Sleep came easy and I was unconscious for a solid ten hours. Starting out groggy and unenthusiastic, I felt much better after a few kilometres, even without breakfast.
My target for today would be Mavrovouni, 70km away, and my first stop on the Mani peninsula, the next ‘finger’ of the Peleponesse. I wasn’t going to kill myself however. Most of the journey would be on small roads hugging the coast of the Laconian Gulf, with only a couple of short inland stretches on yesterday’s highway of death.
It being Saturday, I hoped for less commercial traffic, and it seemed that my intuition was right. Also, the main road was more forgiving in this section, with a decent cycling space, good surface, and generally devoid of lacerating vegetation. The few dogs I met couldn’t have given less of a shit about some sweaty guy pedalling past.
It wasn’t long before I was sailing through the streets of Papadianika, a mid-sized wholly Greek town. I passed a church hosting an Orthodox funeral, so I stopped for a coffee across the street to observe events, the atmosphere dominated by over-amplified chanting priests.
The deceased was carried out in an eleborate ebony casket and quickly driven away. I stood with the old men to pay respect. A group of young beer drinkers nearby looked me up-and-down, debated among themselves, then reluctantly got up to make a half-hearted sign of the cross. Once the hearse had departed a fresh round was ordered and the party really kicked off. It reminded me of the buzz in any rural Irish market town on a Saturday afternoon.
From there it was back to a quiet coast road with awesome cliff views, and a beach that seemed to stretch forever across the armpit of the Gulf. The route was softly undulating, allowing a satisfying pace, but it was hot and gusty. I hydrated at several fuel stations along the way, all of which were crowded with local men doing business, scribbling in notebooks over freddos. These garages are the social outlet in these parts, as there is nowhere else to congregate.
I wafted through endless olive and lime groves, and sleepy agriculture towns where locals were happy to exchange pleasantries. Much less pleasant was the immense amount of roadside litter and fly tipping. Disturbingly, a lot of this waste included discarded pesticide containers and application injectors, most dumped in eutrophied ditches. I took many pictures and will be chasing-up with the companies involved. This is not to excuse the Greek predilection for littering which, frankly, is a national embarrassment.
Overall though, it was a very pleasant day of trundling, perhaps the most enjoyable yet. There was a period of strong headwinds, but it turned into a typically lovely, sunny evening. 10km outside of Mavrovouni I parked at a layby to watch and listen to the huge breakers below, as the sun set on the mountains beyond. Shame about the toilet ‘facilities’ though.
To get to the campsite at Mavrovouni I needed to go straight through the large tourist town of Githio. I was expecting a standard Greek piss-up venue, but it’s actually a very nice place, with a long promenade leading to a centre choc-full of upmarket restaurants hosting mostly well-heeled Greeks, with their speedboats and yachts parked nearby.
Strangely and by coincidence, just then I had a recurring attack of jogger’s nipple. With such a debilitating condition I would need to spend Sunday recovering, and maybe dine with the jetset in one of these fine establishments 😜
But for tonight it was onwards to Camping Meltimi up the road. Now THIS is a campsite! Situated on a lovely beach, well-managed and reasonably priced at 10 euro per night. I found a quiet spot under an olive tree, pitching-up on soft grass. Then it was a walk along the sand to a nearby tavern for a dose of fried cheese, peppers and rice while listening to sweeping Greek ballads. No idea what they’re singing about, but it all sounds so damn tragic. Raki was poured down my throat in recompense.
No tragedy here though. Great day, good mileage, happy out!
