Meteora: on the rocks

Posted on May 15, 2012 by BarryH

Monday dawned, and continued, very grey.  There are a number of weather forecasts for this part of the world and they are usually different.  None can be relied on.  The one thing that forecasts and locals are agreed on at the moment is that the weather will be ‘mixed’.  So I decided to do a series of short walks and stay fairly close to Kastraki rather than wander over the main block of mountains to the range of pinnacles beyond as I had done the last two days.

The first walk was to be up to a massive finger of rock sticking up in a col and then go up a path which the walking guide repeatedly describes as ‘EXTREMELY DANGEROUS’ and “suitable only for experienced climbers”. Sounded like my kind of walk.  Having gone wrong getting out of the village yet again I concluded that the walking guide is well out of date but with inbuilt direction finding I got onto and followed the path I was looking for.  No pinnacle-top monasteries, just very dramatic rocks.  From the pinnacle I made for the huge chunk of the rock I intended to climb ……  and then had an attack of common sense.

The bit which is considered dangerous looks pretty straightforward to me from the photographs but to get to it involves walking up a long sloping slab at about 30o.  Usually no problem whatsoever but after the recent very wet weather it was oozing all over and very slippery.  Those who know the mountains will know that it is always easier underfoot going up than coming down.  I could pick out a way heading up into the narrow gulley but coming down would be unacceptably risky given that an uncontrolled slide could be as much as 1000 feet, some of it vertically  … and I was on my own.  Hence the attack of common sense.  Having sussed out the route I would save it for when the rock has dried out.  Maybe another time.  Sorry guys, you can put the insurance policies away.

The pinnacle in the centre of the col was my initial target

I was heading up to the gully on the left when I had the attack of common sense

Another digression here. I have come to the conclusion that I am a vrachophile (from the Greek βράχος – a cliff-sized rock and φίλος – friend of) Sounds better than ‘petrophile’ and less open to misunderstanding.  I can’t help myself.  I like to photograph rock.  I like to touch it and hug it.  Maybe I’m weird.  Rocks are so much bigger, more permanent and artistically pleasing than anything man-made and incredibly captivating and hypnotic.

There are a limited number of pinnacle-top monasteries in Meteora, for which the area is very rightly famous, but there are scores of rock pinnacles which individually and especially collectively are worthy of fame and acclaim in their own right.  I take loads of photos just of rocks.  The monasteries atop them are only the icing on the cake.  What is great about them is that they complement the rocks.  They are man in harmony with nature not sticking his finger up in boastful superiority, claiming to overcome nature.  The rocks themselves are the thing.  The myriad coach trips ‘do’ nothing but monasteries, plus  tavernas and restaurants where the drivers and guides get a good deal.

Some rocks are much pock-marked by shallow caves

Some is much smoother

Some is incredibly fissured

But it’s definitely the backdrop to everything in Kastraki

As you climb higher the more of the rocks you see

Arranged in mysterious and seried ranks

All shapes and sizes but always there

From the rock pinnacle I dropped back down to the edge of the village and headed for an area with some very different examples of man taking advantage of nature.  This time building into and out from natural hollows / ‘caves’ in rock faces. In places wooden platforms still just out from natural shallow caves high up in the rock face.   They are know as ‘sketes’ and were originally reached by retractable wooden ladders so they could be pulled up in sections when danger threatened.  You can’t get much closer to the rock than those guys.

Some of the ‘sketes’ still surviving, testimony to the courage and effort of the early monks and to the enduring nature of wood.

Reached by retractable ladders in sections so you could pull them up behind you

Then there are more sophisticated structures, on a far grander scale than the ‘maison troglodyte’ in the Loire Valley

I spotted this bird on the remains of one of the sketes. I guess it’s a female ….

…. because a male spotted her as well …..

… and there followed a tender moment

As with this whole place you can’t appreciate the awe-inspiring scale of it without seeing it in the flesh.  The eye communicates with the brain in a way which no camera shot ever can.  The difference between the average amateur like me and your top landscape photographers is that they manage to get closer to expressing what the rest of us see.

After that I set out to suss the start of a path to an area I haven’t yet visited.  But not before buying my coach ticket for when I move on on Thursday and having an espresso in Kalabaka.  Which is where I was grateful to be when I had to shelter for half an hour from yet another violent thunderstorm and torrential rain.  The friend I made in the shop where I bought the walking guide assured me this afternoon as the rain started yet again that this weather is unheard of in May.  When the rain eased off and I emerged from my hidey hole underneath an awning outside a taverna, I soon found the path I was looking for, having been directed to it by my friend in the shop, and followed it.

I have the mentality that a walk cannot be finished until ‘somewhere’ is reached, a natural finish.  The top of a mountain.   A good viewpoint.  A good pub.  A proper full stop of some kind.  It’s very unsettling to just turn round in the middle of nowhere and go back.  I knew time was running out on me at the end of the afternoon but I couldn’t bring myself to turn back until I reached an identifiable finish.  I was just about the do the unthinkable and turn back mid-walk when …

…. I nearly trod on it.  There in the middle of the slab I was just about to step onto was the most dramatic lizard I have seen outside of a zoo.  Once again a ‘Wow!’ in Meteora.

On the path

With no sun it was too cold and sluggish to move quickly

Given limited conditions it was another really good day.

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Meteora: to the heights, a pain in the neck and views from prison

Posted on May 14, 2012 by BarryH

Sunday and my legs were tired after doing the planned walk twice yesterday in order to repeat photos with the sun in the right place.   So, like the over-optimistic man-of-the-mountains I fancy myself to be, I planned a walk which was shorter … but with a lot more ‘up’ (height gain).

The plan was to go up the rock named ‘Agios Pnevma’ – The Holy Spirit  – which towers above the upper part of Kastraki and then go to Roussanou Monastery, one of the more dramatically located, seeming to be wider than the base of the pinnacle of rock on which it stands.

That there is a path up Agio Pnevma is surprising to the point of being truly amazing.  Like many others the rock is just enormous and vertical, rising about 1000 feet from its base and about 3000 feet above sea level.  The path goes gradually upwards along its base  and then suddenly turns through 180 degrees and clings to the rock face to go diagonally and increasingly steeply upwards.  It reminded me of Jack’s Rake in Langdale in the Lake District.  Impossible to see until you are on it and then very narrow with a vertical drop to the left as you go up.  Great fun!!  There is no climbing involved but some sections are definitely ‘rock scrambling’ .  Once again not a walk for the trepid.  A tiny chapel in a cave at the top of the main climb and then a bit more of a scramble to the top of the rock itself which is furnished with flags and a bell.  Very exposed with vertical drops all round.  Fabulous views.

This is the point at which the ‘path’ starts going diagonally up to the left

Looking straight overhead the rocks seem to close in.  You can get a real pain in the neck craning upwards to look at the crags

At one point the path is ‘protected’ by a wire fence. Unfortunately all but two of the posts supporting it have snapped off.

The path emerges near-vertically under a massive overhanging rock with the door ……

….. to a tiny chapel.

Higher up still on the top of the rock of Agio Pnevma with flags and bell

…. and views vertically down to Kastraki

On the way down, clinging to the side of the rock, the view is straight ahead to Roussaneu Monastery, my target for the day.

Drop back down to the base of the rock and then cross the col to descend through scrubby trees into what the walking guide admits is an area of confusing and overgrown paths.  It is.  The guide stopped being any help here but I managed with little repetition, hesitation or deviation to find a path which led to the Monks’ Prison.  I had wondered what the monks had to do to be committed here but it seems that they committed themselves if they considered that they had failed in their holy duties or personal devotions or lifestyle.  This could save the judicial system a fortune if it were re-introduced.  And if people had consciences.  Perhaps better stick with what we’ve got.

Approaching the Monks’ Prison

 

Note the remains of the wooden platforms cantilevered out in the roof of the cave

Looking straight up inside the prison cave

The view out from inside prison

Another view from prison

From prison it was a relatively short if somewhat difficult-to-find and  prickly path to the main road and the way up to the Roussanou Monastery.  A bit of a road trudge because the path described in the book to cut off the hairpin bend doesn’t seem to exist.  I checked on the internet when I got back and someone else had had the same problem looking for it.

Approaching Roussaneau Monastery

Looking down over the monastery from the rocks above it

From the car park at the base of the pinnacle on which Roussanea stands there are steps winding upwards to the entrance but also continuing up behind the monastery to emerge at the top of rocks with panoramic views looking down across it.  I need to go back there earlier in the day to get the sun at a better angle for the serried rank of huge rock pinnacles opposite.

The weather was great.  Sunshine the whole day.  No thunderstorms anywhere in sight or sound.  That bit about being over-optimistic?  This was only the second day of walking in the mountains in Greece this year and I do tend to overestimate how fit I am and underestimate the effect of the heat.  Living in Grey Britain offers no preparation at all.  By the time I got back to Kastraki my legs were telling me I had been for a walk.  But I survived the day and thoroughly enjoyed it.  I had earned my glass of beer.

Just a reminder that not everything in Meteora is large scale

Tomorrow the blog will be on the rocks.  I promise, no more pics of monasteries.  Maybe.

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Meteora: first day’s wonderings

Posted on May 13, 2012 by BarryH

Meteora is visually iconic.  You see it and instantly recognise it, rarely by name or location but as “Oh! Yeh!  That place.  Didn’t they do a James Bond there once”.  It is like nowhere else.  Other countries have the odd monastery or castle on a rocky outcrop but as far as I know nowhere is there such a concentration of monasteries on the top of pinnacles of rock, precipitous and inaccessible on all sides.  Note that: on all sides.

When they were built, mostly around the 16th Century, the only way in to them was either to climb the vertical rock or by means of pulleys, ropes and rope baskets.  Apparently ropes were only changed when they snapped (no concept of routine or preventative maintenance in those days): pity the poor soul in the basket at the time.  Only in the 1930’s were steps cut to give access when the local bishop became concerned for the safety, and maybe the dignity, of his religious personage.  Now there are car parks with trinket stalls and vast numbers of people flock every day by the coach load from Athens, Thessaloniki and  islands within striking distance of the mainland.

The Rough Guide says get there early to avoid the crowds.  Must be joking!!!  The hotel I’m in is on the route to the monasteries, breakfast is served from 08.00 and when I sat down at 08.05 on Saturday morning coaches were already lumbering past on the uphill grind.

Saturday started grey and cool so I dressed and packed my rucksack accordingly.  Within half an hour the sky had cleared, the sun come out.  Back to the Greek weather I’m familiar with.  There is a very good book, “The Footpaths of Meteora” available locally and I had planned a route from it to just a few of the monasteries.

I didn’t intend to visit the inside of any of the monasteries over the weekend when they will probably be even more crowded than usual but just to  walk to a few of them and take photos of their dramatic settings.   So I did.  Twice.  It was clear that the best photos of a couple of them would be early evening when the sun had moved round further west.  Between the two visits there was another big thunderstorm but this time I managed to stay dry thanks to the massive branches of an ancient plane tree under which I sheltered for 40 minutes while it rumbled in the huge crags overhead.  One lightening strike was in the crags just behind me.

Enough of words.  From what I have seen so far Meteora is full of wonders.  Here are a few images attempting to do justice to this dramatic location.

All the rocks round here are named: this is ‘Doupiani’ the westernmost. Note the snow on the mountains in the background

Looking up to Agios Nikolaos, the closest to Kastraki where I’m staying

Agios Nikolaos and the adjacent crags

Agios Nikolaos with adjacent crags as background

Close to Agios Nikolaos is the abandonned Agia Moni, I guess just too inaccessible to be viable

The entrance to ‘Grand Meteora’, with the ‘new’ steps to a rock-cut tunnel giving access to replace the old rope-and-basket ascent to the main tower

The top of the tower at Grand Meteora with the old rope basket still on dispaly

‘Grand Meteora’ is the most extensive of the monateries, occupying the whole of the couple of acres of the top of its pinnacle

It pays to look down as well as up: the size of this fellow is shown by the €1 coin alongside it.

… and another view. Is he grumpy or aggressive?

Adjacent to Grand Meteora is Varlaam

This view of Varlaam from the point the tortoise was hanging out: black thunder cloud approaching rapidly

Another view of Varlaam in the post-thunderstorm evening light

The much photographed Roussanou Monastery

Again, it pays to take a break from craning your neck upwards and look at lower level.

Not so much publicised is the Monks’ Prison, set vertically into the cave in the rock named after the Holy Spirit

Close-up of the prison. If you click to enlarge you can still see the ropes and platforms in the upper reaches of the cave

And finally another strange one. This is the cave/hermitage of St George of the Kerchiefs. Every year on 23 April hundreds of youths climb the vertical crag to replace the pieces of cloth which are reputed to have gained healing properties.

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From Athens to Kalabaka: a day of ‘firsts’

Posted on May 11, 2012 by BarryH

Yet another early start on Friday. Alarm set for 06.15 in order to finish packing and have breakfast promptly at the 07.00 start to make sure that I got to the station in good time to suss things out.  Again sluggish because the intended ‘early night’ slipped to yet another 01.00 finish. Paid the bill, €60, very good for this quality of hotel in central Athens, and headed off with the Big Bag in rucksack mode.

I bought it in June 2009 because after our May Greek trip that year Enfys was concerned for my well-being given that I was carrying all the luggage for the two of us in one rucksack.  Knowing that we would be visiting islands where dragging wheeled luggage up steps and over rough cobbles would be a nightmare I bought a great, if expensive, piece of kit which has wheels and a retractable dragging handle, chunky carrying handles on the top and side and which converts into a rucksack with good quality straps and waist belt.

It has served me very well over the last two years but given that kitchen sinks tend to be heavy I have tended to use it as a wheely in situations where rucksack-mode would have been more appropriate.  I noticed at Heathrow that this abuse has meant that one of the wheels has lost its tread, a bit like the stripped lorry tyres you see in the central reservation on motorways.  The pavements between the hotel and the station are in any case very bad for wheelies, with broken and missing slabs, and I needed to move quickly so I hefted the Big Bag on my back, carried the camera rucksack on my front and headed off at 07.45 correctly anticipating problems crossing the early morning rush hour traffic.  But I arrived at the station 20 minutes early thanks to some bold walking out in front of traffic and eye-balling motor-bike riders and car drivers seemingly intent on my early demise.  Perhaps they get extra points for mowing down ageing foreigners lumbering along weighed down by luggage.

The platform was incredibly crowded and when the enormous train arrived there was a rush for the doors.  It was like trying to get toothpaste back into the tube.  The elderly and infirm struggled to climb the steep steps into the carriage and in some instances had to be unceremoniously pushed by the backside up the steps as they seemed in danger of overbalancing backwards, weighed down by suitcases heavier than themselves which they were towing.

Athens station: 20 minutes before the train is due to leave the platform is crowded

It was a corridor train with 6-seat compartments and that created another hiatus.  People were converging in the corridor, in some cases each large enough to fill its width themselves, even without their life’s belongings in bags and cases.  With compartment-allocated tickets some scrambled into the closest door onto the train and so had to pass compartment 5 in order to get to 3, and vice versa.  I spilled into compartment 4 and hefted my bags onto the very commodious overhead shelves (very functional as long as you’re strong enough to lift 20 kilos above head height) and sank into my very comfortable window seat, smug in the knowledge that my ticket decreed that it was mine for the next 4½ hours.

The journey was uneventful.  Passing first through run-down areas around the city centre, then into areas of more expensive housing on higher ground, beyond that to swathes of industrial development before passing the market gardens and smallholdings beyond the built-up area and finally into open farmland.  It was all very different to what you see from a train window in Britain with large areas of flat, fenceless farmland but one thing it had in common, today it was very grey.  Bad weather seems to have hit northern Greece at the moment.  This obviously isn’t the norm because everywhere irrigation canons jetted water onto growing crops.

The ‘differentness’ of the view made the journey seem to pass tolerably quickly, helped by the very comfortable seats which could well have graced first class in a plane.  There was even a section of compartments knocked together to make a soft play area for young kids.  Shame that the loos weren’t up to the same standard.  They were frankly disgusting and might have been beamed in from the third world.  The equipment was posh enough but there was clearly inadequate maintenance, possibly a reaction to the fact that it has been highlighted that Greek railways run at a huge loss so savings have to be made and as always it is the people who do the job who get the push not those who ‘manage’ them.

First impressions of Kalabaka were even more impressive than I had been led to believe, partly because the view from a train is limited to what you can see to the sides, not what lies ahead, so when you get off the train and see it for the first time it has a real ‘Wow!!’ factor.  But really it was so impressive because it’s just, well, very impressive.

I was conscious from the getting up this morning that today was going to be a day of ‘firsts’.  First time to enter a Greek railway station : struck by the low platforms and high trains.  First time on a Greek train, or indeed a train anywhere other than in the UK.  First time in northern Greece.  First time in Meteora.  But I little realised how many ‘firsts’ were queuing up.

After being on a train for lots of hours I decided to cut the Gordian Knot and take a taxi to Kastraki, the small village outside Kalabaka and closer to The Rocks, where I decided to stay.  I knew there were buses but the Rough Guide made it clear that they weren’t from the railway station and were at hourly intervals.  Enough of  hanging about.  I took a taxi.  Cost 5 Euros for 5 minutes but it was worth it.

Checked into the hotel I had earmarked.  Checked e-mails.  Then walked back to Kalabaka to find out the lie of the land and get a walking guide recommended in the Rough Guide.  All went well.  Tracked down the book sold in a shop by a woman who had not only heard of Wales but knew a bit about it as her husband had trained in dentistry in Cardiff.  Had an espresso outside a coffee shop in the town square and then set off to walk back to Kastraki.  Just as I reached an open bit of road thunder and lightning started flashing around the huge crags towering above and then suddenly it rained.  I mean really rained.   Last time I was in such heavy rain was in Italy when I was hitch-hiking between Venice and Trieste.  Then we hid underneath our capes, cowering in a ditch.  Today, I was soaked to the skin in seconds.  Lots of firsts in that short walk.  First  time walking in rain in Greece.  First time wet to my pants.  First time to deploy the rain cover built into my photo-rucksack.  Until the few seconds when it started I had forgotten that there was one.  Flash-back of memory from the product description on the internet.

But now I must ‘fess up.  Digression: isn’t it sad how middle-aged parents of teenagers adopt what they think is cool-speak picked up from the TV in order to show their kids that they are ‘with-it’ … and then get stuck in the rut of the same maybe-once-cool terminology for ever after by atrophying brains. Anyway, ‘fessing up’, I must admit that I got lost on the way back to the hotel.  How can a graduate in Geography, specialising in Urban Geography and having done a higher degree in Urban Geography always get lost in built up areas?  But, unfortunately, I do.  A lot.  I’m much happier in mountains.

I eventually got back to the hotel, stripped off my dripping rags and, having put on dry clothes, went out to retrieve my again-shattered self esteem by walking up to one of the monasteries.  I repeat: the area is AMAZING!  It was evening when I went, I only took the small camera and the light wasn’t good so I won’t bore blog readers with lots of pics.  I plan to take a lot more over the coming few days so this is just a flavour of the place.  The one thing I can guarantee is that any photos I take will not do it justice.

Kalabaka is dominated by the Meteora crags

Views like this with a few minutes of the hotel

… and another

…. and in silhoette

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A day out in Athens

Posted on May 10, 2012 by BarryH

Thursday morning and getting up at 07.30, the equivalent of 05.30 BST, didn’t hurt too much.  My body clock seems to adjust quickly, probably because I don’t go to bed until I’m very tired and then go to sleep instantly.

First thing was breakfast on the 7th floor terrace with views across rooftops directly to the Acropolis.  Unlike when I was here in 2010 there seem to be few people staying, probably an indication of hesitancy caused by the bad press Greece has been receiving of late.

Well breakfasted, the first task was to find the train station and suss out the train times for my trip north to Meteora.  I looked it up on the internet and then worked out a route with the aid of a street map.  The only problem was crossing the main roads which have large volumes of fast-flowing traffic and few crossing points.  Years of practicing in central Manchester when I was a teenager came in very useful, judging the speed of cars and how far apart they are and then taking a diagonal line across both flows, adjusting here for the fact that traffic drives on the right not the left.  Big roundabouts and urban dual carriageways present more of a challenge with no concession to pedestrians whatever.

Station ticket office reached and a combination of my Greek and their English got me a single to Kalabaka for tomorrow morning at 08.27 on train 884, window seat No 4 in Compartment B with 25% discount for being a  ‘Senior’.  I had forgotten to look up the word for ‘Old Codger’ so I just asked for the discount and told them my age.  The cost?  A princely €13.70 !!  Not bad for a 4½ hour journey.

That out of the way I then set out to visit the Acropolis again with the intention this time of circumnavigating it clockwise and visiting the Acropolis Museum en route.  Began by wandering the narrow streets and alleys backing onto the craggy hill.  It was reminiscent of the Hora of small islands like Symi, Amorgos and Tilos with which I’m more familiar.  So the camera clicked merrily away.

One of the alleys tucked under the Acropolis

Looking up one of the alleys to the top of the Acropolis

Door with guard outside

I had been told that the new Acropolis Museum was dramatic and it most definitely is.  The glass floor of the approach ‘path’ shows the archaeology still emerging beneath the massive new glass structure as the ‘dig’ and restoration continue. Being used to free museum entry in the UK I was doubtful about how much this visit was going to cost but plucked up financial courage, traumatic for an honorary ‘Cardi’, and was amazed when it turned out to be only €5.

Backpacks have to be left in a ‘cloakroom’ on the way in.  I don’t know whether that was in case anyone tries to rob-off with any the myriad smaller exhibits (all behind glass anyway) or whether they might knock into things.  But it was no inconvenience …. and free.  I soon found out that photography is only allowed on the top floor but, once up there, again the camera clicked away merrily.   Having a cup of espresso sitting on the roof terrace looking up to the Acropolis was a good end to the visit.   Very definitely worth the entrance fee.  As an aside, the loos on the top floor are probably the best you’ll encounter in Greece or anywhere else for that matter.

The ongoing excavation and renovation beneath and alongside the glass pathway leading to the museum

Work in progress

Reconstruction in miniature of the marbles from one of the pediments at the end of the Parthenon

Part of full scale reconstruction

Some of the many marble tablets surrounding the top floor of the Museum

Looking from the top floor of the Museum to the Parthenon, the original source of the marbles

Reconstruction of 4 metre high sculpture once topping the pediment of the Parthenon

I continued the circumnavigation, including a visit to the Areopagus, the rocky lump of a hill overlooking the North West corner of the Acropolis where St Paul preached his Sermon on the ‘Unknown God’, and so highly polished by the passage of countless feet since then that there are written warnings to that effect.

The day was rounded off by meeting up for coffee with Theo, our old Greek tutor from Cardiff University Lifetime Learning course.  It was a great pity that he left, a great talent sorely missed, and it was good to meet up with him again.  He sends greetings to all those from the old class.

But I can’t finish the blog without mentioning one thing which has struck me today and that is the street art.  Well, not really street art as building art.  And vehicle art.  It may have been here in 2010 when I came but today is the first time I have noticed it.  There are now paintings on buildings all over the centre of the city.  Some just on doors or low level walls, some the full height of 6 or 7 story buildings.  Some is to my untutored eye good quality stuff, some is just graffiti scrawl.  And it seems that white vans are regarded as a blank canvas.  Very colourful, particularly so as much of it is in dilapidated areas of the city.

Wall-art towering over Iroon Square

Same art viewed from the Areopagus

On the opposite side of Iroon Square

At the side of one of the entrances to the Monastiraki metro station

More advertising than art

Small wall art seen from the hotel roof terrace

Small wall art close to the Acropolis

Some is just graffiti …. but very colourful

Wall art is not just modern, this is the wall of an old church

Altogether very enjoyable day

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It’s Wednesday 9 May so this must be Athens

Posted on May 10, 2012 by BarryH

Athens and the start of my 2012 Greek Odyssey.  I don’t know where it will lead me but I have a broad plan, a Kindle and now, very much at the last minute, the Kindle edition of the 2012 Rough Guide to Greece.   So, fully equipped, Greece is my oyster.  I can find out everything about anywhere.  Until the very last minute I had thought to take the book version, pre-ordered in February and published on 1 May, but it weighed close to a kilogram.  Thankfully, the Kindle version was published just in time.  Finished downloading it at 01.00.

When I left Grey Britain it was cold, wet and grey.  Very cold, wet and grey.  The day began unusually early though not as early as it should have done.  Number One Son was to pick me up at 06.00 to drive me down to Newport bus station to make sure that I was in plenty of time for the Heathrow Express.  So I re-set my alarm for 05.00 and planned an early night.  Unfortunately, my determination to get to bed early was frustrated by my determination to minimise the weight of my baggage I didn’t get to bed until 01.00 when the Rough Guide download finished and come the morning I woke to find that the alarm had been shrieking at me incessantly for 20 minutes.  Hardly surprising I suppose given that I sleep through the severest of thunderstorms.  At least people tell me that there have been thunderstorms.  But if there is an explosion in the desert and I don’t hear it how do I know they are not just winding me up.  And for all I know the alarm sounded silently for 20 minutes.  Enough wittering, I’ll get on with the rambling.

The cold empty wetness of Newport bus station at 06.30

Notwithstanding philosophically silent alarm clocks, I was in good time for the coach which made good time through the early morning traffic in Bristol and at the London end of the M4 to get to the airport only slightly behind schedule.  It even got to Terminal One before the woman in a  car which screeched to a halt in front of the bus as it pulled out of the bus station in Bristol demanding to be let on because she had a ticket.  Jobsworth driver he say ‘No!’  She wouldn’t budge blocking the narrow exit from the bus station completely until Jobsworth threatened to phone the fuzz.  She and hubby had a long drive in the rain and arrived after the bus.  I know, I saw them come into the terminal building.

Nothing whatever of interest on the plane journey, save to record that I was well impressed with Aegean Air, the new Greek flag carrier.  Good alternative to BA for the trip and cheaper.  Left Heathrow slightly late, arrived in Athens Airport bang on time.

I decided to take the Metro into Athens, not an option when I came in 2010 as they don’t run after midnight so I had to take the express bus.  Finding the station wasn’t entirely straightforward as it entails meticulously following signs and I’m not very good at step-by-step stuff, I prefer to work out the bigger picture and extemporise  But I gave in, backtracked across the maze of access roads and got to the right platform … having 28 minutes to wait for the next train which runs at 30 minute intervals. Work that one out.

I worked out the train I wanted despite the Greek penchant for putting public information entirely in capitals.  The former Road Research Laboratory demonstrated to my complete satisfaction that the brain takes in lower case more rapidly than uppercase (allowing for initial capitals and Proper Nouns) and I really struggle reading messages in caps in English nevermind in Greek.  But I triumphed and sat back for the journey to Monastiraki, the closest public transport stop to the Hotel Euripides.  Once on foot I tried to follow the map to the hotel but in truth remembered the way from 2 years ago.

I commented then that it was in a rough area and the austerity measures haven’t helped since, the decrepitude seems more apparent.  Nevertheless the hotel is still one of the oases of relatively affluent calm and orderliness in an otherwise pretty run-down part of the city.  Some of the decay is actually attractive in its own way and I plan to investigate more tomorrow.  Wednesday evening, the first of my two evenings here, I ambled through the grotty bits the short distance to Iroon Square and then on to Monastiraki and took just a few pics.

One building facade opposite the hotel

Looking across Monastiraki Square at night

In the centre of Athens reminders of the ancient past are never far away

In Iroon Square, a taverna specialising in dozens of different types of beer

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Pontypool, Chepstow, Tintern: a long weekend in Grey Britain

Posted on May 1, 2012 by BarryH

Having enjoyed two weeks of summer in March we are now back to the typical wet,cold weather of Grey Britain.  It’s a pity because I had people to stay for the weekend and it took the edge off getting out and about.  But we did.  And it was something of an eye opener.

Friday morning and I was haring around doing food shopping for when they arrived in the afternoon.   I rarely use the car these days but having to source things from specialist shops (like venison sausages from Rawlings in Abergavenny – highly recommended http://www.rawlingsbutchers.co.uk/)  meant I couldn’t get around quickly enough on the bus.  I finishing just half an hour before they arrived.

Outside a shop in Abergavenny: Presumably unpasturised milk has had the bits of grass taken out of it whereas unpasteurised milk hasn't had the bacteria taken out of it.

Along the canal, even the heron was fed up with the weather

The forecast was for dry if not sunny weather so in the afternoon we ambled along a section of the Monmouthsire and Brecon Canal and into Pontypool Park.  I walk through the park regularly to get to various places but normally at my customary rapid pace in order to get where I’m going quickly and to try to maintain a level of fitness.  Ambling at slow pace with the specific intention of looking at things was a bit of a novelty.

We have a mutual interest in trees, Chris being an aboriculturalist by profession, me just an enthusiastic amateur.  So attention focused on the fine tree specimens in Pontypool Park.  One tree I have passed countless times and noted how old and gnarly it looked but an expert eye saw it as something special, a very venerable sweet chestnut maybe 200-250 years old.  Ambling up a path I rarely go along we found there was a broad avenue of them on either side of a narrow valley.  We took photos and poked around for a good while despite the rain and the cold temperatures and when we got home looked them up on the internet.  They are on the Woodland Trust’s Tree Register. Seems they were planted as part of the redesigning of the Park by Capability Brown at the beginning of the 19th Century.  Fascinating.  I have lived here for 37 years but a fresh pair of eyes, linked to expert knowledge, looks beyond the wallpaper. http://www.ancient-tree-hunt.org.uk/recording/tree.htm?tree=ea42d059-235c-417c-bb36-a2b54817d0d8

One of the veteran sweet chestnut trees in Pontypool Park, this one hollow and standing on legs like a tripod

.... and another

One had an abandoned nest in ahollow

Saturday was forecast dry but in the event wasn’t and again it was cold.  Nevertheless we stuck to the plan to visit Chepstow Castle and from there drove the few miles up the Wye Valley to mooch around Tintern Abbey.  Despite the grey sky and leaking clouds both places are very photogenic.  With my trip to the pinnacle-top monasteries of Meteora looming larger by the day it seemed somehow appropriate to be at Chepstow Castle, perched as it is on the very edge of cliffs dropping vertically into the River Wye. The scale of Tintern Abbey can only be appreciated by standing in the middle of it and the precisely formed and very well preserved arches seem to frame shots by the score.  Again, these are places more or less part of my backyard but rarely visited.  So the cameras were clicking away merrily the whole day.

Chepstow castle perched on the edge of a cliff above the river Wye, and the old bridge to England in the background

Amazingly well preserved vaulted roofs

Ancient oak door, preserved but not used

The castle loo, straight down into the river, flushed once every 12 hours by the outgoing tide

One hall restored to how it would have looked in Medieval times, very colourfull.

Multiple doorways on the way into Tintern Abbey

Doorways framing doorways

More door frames

The apex of the roof is 98 feet above the ground. How did they do that!!!!

.... and looking the other way

Looking up one of the main columns

Not so on Sunday when the rain was torrential.  We left the cameras at home and headed for the American Gardens, part of Pontypool Park but rarely visited and home to many North American species of tree planted in the mid 19th Century.  Not as venerable as the sweet chestnuts in the main park but still well impressive conifers including sequoia (giant redwood), auracaria (monkey puzzle) and yew ………… and a stone built cottage in the style of Hansel and Gretal.

http://www.parksandgardens.ac.uk/index.php?option=com_parksandgardens&task=site&id=3703&Itemid=292

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=epPsS2vktbw

Altogether I saw more new stuff in my home patch in a long weekend than I have for a long time.  Am I tempted to knock the Greek trip on the head and explore more locally?  Not a chance!!  Athens, Meteoro, Pindus, Mani …. bring it all on.  Temperature in Athens for the next 5 days are forecast to be over 30oC  with cloudless blue sky: temperatures in Metsovo at 1400 metres in the Pindus Mountains around the 20 mark.  No contest.

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Athens, Meteora, Pindus Mountains, Paxos, Mani: Rambling around Greece ….. virtually

Posted on April 22, 2012 by BarryH

Apologies for the dearth of blogs recently.  If you have missed my ramblings …. you could always seek medical help.

It’s now just over 2 weeks before I fly to Greece.  I have been extremely busy, verging on panic, trying to prepare for the trip.

Thanks to the unusually dry weather a few weeks ago and to the lengthening daylight I have made a good deal of progress in the garden and completed a major project which should mean less chaos developing while I’m away. I have even made some progress on the next major project.  If this rate of progress continues there is an outside chance that I may even complete the whole garden makeover before I pop my clogs or become too decrepid to continue.

I have also started to plant up the vegetable garden ready to produce next winter’s veg for when I get back. I am still eating veg planted last April, some straight from the garden, some from the freezer.  The experiment last year of covering vegetable beds with weed suppressant fabric and planting through slits in it was highly successful with good crops and very little weed infestation.  So I’m repeating the process.  It all takes time now but is worth it when I pop back home in August and in Autumn when I start harvesting.

I have also been very busy starting to plan the trip in a bit more detail, trying to take it beyond a broad ambition.

Unlike most of the times I have been to Greece, except for the first time we went in the year 2000, this trip is full of uncertainties.  We would visit familiar islands and each time add in somewhere new.  Therefore we had a reasonable idea of where to stay, what to do and could work out travel options on the ferries.  This time it will all be completely new once I leave Athens, with a great deal of uncertainty.  So I have been rambling around the internet, trying to narrow down options for where to go, how to travel to where I want to go, where to stay when I get there, what to see, how long to spend in each place, and, very unusually, what clothes to take!!!

I am a forward planner by instinct and temperament as well as former profession.  At the moment I can’t take anything for granted but, with the help of the internet, some shape is starting to emerge from the fuzziness.  I have started to map out a ‘virtual’ trip, virtual in the sense of “that which is not real but may display the salient qualities of the real”.

The emerging plan:

Fly to Athens and stay in the hotel I stayed in in May 2010.  The uncertainty there is that it is at the edge of a pretty rough area (on the wrong side) and I have been advised that it may be better to find another hotel in a better area.  The problem with doing that is that for the standard of accommodation it is significantly cheaper than alternatives.  So for the moment I’ll stick with the original plan.  While I’m in Athens I plan to meet up with my former Greek tutor who has moved back there and with his help suss out buying maps and finding out travel options.  Timetables for trains and buses don’t seem to be on the internet and are in any case apparently interrupted by cut-backs and strikes as the austerity measures bite ever deeper.

After a couple of days in Athens I hope to travel by train up to Kalambaka in the North East of the country for about a week exploring the Meteora area and visiting the monasteries perched precipitously on rock pillars.

From there the plan is to take an express bus up into the Pindus Mountains and spend about a week in Metsovo, a ski resort not far from the Albanian border.  I don’t know when the bus runs or even if still does run, or whether it stops at Metsovo on its way to its destination in Ioannina.  It’s in Metsovo that the major uncertainty about clothing is an issue.  At about 4,000 feet and not long after the end of the skiing season it is likely to be significantly colder than anywhere else I’ve been in Greece.  So I need to take cold-weather clothing.

After that I may spend a few days in Ioannina before moving on to either Igoumenitsa, a port close to the Albanian border opposite Corfu or head slightly further south to Parga but in either case the idea is to cross over to Paxos to visit friends who have a house there.  Apart from meeting up with them I hope to ditch my cold-weather clothing which they will bring back home in their car in November.

Thus far I have sussed out some options for hotels, opportunities for walking in the mountains and a rough timetable.  Other things being equal I should get to Paxos about the end of May.  It is amazing how much of a picture you can build up of places by researching on the internet.

From Paxos onwards the trip gets more sketchy, a lot more sketchy.  I’m heading for the wildness of the Deep Mani and the Taygetos Mountains in the far south of the Peloponnese.  It seems my best option for getting there is an international ferry from Venice to Patras on the Gulf of Corinth, calling at Igoumenitsa en route, and then from Patras to Kalamata by train.

From there on it seems that there are local buses heading south to Kardamili at the northern end of the Mani and from there further south again to Areopoli. So far so good: there is some confirmation that there are buses (though not how often or at what times); there is information on hotels and apartments; and there are odd references to walking routes and maps available locally.

From Areopoli I want to head further south again to the small villages of the Deep Mani but here there is very little information at all either on public transport or on accommodation.

Because of this uncertainty I don’t know how long it will take to get to places, how much exploration will be possible, or how long I will stay.  So I’m not doing any planning beyond the Mani.  I had originally planned to continue to Crete by ferry and then island-hop to Kos to fly home but I genuinely don’t even know if I will even get as far as Crete.

The ‘planning’ is taking the form of lists of links to web pages of hotels and useful information.  If my netbook breaks down or gets pinched or if there are no WiFi facilities I’ll be stuffed.  But even worse than that, if I lose the use of the computer I lose my Greek dictionary and become unable to look up essential phrases such as “ I have a bladder infection and need antibiotics”, without which in June 2010 I would have been in a lot of trouble.

On this trip, bladder infections apart, I’ll be well out of my comfort zone.  Yet again I am reminded of the Biblical principle I referred to in my blog at the beginning of my first Greek trip in 2010:   “Many are the plans in a man’s heart, but it is the LORD’s purpose that prevails”.  (Book of Proverbs chapter 19 verse 21).  One thing which blog readers can look forward to, however, is that posts will be more frequent.  Always assuming that I can find WiFi connexions.

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Posted on April 10, 2012 by BarryH

Taking another trip up to Abergavenny (almost)

I decided to celebrate Easter Monday by walking up the ridge towards Abergavenny again but this time dropping off the east side about half way along to have bean soup in the Goose and Cuckoo before walking back.

Just a bit of rambling before I get on with the walk.

The Goose and Cuckoo is a small pub hidden up the back lanes from Llanover village, just to the south of Abergavenny.  It’s on a dead-end road and is notoriously difficult to find.   It’s so difficult to find in fact that the first time I walked there along the mountain (admittedly in the dark) I got hopelessly lost and had to resort to finding a phone box and asking for help.  On several occasions I have arranged to meet people there who were arriving by car and who never turned up.  It is to this very isolation that the pub owes its existence.  This is because in the 19th Century the Lady Llanover, famous for her active support of the Welsh language, designing the ‘traditional’ Welsh costume (which she obliged her servants and visitors to wear on special occasions), and support of many aspects of Welsh culture and life ….. closed all the pubs on the very extensive Llanover estate  She was an outspoken critic of the evils of drink and the pubs just had to go.  So they did.  All except for the Goose and Cuckoo which was so hidden up back lanes that it alone survived the purge.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Augusta_Hall,_Baroness_Llanover

http://www.ladyllanover.org.uk/English/english.htm

Back to the walk.  In a sense it was a bit of a mad decision in view of the impending doom threatened by a weather forecast of unremitting heavy rain.  When I could only go out walking at weekends I often went out in wet weather and had all the necessary walking gear to cope: waterproof boots; waterproof trousers; ‘stop tous’ to stop the rain wicking down my socks and dripping down into my boots; waterproof and breathable cag; peaked waterproof cap to keep the rain off my specs.  But now I can choose when to go out walking, and particularly since discovering the joys of walking with the sun on my back in Greece, I rarely walk in the rain.  I had to delve in the recesses of my little grey cells to remember where everything was and get my head round the different preparation procedure.

Another bit of a digression.  I’m a fairly orderly and methodical kind of bloke and when I put things away there is a logic to the places I put them.  The problem is that there are a number of different logics for every decision and it can be difficult to remember which logical process went on when I last used something.  There were at least 4 different places I could have put my peaked cap.  I know this because I found it in the fourth place I tried.  It makes it painfully slow getting ready for a walk when everything has to be tracked down.

But in the end I found it all and was ready to go.  It was grey and wet when I set off and when I got to the top of the ridge it was also very windy.  It got greyer, wetter and windier.  Not really a day for looking around and taking in the great views from the mountain top. First, there were no views except for the bit of rain sodden path in front to me.  Second it was head-down walking weather because of the horizontal rain that could take your eye out.

It took just under two hours to get to the Goose and meet up with my son Dai who had cycled there by a different route over the mountain.  The only people in the pub, we sat steaming in front of the wood-burning stove, had a bowl of the Goose’s famous bean soup, and then set off back.  The weather had not let up but now the strong Southwesterly wind was driving straight into my face.  I took a different route back to the lower level return-route I usually take, getting back onto the ridge top at an early opportunity to enjoy the full force of the weather rather than cowering in the woods below.

Altogether four hours walking.  My wet-weather gear had all worked well and I was dry on the inside.  It was exhilarating and there was the added satisfaction of having completed the walk in pretty atrocious conditions.

It came as something of a shock a few years ago when somebody told me I was weird because of the things I do.  Well, if overcoming difficult conditions and achieving something no-one else is prepared to do, then I put my hands up.  I’m weird.  And I’m proud of the fact that I have obviously transmitted that spirit of adventure and determination to my son.

Looking North along the ridge from the trig point: lost in the cloud

Just a few days ago the ridge-top path was drier than I have seen it for years

Illegal off-road motor bikes are wrecking the mountain: this is the main path along the ridge.

On the return leg the cloud base has lifted slightly but not a lot: the mountains behind are still lost to view.

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Taking a trip up to Abergavenny

Posted on March 27, 2012 by BarryH

Mention walking to Abergavenny, or just pass a road sign, and it is amazing how many people burst out with the opening line of the song by Marty Wilde in 1968, the latest in a small genre of funky location-specific songs in the 60s (see below).  Maybe it’s just that I hang out with people of a Certain Age but I think it’s truly trans-generational.  Everybody seems to know it.  Take a trip down Nostalgia Lane or discover something new:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RjBXBxKE9x0

I decided at the end of last week that there could be no better way to celebrate the start of British Summer Time than by taking advantage of the summer weather and walking up the mountain ridge behind the house.  So, on Sunday (25 March) I did indeed take a trip up to Abergavenny knowing that the weather was fine …..  and it was fabulous.

I skipped church in the morning in order to get to Abergavenny by about 14.00.  I don’t often miss the morning service when I’m home and this was a bit of  a dilemma for the unusual reason that I knew that if I didn’t show up it would be assumed that I had not moved my clocks forward and so had overslept and would thereby attract mild ridicule or pity, neither of which is welcome.

Not so.  I moved clocks forwards and was up with the lark.  Not that there were any larks at that time in the morning, not in my garden anyway, but once I was up on mountain top in bright sunshine there were skylarks all the way along the ridge, soaring high and singing their invisible hearts out.  It was exceedingly pleasant.  The hills were alive with the sound of peace and quiet and skylarks.

Leaving at 10.23 precisely, cloudless blue skies, very good conditions underfoot after weeks of dry weather, and a gentle breeze meant that I covered the ground very quickly.  A really great walk even though the visibility was low because of heat-haze.  Even though I knew where to look because I see them regularly, I couldn’t see the Malverns, PenyFan and Corn Du or, looking over my shoulder, the other side of the Bristol Channel. The Skirrid just the other side of Abergavenny was barely visible, poking mysterious above the haze.

I reached the Hen and Chicks in 3 hours 40 minutes (I must be getting my fitness back) in good time to hear the jazz.  There is live jazz every Sunday afternoon at the Hen and Chicks but in sunny weather there is the added bonus that it happens outside.  It is deeply satisfying after a long, hard walk to sit outside in the sunshine, sipping a good pint and letting cool jazz flow over your eardrums and seep into your brain.

Taking a trip up to Abergavenny is to be recommended.

 

A sunny Sunday outside the Hen and Chicks in Abergavenny ..... very mellow

The Other Happening in Abergavenny on a sunny Sunday, Motorcyclists of the World collect ...

..... and drink tea

Other funky location-specific songs of the 60s include:

‘Pasadena’ by the Temperance Seven:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D0UdkKH-0Es&feature=related   1961

first recorded by Al Jolson in 1924

‘Finchley Central’ by New Vaudeville Band:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UvMYHbN5baw  1966

‘Winchester Cathedral’ by New Vaudeville Band:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y-Ijo_ZthDI&feature=related  1966

‘Green Street Green’ by New Vaudeville Band

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h4Tpl7BV5Yg&feature=related  1967

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