D54 Kardamyli to Pyromali

Whilst it felt like the reunion was the end of the journey there was the final leg up to the sacred grove which I had determined should be completed the following (Monday) morning 10 weeks after leaving my birthday party campsite at Stowford manor.

The ride up (5km and 300 meters) was a bit of a lap of honour with stops at Robin's and Erhardt's both good neighbours and rapidly becoming old mates! Then we rendezvoused with Sus and Caroline and made the final approach to the sacred grove -Hermes' new home.

 The celebratory picnic under mama olive ended with the traditional snooze! At peace the journey completed a new stage in life begins on the sacred grove.

D53 Messene to Kardamyli

And suddenly the big day was upon us. if all went well we would be remeeting wives in the luxurious accommodation provided by Stavros at Elies amidst the family olives. So it was a prompt start first coffee at the unlikely sounding village of Arsinal 5km down the valley then a roll down to Aras on the coastal plain for breakfast. We were in the city of KAlahari for late morning coffee with me pointing out to Alex such features as Durban cycle tracks and fashionable shopping streets. After so long on the road Kalamata seemed the height of sophistication.

We crossed the city, cycled the promenade and were suddenly faced with the first sign for Mani as weheaded.down the peninsula (West side of the middle finger of the 3 fingers protruding South of the Pelopponese not to be confused with the mirror like three fingers protruding from the Northern Coast including Mt Athos.)

We stuck to the coast as far as possible to reach the delightful fish taverns in the last little bay of Kitries where the coastal road ends and the only way is up! Having fuelled up.at Georgio Gaitanoros's place (to suitable amazement that anyone would be so foolish as to spend 2 months on a bike instead of hanging around drinking ouzo) we took our 600m of ascent on the chin knocking it off in under an hour (Christ my legs are strong after these 50 days) and reached a long imagined summit of the pass into Mani proper. This is where Geoff my blood brother filmed my show reek for Dr Matt's koroneiki olive oil only 21 months ago and here am I back with my brother by marriage... reminding me that brotherhood transcends death itself.

And then down, down those  hairpins which had been damaged by the Kalamata earthquake of 1985 the first time I descended to the glorious pebble beach of Ritsa and Kardamyli with its Palmolive soap factory chimney reminding us of a recent light industrial past which I rather like -a working town as my mother would have said approvingly- no longer true I'm afraid more of a boutique town peopled by real people who are first generation hoteliers and making rather a good job of it.
So we get to the beach and turn right for Elies.I

Then suddenly Susannah is there, the champagne is flowing (mainly on the floor) and that magical Mani light all combine to make me wonder whether it's all a dream afterall!

D52 Olympia to Ancient Messsene

The hot uphill toiling the preceding afternoon reminded us of the merits of an early start and lay off for lunch which we duly put into action that morning. We had determined that prudence was the better part of valour and rather than attempt a heroic over the mountains ride across the central peaks of the Pelopponese we would be better doing a morning of A road bashing down the West coast before cutting inland just North of Kyparissa to get over to a position from where a minor road attempt on the Northern Arcadian gate of Ancient Messene was a realistic possibility.
The coast road was fine with a saturday morning bustling little town coffee stop at Zacharo before a delightful swim and fish lunch at Kalo Nero. Wives were by now arriving in Greece and pictures were being exchanged of our fish lunches 100km apart hence a strategic shot of a post prandial coffee.

The likelihood of our joining Susannah and Caroline the following day at our lovely rented beach house by Kardamyli rested on our progress towards Messene that afternoon.

It was hot but gently inclined and we positively ate up the kms so by the time we stopped at the roadside sign of the hanging pig where the young lad was nominally tending to a side of pork being slow baked in the Kalamata manner (evidence of our approaching journeys end), with a fag hanging from his mouth which was being employed in constant communication via his mobile phone head set no doubt with an equally bored adolescent  a few 100meters away we felt able to ask directions to the Kastro and enjoy what my friend Paul dubs a microadventure.

Once we had crossed the little old disused railracks that we seemed to be following round the Pelopponese (evidence that I had selected a Flattish route!)  we were soon bumping along a little agricultural road, not sure which form to take at a junction until in typical Greek style a  saloon car came nonchalantly bouncing down the Rocky trail with a middle-aged couple looking like they were on a weekend afternoon drive (which of course they were Greek style!). Yes left for Castro and soon we had crossed a delightful river and headed up to the Frankish fort which had been built no doubt to oversee the little valley and it's route of communication. 

Pressing on we turned the corner to be greeted with spectacular views across the Pelopponese all the way to hitherto unseen South East and the matching mountain tips of Taygetos striding southward down the Mani peninsula.

After a refreshment stop at the upland village of Neoxori we had a strenuous climb up to the watershed with the bay of Messenia to the South and the ramparts of Ancient Messene. To enter a classical city on a public minor road through a surviving classical gateway remains one of my biggest thrills in the region. 

Out timing was fortuitously perfect as the afternoon sun dipped below the ridge line and we enjoyed the final 3 km rolling into the modern village above the site with panoramic views over the valley studded with ruins accentuated by their lengthening shadows in the westering sun.

That evening s taverna dinner was pleasantly interspersed with chat from the visiting archaeologists from South Africa and Britain in search of the head of Isis (must look into this!). Our sleeping spot had been selected on arrival just North of the village - the perfect terrace accessible from but invisible to the road ...Alex under a did and I under an  olive embraced in the arms of Morpheus in our one man free standing tents open to the heavenly bodies above. Blissful last night on the road!

D51 Loutro Ermines to Olympia

After a delightful morning swim and breakfast with Katherine we returned through the umbrella pine strip to strike inland heading South for the site of Ancient Elis.
We got a bit lost coming through the modern settlement of Manolada (sprawling and surprisingly populous due to all the agricultural polytunnel enterprises encountered) and stopped for route enquiries with a passing lady. Chargeback into the neighbouring building (the local lycee secondary school) to haul the English teacher out of the preterm planning meeting going on inside.
Sotiri in her turn called over her friend Nina the gym teacher to hear the cycle take and before long we were joined by the headmistress and orange juice was served and a full account had to be given. As we sought to explain Alex's.contribution the term paleo caravanner was introduced to me - literally 'old man of the mess tin' - an affectionate term of abuse which has stuck for Alex!
So orange juice drunk and delightfully distracting conversation dying down the Paleeo Caravanner and I pushed on for Elis...
(no relation but a bucolic picture of a romantic interpretation does hang on my hall wall  at home selected with the youthful pleasure at the coincidence of names 3 decades ago not realizing it was the name of an ancient Greek city state) beside a modern dammed valley reservoir which was the key to our cross country route to the sacred river Aleph flowing through the famous sanctuary of Zeus we know as Olympia.

 We 'enjoyed ' a hot afternoon toiling through rolling hills but eventually reached the valley of the Alfios, fought out way through the tat of souvenir souvenirs shops and restaurants serving a major tourist attraction to.find the site just as calm and atmospheric as I recalled. The last time I was here 35 years ago I  ran in the sacred stadium and I still recalled the rather strangely atmospheric result....so we both repeated the exercise and again commented on the interesting feeling it evokes through the layers of associations. What I hadn't done before was a little Tai Chi on the spectator banks which houses up to 40,000 people in a world were such gatherings would have been far more affecting given the much lower population densities generally experienced.

That evening we camped at a little site above the town funny a delightful family (Diana's Camping) whose elderly patriarch in his early 90shredded is with the Marseillaise! I'm this age of all conquering English we forget how relatively recently French was the lingua franca! I learnt two delightful Greek sayings that evening at our delightful family restaurant run by Helene - the  first about a task begun was already half done ....encouragement for the Greek Project good building our house at Pyromali......the second bagger in my memory related to the Greek word for feeling which I must look into more with my greek  teacher back.in England. The Palaeo"are banned discovered a taste for the Greek distilled digestive  Cheepro that might (as did I) and the evening was rounded off with one of this delightfully discursive conversation with a 67 year old German who had been trekking up in the remote upland gorges of the sacred Alfios using a classical text by Pausanias as his guide seeking spiritual ancient sites, orthodox monasteries and goodness knows what else.

Asconve

D50 Bari to Loutra Grmines via Patras

The unscheduled extra day in Bar i turned out to be very enjoyable in this historic city. Prehistoric remains at a nearby coastal site include this stunning ceramic bowl dated to 6000 Bc which is extraordinary.

The pilgrimage church of St Nicholas is noteworthy for both early Byzantine architecture and the atmosphere which is definitely eastern with visitors touching the cult objects which are sacred to both the western and eastern church.

The day slipped past very pleasantly and suddenly it was time to board my ferry to Patras via Igoumenitsa (mainland opposite cOrfu). From my visit to the archaeological museum I had a new found insight into the close proximity of the heel (or as the Austrian cyclistcyclist I met on the ferry suggested the spur on the heel) of ITaly to the Albanian coast referred to in the museum as the 'Taranto Canal' linking the Adriatic with the Ionian. So I was pleased we sailed before the light had gone to enjoy this lake like opening leg with land unexpectedly visible all  round. It's a longtime since I last travelled deck class and after a couple of late night chats with Greek lorry drivers who patiently listened to my fumbling Greek and shared dreams of taking their Syndaxi (pension) and retreating to their village because despite or perhaps because of their trans continental travels we agreed there was no better place to retreat to.in the third age than a Greek coastal village.

I awoke to island studded Ionian vistas and used the entry to the gulf of Corinth for some visual recon of the North West corner of the  Peloponnese where I hoped Alex and I might camp that evening.

Demarcation was straightforward - something rather intoxicating about riding out in a long line of lorries and being waved through out of the ferry terminal. Alex my brother-in-law was on the quay waiting and I knew we were going to have a great ride across the Pelopponese together.

Having lost a morning through the strike we were kean to get going so off we set suddenly two not one heading along the coast towards the North Western Cape of the Pelopponese. The first impression of riding Greek roads were how surprisingly good the surface generally was and what traffic there was (which came in short clumps behind a lorry generally) was generally slower than in Italy. So we made good progress to put first drinks stop (overpriced coke in trendy bar with glam barmaid and pulsing space electronica music - But not a bad view!

Pushing on round the corner we hit flat agricultural land covered in polytunnels with gangs of South Indian workers .... The pattern of migrant labour doing the agricultural work is thereby maintained right across the eurozone to include its poorest member Greece! The paradox of populist  resentment at these hard working migrants 'taking our job's ' was not lost on us. We had a short debate about the conditions these migrants endure - an opportunity to send home earnings to poor South Indian families maybe but also a degree of debt bondage entrapping the workers with minimal rights certainly. It would seem migrant labour satisfies no-one except the consumers like us all enjoying cheap imported food in our supermarkets. For the record the local crops were water melon and strawberries. The  degree of agricultural specialisation across the eurozone has also been an  eyeopener - the consequent loss of diversity making us ever more prone to  pest invasions!

When we lost our way as we attempted to push through the fields towards the coast we were directed by an articulate young S Indian in good English who ran after us to correct  our navigation. Once again I mused on the seemingly endless human potential underused in our global system. I had been struck.in Italy at just how effectively the Italians, with their love of machines, had mechanized almost every task. Given that whatever the future holds we will  be feeding around 11 billion by 2050 and half of these additional people will be African and the global mechanisation of agriculture is going to be a must.

Anyway returning from such  academic contemplation our more immediate concerns were locating food and booze near a suitable coastal campsite. Our first attempt took us through a beautiful umbrella pine protected national park coastal strip to a bay where the onshore wind was driving a surprisingly wavy sea into a sandy foreshore with the remains of a deserted  lowrise building which I.mistook for a fish processing building but turned out to be a derelict attempt at a hotel. No beer hear said the two old men encountered sitting beside it sipping  ouzo and gnawing on charred corn cobs setting  the world to rights. But, with masterful timing said the elder of the two, why didn't we go round the corner to Katherina's bar where we would find 'beer, Ouzo and everything'!

Our dreams came true as we approached the next bay along to find this set up. We passed a fantastic first evening together sharing this beautiful beach with the lovely Katherine who cooked us souvlaki and chips to soak up the beer and wine (the delightful.Peloponnesian Mosxaphilerro grape variety which produces a fragrant white)and Ibrahim the 'beach bar security guard' with whom Alex swopped Arabic pleasantries.....a United Nations beach for the night.

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D49 Ruvo do Puglia to Bari

Stayed in a rather suburban b and b last night with a me an gardening host who gave me a knowledgeable tour of his fruit and olive trees. Interestingly he suffered some olive pestlence from a ground dwelling insect that clambered up the trunk at night - he used a form of wool wrapped around the trunk.to arrest them. I was more interested in his strategy for olive fly which badly affected one of my three harvests to date but he couldn't lay his hands on the preventive substance he uses there.

I did eventually get going but then stopped in the next town Terlizzi which was as attractive as all these little Puglia towns for coffee. The Appian way goes right by here but I didn't detour to see some more Roman pavement, been there done that! However I did stop to admire this Dolmen chamber tomb from 3500Bc early Bronze age. Knowing that Neolithic agricultural settlement (which chamber tombs are related to.('our ancestors lived/still look out for us on this land')

I I stopped to take this shot as I thought it summed up Italy's transition from traditional to modern, agricultural to industrial, closed to open. Its been an education coming down this beautiful peninsula - more an agglomeration of regions than a nation state m.p.h.-maybe a model for  europe here?

 Then suddenly I'm entering Giovinazzo who trumpet  their olives but of more interest to me is on the seaside. And on what is a rather shallow shoregood.For seafood but not for swimming it possesses an old stone quay which solved the swimming problem.

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Lunch  had to be mussels served in what else but a tomatoe and pepper sauce that was delicious. As I mused on my last day in Italy over lunch I did have this nagging feeling that it was all going too well and the ferry booked for midnight might prove less straightforward that one might think.

My foreboding proved to be not without cause. The finAl cycle into Bariwhich should be a pleasant roll along the coast routes you on a bike instead inland via the airport an industrial belt and a bunch of flats which for some reason I struggled to battle through. When I did get to the port the ferry had been canCelled due to  a strike by Greek seamen.  So an unscheduled camp on  a lawn beside a bastion in Bari after teaming up with two Galatians Campbell and Gemma cycling from Bologna. But that's another story they tell  at

Highlands2hammocks.co.uk

D48 Minervinho to Rivo di Puglia

What a lovely couple of nights in Minervinho - the unsung balcony of Puglia. In the park on the top of the hill the cafes start filling up a couple of hours before sunset when the most extraordinary light show  commences as the wind turbines sitting in the windy rolling landscape below light up. All helped by a brilliant soundtrack laid out on by a cool dude whose photo was taken too late in evening to sadly show anything! Italian pop feels pretty good at this moment and I'm.beginning to recognise a few times you here playing in the narrow streets. Thanks to Rocco (a local saints name I later learn) I was feeling recuperated and ready to take on the hills of the National Park dell'Alto Murgia. Given my starting point this turned out to be not so challenging  and with little effort I reached the Castel del Monte of Frederick 2nd.
 For those of us with a shaky understanding of the Holy Roman Emperers who attempted to follow in Charlemagne 's wake (see earlier posts) Fred 2 is pivotal. Son of Barbarossa who crops up on Sicilian trips he powered up the peninsula from his southern power base ('son of Puglia' as is claimed locally with pride) to unite something which we can recognize from school books as a version of the 'holy Roman empire ' combining lands now falling in Germany and Italy and seeing off the Mongols to boot! The man was a polymath and took a serious interest in classical antiquities hence the flourishes to his castles and wrote a guide to hawking which is considered now an early work of ecology !  He ended up 'King of Jerusalem' amongst many other titles having been excommunicated 4 times for not doing what various popes wanted but managed to broker a deal with the Saracen Turks which won the holy places bloodlessly . What a life!
Anyway having enjoyed my first sighting of the Adriatic / Ionian Sea I wound down towards the coast through olives and vines.

 The  land is dotted with field shelters called tutti locally very reminiscent of the Mani. Indeed there are loads of echoes (our olives are Koroneiki varieta l after the town of Coroni,  here they are  Coratino after the town of Corato! 

Arrivied that afternoon in lovely Rivo do Puglia.another medieval town this time with a jazz festival on. A pleasant evening including a chat with all three women in my life , Susannah and my daughter's Harriet and Kate who were all dining together in Bristol and I felt fleetingly homesick for the first time on the trip.