Yesterday’s breakers had given-way to a perfectly still sea, into which I ran and blindly dived, head-first into a blacmange of giant jellyfish! Luckily they weren’t stinging today.
After stretches on the beach I caught up with the Sunday news and was really saddened to see that Navid Afkari had been hanged in Iran, despite his obvious innocence. What is it with these evil clerical bastards? If we really tried we could create heaven on earth. But no, let’s spend our time promoting misery and poverty, as if these are divine virtues for which we will be later rewarded. Fuck that shit!
The campsite was basic, and seemed to be populated exclusively by Greeks, who were very friendly. I had saluted one caravaning couple as I walked to dinner last night, and when they saw me returning from my morning swim, they came over to my tent to give me a fresh cup of strong, gritty Greek coffee. How sweet!
I grabbed supplies in Astros and rejoined the coast route south. The target today is the island town of Monemvasia, 84km as the crow flies, but 141km by winding road that goes inland and, it seems, into the mountains. I probably won’t make it but I have nothing else planned apart from the occasional swim, and to prepare for some work calls on Monday morning.
Several km further, I could see the road ahead snaking up a mountain. This time I would be prepared! I pulled in to a garage and made straight for the ice cabinet. The lady attendant was not pleased to have been disturbed from doing absolutely nothing and grudgingly accepted my 2 Euro for a 4kg bag of ice. She then watched, slack-jawed, as I loaded some cubes into my water bottles and lashed the remainder to the bike. I threw an electrolyte tablet into one bottle and moved-on.
I’m definitely in backcounty now. The drivers here are insane and I’ve witnessed some scary scenes where locals in tiny bangers come screeching around corners, thinking that just blasting their horn will be enough to save them from careering into the nearest olive grove. This seems to explain why there are so many dollhouse chapels around. I even passed a mini chapel wholesaler!
I am being super-alert, not taking any chances. Nevertheless, I would like my tiny memorial chapel to be bright green with red frilly curtains, a bicycle instead of a cross, and a bottle of Paulaner Weissbier inside 😁
Seriously though, as the road veered inland the tiny hard shoulder disappeared, and I was beginning to feel quite exposed. I sat in the shade of an olive tree and studied the map. Sure enough, this was the only road that would bring me back to the coast, so I opted to walk the bike on the opposite side of the road, to face oncoming traffic, until the situation would improve. No Monemvasia today.
Never mind! The views were once again worth it, I stopped at the top of the climb, put some ice cubes in a T-shirt and soaked up the vistas while the meltwater trickled through my helmet, on to my baking noggin, and all down my back. Bliss!
Although the road was still narrow and winding through tight rocky canyons, I felt confident enough to take on one long downhill section, icy T-shirt now wrapped around my neck. Due to the corkscrew bends I could roll faster than the traffic, and I left those suckers in my wake.
But then it was upwards again, this time to a cliff road hugging the coast profile. In a car, some people may be daunted to drive along here. On a bicycle I really didn’t feel safe, but I had no alternative but to press-on. Even though it was mid afternoon, out came every piece of fluorescent clothing I had, and I turned on the blinking lights, front and back.
It was treacherous but manageable. Whenever approaching a U-bend in the road, I’d find the safest spot to stop and listen out for traffic. If all was clear I’d go hell-for-leather to the next safe spot. Rinse and repeat. This may seem overly cautious, but the idiocy of drivers must be factored-in, and indeed there was some ludicrous overtaking going on. The situation wasn’t helped by the large amounts of detritus – mostly glass and bits of crashed car – that littered the side of the road. My right arm and leg oozed blood from being grazed by the outstretched vegetation. Ever been whipped by an unripened olive? Believe me, it stings! 😄
I must admit to feeling a little deflated after a while. Was it to be like this all the way south? Am I doomed to a constant game of cat and mouse? Will I ever sup Freddo cappuccino on the terraces of Monemvasia?
But then, like a miracle, a group of local teenagers on mopeds came blazing up behind me. No helmets of course. We exchanged thumbs-up and they formed what seemed like a protective escort around me, holding up the traffic behind. They willed me on for a kilometre or so before speeding off, honking and howling. That really lifted the spirits 🤟
I stopped for late lunch at a tiny roadside restaurant. They only had moussaka left. It was barely lukewarm, and the bread was hard, but it didn’t matter; I gladly wolfed it all down. Then a quick dip at a nearby cove before remounting. Feeling much better!
I been recommended to stay a night at Zaristi campground, near the town of Tyros. I happily saw that it was only a few km down the road, so that would be my new target for the day, have a beer and really study tomorrow’s route.
Zaristi was tricky to find, but what a nice place! Well kept campground with an almost deserted shingle beach doused by crystal clear Aegean water. The owner, Vassilis, welcomed me loudly and gave me the pick of spots, right on the shore.
A few surly looking, leather-skinned German couples looked me up-and-down with suspicious beady eyes. Sure, you’ll have that. Beer time!
