It was a restless night, not with thoughts of tax woes or sorrow for leaving Kyparissi, but by strange sounds coming from the mountain.
Several times I was woken and sat on the balcony for a better listen, the whole village quietly asleep below me. It was ghostly, ethereal, almost human, like a beckoning whisper or a warning from the Gods. Probably the winds blowing through the rocky canyons, it did send shivers down the spine, but I also found it oddly comforting. Certainly the most unusual sound I have ever heard.
After work calls I discussed the route for the day with the hotel handyman, who felt obliged to help because he thought I was nuts, saying I could die up there. His tips turned out to be pure gold!
I thanked Stella and her assistant and hit the road, beginning with a sharp ascent and, admittedly a heavy heart when I reached the edge of town.
For days, people had been warning me of the treacherous ridge road to Pistamata. But I found it quite pleasant. Sure, it was a demanding climb, and the narrow cliff road was littered with rockfall which created deep pock marks. But it allowed a close-up view of Mt Parnonas and its sheer walls, from which huge limestone chunks had recently fallen. I found it all fascinating and spectacular, with the contrasting background of Kyparissi below and the turquoise Aegean beyond.
I reached Pistamata in no time then followed the morning’s good advice to swing left towards Lefkas, which afforded a long and thrilling downhill through several mountain villages. Resplendent in a luminescent yellow cycling shirt, the villagers I passed generally gave a gobsmacked or bemused reaction to my ‘kaliméra‘ as I whizzed past. It was fun!
Physically I was feeling well up for it, though this time I made sure to have a good fruity breakfast. There were some short climbs, but the best part was the exhilarating 15km descent back to sea level, which made me punch the air as a road sign confirmed I was then only 25km from Monemvasia. The gods were with me, no doubt.
I flitted over the undulating roads to my destination, stopping for a much-needed dip on a deserted beach.
Deciding against slumming it with imperious Germans sitting outside their over-the-top camper vans, I found a cheap apartment 2km outside Monemvasia and settled-in for the night, knackered but happy. I’ll explore town in the morning.
