Barry's Ramblings

On Friday the Eurozone agreed to bail out Greece for the second time, ensuring that the Euro remains its currency at a time when there has been increasing talk about reverting to the drachma.  Angela Merkel said that it was Germany’s ‘historical duty’ to help support the currency ….. whatever that may mean.

I can only conclude that Angela Merkel and other European heads of state have been reading my blog because, as I am sure readers will recall, some time ago I argued that Greece should be regarded as a Special Case within the Eurozone, being the country with the best and most relaxed attitude to life which inevitably and unavoidably creates insoluble economic and fiscal problems which can only be resolved by permanent subsidy by the stronger more strictly regulated economies.

That a large proportion of the German population agrees with this sentiment is clear from the large numbers who flock to the Greek islands every summer to spend the Euros they earn in Germany, thereby supporting the local economy, or at least the local tavernas, restaurants, hotels and shops.  The fact that not many of those Euros find their way into the Greek exchequer is just one of the facts of Greek life.

Local businesses play their part through pricing policy.  In the UK, a pint of beer in a pub may be £3 or £3.10, increased to £3.20 when I got back from Greece, or £2.09 in Wetherspoon’s, in Greece all taverna prices are in increments of €0.50.  A bottle of Amstel will be €2.50, €3, €3.50 or €4.  A frappe will be €2, €2.50 or €3.  Prices in tavernas now are never anything in between.  The same is true of buying snacks or meals.

The only variation on this seems to be in shops where fruit, feta, olives or other foodstuff is weighed.  For example the price of two bananas is typically €0.76 or €0.87, depending on the size.  This results in a pocketful of shrapnel which has to be carefully accumulated to pass off in tavernas to meet the €0.50 increments.  One fruit shop I frequented always relieved you of the burden of nursing pocketfuls of small coins by the simple expedient of looking with an expert eye at the two bananas you are buying and assessing the price at €1.  That made it simpler when the guy was nowhere to be found, just take 2 bananas and leave €1 on the scales.

The banks for their part contribute to the process of relieving you of Euros by only issuing €50 notes from cash machines.  This forces you into making purchases which may not be strictly what you wanted in order to break the notes down into smaller denominations.

I spotted a very cunning tactic on the bus.  Not that I would ever dream of doing it, but it’s an old gambit in the UK to offer a large denomination note on a bus knowing that it is unlikely that there be sufficient change and in hope of a free ride.  I observed a brilliantly simple counter to that.  One guy on Amorgos offered a €50 note for a minimum fare of €1.60.  Without blinking or thinking about it the driver took the money off him, pocketed it and gave the bloke a receipt which he could redeem at the office some time later.  Lateral thinking like that may be what the Greek economy needs.

In the meantime it is comforting to know that the EU is now committed to underwriting a way of life which is the envy and the frustration of the rest of Europe.

I woke up at the normal time, 07.00 on Monday morning feeling much refreshed after  the first sleep in 2 days. Seven hours sleep is good for me and I went down for breakfast nice and early.  The breakfast terrace is separated from the tree-lined street by a hedge of jasmine.  The scent was amazing and the breakfast was a very relaxing  experience.  In a busy, bustling town the hotel terrace was an oasis of peace and quiet.

I packed my bags into air-travel mode: sharp objects and liquids in the hold luggage; camera bag reconfigured as ‘cabin luggage’ with cameras, netbook, Kindle ….. and arrival-in-cold-UK clothing.  Then I checked out.  The owner of the hotel offered to take me to the bus station in time for the bus to the airport which was good of him.

I spent a pleasant morning ambling along the seafront, poking around the marina, drinking coffee, and having a Greek salad.  Basically enjoying the last sunshine I expected to see for a while.

Fish in the harbour

.... and a closer look

My flight was at 21.00, check-in opening at 19.00. On checking bus times it transpired that the latest bus that would get me there on time was at 16.30, the next one leaving the town at the same time as take-off.  It was recommended that I get to the bus station early as the taxi drivers were on strike and therefore there would be more pressure on buses which could be expected to be full.

We had been returning home from Symi a few years ago and had been victims of a taxi drivers’ strike on Rhodes.  It had been chaos.  It was not simply people travelling to the airport but to all other destinations on the island who crowded the main bus terminus.  On Rhodes tickets have to be bought in a kiosk before getting on the bus and there was a crush of people completely surrounding it enquiring about service numbers and times as well as buying tickets, making it impossible to read the timetables.  The bus itself was packed full with people and Big Bag luggage.  A completely manic experience which I was anxious to avoid again.

The bus terminus in Kos was considerably busier than usual though nowhere near as manic as that occasion in Rhodes.    The only real problem was making sure to get on the right bus.  Few of them had destinations indicated and those that did could not be relied on.  There were about 50 or 60 people at the stop where I was waiting and when a bus pulled in proclaiming ‘Mastihari’ on a painted board on the dashboard there was a surge towards it which coincided with the doors opening front and middle and a surge of people getting off.

When an incoming wave hits a cliff or harbour wall and rebounds backwards meeting the next wave coming in the clashing waters form a high standing wave and often shoot upwards in spray, a phenomenon known as ‘clapotis’ (check http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clapotis if you don’t believe me).  Well, there was clapotis on the pavements at the bus station as the two waves of passengers collided head on.  Priority for those arriving was to get off.  Priority for wanting to get on was to find out where the bus was going, so there was a lot of shouting to the driver and interrogation of anyone wearing a light blue shirt, the drivers’ uniform.

I asked the driver in my best Greek if the bus was going to the airport and he said no, it’s the one behind.  As the bus was going to somewhere completely different the wave surged backwards again but not before the crowd had recognised that I spoke English, the lingua franca out here,  and a bit of Greek, so in the absence of light blue shirts I found myself being interrogated and pushed forward to enquire of the driver of the next bus, now pulling in.  No, he was not going to the airport either, but the one behind was.  The wave surged back again just  as yet another bus pulled in and everyone surged towards that one.  The third bus was nearly empty so the surging wave could board almost immediately.

Then I overhead another guy in a light blue shirt, who had appeared out of nowhere, telling the driver of the second bus that he was to go the airport and the third bus would go the destination he thought he was bound for.  I translated that into English, the news rippled up the pavement, and the wave surging towards the third bus suddenly went into reverse.

Fortunately for me the bus did go to the airport otherwise I would have been lynched by the mob.

It arrived just after 17.00.  Having confirmed that I couldn’t check in until 19.00 I headed for a restaurant just outside the airport car park with a guy I had met who was catching the same flight.  It was very pleasant sitting on the terrace outside the restaurant having meal.  The food was good and not as expensive as might be expected where there is a captive clientele. Not at all like motorway service stations in the UK.  In fact about as far removed from that experience as you can get.

The rest was straightforward if somewhat boring and tedious.  Though not as much as usual.  Kos airport is considerably smaller than that in Rhodes and the whole experience is much less cattle-market.  Furthermore, the fact that there was a 2 hour check-in and wait for the flight was somehow put in context by the fact that I had been on my way since 22.00 on Saturday evening.

Arrived back in Manchester slightly ahead of schedule at 23.05.  Weather atrocious, rain driving through the covered access to the airport building and dripping through the roof.  Nice welcome back to the UK!

But good to be back and met by Ruth and Tim.

Final round-up tomorrow, all being well.

I was wrong about the taverna getting ready to close at 02.00. Come 03.00 and it had a new lease of life with a dozen or more people trickling in for a crêpe or an ice cream.  I broke the habit of a lifetime and had a chocolate crêpe.  At 03.00 in the morning?!?!  Mad!

I was getting thoroughly bored by this time.  The taverna was showing no sign of closing so I left my clobber and went for a walk along the harbour.  I noticed that as well as the racing yachts parked side-on to the quay and to each other there was also a posh yacht thing parked side-on …. filling the whole of the space used by the big ferry to park.  Bit puzzling that, especially as there was nowhere else anywhere near big enough to park the ferry.

When I got back to the taverna I checked the on-line ‘live map’ of marine shipping.  Very interesting web site.  It gives the position, speed and heading of all ships by category.  The Blue Star 2 which I was to catch was nowhere to be seen.  It should have left Piraeus just before midnight, more than 3 hours earlier.  I tried searching for it by name and by company but still no sign.  Given that they had randomly changed the time by 4 hours when I caught it in Kos to come to Amorgos, a fact I only found out when I enquired in the shipping office about whereabouts in the harbour it left from, and then it was very late anyway, I was getting a little concerned.  Normally it would not be an issue but I needed to get to Kos for the flight home.  Gulp!

On top of all this I was the only person in the taverna with any luggage.  The rest were all locals having an all-night session.  I expect that this is why so many people paid Laskarina Travel handsomely to take the hassle and uncertainty out of travel and transfers as well as ensuring good quality accommodation.

At about 04.30 my fears began to subside when the posh yacht thing untied and disappeared into the night, purring quietly presumably so as to not wake the slumbering owner. I checked with a passing member of the Hellenic Coastguard, who had been sending the posh yacht on its way, and he told me confidently that the ferry would arrive in half an hour.

Then about 15 minutes later a trickle of half-awake people began to appear, disconsolately dragging Big Bags.  The trickle became a steady if turgid stream and by 05.15 it seemed that half the population of the island was waiting bleary-eyed for the ferry either to get on board or see someone else off the island or meet someone coming to the island.

The ferry arrived 05.30+ to the great relief of me if no-one else.  The Hellenic Coastguard marshalled us according to their perception of the issues.  I must confess to a personality failing here.  I look at a situation and work out the best and most efficient course of action irrespective of any guidelines which are issued.  They are after all, just guidelines!!  Translation: I stood in the wrong place.  Another personality failing is that at times I can be a little competitive.  Translation:  I wanted to be first on in order to get the best choice of seats.

The procedure with these MegaBig Ferries is that enormous ramps come down for vehicles to get off, normally jumbled up with over-competitive  foot-passengers.  And a narrower ramp with carpet unrolling as it lowers comes down on the right as you look at the back of the ferry exclusively for the use of foot-passengers.   This is the one which leads to the escalator whisking you upwards to The Other World.   The foot-passenger ramp lowered last and like a hare at a dog track I shot off towards it.(I must hasten to add at this point that I have never been to greyhound racing).  From the whirring of tiny wheels over concrete and out of the corner of my eye I realised that the rest of the waiting crowd were in pursuit.  A stampede had started.

At the foot of the ramp I was stopped by a uniformed person telling me in no uncertain terms in English and Greek to WAIT (I assume that they were even  more uncertain terms in Greek than in English though my grasp of the language is insufficient to suss out nuances like that).  He was wearing a white shirt so he must have been important.  Blue shirt personnel now get to wear their own clothes. Part of the austerity measures I guess.  That was when I realised that the escalator was coming down and not up.  It was switched on to bring down the elderly and infirm who couldn’t manage the steep metal stairs which the rest of us had been directed to when we left the ship on the outward journey.

Incredible numbers of people were getting off the boat, far more than when I arrived 2 weeks ago.  The harbourside is nowhere near as narrow as at Symi but it is essentially the width of a road with parked vehicles and shops.  It is a chaos of people, motorbikes and scooters, cars, and very large lorries trying to manoeuvre to get off …. and others to get on.

When everyone was safely off we were beckoned on and I was first up the ramp.  YES!! Triumph!!  But then total, unadulterated, abject humiliation.  In my haste I didn’t quite get the wheels of my bag quite square with the result that as the escalator treads opened upwards my Bib Bag twisted and pulled me over as I was gripping the handle.  The rucksack which I had slung over one shoulder then twisted and pulled me completely off-balance downwards.  The staff were very quick off the mark and stopped the escalator before I fall completely base over apex.

The thought that flashed through my mind was not “I might get hurt” but “they’ve got me pegged as a doddery, incompetent old man”.  When I got across to them that I was in fact a lithe, agile bloke in the prime of life who had been a victim of circumstances they restarted the escalator so that the rest of the island who had witnessed the whole embarrassing event could follow me upwards into the world above.

As I reached the top of the escalator and was pointed in the right direction by a very polite uniformed person I realised that my foot was getting wet. NO! Not that!  Blood was trickling at a steady rate from my shin.  The escalator had bitten me!!!!  I had survived 6 weeks of leaping about mountain sides in all conditions with no damage whatever other than repeated attacks by ferocious spiky plants.  And now I get bitten by the technology!!!!

I put it down to nearly 24 hours without sleep and a mind bored to distraction but I don’t anticipate any sympathy or understanding.

I always carry a comprehensive first  aid kit in my camera rucksack, just in case.  It came in very useful now.  As passengers from Piraeus slumbered and snored around me I stemmed the flow of blood and applied a dressing.  The damage to my self-esteem is more difficult to deal with.

The lounges on the ship looked like the aftermath of mass murder.  There were bodies draped everywhere.  On the bench seats, across 2 or 3 armchairs, on the floor … very weird and uncomfortable looking positions.  Many had brought bedding: blankets were everywhere in evidence and even the odd airbed.  No chance of finding anywhere to sprawl out.  Lucky to find the odd seat.  .

The journey from Kos to Amorgos 2 weeks ago was scheduled to take 3 hours with no stops between. In fact it took slightly less, trying to make up lateness.   The same ferry on the return journey takes 5 hours calling at Patmos and Leros on the way.  I had been to neither so was interested in a brief, ships-eye view of the islands.

Patmos: looking over the harbour to the castle in the Hora on the hilltop overlooking

Patmos: Early morning shadows

Leros: traffic jam

The main thing which struck me about both places was that though they had dedicated harbour areas, albeit small, there was complete chaos despite the attempts of the Hellenic Coastguard to instil some order.  There is  no way that a huge vehicle and passenger-carrying ferry can keep to a timetable because of the complete unpredictability of the unloading and loading operations which go on at the same time in a very confined space.  There was 10 times as much manoeuvring space inside the ferry than on the harbourside.

Symi has been trying to get Blue Star Ferries to stop there en-route to Rhodes but frankly I can never see it happening.  The end of the harbour may have been modified to allow it to park but the harbourside is so very congested that it would be impossible to load and unload.  It can barely cope with the small vehicles getting on and off the high speed catamarans.

We arrived in Kos over an hour late.  I had reserved a room in the hotel recommended by people on Nisyros and had sussed out where it was so I trundled my luggage straight there.  By now it was 12.30 and I was feeling the effects of 30 hours without sleep.

Then armed with a very useful street map given me by the owner of the hotel together with some advice as to places worth seeing I sallied forth (how does one ‘sally’?) to look at some archaeology.

I had already looked at the Ancient Agora site a couple of times with both Enfys and more lately Ruth so decided to head for an area marked as the ‘Western Excavation’.  Fascinating.  I spent an entire afternoon wandering around a couple of sites, not having much information but just interested to look at how it is emerging out of the ground.  Kos has a great deal of archaeology to offer and it is open to wander around and is all free of charge.

Part of the 'Western Excavations'

Photographer standing on the edge of history

Part of one of the mosaics

One of the many pieces of carved marble lying around

Taking a peek inside the 'Nymphaeum'

By 16.00 I was decidedly peckish and realised that all I had had to eat since 20.00 the previous evening on Amorgos was a chocolate crêpe at 03.00 and a Danish pastry for breakfast at 10.00.  I had a hankering for Tzatziki so went in search.  I tried 3 different places before I eventually tracked one down.  It seems that Kos offers more by way of Italian food than Greek, signs saying ‘Genuine Italian Pizza’ emblazoned all over the place.

I didn’t want to doze off and ‘spoil my sleep’, as my mother used to say, so I wandered around, had a beer, had a meal, wandered around some more.  I managed to stay awake until midnight and then just crashed out.

No early morning awakenings Friday.  Slept like a log … once I got to bed.  For the first time this trip I fell asleep over the keyboard.  Not a good start at all for what I had planned for Friday.

The plan was to catch the bus to Katapola, the main port at the other end of the island and then to walk back, climbing Oros Profitis Ilias on the way.  And that’s what I did.  It was planned as a walk from coast to coast, an ambition inspired by the Canadian motto “A mari usque ad mare”, not the US patriotic song, though admittedly the line in the song is more poetic.

The bus was more or less on time but incredibly crowded.  I was standing up along with 20+ others and it was so full that there was no room for my rucksack on the floor I had to have on my back.  Most of the people were heading for a small beach near Chora and from that point on those of us who were left could all have a seat.  Why do so many people do nothing but beaches on holiday?  Half the bus was taken up by a very large group of French teenagers who have been popping up all over the island for the last week.  They all got off for the beach armed with buckets and spades or other beach paraphernalia.

I had it all planned out.  The first section is the path up to Chora which I have walked now a number of times.  This time I was doing it fresh and fairly shot up it.

The path to Chora: the mountain hazy in the far distance

Caffeined-up from a frappé in the square in Chora I got to the top of the mountain in 40 minutes, a total time so far of 1½ hours.  I had allowed 2 hours.  Very strong wind on top.  I could have stayed for hours but had to push on.

The view from the top of the mountain: Chora below on the left, the main harbour further below in the centre

A last wistful look

It was all without incident really, just very enjoyable walking.  The only down side was the knowledge that this would be the last long walk I do before going home.  I knew the route from having done it in sections before and it was just a matter of piecing them all together.  I did divert off the path at one point to look at some strange landforms.  Difficult to know if one particular feature is entirely natural or man-made.

A small area of weird landforms

Sections of the path were again across mountainsides covered in wild broom in full flower.  The smell is unforgettable.  I wish I could bottle it or capture it with the camera.

The path through the wild broom

Altogether it took me just over 5 hours of more or less continuous walking, stopping only twice, each time for as long as it takes to eat a banana and have a swig of water.

Enjoyed it immensely but glad to reach the hotel and a long, cold grapefruit juice on the balcony.

The perfect Greek balcony: loking straight down to the sea, sun in the morning and evening, shade in the heat of the day.

And so the sun went down. 

Yet another perfect sunset

Woken up early this morning by the on-board tannoy of a Big Boat.  Thought I was dreaming about going back to Kos on Sunday morning.  But no, it was  a Blue Star ferry calling in on its way to Astypalea.  Took a photo and went back to sleep.

The early morning boat comes with the view

An easy day walking planned for Thursday to save energy for a long walk planned for Friday, the last full day’s activity on Amorgos.  Included in the walk guide is a circular route from Eghiali to the two mountain villages inland, a walk which has also been recommended by friends.  Looked good.  Was good.

Didn’t set out until after 11.00 but no pressure on time.  The path up to Lagadha I had done as the first part of Wednesday’s walk, an amazingly well kept kalderimi without urbanising it.  Sometimes attempts to ‘improve’ mountain paths end up making them more urban than rural in character.  That is certainly true of one path on Tilos which is furnished with park benches and the like even in a col in the mountains.  Fair dos though, the fact that island councils are willing to do something, anything, to maintain or improve paths is to be applauded because unfortunately some islands do nothing whatever to protect never mind improve paths.

But back to the path from Eghiali to Lagadha.  I reached the village somewhat warm and perspiring a little more than mildly but that was only to be expected because of the time of day and the fact that I did walk a bit fast.  As the path enters the village it soon reaches a car park which is at the end of the road from the town and which also marks the turn-off to go up to a small monastery/church built into the cliffs and marked on the map as Agia Triada.  When I say small I mean really miniscule.  It makes the church built under the rocky overhang which I visited last week seem agoraphobic.   (get the subtle use of Greek-origin word(s) there!)

Another bad case of Repetitive Photo Syndrome.  But this was a particularly bad case as will become clear.  It’s a fascinating place.  Indescribably small.  The steps at the top are so steep and narrow that you nearly fall backwards going up them and then at the top you have to crouch down to walk up to the church itself.  The door is about 3 feet high and the inside is only marginally higher and it seems scarcely 6 foot to the back wall.  It was not only unlocked but open.

Going up I completely missed the steps going up again to the next level which involves a tight right turn while almost lying on your side.  It reminded me of some cave passages I have been in.  The steps go up to another level with another church, this one closer to normal height but no bigger in floor area.  And then up again to a kind of gallery set under the cliff with the remains of what I think is a tiny monks ‘cell’ (the cell is tiny, I have no idea of the size of the monk) at the end.

Unfortunately it was mostly in the shade being set in a North West facing cliff but I took loads of photos, continually trying for a better angle or composition.  The problem was that it was all so narrow that even with the wide-angle end of the zoom lens it was impossible to get far enough away to do it justice.  But I took photos of lots of bits of it

View from the path of Agia Triada built into the cliffs

Approaching the door of the lower of the two churches

The top of the upper church

Eventually I dragged myself away but not before resolving to try to go back in the evening when there would be better light.

Continuing back through the village I found the next section of the path, down into a ravine and then up the other side to a tiny settlement called Stroumbos.  I had seen it yesterday on the return from Stavros and, knowing what I had in mind for today wondered if the path went that way.  Yet another fascinating place.  Until recently nothing but ruins, a number of houses have been restored and others are in the process ….. even though there is no electricity or piped water.  That is impressive commitment!

Coming into Stroumbos, a mixture of the restored and the still derelict

Having climbed out of the ravine and passed through Stroubos the path continues upwards and as it passes on the inland side of a small hill (about  250 metres) it is lined with flowering plants.  Presumably having less sun the flowering season is slightly later than in the full sun on a South facing slope. It strikes as a marked contrast with the Dodecanese islands which we have always visited at this time of year when there is little left but crisped and dried foliage.  Furthermore, comparing the weather forecasts for Kos and Santorini  (Amorgos sits in between) over the last couple of weeks it has been clear that the temperatures in Kos are at least 10^oC higher, at times a lot more.

Flower-lined path

Soon the path becomes a well paved kalderimi as it keeps more or less the same height and leads into the other mountain village, Tholaria.  Time for a frappé before dropping down once again to Eghilai and a very welcome swim.

Paved kalderimi leading into Tholaria

The walk was not as dramatic as yesterday’s but certainly shorter and less taxing which was the plan.  Unfortunately my intention to return to Agia Triada got in the way of a less taxing day.  Brisk walk back up to Lagadha to catch the setting sun on the cliff.  Another visit to all the photos I took earlier in the day.  Then a brisk walk back down to have a meal.

In the sunset the cliff becomes a golden brown

... and the buildings themselves become mellow

In fact a golden glow infuses everything

On the basis of the evidence from my pedometer, which is only a crude measure of distance because stride length is so variable on such variable terrain, I covered 21 km today compared with 24 yesterday.  Ho hum.  Let’s see how the legs stand up to tomorrow.

Amazing walk on Wednesday.  The longest I’ve done on Amorgos and the most spectacular.

The first part was up an extremely well stone-paved kalderimi to one of the two mountain villages inland behind Eghiali, Laghada.  It takes about 30 minutes at a reasonable pace and is obviously still used as a ‘commuting’ route judging by the number of people I saw walking up and down it  with shopping and the like.

Laghada is a warren of alleys but I managed to find the right onward path, confirming it now and again by checking with locals that this was the right path to the monasteries of  Ioannis Theologos and Stavros.

Right from the start the path works its way inexorably upwards, through the village and onwards for over an hour with no relenting.  Eventually it reaches a kind of high-level plateau of farmed land.  The guide book refers to this area as the ‘hidden Amorgos’ because there are no views into it other than walking through it.  There is clear evidence that here donkeys are widely used for transport.  There is no other way and unlikely to ever be so.

Fresh evidence that these paths are kept open by donkeys

Some sections of the path are being restored and stone-paved once again, obviously with public funds from some source or other.  Not surprising really since, according to the guide book,  there are ceremonies every September at the monastery to which I’m heading first, that of Agios Ioannis Theologos, St John the Theologian.  The path must be used by the religious dignitaries in their robes and though very good walking in normal clothes must be a right pain in all your long-flowing finery.

In the middle of nowhere, obligatory notification of public funding. of the restoration work

The monastery itself stands out in the landscape, brilliant white and spectacular in a very rugged, early-Byzantine kind of way.  It’s a shame that it isn’t open as the inside is supposed to be very interesting.

Monastery of St John the Theologian: built in the early Byzantine period, almost like a fotress

Peace and calm inside the enclosure

A major problem I’m having with today’s blog is that there are just so many photos and images of places like Ioannis Theologos that they can’t all be included.  Best thing is to come over and look for yourself.

By now it’s the middle of the day and there is little breeze.  I don’t know whether this end of the island is more sheltered from the prevailing wind which in Chora was consistently varying between strong and howling, or whether the wind has subsided generally.  In either case it was now very hot and I was having to conserve water.

The onward path to the next monastery is again inexorably upwards but not steeply so.  There is a rocky section where I’m bounding along like a gazelle.  Well we all have to have our dreams.

Then round a bend and there comes the brilliant bit.  The path narrows dramatically and hugs the cliff face and crosses screes for as far ahead as can be seen.  Absolutely fabulous.  It’s not a path to think about the consequences of slipping or tripping, just for making sure that you don’t.

On the right are sheer cliff faces rising upwards. To the left are screes dropping 2000 feet straight into the sea.  Fantastic walking.

One short section of this psycho path

Psycho photographer on the edge: yes, that scree does go straight down 2000 feet to the sea.

Eventually, round a craggy outcrop and there is the goal.  The old monastery complex of Stavros, The Cross, sitting in a col at about 2000 feet above sea level.  Not as spectacular as the other one but somehow more impressive for the sheer isolation of it.

The church and old monastery compound of Stavros in the col 2000 feet high

The walk back is just as spectacular but the other way round.  Cliffs on the left, scree on the right.  It’s so exhilarating I keep having to calm myself down in order to stay safe.  I seem to stop every few feet to take yet another photo.  Again they can’t all be included.

The return seems to go more quickly.  In a way  suppose that’s because it was downhill but it’s also because the mind is still exhilarated.

Reaching the mountain village I find a different way through it to the top of the kalderimi down to the harbour.

Still a feature in the mountain villages

It’s a while since I stopped so I sit in the shade of an olive tree and have a celebratory banana and finish my water.  Blog readers may remember the beastie which took a  fancy to my rucksack a few days ago.  Chris identified it for me as a cicada, thereby destroying my obviously erroneous belief that a cicada was a 3-4 inch long green grasshopper thing.

The cicadas were really giving it what-for in the olive tree, quite deafening.  But one of them seemed to be chirruping from the stone wall on the opposite side of the path.  It was.  I tracked it down.

Climbing the walls

I got back to hotel just after 15.30.  Hot, tired, sweaty, grubby, so I took myself off to the beach for a swim.  Another great end to a great day.

Tuesday, that was a very funny day.  The more erudite and literary minded blog readers will realise that is a slight misquote of the opening line and title of an episode in the much undervalued Beiderbecke Trilogy (Episode 5, Series 1 … I can now check these things on the internet.

It was not funny belly-laughs, more funny-peculiar.    As was James Bollam’s.  (Do try to look this stuff up, it’s some of Alan Plater’s best work!)

I moved to the other end of Amorgos.  The hotel minibus was picking me up at 10.00 so I couldn’t fit in breakfast at the usual place which doesn’t open until 09.00 … or shortly after, but instead reverted to the very British ‘bacon, eggs and toast’ in the square above the room I have been in for 10 days.  Unusual but good.  It also meant that I couldn’t finish Monday’s blog and post it …. because I had to finish packing.   I seem to have a lot of stuff!!

Minibus was there ahead of time, as was I.  Punctuality is an obsession with me.  I get disturbed if I’m late.  Doesn’t bother me if other people are a bit late for any arrangement but I feel I’ve got to be on time.

I’ve been on the island bus service along the route between Eghiali and Chora twice but sitting back in a minibus and watching it go past in the opposite direction was revealing.  That was the direction I had walked it on two occasions and I kept seeing landscape features I recognised from the footpaths.

The hotel room is brilliant.  A whole different world to the room in Chora.  But at more double the price it is ironic that the wash basin doesn’t hold water (as mentioned the blog a few days ago).  It’s a very simple thing to get right, the seating for the plug just has to be sealed properly into the basin.  It doesn’t matter how posh the hotel, it is invariably done wrongly and the wash basins will not hold water.  Hat off to the guy who runs the place in Chora, compact and bijoux it may be but the wash basin holds water every time.

I digress again.  The room in the hotel is considerably larger then the room in Chora which is  a great blessing, and the balcony looks straight down to the sea and over the bay and is angled towards the setting sun (at the appropriate time of course).

And there is internet access on the balcony and in the room!!!!!!

I had planned for a lazy day and just getting to know the place.  So I sat on the balcony and worked on finishing the blog.

Bit of a ‘rewind’ here.  Reader’s of last year’s Greek blog might remember that I started it by saying: “I’m very conscious of the fact that though “a man’s mind plans his way …. God directs his steps” (Book of Proverbs chapter 16 verse 9)”.  If you don’t remember, don’t worry, it’s because I used a different font/typeface.  Readers of this blog might also remember that one of the things I did before leaving home was to complete the publication of the book of Enfys’s poems, all the profits from which will go to St Anne’s Hospice in Newport which looked after Enfys so well in her last weeks.  (I knows this is rambling at its worst but I’ll get there in the end).  Well!!  The local newspaper, The Argus, has decided to write a feature Enfys and the book, interviewed David in my absence swanning off in Greece, and asked him to try to get high resolution photos of Enfys to include in the article.

Until today when I moved into the hotel a) I would not have had internet access and b) I would not have been around in the daytime but somewhere up in the mountains.  To cut this meandering story short, at the end of the morning I had an e-mail from the journalist writing the piece asking for the photos urgently – it is to be published on Wednesday.  I had them on an external hard-drive which I carry to back up the netbook and which also has an ‘active archive’ of everything of value on the PC at home so I was able to sort it and get the pics off to the journalist.

A few too many coincidences there to all have happened by accident!  And another coincidence … I read that chapter of Proverbs as the next bit of my systematic daily readings before I left Chora in the morning to come to Eghiali.   Interpret that according to your own prejudices and predispositions.

A bit phased by all this unfamiliar stuff, by which time it was 14.00,  I ambled along the seafront in Eghiali.  It’s a very laid back and not unpleasant version of package-tourist Greece.  In my wandering I stopped for a Greek salad in a beach-side taverna.  Again quote unusual for me.

Then I got the urge to stretch my legs and ambled up to one of the mountain villages at this end of the island despite the fact that I was wearing tidy clothes and sandals not scruffy walking gear and I didn’t have my rucksack and so no cameras. Or water. In the village I had an orange juice in a taverna and then ambled back down.  It transpired that I had inadvertently done on of the paths I had meant to do over the next 4 days – Number 4 of the ‘Footpaths of  Cultural Interest’.  But it was a ‘no-photo’ day as I had no cameras.

Almost.  There is a great view of the sunset from my balcony.  I couldn’t resist.  So here are a couple of views from my balcony!

Now how's that for a view from the balcony!

If I could only get t in the bottle ......

The colour in the sky was amazing even after the sun had disappeared behind Naxos

Great walk planned for Wednesday.  Number 5 of the ‘Footpaths of  Cultural Interest’.