MOTORHOME TRAVELLERS' DIARY FOR JUNE 2003

GREECE

Barry and Margaret Williamson

What follows are extracts from a diary we kept during our travels in mainland Europe by motorhome, bicycle and sometimes motorbike in the years since we early-retired in 1995.

01 JUNE 2003 GR CAMPING RELAX, KILADA

A leisurely drive from Palea Epidavros, once we had escaped the confines of Camping Bekas, its trees, right-angle turns and absurdly narrow approaches.

Rosie climbed the road we'd taken on Alf yesterday, high above the coast, pausing to make lunch at the summit, sharing the view with a goatherd and his large flock of 'horn-wearers'.

Then down past Didyma, on to Porto Heli and another couple of miles to Kosta, the tiny port at the tip of the Argolid Peninsula. Here the Caravan Club book listed a campsite near the ferry terminal for the island of Spetses. We had phoned to check it was open, with space for a large motorhome - No Problem (naturally). The site was completely overgrown, long grass, unpruned trees, unoccupied vans taking up most of the places - No Chance (naturally)! The owner seemed surprised when we left but couldn't tear himself away from his bar and TV to suggest a place among the undefined pitches. A 'Type B' Greek.

We drove back through Porto Heli and past Kranidi to the little fishing and wooden-boat-building village of Kilada, to the only other campsite in the vicinity, named 'Camping Complete Relax'! This is more like it, no-one else staying, the swimming pool drained, one field flooded, but the owners friendly and helpful ('Type A' Greeks), even fetching a long ruler to measure the height of the sunshades (3 m) under which we didn't fit, being 3.3 m. Eventually found a nice corner, did 2 loads of dhobi, free of charge as it later transpired - and relaxed!

50 miles. £11.07 inc elec.

Walked into Kilada and along its shore, on a small sheltered bay. Traditional caiques (little wooden fishing boats) are still built and repaired here, and next to the campsite is a big wharf and hoist for lifting or launching larger wooden vessels. The fishermen were mending their nets, one offering a trip to the Fichti Cave across the water (e10 for 2), but we weren't biting.

After lunch, rode Alf the 5 miles inland to Kranidi, an amazingly busy and compact hill-town with a rabbit-warren of narrow steep lanes between the whitewashed houses, just wide enough for one small car, the traffic controlled by a chaotic mixture of one-way streets, a traffic light(!) and praying not to meet anything the other way. Posted a letter to Steve (the Fridge Dr), together with an order for 2 water filters. We found a real blacksmith's, complete with wood-fired forge, to weld a broken piece we'd brought, taken off Rosie's motorbike rack. The smith spoke no English and reluctantly accepted a nominal one Euro for his work! We watched the parent Swifts coming and going in an iron bird-box he'd made them in his roof.

Back at the camping, B fitted the piece back on the rack, another problem solved. We updated the diary, did some forward planning and phoned Alan and Mum, suggesting the next mailing address at Karistos on the island of Evia.

Rode Alf back to Kosta for the 10.30 am ferry across to Spetses - a 20 minute voyage costing about £2.75 return for the 3 of us! Private cars are not allowed on the island, just bicycles, scooters, motorbikes and commercial vehicles with permits. Residents and visitors alike leave their cars on the big guarded car park by the ferry. A hilly, pine-forested island of 9 square miles with a population of less than 4,000, mostly living in Spetses port, the only settlement. Like its rival, Hydra, it wasn't inhabited in antiquity but grew rich in the 18th and 19th C on the profits of piracy and ship-building (latterly for the War of Independence against the Turks). It claims 2 famous inhabitants - 'Admiral' Bouboulina, who lost 2 husbands to pirates and 2 sons fighting the Turks, and was shot dead (1825) in a family vendetta: a true Greek heroine, whose house is now a museum; and secondly John Fowles, who taught in the 1980's at the English-style boys' public school and based his book 'The Magus' on the experience. We motorbiked anti-clockwise round the island on its one sealed road, occasionally dropping down to a little cove with an empty beach by the clear blue sea before climbing over another wooded headland. Very quiet, most tourists staying in Spetses town, where horse-drawn buggies ply the waterfront.

Half-way round, at Ag Anargyri, we shared the best beach on the island with just one other couple, on a long sheltered bay of fine sand. Ate our picnic and set off to walk to a signposted 'famous cave', eventually turning back when we realised you probably had to swim to its entrance!

Back at the port, we sat in the Dapia - the elegant square with canons and Bouboulina's house and statue - to finish our victuals and wait for the 4.30 pm ferry back (the last one - those wanting to cross later have to take an expensive water-taxi).

We returned to Porto Heli (shopping at Dia), then a detour via Ermioni to check on ferries from there to Hydra for our next island excursion. A delightful little port, next along the coast to the east, with the most delicious ice cream cornets ...

Wrote postcards to Uncle Harold in his new flat and to Paul & Genny in Oz, and a long letter to Andrew & Laila, enclosing our list of European Cols Climbed, updated by Barry. The list currently describes 70 cols climbed since 1995 in the Alps, Pyrenees and Greece with a total height of 466,100 ft and involving 261,184 ft of climbing. We have yet to add other cols in Greece and the climbs we made in Australia, New Zealand and the USA. M made gingerbread.

Motorbiked into Kranidi to post the cards and letter and revisited the smithy, this time with Rosie's offside cab mirror bracket which had been bent in the incident on the Pylos-Methoni road on Easter Sunday morning. The smith straightened it with a large hammer and his vice, free of charge, while M rescued the tiny kitten which was wandering into the road, its eyes still closed. We reunited it with its mother and sibling, living in an orange box in the corner, and M wished we could take both of them to a safer place.

After lunch we rode Alf up and over the hill to Didyma to see the 2 famous 'Caves', just above the village, which the Michelin Guide vaguely attributes to a meteorite in the 19thC. There is an enormous scoop in the mountainside, visible for miles around, but before that, surrounded by trees and hidden from view until the last moment, is a deep crater in the ground. Here, steps lead down and through a short tunnel into the crater, where the villagers had built a tiny chapel in the side of its walls in thanksgiving for their narrow escape. The signpost had a quaint mistranslation, calling it the 'Cavernous Church of St George'. We walked the narrow footpath round the walls of le grand trou (we met and talked with a couple of French fly-drivers), then continued up the lane to scramble on the rocks below the second crater angled into the mountainside. Impressive, but not caves, just big holes.

On the way back to Kilada we turned down a lane signposted for the Fichti Cave, but no further sign (or signs) of it were found, although we browsed around - probably removed by the ferryman across the bay!

Rode Alf to the delightful little harbour at Ermioni, on a rocky bay. We walked round the scant remains of Ancient Hermione, on a wooded promontory by the lighthouse, then shopped at the weekly produce market, though prices have been pushed up by the presence of tourists - mostly French in this corner of the Argolid. M foiled yet another attempt at short-changing, this time on the banana stall. We checked again on the times for the ferries to Hydra tomorrow (more of them run on a Friday, giving us a nice late start), then returned to our relaxing base.

Did a few jobs - mending sandals, making half a gallon of lemonade, cleaning, viewing and sorting photos (or digital images, to be more exact) - before riding into Kranidi to the Internet/ Email place. It keeps Mediterranean hours, closed 2-5 pm then reopening till 9 pm, which makes sense in the afternoon heat, now well into the 90's. Here we read new Emails (from NFU Insurance and Paul & Genny, cruising), checked bank balances, and most importantly got the 370 digital images, including a short video and some voice-overs, copied onto a CD so that the camera's 128 MB smart card can be re-used in due course.

Wrote at length to Bill & Ruby Johnson in Oz (Perth - met them in Brisbane) and prepared for a few hours on Hydra (with plenty of lemonade, coffee and biscuits). Had lunch, Alfed to Ermioni and left him there. Crossed on the 2.25 pm Hellas Dolphins 'Flying Cat', a smooth 20-minute ride on a catamaran into Hydra's port and only town. Tiers of white-walled red-roofed houses climb up from the horseshoe harbour, looking splendid from the sea. The waterfront is lined with cafes and gift shops, with hotels and rooms fanning out up the steep hillside behind. Horses and donkeys wait to carry visitors and their bags up the stepped streets (no motor transport of any kind).

We walked the coastal path westwards for about 20 mins to the little fishing harbour at Kamini, where a stone bridge crosses a dry stream, then further along a mule track and up on rough ground to a ruined windmill (one of a pair, matching those across the water at Ermioni). Going any further round this dry and rocky island means hot dusty hiking or an expensive water-taxi, so we returned to explore Hydra town, watch the local kids diving off the rocks, and buy icecreams and the 'Athens News' fresh off the boat. The cathedral and its former convent are built round a beautiful white marble courtyard - quarried from the Temple of Poseidon on Poros! We didn't manage to find Leonard Cohen's house (featured in our video) but we certainly climbed some of the streets he trod.

Then walked the other path, east of town to Mandraki (beach and hotel) and back for the 6.10 pm boat, which had come from Athens, depositing a crowd of weekenders with heavy bags for the donkeys. This time it was a 'Flying Dolphin' hydrofoil (USSR circa 1970?), much noisier and rougher than the 'Cat', but we were safely in Ermione by 6.30 pm and home by 7 pm.

We wrote to Peter & Ruth, which involved listening to Macca's 'End of the Bitumen' with shorthand notebook and pencil at the ready! Also worked on the diary - May printed and June updated. The sun is getting fiercer (in the 90's by day, now only dropping to 80 degrees or so after dark). We cooled off after lunch by riding Alf on tracks round the nearby coast to the beaches at Lepitsa, Doroufi and Thinos, where we stopped for a paddle. The water was clear and warm, little fish swam round our toes, shame M had omitted to bring her bathers! The lanes didn't go through to Porto Heli (blocked by the padlocked gates of a private mansion) but we scrambled up the hillsides to Kranidi for petrol, then found another way back. It's been good getting to know a new corner, the Argolid Peninsula and Argo-Saronic Islands. Packed up to move on tomorrow.

After convincing the man at Camping Relax that arriving on 1 June and leaving on 8 June = 7 nights (when any idiot can tell it's 8 nights) and that we'd been quoted e15.50 a night, not e20 (high season rate), we were on our way. The only one to speak English is never there as we leave!

Rosie climbed well in the heat, up past Didyma and over the top, down to Epidavros and north towards Corinth, with views of the Saronic Gulf. We stopped for lunch near Loutra Elenis, then continued to Isthmia at the southern end of the Corinth Canal and parked by the beach where plenty of Corinthians were enjoying the sea, sun and shingle. We walked round to the low-level submersible bridge and looked along the Canal, always an amazing sight with its high-level road and rail bridges. The big cruisers and tankers seem to skim the sheer rock sides as they are tugged through. We walked and paddled along the beach and through the woods and stayed for a lonely but free night, as we have before. The huge coach-park nearby, where we'd once met the Two Brians in their motorhomes, remained empty.

'Alter' showed 'Private Ryan' through the evening, an amazing film which we enjoyed this time without the interruptions of trying to explain the USA's part in WWII to German Karsten & Polish Agata in a NZ cabin. We were only disturbed by a couple of unusual loud popping noises, which B later put down to the metal roof suddenly cooling after an afternoon in the sun. With no visible damage, we won't know if anything has cracked for a long time - in fact until it next rains.

63 miles. Free parking.

After shopping at the nearby AB supermarket we crossed the Corinth Canal and left the Peloponnese for the toll motorway to Athens (cost e2.30), which runs along a corniche above the railway and the old road. Work is underway on several tunnels to widen it - an ambitious project which may be finished some day! We stopped at the services to make coffee and ring Turners. Still no tenants in Heaton Road, since 9 May. Also phoned various places for info on ferries from Pireus to Aegina and learnt that Saronic sail several times a day, taking about 1½ hours, no need to book.

Continued towards Athens, the road getting dustier and busier by the mile, keeping a close look-out for Camping Athens after the Dafni Monastery, 5 miles before the centre. Actually spotted it and got in without having to turn back (a difficult manoeuvre) and settled in for a late lunch. Then reading, diary-writing, baking and planning visits to Athens and Aegina. Enough current to run the air-con except when the kettle or microwave is on. Barry, his feet getting itchy and not just with the mosquitoes, started reading about eastern Bulgaria and Romania.

45 miles. £13.21 inc 16-amp elec.

Public transport into Athens was an experience in itself - first cross the 8 lanes of continuous traffic to the bus stop 'conveniently' located outside the campsite! Perhaps someone slows down if a zebra actually tries to use the crossing. On about lane 5, B attacked a small wreck of a van which failed to recognise our status as human beings. He nearly won! Bus A15 or B15, running every 10 mins on tickets bought in Reception (not on the bus), took us to its terminus on Theo Diligiani Street in 30 slow and crowded minutes. The bus is full when no-one else can squeeze in, the driver sitting in splendid isolation, with no control over numbers or tickets. From there it's a short trolley bus or metro ride (or a long hot walk) to the centre, so we took the metro, a wise decision. The old 'underground' - the green line from Pireas to Kifissia - has been extended laterally with 2 new branches, the red and blue lines (one project they've actually finished before 2004 Olympics).

We got the red line from Metaxourghio to Syntagma Square and were whisked along in a subway which worked really well, thanks to its French designers and contractors. Nor was it crowded (perhaps the flat rate of e0.70 is too expensive for Athenians, the bus costing only e0.45). The excavations to extend the Metro revealed archaeological finds and 3 of the stations (Syntagma, Acropolis and Monastiraki) have made displays of some of the levels and artefacts. At Syntagma we viewed remains of an ancient cemetery and pottery workshop, from the time when the area was still extra-mural. By the Roman era, the city had expanded to include it.

Above ground the traffic, air pollution and post-war architecture are dire but we dutifully walked round Syntagma (= Constitution) Square to photograph the guards on sentry duty outside the Parliament, doing their incredible 'Silly Walk' in pom-pom shoes, white tights and kilts. Today's demonstration had closed the road by the Grande Bretagne Hotel and brought out the Riot Squad, waiting patiently in the shade. With a population of 4 million, one third of the Greek nation and two-thirds of its cars, Athens requires its many protestors to bring their own sound systems.

We found the Compendium Bookshop in nearby Nikis Street and bought the Lonely Planet guide to Eastern Europe, our 1997 edition proving too outdated. Then large glasses of orange juice, squeezed while we waited at a pavement juice bar, before walking and climbing up to the Acropolis - an ambition unfulfilled on 2 previous visits to Athens. Despite the scaffolding (surely they're not trying to rebuild it for 2004?), the Classical citadel with its temples, Greek and Roman theatres and museum is breathtaking in its scale and its position, crowning the city with commanding views in every direction including the seaward approach from Pireus.

The hilltop was settled from prehistoric and Mycenean times, culminating in the Classical city-state of the 5thC BC. Its most sacred monuments were burnt down by the Persian invastion of 480 BC, but after their defeat and the peace treaty of 449 BC Pericles rebuilt the walls and employed the best architects and sculptors, led by Pheidias: the Golden Age of the city.

Despite Macedonian control under Alexander the Great, and Athens becoming a Roman Province in 146 BC, the Acropolis survived for 1000 years until Christian Emperor Justinian finally closed the Schools of Philosophy and reconsecrated the temples in 529 AD.

Athens didn't feature in the Middle Ages, after Byzantium/Constantinople was established as the ecclesiastical capital. Venetian bombardment followed in 1687; Turkish Athens was just a garrison town, the Acropolis being home to the Governor and the Parthenon a mosque! In the 19thC, after the War of Independence, archaeologists worked to strip away Frankish and Turkish embellishments to the Acropolis, leaving what we see: the results of Pericles' job-creation scheme or civic building programme. The only entrance is still from a terrace above the Agora, through the double gateway of the Propylaia, built of the same marble as the Parthenon, which is on the highest point. This symbol of Athens (of Western Civilisation in fact) is the temple of Athena the Champion, built to hold her massive wooden cult image, decked in ivory, gold and jewels (long-lost). Admiring the harmonious proportions of the Doric columns, it's hard to imagine them painted red, blue and gold and roofed over.

Two smaller temples: the Temple of Athena Nike (shrine to the goddess of victory), reconstructed from the original stones in the 19thC after the Turks used them for gun emplacements, and the Erechtheion (sanctuary to the city's old patron, Poseidon-Erechtheus, and the new, Athena). This has the famous Porch of the Caryatids - the columns on the south side are in the form of 6 tall maidens holding up the entablature on their heads. These are reproductions: 5 of the originals are in the Acropolis Museum (next on our itinerary), the 6th is among Elgin's marbles in the BM. Scant remains of other temples and jigsaw puzzles of stones and columns are strewn over the site, the 3 main temples are roped off. Restoration work is ongoing forever, much of it restoring the damage of previous 'restorations'. (The Parthenon only took 10 years to build originally!)

Most of the objects, statues and bronzes are now in the site museum to escape further environmental pollution, apart from a few major ones in the Athens National Museum and those which found their way out of Greece during Turkish rule. Despite the complaints about Elgin's 'looting' and the pieces now in the Louvre or taken to Munich by King Otto, there was plenty for us to admire: pedimental sculptures with many traces of paint suggesting vivid colours. The painted statue of a young man carrying a sacrificial calf, 570 BC, is a very early marble. The collection of Korai (maidens dedicated to Athena) from the 6thC BC shows the shift from simple Doric faces and clothing to the more natural and elegant Ionic sculptures. Sculpted animals (bulls, horses, sheep, goats, serpents) are extremely realistic. We relished it all: well worth the e12 entry (and half-price for over-65s).

Past the low hill of Areopagus, where Persians camped in their siege and later St Paul preached, we descended to the narrow lanes of Plaka, the old (19thC) Turkish quarter, for overdue drinks and souvlakis. Then we explored the heart of the ancient city: the Classical Agora and Roman extensions on the north slopes of the Acropolis hill (included in the Acropolis ticket). The agora (market) was a rectangle divided by the Panathenianic Way, its open centre enclosed by temples, administrative buildings and long stoas (arcades of shops). It was extended by Julius Caesar and then Hadrian. An extensive area of ruins span the 6thC BC to the 5th AD, with minimal explanation. We watched 2 large tortoises enjoying the irrigated lawn and wandered among the remains of shrines, stoas, gymnasium, odeon and council chamber - the most complete being the columned temple of Hephaistos raised on a small hill to the west. The Museum, with some splendid pottery and grave goods from the Kerameiko, is in the reconstructed Stoa of Attalos. This enormous roofed structure, 2 storeys high, was rebuilt by the American School of Archaeology in Athens in the 1950's - perfect, except for the lack of red and blue paint. Classical architecture was not left as bare stone.

Finally walked through the bazaars to descend gratefully into Monastiraki metro station to return to Metaxourghio for a bus home. Rosie, left closed up all day, had reached over 100 degrees F inside - reduced to about 80 by the air-con after a couple of hours. The TV is showing a temperature of 37 degrees C for Athens all this week, about 99 F, and we believe it.

In which we take a ferry from Pireus to motorbike round Aegina, with sites Ancient and Byzantine

An exciting half-hour ride on Alf to Pireus, partly on the unfinished motorway being built to link Athens with its port (of course, it will all be ready for 2004?) We got the 10 am ferry to the island of Aegina, disembarking at the eponymous port 1½ hours later, after calling at the smaller harbour of Souvala on the north coast. Lunched on a 'full English breakfast' at a quayside cafe (fresh orange juice, coffee, bacon and eggs, toast and strawberry jam) before making a circuit of the top half of the island. First stop, the enormous modern church containing the head of Ag Nektarios (the newest Orthodox Saint, died 1920, canonised 1962). We preferred the older relics - the abandoned Byzantine town, Paleohora, in the hills behind. We parked Alf at the end of the road and scrambled up the tracks among the ghosts of the island's former capital, founded in the 9thC, supposed to have had 365 churches and monasteries. About 20 remain intact and in occasional use (3 were locked to protect their frescoes). A dramatic view from the top, the sea all round. It fell to piracy (Barbarossa) in 1537 and was finally left to fall down in the 19thC.

On to the fine doric Temple of Aphaia, which predates the Acropolis Parthenon by 60 years, set among pine trees on a ridge above the little resort of Ag Marina, about 10 miles from Aegina town. Aphaia was a Cretan nymph, worshipped only on this island. The pediments showed the Battle of Troy but they were bought from the Turks by Ludwig of Bavaria (King Otto's father) and remain in the Munich Glyptothek. The other remains were of baths, a large sacrificial altar and a water cistern fed from the temple roof (widely copied in Australia!) It was a delightful site, with only one other couple (Italian) visiting - what a pleasure after yesterday's crowds in Athens.

Down to Ag Marina, an ice cream by the beach, then a ride along the north coast back to Aegina via Souvala. A beautifully wooded island, with many groves of Pistachio trees, heavy with nuts ready for the August harvest, and plenty on sale round the island - reputedly introduced from Persia by Alexander the Great.

A private ferry sailed straight back at 6 pm, undercutting the 'subsidised' public one - a much better boat which landed us in Pireus at 7 pm. (The state monopoly on ferries has recently been lifted). The ride back to the campsite was lengthy and hectic, as we completely missed the motorway (no signs for it) and finished up in the centre of Athens (a nightmare we'd taken the bus/metro to avoid yesterday!) But Barry negotiated the chaos and we arrived safely before dark. We relaxed over a late dinner and an excellent film on TV, Graham Greene's 'End of the Affair'.

Before loading Alf on the back we motorbiked along to Lidl for supplies, then extricated Rosie from Camping Athens via its dump-site and tree lined entrance. Good practice for getting out of Athens, followed by a circuit of Pireus, which the new Super Highway along the Apollo Coast is meant to avoid - or might do when they ever finish it. Eventually, rescued by a sign for Glyfada, we were on our way, past the site of the old airport we once cycled to for a plane to Cyprus, now replaced by the new airport at Spata. Along the coast packed with Athenians escaping the heat at Glyfada and Vouliagmeni, the road becoming narrow and twisty after Varkiza with sea views.

At the tip of Cape Sounion is the 5thC BC doric Temple of Poseidon, familiar from many an ancient site entry ticket (major sites have their own photo, minor ones always show Sounion or Eretrian pottery). It was another of Pericles' major sanctuaries and a landmark for sailors rounding the cape, Homer's 'sacred headland', an evocative roofless ruin with 16 of its 34 columns erect.

We drove past it, aiming for the campsite 3 miles along the road, lunch and pots of tea, then returned to the Temple on Alf at 7.30 pm to take the obligatory photographs of the sun going down. A dramatic place, the walled sanctuary on a promontory 200 ft above the sea obviously attracts many tourists and tonight was no exception. Byron was an earlier visitor (1810) and carved his name on a pillar, though we only found later graffiti. The last verse of his hymn to Greek independence in Don Juan begins: Place me on Sunium's marbled steep, Where nothing save the waves and I, May hear our mutual murmurs sweep ...

Back at the campsite, we found it lived up to its name (shouldn't Roman Bacchus be Dionysus?), with noise from the bar into the small hours. But we did get an extra discount of e3 when M complained next morning.

54 miles. £10.57 inc elec and discount.

A short drive north from Sounion to the industrial port of Lavrio, with a break to shop at Dia. Ancient Lavrion was the site of silver mines worked by slaves, a source of classical Athenian wealth, but now minerals like manganese are mined here and it looks rough. Heading north, the inland route back towards Athens, we found ourselves on a completed stretch of the Attic Super Highway, linking to the new airport at Spata. We had to pay a toll (over £3) valid to Athens, then took the next turnoff, east to Rafina, along a 10-mile length of roadworks and potholes! It will be nice when it's finished, some day, but not soon.

Parked by the Blue Star Ferries office just before Rafina for lunch. No information was to be had there on ferries to Karistos (where we hope to collect our mail) and we were warned that parking was very difficult at the port. Sometimes we despair of this country! So, good old Alf to the rescue - we left Rosie and motorbiked round Rafina to check on boats and campsites. The harbour was quaint, with fish stalls and restaurants, and just 2 boats ferrying across to Marmari (10 miles from Karistos) whatever our new Greek Islands book might say! The campsite in Rafina is small, on 3 levels overlooking a bay, with just one place large enough for us, and priced for escapees from Athens. We reserved it before riding a few miles north to explore campsites listed at Nea Makri and Marathon Beach (both no good), so returned to Kokkino Limanaki with Rosie.

Squeezed onto the pitch below the sunshade, we could neither raise the TV aerial nor put out the awning, but at least we could switch the air-con on and lower the temperature from the high 90's. Never used it so much before!

38 miles. £13.30 inc elec.

Went into Rafina to find a bank, bread and the weekly 'Athens News'. Then a quiet day of reading, diary-writing and dhobi (which dried in about 10 minutes hung along the hedge).

The neighbouring pitch was taken by an Austrian in his motorhome, accompanied by an 'escort' he'd obviously picked up in Athens for the weekend. They communicated in stilted English and didn't appear outside much!

A good film version of 'Les Miserables' (the book, not the musical) on TV, starring Liam Neeson, kept us indoors for the evening.

A motorbike ride up the busy coast to Nea Makri (only 30 miles from Athens on a hot Sunday) then a couple of miles up the even busier but unavoidable main road (currently being 'improved') to the turning for the Marathon Barrow, just off to the right. Here, at least, all was peaceful at the simple mound raised over the 192 Athenian dead hoplites (victory over the Persians in 490 BC). The runner sent to announce the victory made it to Athens (about 25 miles), then dropped dead exhausted. Our entry ticket included the Museum, further along the main road towards Marathon village then along a narrow lane between fields to the left. Around the Museum are a Mycenean tholos tomb, a Helladic cemetery and the smaller barrow erected over the 11 Plataian dead, all officially closed, but we wandered round them and took photos through the broken windows of the decrepit hangar erected over the carefully excavated cemetery. Many of the grave-goods and funereal sculptures and headstones were in the museum, including an unusual cocoon-shaped urn with the skeleton of a young child.

Back to the campsite for a late lunch and prepared for tomorrow's visit to Evia. Rang Alan in response to his text about mail.

Used Alf to visit Greece's 2nd largest island, Evia, lying parallel to the coast of Attica and linked by a bridge further north at Halkida, its capital. At the southern end, a 1-hour ferry ride links Rafina with Marmari and we took the 8.30 am boat across. Though still hot, the island was very windy and we were buffeted as we motorbiked to Karistos, at the southern tip. We didn't collect our mail as it turned out to be Orthodox Whitsun (all the shops were open except the post office!)

A flask of coffee by the fishing harbour, a walk on the waterfront with its 14thC Venetian tower, then a ride up into the hills behind (which rise to 4,587 ft at Mt Ohi). A couple of miles inland, above the village of Myli on the top of Mt Foli are the ruins of a huge 13thC fortress, Castel Rosso. We eventually found the elusive road and Alf struggled up to the end of the bitumen. Then a 20-minute climb up to the castle, with sweeping views of Karistos and the coast below. An orthodox Prophitis Ilias (Prophet Elija) chapel stands over the Venetian water cistern, at the highest point. Back down to Myli, where springs turned the water mills, for a picnic before returning to Karistos. Alf didn't sound good after his long hot climb and we found a motorbike mechanic to change his sump oil, which seemed to help (or maybe he'd just cooled off by then). The man had learnt his trade at sea - ship's first engineer - and proudly showed his certificate.

We returned to Rafina on the 3 pm ferry from Marmari, very busy with Athenians returning after the holiday weekend, parked bumper to bumper on the car deck.

Back at the campsite we packed up and prepared to move on.

Drove north to Marathon then west over the hills, crossing a narrow bridge by the marble dam of Lake Marathonas (drinking water for Athens). We met the new Attic Highway toll road with relief and turned north, stopping at the services for lunch at Goody's.

Turning off for Evia via Halkida, we were pleased to discover a new high-level bridge taking through traffic, bypassing the centre of the congested capital town and its 1960's Euripos Bridge. 14 miles south along the coast, we found an excellent campsite, right on the shore just 1 km before the town of Eretria (famous for its pottery in classical times). We squeezed under the 4·5 metre high sunscreen by the ruin of the eponymous mill, with green grass, cats and a Harmonie Club discount.

Watched the film '7 Years in Tibet' on TV, about Heinrich Harrer's life there, and sent Karsten & Agata a text to say we were thinking of them (it's his favourite film, with Heinrich his role model and hero).

68 miles. £10.35 inc elec.

Motorbiked back to Halkida (alias Chalkis) and looked round the incredibly crowded and busy town. A mixture of heavy industry and shipping, modern seafront with smart cafes (where the Venetian ramparts once stood), and the narrow lanes of the old Turkish quarter, rapidly being demolished to build apartments. We found the post office and, with considerable patience and perseverance, persuaded the non-English-speaking staff to fetch the non-English-speaking postmaster. He rang Karistos PO to get our mail forwarded; more persistence was needed when he reported there was no mail for us, but a second phone call mysteriously raised 2 items, which he promised would arrive forthwith! Pleased with our success, we crossed the Euripos Bridge and climbed up to the Karababa Fort, built in 1686 by the Turks on the site of the Venetian fortress and used for 200 years. (Locked up, but we walked round the outside, drank our coffee and took in the view.)

Back home for lunch, then briefly in Eretria to shop at Lidl, including cat biscuits for the pathetic one-eyed stray at the campsite, the thinnest we'd ever seen. Tried the only internet cafe in town but it was having 'problems' with its network.

Learnt later from TV that an earthquake (Richter 4.9) shook Evia today damaging buildings, with its epicentre only 15 miles away, though we felt nothing.

Alf took us back to Halkida again to collect our mail - 2 packets from Alan, waiting in the head postmaster's office by special delivery, free of charge. Amazing! We spent the rest of the morning reading, sorting and filing their contents and sent Alan a text of thanks. There were letters from Brian Anderson and Daphne, postcard from Mick & Flo, request for £15 from Taylors Storage for a 'key fob', the usual pile of bank statements, stuff from Vodafone, Friends Provident, Prudential, Turners, Pensions, and motorhome insurance quotes. Comfort Insurance still offers the best deal.

Tired of paperwork, we went out in the cool of the early evening for a walk up the acropolis hill, above the theatre and excavations of ancient Eretria. Just us and a few goats. There were still a few stones from the Cyclopean walls up there, and a splendid view across the strait to Skala Oropou on the mainland, with a simple car ferry plying to and fro.

There were 3 more local earthquakes on the island - 4.6, 4.7 and 4.8 - in the early hours today, according to the 'Athens News'!

Dealt with the urgent items from the post: wrote to Taylors Storage with a cheque, and to Comfort Insurance for another year's cover plus green card for 3 months in Eastern Europe. Also rang mum (who had sent a letter to Karistos which hasn't arrived) and Endsleigh Insurance for 3 months travel/health insurance, starting 7 July.

Went into Eretria to post these, buy the 'Athens News' and look at the site of ancient Eretria - a large city with the foundations of many houses from the 4th and 3rdC BC, as well as remains of temples to Dionysos and Apollo and a small theatre. Sadly, access to that was closed so we didn't get a closer look at the vault used for Deus ex machina entrances.

Back to a busier noisier campsite (the weekenders arriving from Athens), to clean, bake and prepare to move tomorrow. Alf is running much better on the new oil and B washed the dust off him and changed his sparking plug as a reward.

Retraced our route to Halkida, off the island over the high-level bridge and back to the Athens-Lamia highway. A good motorway as far as Thiva (Thebes), then on past Akritsa (another ferry port for Evia, still visible across the strait) to Kamina Vourla, where we turned off to the large campsite. Amazingly, it was closed, with building and decorating work still going on, so we made a late lunch and decided to continue to Kalambaka.

Paused at Thermopylae to pay our respects as we always do to the statue of King Leonidas, at the pass where he and 300 Spartans made a last stand against Xerxes and 30,000 Persians in 480 BC. The monument bears the famous legend: Go tell the Spartans, Thou who passest by, That here obedient to their laws we lie.

We left the highway at Lamia to climb over a 1200 m pass, then across the cotton fields of Thessaly, bypassing Karditsa and Trikala, where we saw our first storks' nest of the year. We had crossed the invisible line into that pasrt of northern Greece which remained Turkish until 1913. Apparently, the Greeks (unlike the Turks) used to shoot migrating storks, so they had learnt to avoid that flight-path. At Kalambaka, where the plain ends abruptly at the rock pinnacles and cliffs of Meteora, we headed straight for our favourite of the half dozen campsites which ring the town, chosen for its position, space and quietness rather than its facilities! We found the same elderly couple in charge and no-one else in residence. Soon settled in our usual place, with views to the town below and St Stephen's convent perched high above. Just us and the tortoises, what joy after the noise, dust and bustle of greater Athens and Attica.

The evening film on TV was 'The Full Monty', brilliantly funny, even at the 3rd viewing. We thought of Mick, who first lent us the video, and of Angela's house in Wales where we watched with her. And we slept well.

200 miles. £8.92 inc elec.

In which we write letters, visit the Icon Workshop and try to keep cool

A text message from Karsten, still looking forward to seeing us and giving us a 'surprise', and a voice message to ring Turners. M walked down to the phone box to see what kind of surprise they had - a nice one, that we have 2 female tenants (nurses) moving in on 28 June. Relieved, M went into the nearby Icon Workshop and Gift Shop, crowded with 3 coachloads, who stop here on the circuit of the monasteries. Orange juice and Turkish delight was being handed out and 2 artists were at their easels copying icons. The monk was on double time, painting 2 at once, each colour at a time! Here we once bought calendars, but the 2004 one has exactly the same photos.

Taking the bicycles down, B found that one of the arms on the Fiamma rack had broken. He made a temporary repair and later ordered a new part ('Bike Block No ') from Brownhills, to be delivered to Alexandroupolis. Still very hot, we both used the air-con and M the swimming pool to cool off. Dealing with our mail from Evia, we replied to the Andersons and wrote to Vodafone about contract renewal and to Prudential about M's AVC pension.

Our first cycle ride in a month (since 25 May in Sparta), beginning with a stiff climb from the campsite up to the monastery loop. We found it hard in the heat, but enjoyed the feeling of achievement and the views. Ag Triados (Holy Trinity, of the one-eyed monk) was busy, its restoration complete. Ag Stefanou convent was peaceful, being closed today (each has a different day off), and we drank in the view over our camp and the town, along with some welcome squash. Round to Varlaam (we prefer the Greek spelling, Barlaam) and Gt Meteora, the 2 largest monasteries and very busy with coach parties and souvenir stalls, where we bought postcards for Angela, Ian & Nina (who called their company Meteora after their visit), and Cathy & Nick. Then thankfully and coolingly downhill all the way to Kalamabaka, past the little Ag Barbarba 'Nannery', Ag Nikolaos Monastery, and the pinnacles on which you can spot the ruins of several others. In the town we phoned Brownhills for the bike rack part and Endsleigh for travel insurance, posted our letters and bought currant teacakes and enormous pork chops for lunch and dinner respectively. The 2 Internet Cafes were expensively coin-op, brash and noisy - no thanks.

Back in training, we rode up past the Ag Triados/Stefanou turning, then turned right before Varlaam to climb the narrow, recently sealed road to the 3,000 ft high village of Vlachava. Here are summer pastures for the Vlachs - transhumant shepherds from the Pindhos mountains - and we passed many flocks of sheep and goats and their attendant dogs and herdsmen on the 2,000 ft climb. The sun beat down relentlessly as we paused to take unusual photos of the Monis, looking down rather than up at them. The village did have one Kafenion and we got a drink before the glorious freewheel back.

Just enough energy left to write postcards and do some baking (glad the hook-up runs to using the microwave, the oven heat would be unbearable). In the evening we talked with a Hungarian family who arrived with car and tent. Dr Jablonkay Zoltan, an environmentalist from Budapest, with his wife and son had driven through Bulgaria, non-stop till they reached Greece 24 hours later! Now on their way back, they had visited all the major sites and one island in their 2-week holiday. He spoke good English, invited us to visit and presented us with half a huge and juicy Karpouzi which we ate for the following week!

After some jokes with the campsite owners about bringing a fur coat for Madam, we drove past many fruit stalls on the Metsovo road, stopping to buy only peaches, pears and tomatoes, and turned towards Grevena into new territory, soon crossing the border from Thessaly into Greek Macedonia.

The Pindhos foothills were empty, vaguely threatening with Albania and the FYROM (the newly independent Macedonia) to our north. Our maps not up-to-date enough to show the line of the new Odos Ignatia (Via Egnatia), we drove on a brand new stretch from Grevena almost to Siatista, where we were dumped back on the old twisty road NW to Kastoria, the new motorway turning NE for Kozani and Salonica.

Kastoria was very poorly signed, with a busy tight centre, but eventually we found an enormous free car park in the market place in the middle of town on the lakeside. Luckily the twice-weekly market had just gone and we camped here for 2 nights, joined later by 2 gypsy vans, selling plastic chairs and tables by day.

Nearby was a good photographer's, who developed and printed the film from the Canon camera overnight (mostly photos for possible MMM articles, La Clayette and Camping Karpouzi). Kastoria is the centre for the Balkan fur trade, on which it grew rich, with some splendid mansions that were home to the fur barons and well endowed with Byzantine churches. (Kastori = Beavers, hunted to extinction by the 19thC). Fur is still the main industry here, with scraps from as far away as Canada and sewing machines visible in the furriers' barred basements; gloves, slippers and furbelows (?) in the shops; mega-stores selling mink coats and furs along the highway, signed in Cyrillic for the Russian buyers.

96 miles. Free parking.

Leaving Rosie surrounded by office workers' cars, Alf took us round the peninsula extending into the slate-coloured lake. Past the line of fish-tavernas and smart cafes, a few men fished from the bank or in flat-bottomed boats while geese, ducks and the odd pelican cruised by. At the end of the tongue of land, just past a restaurant, is the Mavriotissa Monastery, complete with peacocks and an affable monk. An 11thC church with a beautifully restored wooden roof and frescoes covering inner and outer walls abuts a smaller 14thC chapel with more frescoes of the life of Christ. The lighting was just right for colourful digital images. Returned to the town along the narrow one-way road, to find a couple of splendid 17thC fur mansions, their chimneys crowned by nesting storks. We explored the impossibly steep narrow lanes of the town and worked our way back to the market place. Still no internet cafe to be found.

After lunch, Alfed out to the ghost village of Omorfoklissia, about 12 miles SW. Here was a lovely little 14thC Byzantine church of St George, sadly locked to protect its miraculous 11thC carved wooden icon of the saint. The hamlet of mud-brick wicker-windowed houses was mostly abandoned when the Muslim peasants left in the 1923 population exchange.

Back in Kastoria we rang Alan and left a message about the post.

The main road north, bypassing Kastoria, was closed so we had to edge our way back through the town centre and exit on the steep hairpinning narrow road (perhaps our steepest yet), climbing high above the lake to a pass - a 'white-knuckle' ride, given the Greek ignorance of double white lines round bends. Then miles of empty forested hills, where bears and wolves were once hunted (now nominally protected).

Turned off the Florina road for the 15-mile newly sealed side road to the Prespa Lakes, stopping in a very scenic layby for lunch with a view of the huge expanse of water, riven with little islets and the ridge separating Mikri Prespa (mostly in Greece, its tip in Albania) from Megali Prespa (bottom end in Albania and Greece, most of it in Macedonia). It felt very remote!

Down to Mikri Prespa and along its eastern shore, to park in the village of Lemos before the road got too narrow. Continued on Alf to Ag Germanos to see the frescoes in its tiny 11thC church (restored in 1743) and enquire about camping at the Prespa Lakes Info Centre. We were directed to the car park of the Taverna at Koula, on the isthmus of land between the 2 lakes, and we eventually stayed there for 3 days with their permission. They even supplied us with free bottled water. In front of us was a Greek army post guarding the route in from very nearby Albania, behind us a pair of storks raising 2 young topped the telegraph post. Little egrets nested in the trees and pelicans soared on the thermals or rested on the lakes. The Taverna closed at 7 pm, so the nights were peaceful and we couldn't have been safer, watched over by the friendly lads on guard duty. And we'd been warned off coming to this corner of Greece! A short sudden rainstorm in the afternoon, but still very hot.

Alan was out again when we rang, so texted him the address for post in Alexandroupolis.

61 miles. Free parking.

In which we cycle 10 miles across the causeway to Ag Ahilios island and motorbike to Psorades

Surprised to find a new footbridge across to Ag Ahilios, a tiny monastic island in Mikri Prespa (our Rough Guide, 1998, mentions villagers rowing you across). The island houses about 5 families, running a hotel and fishing. We cycled and walked the rough tracks linking the various Byzantine ruins, including the Basilica of Ag Ahilios built for Bulgarian Tsar Samuel in the 10thC, right on the shore. The most complete was a 16thC convent, Panagia Porfyras, with some frescoes, though the roof and end wall were replaced after WW2 bombardment. All reminders that this is the Balkans, its turbulent history featuring in every major European war.

After lunch we used Alf to climb over the headland to Psorades, the absolute end of the Greek road, a semi-ruined fishing village on Megali Prespa. Old houses along its lanes are slowly falling down, except the few being restored as hotels for weekenders from Salonica. Very atmospheric, with the mountains of Albania and Macedonia reflected in the huge lake.

Finally talked to Alan and arranged the next mail drop.

Hopefully, we have new tenants in Heaton Road today.

A good morning's ride, back to Lemos with a detour up a track to the Macedonian border (no crossing point here, just an army base), then along the dirt roads linking the impoverished hamlets of Plati, Lefko and Karies. We returned partly along an excellent lakeside path following the irrigation channel, partly on the main road. The land round the lakes is very fertile, all planted for hay, corn or, the main crop, beans, growing up tripods made from the lake reeds. The large dried 'elephant' beans are on sale at the farms and stacks of reed beanpoles lie in the yards.

Back at Koula, worked on the diary and reluctantly prepared to move on. In the night came a violent electric storm, rocking us awake with strong wind and sheet lightning but no rain.

Still very hot, despite last night's storm. Relieved to find the storks' nest hadn't blown down, we bade them farewell and drove back to the main Kastoria-Florina road, continuing over the Pisoderi

Saddle (1600 m, 5300 ft). Stopped at the village on the col, a small winter ski resort with chalets and the Vigla skilift, enjoying the cooler air, then down to Florina, a busy town, just 10 miles south of one of the 3 border crossings between Greece and what they absurdly insist on calling the FYROM.

Macedonia was split between Greece and Yugoslavia, with a bit going to Bulgaria, after the Balkan War of 1913. Greece suppressed the Macedonian language (akin to Bulgarian with the Cyrillic script) and is now fearful that its bit, a large stretch of northern Greece, might wish to regain its identity and join its free neighbour to the north.

With no campsite within 200 miles, we got permission to park overnight behind a large service station on the way out of town, just past Dia and opposite Lidl. Alf took us back into town to explore and we found an internet place at last. Email letters had arrived from Barney & June, Ian &Nina, Charley and a cycling cartoon from Andrew Hague - all printed out to read at leisure, along with our bank balances. We then rode out to the Macedonian border at Niki (a village with more storks than people), to see if there was any safe parking to leave Rosie tomorrow. (With no insurance to drive in the FYROM, we thought of cycling north to Bitola, a market town and site of Roman Heraclea). However, with no place to park at the border, our service station only offering one night and the manager at Dia refusing (the only vaguely safe car park big enough), we were foiled!

Back in Florina for a meal at Goody's and a night at the SS, next to a wagon-load of Karpouzis supplying the roadside stalls. Lidl was packed with Yugoslav Macedonians, filling their battered cars with all kinds of food and non-food. We did the same, including a new pair of sandals each, bearing the ingenious name 'Trek Star'.

Still extremely hot, not cooling down at night. Has this been the hottest May-June in Greek living memory? It certainly features on the news each evening: lots of footage (or bottomage) of sunbathing beauties.

35 miles. Free parking.