7am, I lept out of bed and cycled over the hill for a final swim in Nafplio, then back for a fine breakfast of Greek yoghurt, oats, honey and sweet cake with coffee. Feeling good!
I had a great chat with another hotel guest, Jeannette from Breda, and it would have been nice to stay around, but it was suddenly 11am, so I made my apologies and packed-up for the road. But not before stopping for a final fresh pear juice 👍
First port of call today was Tiryns, a UNESCO site and reputed home of Heracles, the mythical ‘biefstuk‘, later adopted by the Romans as their own hero/god, Hercules. There is so much history and lore around these parts that it’s impossible to keep on top of it all, and I certainly won’t be reproducing the stories and confusing genealogies here. Suffice to say for now, he was the illegitimate son of Zeus, and later killed his own wife and kids, leading to his ‘punishment’: the 12 labours, which are celebrated at various sites across Greece.
Tiryns is only 4km outside of Nafplio, along a ridiculously busy trunk road with a spartan hard shoulder. Suddenly there it was, with imposing walls screaming for attention.
Strangely though, apart from a departing French couple, I had the whole place to myself. There was a tiny wooden box office with one lady inside, and a comatose-looking groundsman lazily shuffling around, chain smoking in the shade. Nearby sat a huge ugly toilet block. It seemed the place has been forgotten and simply left to rot. There were no information signs or maps to explain what you are looking at, and the 4 Euro entry fee comes with a flimsy pamphlet that tells you very little. Wikipedia to the rescue. I wonder has anyone from UNESCO visited here recently because, if it were up to me, I would be aiming a lot of tough questions at the Greek antiquities department. Homer must be rolling in his grave.
Of the site itself, the walls are very impressive but they have, in my opinion, made a bad job of preserving them. The cement joints are very obvious, sloppy, and rob much of the character. Only small sections remain untouched and these really bring home how imposing this place must have been almost 5000 years ago. Certainly it would have been a daunting fortress to attack with just pointy sticks.
A lot of the internal structure felt reinterpreted, probably by over-zealous Victorians. There are many contemporary artifacts such as modern cement walls, and suspiciously placed stones that don’t seem to belong. The intention was probably to preserve the site from trampling tourists, but the execution leaves much to be desired. The most impressive part for me – the magazine with the stone roof – isn’t signposted at all, and I only found it accidentally, when I got lost looking for the exit.
Tiryns video will go here…when I have WiFi…
Before leaving I asked the ticket lady whether any sites near Mycenae would be open today. She said no. Looking at the map I decided it would be best to change tack and head south along the coast. Getting to the closed sites would require an inland trip on an univiting road in oppressive heat, and for little gain. The route back via Argos would necessitate cycling on a section of one of the main Greek motorways. If the main Mycenaean sites were open I would definitely chance it but, as-is, it would be a wasted effort. I’m definitely coming back to Nafplio though, so I’ll leave Mycenae for next time.
I gturned back to the coast and south to Lerna, where there is also a significant ancient site to explore. Much abuse from passing drivers. I am definitely allowed to cycle on that road, so fuck them. Keeping on my side of the hard shoulder, and not impinging on their space, my left leg, arm and face were lacerated by overgrown vegetation sticking out, and despite my ducking and weaving. Again, lots of rubbish was strewn along the road and horrific smells emanated from the many bins, all wide open in the 37 degree heat.
About halfway there, a car began to tail me. I was getting ready for more abuse, when it pulled-up and the window came down. It was a smiling Jeannette, my breakfast interlocutor! We both pulled over and had a good laugh about it before exchanging numbers. Then off she went to the airport, while I continued-on to Lerna, eager to enrich myself with some ancient history.
The site closes at 3.30pm and I got there with 20 minutes to spare. It was down a tiny dirt road, blink and you’d miss it.
I have to admit that I was somewhat shocked at the state of it. Again, the whole place was mine alone, and although it’s a fairly small site, the upkeep was decrepit to say the least. The provided leaflet for my 3 Euro gave one paragraph of general info. The information board had a map of the site, but it was faded and unreadable, there were no signs to tell me what I was looking at, and it was overgrown and generally chaotic. It is claimed that pottery as old as 7000 years was found there, but not a single piece was on display, nor were there any pictures of the finds.
Lerna video will go here…when I have WiFi…
Now, I’m not expecting perfection, but at least tell me something about the people who lived there, the purpose of the ancient structures, what artefacts were found, and maybe some of the associated mythology. Such a wasted opportunity! I had a quick look around before the solitary bored attendant told me he was closing the gate. I learned nothing from this visit, needing to consult Wikipedia to understand what I had just seen. Very disappointing!
Nevermind says I, there was a lovely coast road jaunt ahead, and once I got away from city traffic I was in cycling heaven. I loved it. Quiet, gently undulating roads hugging the shoreline, lots of deserted beaches, several of which drew me in for a quick swim. I was making great pace but, not wanting to hurry, I dismounted often to walk the bike while taking-in the awesome scenery. I’m amazed that I still haven’t met a single cyclist! Two Harley riders roared past me at one stage – I couldn’t help but think of that South Park episode: “Fags!” Later I passed them, parked-up, as one angrily kicked his engine. I resisted the temptation to say something snarky, but I gave a wink much to his displeasure. 😂
Pulling in to a remote beach bar to buy some water, the owner asked me where I was from, but misheard and loudly proclaimed how much he loved Reykjavík. When I corrected him he said he preferred Dublin all along, but Belfast was in his heart because that’s where Linfield F.C. are based, and his knowledge of geography is based solely on football clubs. He was hilarious, obviously a very happy man, and why wouldn’t he be, to live and work in such an idyllic place.
I moved on about 10km further south and came across an unnamed beach with huge waves, populated by windsurfers. I took a dip and decided to stay at a nearby campground. After haggling the lady down to 10 Euro – still pricey for my tiny tent – I pitched-up under a lime tree and went to find some dinner.
The nearest beach restaurant closed much earlier than expected, and the next one down the road was hosting a private party only. So I walked to the nearest town, Astros, where I found a busy outdoor bar showing the AEK – Olympiakis game. A biftek and beer later I was one of the lads and feeling quite good about it.
Before leaving I wrangled a couple of shots of tequila and triple sec from the barman – poured into an empty water bottle. I drifted back to my tent and squeezed a fresh lime from the tree into the mix, shaking it up. I sipped on the beach, scanning the Milky Way while reflecting on the day, and planning my assault on Monemvasia tomorrow.
I’m making great time, the legs are again happy to provide all the power I need, and overall I’m feeling top dollar! I keep asking myself why I don’t just stay on tour permanently.
Maybe this time I will.