of the little man’s signature bowler hat and profile into the exterior of the museum’s two main buildings. One building houses Gaitis’s works and the other, a high-ceilinged warehouse-style building with colossal arches, contains her mother’s  monumental sculptures.

The dominant color on the exterior is bright Cycladic white, which speaks to the character of the islands in these parts: elemental, uncomplicated, and cleansed by an unrelenting sun.

The sun, after all — along with gorgeous beaches — is what seems to attract half of the under-25 population of Australia here in any given summer. This one, a recent visit seemed to indicate, was no exception. 

While Mykonos has a mystique of its own, Ios has a groove that I have to confess hits you like a crafty island cocktail. Even its name carries with it the deceptively simple, charged exoticism of a Bali or Ibiza, and is said to stem from an ancient Greek word for flowers — possibly violets. 

Ios is wild in aspect; hilly, rugged, and despite the inroads of tourism, sometimes startlingly empty. There are cliffs that plunge precipitously to blue glass seas, lonely blue and white churches, olive trees blown sideways by the Aegean wind and yes — I saw them — patches of violets.

The best way to explore the chiseled coast is by boat, and doing so need not be expensive. 

At the little port of Ios, the main attraction is the absence of any “Instragrammable” attraction. There is a smattering of seaside cafés, the broad Gialos Beach, and a few small hotels. 

Driving in Ios is an adventure in switchbacks, sweeping views, and solitude. I can think of nowhere else in the world where a road can make you feel as if you are literally flying over the sky, with the contours of the island of Santorini seemingly underneath you. 

There are more beaches in Ios than I will have time for, and I sadly had no time for Kalamos. Koumpara, a beach closer to the port, is also near the Erego Beach Club, a place flamboyant and monumental in scale. The owner also has a couple of hotels on the island, if your tastes lean to the theatrical. I thought smaller places like Liostasi and a new spot called Bliss are more in keeping with the laidback island vibe.

Another famous beach is Manganari, actually a series of three beaches with Caribbean-caliber golden sand and aquamarine water. Scenes from the French movie “Le Grand Bleu” were filmed here. 

Illusory as it is, in places like Manganari, Ios can feel as remote as a lost continent, and though it’s small, the scale of things can surprise you. Where am I, really? It’s a question that I will be asking myself repeatedly over the course of the three days I’m rambling around the island. At one point I had to wait for a trip of goats to cross the road. Those wily creatures are responsible for some fine local cheeses.  

Generally Ios is not a foodie island — think Naxos or Tinos for that — but one could do worse. On the road to the fine beach at Agia Theodoti, I passed by a traditional taverna called Bilaeti, and stopped in for the signature garden salad and a rectangle of baked feta cheese roasted with black sesame and honey. It was good.

The absence of touristic iconography lends an authenticity to Ios that can be disarming at times. Look, there’s a cove with dazzling blue water and not a beach bar in sight. Over there, a donkey with some old windmills in the background — and no one around to take a picture. For now, that is.