More old friends....
Vic and Christine arrive in Tranquil Bay whilst we're there. Its great to meet Vic at last.. he's stayed on my boat when I've not been there and I've heard so much about him from Susie, John and Lynda. And here he is in the flesh, with Christine.
We have a great evening with them on Saturday, and they return the compliment last night. Its a shame they are off to Zakinthos today, but no doubt we will catch up in a few weeks, and maybe even play "Vic's game"....
As the season goes on and more and more boats arrive here, its fun to catch up with people.. and this week has been a particularly good one. There are friends we've made here,who we often meet (usually in Porto bar, Vliho yacht club, or for an arranged beach barbie), old friends who are just arriving, not to mention friends of friends and people who know us through the internet.
Earlier this week we meet Stuart Carter - a Lancastrian, who, drawn by my Lancashire flag, comes over to say hello. It turns out he's a lifelong friend of my brothers (plural). He's closely followed by Curly Sue, "met" through ybw: "you must be Carolwildbird!". We catch up via email with someone we first met in Brittany who is now in Preveza, and later in the week with Neil and Cathy, who we last saw at a ybw get together in Plymouth, and who are now in Paxos en route to Lefkas..
We're sitting in Vathi when we get a text from Bill and Lynn, first met in Almerimar, and last seen in Paxos en route to Crete, who want to know where we are. We're in Vathi, I text back. It turns out they are in Astokos.. a mere 90 minutes away.. so they sail over and come and spend the night with us in Vathi. Its good to catch up and gossip about life the universe and everything, and what's been happening in our respective worlds.
Bill and Lynn decide to come up to Nidri with us, as I offer a mercy mission up to Lefkas in the car to get them a new sail batten.
A shopping trip or three later... not to mention lots of booze (well for Bill at least).. quite a good reunion.
A quick early morning walk out to the church on the headland.. about 5 miles, I guess. Its getting to that time of year here in Greece where its only feasible to walk at 7am.. and even then you come back drenched. It will soon be only swimming.
Up to Vathi.. "Big Vathi", as its known, to distinguish it from the Vathi on Meganissy ("Little Vathi"). Its getting hotter and stiller, so inevitably we motor.
The pilot book is not hugely encouraging about mooring at Vathi, mentioning it as a very windy spot with one quay usually occupied by flotillas and another with very deep approaches. What it fails to mention is the large and shallow anchorage just off the quays in the southern half of the harbour in which we, and many other yachts, manage easily to free anchor. I have to admit to avoiding coming here last year because of the pilot book.. and actually there's loads of space and its very easy. Perhaps we also get a good day with the wind, because that's fairly benign too.
A wander round the town reveals some interesting shops, including,at last, some selling original art work rather than the inevitable tourist tat.
One of the things I like to do is to buy some art work from each country I visit so that when i finish this journey, I will have a little something to remember when <<I'm sitting in my rocking chair reminiscing. In France it was some glorious blue pottery from Roche Bernard. Portugal.. some painted egg cups. Morocco.. the inevitable rug. Spain came up with a lovely original ceramic/watercolour by a Barcelona artist, dating from the turn of the century (bought in a car boot sale for 3 Eu!). Italy.. well Sicily.. a book on Byzantine Mosaics. So far, nothing from Greece, though I do have plans for a terracotta pot.
Walking down the back streets, we come across an artist selling hand crafted metal work sculptures of olive tress, birds and other things. He turns out to be an ex member of the Greek sailing team. His family ran olive farms on Ithaca, but that no longer pays.. so he has become an artist.
One particular piece captures my imagination. Its an olive wreath with leaves made from beaten silver and copper, with two copper and brass doves. He tells me it is inspired by his family.. the long history of olive farming, sadly no longer economic, and symbols of peace. He calls it "Freedom".
I did not encounter Athena at the spring, but I encounter her here. Athena is the greek Goddess of wisdom, civilization, warfare, strength, strategy, female arts, crafts, justice and skill., and according to one myth,competed with Poseidon to be the patron deity of Athens, which was yet unnamed. They agreed that each would give the Athenians one gift and that the Athenians would choose the gift they preferred. Poseidon struck the ground with his trident and a spring sprang up; this gave them a means of trade and water. But the water was salty and not very good for drinking. Athena, however, offered them the first domesticated olive tree. The Athenians accepted the olive tree and with it the patronage of Athena, for the olive tree brought wood, oil, and food.
I look at the wreath, and I'm filled with indescribable sense of beauty mingled with sadness. Athena has brought this to me as my symbol of Greece. The "Wild Birds" of the wreath echoing my Wild Bird, my boat. The olive branches..symbols of peace and freedom. The sense of things coming to an end, and new things beginning to replace what has been. A very apt metaphor for my soon to be ended time in Greece.
... or more specifically to Peripighadi Bay on the south east coast of Ithaca. A lovely spot, with clear blue waters running up to white rocks and fragrant shrub-covered hillsides. Ferry wash (you can see the waves in the picture) does tend to make the anchorage at times a little rolly, but its still a peaceful and pleasant spot. Good for a little swimming and snorkeling.. as good as the area can be, because most of the underwater life around here is somewhat sparse, other than a few fish.
And good for walking, as there is a path up to Raven's rocks and, en route, the spring of Arethousa. Whether the present day Ithaca is actually the Ithaki of Odysseus is a subject of debate by archaelogists and historians (see article hereand ), but as I walk up the path I like to imagine that it was. Odysseus said, "My home is under the clear skies of Ithaca. Our landmark is Mount Neriton with its quivering leaves".
Was Odysseus, after his long and tortuous adventures, returned here from Troy by the Phaeacians? Was it here that he was disguised as a beggar by Athena? The Odyssey describes how Athena tells the disguised Odysseus, to find the swineherd Eumayeus "watching over his swine… at their pastures by the Raven's Crag and at the Spring of Arethusa". To cut along story short, here, he invents a story to explain who he is, and is met by his son Telemachus. Odysseus, Telemachus, Eumayeus and Philotus the cowherd return to court to try to liberate Odysseus' loyal wife Penelope who has been besieged by 108 suitors for her hand, all of whom have taken up permanent residence in his palace. All is eventually resolved, but only after much inevitable bloodshed.
Well, I don't find Athena, or Eumayeus at the spring of Arethousa, but I do find some guardians of the spring.. aptly, some goats. After all, Telemachus says... ""In Ithaca there is no room for horses to run, nor any meadows at all. It is a pasture land for goats."
These goats are fairly splendid beasts with huge spreading horns.Startled by my arrival at the spring, they leave the cool shade of the damp overhang and bound up what looks like sheer rock cliffs. "Big daddy" snorts and stamps, and peers back over the edge at me, looking like some god -like reincarnation of some mythical beast. Others peer from behind bushes.Its quite a splendid sight.
Susie is a tortoise fan. She had several back in Cornwall gracing her garden and is sad to have left them.
Whilst we had a tortoise fix up in Zagoria, Susie still wanted to see the wild ones on Petalas Isalnd in their natural habitat, not about to be run over by a car. So off we go to Petalas.
Its as wild and remote as I remember it.. that is barring several yachts which are there. We settle down for an afternoon of peace.. me hull polishing, Susie sunbathing - before an early evening trip around the bay to look at the cave and then ashore to look for tortoises.
Susie is less than impressed, I have to say. The scratchy plants, steep slopes, and, above all, a huge variety of creepy crawlies are rather too near to wild nature for her comfort. Whizzing grasshoppers and crickets fly about, spiders weave webs all over the place (and if there is one thing Susie hates, its spiders), and unknown insects land on exposed bits of flesh. Here's one of them.. a glorious green grasshopper.
Needless to say, we do not find any tortoises. Perhaps it goes without saying that Susie declines another trip ashore in the morning..
Here's one I saw last year on Petalas...
A trip south this week. First of all to Kastos... not only because it is sheltered from the forecast NW F5-6, but also to show Susie the views from Captain John's taverna.
A blowy trip down in 25 knots of wind (thats after no wind, wind from the SW, the Nw, the Ne, the W, passing east of meganissy) and a good sail for the second part of the trip.
The anchorage at Kastos is still attractive, and pretty deserted... that is until a bloody great motor boat arrives and anchors all the way across the bay. I'm just hoping the wind doesn't switch too much as he'll take us all out in one fell swoop. But its still peaceful and Susie decides on a spot of all-over tanning, lying in the cockpit. I'm quietly contemplating... something... ...when I look up to see over 20 yachts arriving.: the end of some race. Hmmmm. One of them is hell bent on dropping his anchor right up our stern. What a glorious view of our stern and ...."Errrrr Susie......" I throw a towel hurriedly over the parts which should not be looked into. Even the larger pair of Susie's cheeks are blushing.
A trip ashore. Its often a tad disappointing to go back to somewhere you really liked, and this is no exception. The village is still attractively unspoiled, and my expectations are high as we walk up the hill on a hot a dusty day.
The first disappointment: the normal rather pretty path up has been part turned into a building site and we have to scramble over rocks and stones to get there. When we reach the taverna, there is no-one else there, and we wonder if the taverna is deserted. But no, its open.. and the person serving remembers me, and asks me where my big black dog is. A moment of sadness, as I have to tell her that he died.
They have cut down all the bougainvillea which framed the view. I guess it will grow back, but the place looks bare. Admittedly the view is clearer, but the impact of the bougainvillea-framed view of the Echinides islands is completely lost (picture from last year, above).
Ah well.
Susie has decided that my epitaph should read "It wasn't supposed to be this windy". From our first major trip - across to Ireland in a F8/9 (forecast F6/7) - our trip around cape st Vincent (30 knts plus), recent trip up to Corfu (25 knots instead af the 10 forecast).. my oft cried lament as I'm reefing yet again is just that.. "it wasn't supposed to be this windy"
More wind than forecast, or its opposite.... less wind than forecast - seems typical of Mediterranean weather, though round here, in the afternoons, especially north of Lefkas and south of Meganissy, its often much windier than Wind Guru predicts.
Yesterday was a case in point. We planned a quick trip to Sivota to spend a couple of days chilling before coming back to Nidri. The forecast indicated we'd be motoring, and indeed we were, down most of the Meganissy channel - no wind at all... But at the south end, as often happens, the wind quickly builds to a F5-6.:25-30 knots on the nose as we head round the corner to Sivota.
And of course, in the anchorage - although not blowing so hard, its very gusty. I am realizing that Sivota has this peculiar geography which, if there's an easterly or westerly, or indeed southerly (maybe its from any direction!) the wind switches direction through 180 degrees in the space of a minute, blowing first from the north and then from the south. And then changing back again. In 24 hrs we covered virtually all points of the compass at least twice. Quite a challenge to keep track of where your anchor is, and slightly on the worrying side when other people anchor close to you without realizing your chain is like a heap of spaghetti on the bottom.
So trips ashore are taken with a weather eye on the boat and the state of the wind. Sivota is a pretty as ever, with flowers now in full bloom in front of the tavernas, and the glorious display of potted basil in front of one taverna now at its full glory.
I do manage a walk, though not a great distance round the headland, as the path starting round the headland to the east of the bay has now got a fence across it about half a mile down the headland. I assume someone's bought the plot to build on.. When will the Greeks learn that people like walking?
The fun bit about this walk is the spiders... lots of them with webs like banners high across the path. Its brings to mind The Hobbit.. I feel like I am going up a path towards Shelob's cave, with her little spider attendees watching me as I duck under their glittering webs.
No, not a comment on my state of mind after all these recent deaths....
Helen and I decide to have a day out en route to Igoumenitsa, where she'll catch a ferry to Corfu (general strikes permitting) to catch her plane home.
First stop: The Necromanteion of Acheron: a pre-christian Greek temple of necromancy devoted to Hades (the god of the Underworld) and Persephone, and which was believed by devotees to be the door to the realm of the dead. The Necromanteion sits next to the river Acheron.. where Charon is, in Greek myth, supposed to ferry the dead across the river Styx in return for a coin. Here at the Necromanteion people came to talk with the dead - aided and abetted by ritual priests, bodily and psychological purification, and the ingestion of hallucinogenic substances, so it appears. What fun that would be...!
According to wikipedia:
"Ritual use of the Nekromanteion involved elaborate ceremonies wherein celebrants seeking to speak to the dead would start by gathering in the ziggurat-like temple and consuming a meal of broad beans, pork, barley bread, oysters, and a narcotic compound.Following a cleansing ceremony and the sacrifice of sheep, the faithful would descend through labyrinthine corridors leaving offerings as they passed through a number of iron gates. The necromanteia would pose a series of questions and chant prayers and the celebrants would then witness the priest arise from the floor and begin to fly about the temple through the use of theatrical cranes"
Wow! Its easy to envisage how the priests could stage manage this when you visit the site.. lots of ritual, lots of s drugs and some starvation, chanting, darkness and incense. Its especially powerful in the "underworld" part of the site - a vaulted windowless chamber. In one account, celebrants are lowered down (to them unexpectedly) into the lower chamber on a false floor (presumably where Helen is standing in the picture above).
On a more prosaic level, I really liked the construction..huge stone blocks pieced together like a jigsaw.
Having communed with the dead, we then decide to go to the "River of Grief": the River Acheron.. or more specifically to a section of the river which runs through a spectacular limestone gorge, and where icy cold springs flow out from the rocks.
The fun thing about this is that its possible to walk up the river, through the Gorge.. a wonderful thing to do on a hot day, as the water is cool.. indeed at times chillingly cold from its journey through the limestone.Its also a wonderful jade greeny-blue colour in the deeper areas.
The walk starts on a path, but soon the walls close in and its only possible to make progress by wading up stream.
At times its ankle deep, then thigh deep, and for some short stretches, to make progress requires a bit of swimming. Not exactly easy against the current, and holding a bag with clothes and camera above my head. I feel like someone from "Out of Africa", and Helen looks the part, swimming with her colonial hat on.
We spend about 2 hours going up the river, till we reach an old bridge. From here, we're told its possible to walk back over the hills. But, having fought our way up stream against the flow, the appeal of reversing the route and going downstream, including floating through blue pools with the flow of the river proves too attractive.
Here's another picture of helen floating downstream
And as for the general strike affecting all ferries.... we get to Igoumenitsa and all the ferries are running normally. helen pops across to Corfu, and finds a B&B, and I drive back home after a satisfying day.
Ahh.. realize I have not introduced Jasmine properly. She's our (temporary?) boat cat. We found her back in May in Vliho, crouching under a car abandoned , 4-5 weeks old. She's been crying for three days and was very weak, and neither of us could leave her there to starve or be run over. In fact, by the time we decided she could not be left any longer, she had crawled into the base of a jasmine bush. Hence her name, shortened to "Jazz" or, occasionally, "Jaws"
She was voraciously hungry and very tiny, but within 24hrs had stopped being a spitting, squealing, terrified monster, and has now taken over the boat. She's very friendly and, as befits a 10-12 week old kitten, extremely playful. Which, at 5 am when she's doing the wall of death round your cabin, can sometimes be a bit tiring! When she's in her manic mood, she has a penchant for biting anything that moves... sleeping has become an exercise in keeping still.
Having got back to Lefkas.. a bit of pootling.. shopping, socialising, going to Concrete Bills near Nidri for a "Paleokatina's got (no) talent" evening (very funny), and then out and down to one tree bay for a swim and overnight stop, and then to Port Athene to join the Lefkas crowd for a beach BBQ. Slightly more subdued than the last one, as Kevin has a cold and retires. Probably much better for my liver, as his secret glass topping up service is suspended. At the last barbie on Linda's birthday, I seem to remember lying on the beach looking at the stars slowly revolving...
Then over to Nidri and onto the Skorpios pontoon for a coupe of days. very useful to be able to tie up and have power and water for 10Eu (Neilson) or 12eu (Skorpios) whilst leaving the boat to go off and do other things.
The other things being, today, a tour of the south end of Lefkas by car and a visit to Katsiki beach, where we laze about and swim, Its a stunning blue beach.. not surprising that its on the trip boat itinerary. Probably easier to get to by boat than by car..
A stop to buy some local thyme honey, before supper in a restaurant on the cliffs facing the western sea, and sunset.
Today...
Sailing down from Paxos to Levkas in a reflective mood. Thinking about flowers...
The poem that my friend Mary is reading at my friend Jim's funeral today...
Flowers
Some men never think of it.
You did. You’d come along
And say you’d nearly brought me flowers
But something had gone wrong.
The shop was closed. Or you had doubts —
The sort that minds like ours
Dream up incessantly. You thought
I might not want your flowers.
It made me smile and hug you then.
Now I can only smile.
But, look, the flowers you nearly brought
Have lasted all this while.
.......
One of the drawbacks of this cruising life is being so far away from friends and family. No more so when times are tough, either for yourself, or for them.
Over the last few months, my dear friends Jim and Carol have been going through a difficult time both facing up to cancer, Carol's successfully treated (we hope), Jim's unsuccessfully. The after effects of chemotherapy and radiotherapy were unpleasant for me when I had them back in 2007, but nothing compared to the effects they had on Jim.. Sadly, or perhaps mercifully, Jim's decline was much quicker than originally predicted, and he died last week.
Its horrid being too far away.....
Jim, your spirit lives on, laughing, and making your dry and witty asides. I really appreciated your and Carol's friendship when we first came to Bishopstone, and over many years thereafter. I have some great memories of you.. just a small sample of which I can immediately recall.
All those evenings in the Royal Oak. Our pub quiz team outings. Burns night suppers. The Republic of Bishopstone.. ...yes, you were resplendent as the newly elected president of our republic.. made for the part!
And that old land rover.. with its "approximate" gears. And the holes in the floor.. oops where did you put the pub keys? (it made for a good outing on the ridgeway hanging over the back looking for them!) And the landrover did make a very splendid launch pad for the rockets....
Walking on the downs with Gilbert, Sullivan and Moss. Those long walks... ...Oh yes and the long waits (OK, Gilbert and Sullivan.. The hare went 2 hours ago. You can come back now!). I hope they are there with you over the rainbow bridge.. Maybe Skye and Ollie will have joined you too, at least temporarily.
As for the song writing.. You should have gone far. As I don't have my Bishopstone pictures here, the best I can do is a piccy of you with a very young looking Jonathan Ross, after "T-shirt" won the Buddy Holly tribute song writing competition. Oh, to be that young again.
Co-creating your garden in Shrivenham... and your support and friendship when I popped in unexpectedly after my separation.. sitting in the garden drinking wine.
I will always think of you when I hear "In My life". Your patience trying to teach me how to sing it. That you wanted to have it at your funeral to celebrate yours and Carols long marriage. And now I'm singing "Thank you for the day" (Kinks).. Carol tells me that that was a request too.
For Jim and Carol
There are places Il remember
All my life, though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places had their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all
But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more
In my life I love you more
Keith Fisher's chaps turn up to look at the starter motor... ...of course the engine starts fine. That's the way of boaty things (the replacement solenoid switch I bought for another intermittent problem identified back in Plymouth nearly three years ago is still sitting in the spares box, as we havent had a problem since buying it).
Having described yesterday's symptoms, they show me where to hit it witha hammer, to free up the sticking thingy which engages with the gears (you can tell I am not very engine literate!). They test the engine start battery (fine) and pronounce all OK.
So we are on our way.. up to Ag. Stephanos for a night at anchor before heading south.
A nice little anchorage, and we are blessed with baby swallows. Why they choose our boat, I don't know, but its very nice hearing their chattering all morning as mum comes in the feed and tend them. Jasmine is highly excited, but the swallows don't seem to care.
This is the nearest we get to Albania.. I think Helen fancies a little sortie, but as I have not a clue about the protocal or possibilites of Albania, discretion rules.
No prizes for guessing where we have been. Yes, up to Corfu to pick up Helen and cruise back down towards Lefkas. The weather forecast was good for an overnight sail... westerly f4 or less. Of course the Greek weather gods being what they are, it turned out to be a very bumpy F6, 25 to 30 knots of wind hard on the nose.. Quite a shock after pootling about in the inland sea.
Even more of a shock for Jasmine on her second sailing trip...the poor mite was sick. A seasick boat cat? Hmmmmm.
As night fell, the wind dropped, and as usual here, we end up motoring about half the way up to Corfu. And who do we end up anchoring behind? Tim and Caroline, our near next door winter neighbours in lefkas marina. Its a good job they were there.
Getting the dinghy out and outboard on, it fails to start. I have a fuel leak. I decide I need to go into town to find a new fuel hose, but its now blowing a hooley again and rowing is going to be quite difficult. Tim and Caroline "volunteer" to tow us ashore. Over a beer, Tim decides my fuel line is mendable. But the outboard still refuses to start, and by this time the waves are very choppy. No way can tim and caroline tow me immediately off the shore: I have to row out to get a little way off and not in danger of beaching or damaging the outboards. Next problem. I set off rowing - applying quite a lot of pressure on the oars.. The rollock breaks. Now I am left with one oar, no outboard and on a lee shore. Bugger! Why do these things always happen when you are tired from an overnight sail? After some slight cursing, I manage to lash the oar to the dinghy sufficient to row, after a fashion, and finally Tim is able to get to me and tgow me off.
We need the dinghy.. I have to pick up Helen at 4.30am tomorrow morning. So nothing for it but to set to work to see if we can repair it. The dinghy repair stuff is, of course, tucked away right at the bottom of the outside locker, underneath all sorts of stuff one accumulates in liveaboard life. . But at least I do have a spare rollock from the ill-fated previous dinghy (mashed in the Arzal lock), and after some pondering how to get the broken part off, manage to refit the old part. Hurrah! At least one problem solved. I'm really tired by now, but decide that, before getting the spare dinghy off the deck and trying out Pam and Keith's little outboard, I'll give our outboard one last try. As if by magic she purrs into life.. Great sighs of relief....
Ah the joys of this boating life...
We abandoned the idea of camping in Zagoria... but can't go back to Lefkas without having done it. All that packing would have been completely in vain. In a rather mad moment we decide to drive over to Meteora because a. there is a campsite and b. its somewhere on the bucket list of things to visit in Greece.
Well, its spectacular... and the camp site is awful! As is the very tacky town and indifferent people serving you. I guess its just inundated by tourists. I shall refrain from writing more about the contrast between the wildly beautiful Zagorai with its clean villages and respectful, friendly people, and the tourist tat of Meteroa.
The monasteries are spectacular though. Glad I went.. but one night in that god awful campsite is enough.
.. this time up to Mikro Papingo.. the next village up the mountain, and the last stop before the trek up to Mount Gamila and the Astrakos refuge. I don't have time (or company) to do the longer walk, so have to satisfy my self by taking the nice track between the two villages, and doing half an hour or so up the mountain. Its really tempting to continue.. but I'm by myself in wild country without all the safety gear, so discretion calls.
Half was between the two villages are the "kolympithres", natural rocky pools, which are well used for swimming in the summer. What a reminder of my caving days.. here are water worn limestone pools cutting their way down, in sinous curves.
We feel satiated after our glorious walk and contemplate what to do next. Camping is still at the back of my mind.. can we find somewhere suitable to wild camp, and hope we don't invoke the wrath of the Park authorities? Decisions, decisions.
Meanwhile lets go for a drive northwards, towards Aristi and Megalo Papingo. En route we encounter more tortoises in the roads.. we saw some yesterday and rescued two from potential early deaths as they walked down the road. Susie is besotted by tortoises, so we have to stop at each one we see and put them into safe places.
The camping decision is still hovering when we come across a nice stopping place where the road crosses the Voidomatis river. We decide at least we should try out the new stove combination and have a picnic/ camp cook whilst sussing out whether we could camp here overnight. The cooking goes fine, but the camping less so. The presence of yet more angry large, unfriendly sheep herding dogs, barking at cars and people, settles it. The answer has to be... another B&B. Hmmmm. So much for camping.
Up the steep road around a dizzying number of hairpin bends to Megalo Papingo and a spectacular view of the gorge, this time from the bottom of the cliffs.
There are several hotels, according to the rough guide.. We find a shop in the centre of the village and are about to go in and ask for advice when up drives a man in a van and gesticulates wildly for us to move.The roads are rather narrow.... I explain that we've just stopped temporarily to ask about hotels, and his face changes. "Come with me".
Rather dubiously, we hop back in the car and follow him to his hotel.. the hotel Astrakos... which is up towards the top of the village with lovely views. He gabbles to his wife and we explain that we want a room with two beds (yes we are cheapskates), expecting problems.. but no... he shows us to a fabulous room with two huge double beds on a sleeping platform, en suite bathroom (with a bath.. Oh JOY!|) a shared lounge (which as there is none else staying, is ours), and even a patio with tables and pots of flowers under grape vines. Its a very traditional building.. lovely wooden shutters and wooden carved ceilings. A cracking find!
The styles inside this house, and indeed outside in the village more generally (we explore it later), don't seem Greek at all.. more sort of middle eastern, or even far eastern in some respects. The raised sleeping areas with little tables in our bedroom, for example. Houses tend to surrounded by stone walls, with elaborate wooden gates, topped with porches which remind me of temple entrances in Japan and Korea. Like elsewhere in Zagoria, most of the building is in stone with pitched roofs. Everywhere is clean.. no evidence of the piles of rubbish and half finished and abandoned projects which seem typical elsewhere. The people seem very friendly and very welcoming.. all in all a lovely place to visit.
Apparently Megalo Papingo is the haunt of the rich and famous, and has been used in film sets. Clearly, now, the main income is tourism. It must be very peaceful in winter. Actually its very peaceful now.. no traffic (as there is nowhere to go).. just the sound of the occasional sheep or cow bell in the stillness and crystal clear mountain air.
Its turning out to be a lovely day.. ideal for viewing the Gorge in all its glory. Another walk is called for.. this time an hours stroll to the Beloi viewpoint.
Leaving Koukouli, we drive up to Vradheto, calling on the way at Kir to admire the stone roofs - particularly lovely from the viewpoint on the road above the village (that's if you ignore the plethora of wires and aerials).
The highlight of the walk.. apart from the unfolding views as the path climbs gently over a limestone plateau,undoubtedly has to be the flora and fauna: a fantastic array of butterflies over meadows of flowers, including this meadow of orchids.
Large groups of small blue butterflies congregate
on the paths -
presumably picking up some mineral from the stones. Orange ones. Yellow and orange, red, dusty pale lemon, grey and white. Fantastic! I only managed to capture a few of them on film
.
Of course, the real objective of this walk is the spectacular view of the Vikos gorge, here at its deepst at nearly 1 km deep. Its only just over a kilometre from rim to rim too, so quite vertiginous as we perch on the rocvky urcrop with 100s of feet vertical drops beneeath us.
Here's a closer view of the cliffs.. the trees remind me of japanse bonzai on a large and more natural scale.
And a little orchid (click for larger picture of this .. and indeed all the other pictures, for that matter)
