MOTORHOME TRAVELLERS' DIARY FOR FEBRUARY 1998

GREECE

Barry and Margaret Williamson 

01 FEBRUARY 1998 GR CAMPING LYKOURGOS, GLYKOVRISSI

A warmer day with the wind coming from the south heralding the end of the short cold spell. We cycled inland through the hills to the village of Ag Dimitrios, a route we'd taken before on Alf. The 2 small bars in the square were packed with swarthy farmers, smoking and downing their Ouzos before Sunday lunch (not a woman in sight). We sat in a corner with a dish of peanuts, coffee and cakes, trying (and failing) not to look conspicuous. The huge TV was showing winter sports but no-one watched, they were all busy discussing the price of olives/oranges or the next tractor blockade. The government has taken various measures from 1 January (increasing rates and taxes, telephone charges, etc) and made proposals to modernise the state-controlled utilities (including transport and post office) which has resulted in several national strikes and demonstrations. The farmers have their own ways of protesting, blocking railway lines and main roads, mostly around Larissa as last year, though the TV news has shown them overturning crates of oranges on the Athens-Patras road near Corinth. We returned home by a longer route, towards Geraki then turning off through Gouves to meet the main road at Vlahioti. We arrived back just before the rain set in, perfect timing, a lovely ride on empty lanes.

We rang mum whilst out and asked for some items from Boots which we can't find here, to be posted to Patras. She's looking forward to a holiday in Penrith in April and Alan's going to Paris at half-term.

After 10 days and some excellent cycle and motorbike riding we left the Germans to their over-wintering and the Dutch owner to moan over his bottle of wine about the Greeks and all their works in true ex-pat style. Whatever the problems, he has a wonderful place to live - the beach, the climate, the peace, the mandarin oranges (we took the customary gift with us).

As we reached Gythion at lunch-time there were flags flying and an inscrutable religious service was taking place in warm sunshine near the harbour. 3 high-priests (bishops?) in wonderful robes and crowns spoke in turn, surrounded by other priests in their best vestments, a band, a gang of soldiers from the town barracks and all the local dignitaries. A large icon of the 4 apostles, with a border of fresh flowers, was held aloft by 2 military men - perhaps it was the blessing of a new icon or a name-day parade. Most of the shops were closed, though today is not an official public holiday and the post office was open.

We settled at Gythion Bay camping, did some cleaning inside and out and defrosted the freezer. We're right by the sea, sharing the huge orange grove site with just one other vehicle housing a lone German.

25 miles. £6.66 inc elec.

A wonderfully strenuous ride, first towards Areopoli, turning off after climbing through the gorge guarded by the hilltop Passavant Castle, and down quiet lanes to Skoutari. From here the newly blasted (though not yet hard-topped) corniche road follows the rocky coast for 10 miles, the shining Lakonian Gulf lying below, a beautiful ride to the little fishing port of Kotronas. This was the route we cycled a year ago, in the opposite direction on our 9-day tour, and is the only way into the Mani peninsula apart from the main pass through Areopoli to the west. We stopped for coffee at the Taverna where we'd spent a night then, by the jetty in Kotronas - the largest village on the east coast of the promontory with a population of 255 (and falling)! A stiff climb in glorious sunshine to join the main road about a mile past Flomohori, where Alf once ran out of petrol. It's a haunting place, the Mani, to which we are drawn back - the rock-strewn, treeless slopes, the precipitous views of first the Lakonian and then the Messenian Gulfs, the lonely feudal ruins of the tall tower-houses on the mountain slopes, occasional villages inhabited by aged souls and the wild and windswept peaks swathed in mist.

Another 10 miles, climbing steeply through a couple of tiny villages to cross the stark mountain chain which is the end of the Taigetos range and drop to the west coast a couple of miles south of Areopoli. Here we had an excellent meal sitting outside Nikola's Taverna - huge helpings of pork, chicken, roast potatoes and mixed vegetables, with toasted bread glistening with warm olive oil and herbs. We were almost hungry enough to finish it! We walked round to see the little cathedral and adjacent Tsimova Rooms in the Mani Tower built in 1700 (where we'd spent another atmospheric night on our cycle tour last February before riding the complete circuit of the peninsula). Then the last 10 miles back to Gythion, climbing past the Kelefa Castle, a huge 17thC Turkish fortress which we've explored before, then dropping and climbing again, across the grain of this spur of land. We arrived home at 4 pm after a wonderful ride, to read and write. Coincidentally, this week's 'Hellenic Times' has an article called 'The Silent Towers of the Deep Mani' which claimed there had once been 117 villages. We hope the National Tourist Organisation doesn't renovate too many of them, they look best in glorious isolation.

We cycled the 4 miles into Gythion for shops, post and bank, planning to go into the mountains on Alf after lunch. However, low cloud, mist and then heavy rain changed our minds and we had a relaxing afternoon reading, mending and cooking. With the wind now from the south, it's not cold - 70º inside without heating - and the birds and spring flowers are appearing.

A brighter day and much warmer than on recent motorbike excursions - we were actually too hot in all our kit until we climbed high above sea level and into the swirling mist. We rode a few miles towards Sparta then started climbing up the twisting mountain road, through tiny villages like Melissa and Ag Nikolaos to Kastania. Here the road ended on our map, and soon became a rough track on the ground, though bulldozers were working on it. Once before we'd turned back here, when the time and weather were against us, but today it was clear and not yet noon so we pressed on. The mist started swirling round us, coming off the peaks and over the ridge of the Taigetos. One minute we could see right across Gythion Bay, the next we saw nothing. Suddenly buildings loomed eerily above us, where the track forked to the monastery which had been signposted 10 miles back. It was deserted and spooky, old mattresses scattered among the rubble outside, though some building work was underway, perhaps restoring it - why else was the track being improved?

Oddly, a taxi arrived, stopped briefly, then disappeared into the mist again. We rode another mile or so along the ever rougher track, past a small shrine, but had to give up as the cloud allowed no glimpse of whether there was a way through the mountains. As we turned back and descended, pausing to eat our packed lunch in Kastania, the mist lifted and we had glorious views of the overgrown terraces of the wooded hillsides all the way to the coast, with an amazing light coming off the sea and dispersed by the cloud. Turning off to the end of the road in Selegoudi we found another unmade path which dropped sharply to the bottom of a gorge, crossed the tumbling stream on a narrow bridge, then climbed equally sharply to reach the villages of Arna and Spartia high on the mountainside. The few inhabitants looked surprised to see us entering by this 'back door', the track being all but blocked by a pile of olive tree prunings, it was so little used. A good, if twisting, road took us down from Arna to rejoin the Gythion-Sparta road just 4 miles north of where we'd left it several hours earlier. A splendid day's ride, as the days lengthen and become warmer.

We left our quiet beach (for another quiet beach or two) and drove through Areopoli (capital of the Mani, with a cathedral and a population of about 600). Stopping here to refuel, Rosie had an unusual problem with foaming diesel, though she seems to be running very well. We dropped to the coast on the Messenian Gulf Road and parked by the shore at Neo Itilo for lunch. The sun shone on the waters of the bay where Napoleon's fleet anchored on its way to Egypt in 1798 and from where 17thC Maniots had embarked for Corsica (brigands all). Today the empty waves splashed at the harbour walls, with not a boat or a soul to be seen.

We drove on, climbing through the western foothills of the Taigetos, through a brief hailstorm and down to the indented shoreline again at the little resort and fishing port of Kardamili, reputed home of Patrick Leigh Fermor. The campsite was closed, as expected, and we parked by the beach nearby.

49 miles. Free night.

A lovely day, all fresh after rain in the night. Re-reading the chapter on Kardamili in P-L Fermor's 'Mani' over breakfast, we went on foot to explore the Old Town, tucked away among the cactus on the overgrown hillside above the present village. We found the 2 troughs cut in the rock which were supposed to be the graves of Castor and Pollux (though it seemed unlikely), the church (locked) and the remains of the fort and tower built by the descendants of the Palaeologi who had fled the Turks when Mistra fell in 1461. A good morning's walk.

We drove on northwards along the magnificent Messenian Gulf Road, climbing up above the Kardamili Basin, dropping to the Koskaras Defile to cross the river gorge on the narrow bridge, finally emerging from the mountains to skirt the shore of the Kalamata basin. We parked in the usual place by the port in Kalamata which was very quiet, with just one cargo boat docked there. Later we walked into the town and had a meal in Goody's - not as enjoyable as usual since we shared it with a balloon-bursting children's birthday party. Maybe we've finally outgrown fast food!

25 miles. Free night.

Watching TV news about the agricultural aggro, mainly in northern Greece round Larissa, we had heard mention of a blockade at Kalamata, so we set off early hoping that Sunday would be quiet. The main route out of the town was indeed closed, though we saw no tractors, with temporary diversion signs which sent us along miles of rough narrow lanes by the seafront, past the oil refinery, emerging near the airport at Messini. This was not what Rosie, or her driver, needed, being pushed onto the verge under low trees when anything came the other way. The police were conspicuous by their absence, but one motorbike cop was trying to sort out a one-way system where there was a sharp bend and a narrow bridge (weight limit 2 tons!). Of course, we met a bus here causing much manoeuvring. We felt it would be easier for the police to clear the blockade than organise the diversion - they obviously found it easier to do neither!

From the airport the main road north was also blocked and we wound our way along another (unsignposted) diversion, past a gipsy camp and through a tight village, reaching the national road at Thourla with some relief. The blockade doesn't actually prevent traffic getting through, but makes it difficult, slow and dangerous, and on week-days it must be chaos. We reached the sea again on the Gulf of Kiparissia then just after crossing the border from Messinia into Ilea we turned down the lane, across the railway and through the village of Giannitsohori to our spot among the oleanders by the empty beach bar. An afternoon walk along the soft sandy beach to Camping Apollon, 'The Most Beautiful Campsite in Greece, Open All Year' (both untrue).

55 miles. Free night.

A fine clear day lured us to revisit the Temple of Apollo at Bassae which, at an altitude of 1130 m/3707 ft, had been shrouded in mist last time we'd reached it. We moved Rosie along to Zaharo (Sugar City), to leave her parked in the town, and set out on Alf, well wrapped up and armed with a flask of coffee and some pies and buns. Rather than the main road via Krestena to Andritsena, Barry found a 'short cut' climbing on paths and tracks. At Makistos the track became rougher and 2 young scrambler motorbikers we met stopped us and tried to suggest that Alf would not get through to Platana to join the main road. Of course, he rose to the challenge (he's climbed far worse) and we paused in the quiet mountain town of Andritsena, at 2500 ft, before the final 10 mile climb on a good road to Bassae, which means 'Ravines'.

The temple stands alone, in its splendid isolated setting, protected from the elements by a giant marquee structure which is impressive in itself. Though dry and clear today it was still very cold at this height and we didn't linger. The temple was built in the 5thC BC by the inhabitants of Figalia (a village lower down) in thanks for being spared from a plague. The architect was one of the designers of the Parthenon in Athens and it's well restored, with earthquake-proof scaffolding between the capitals of the columns. The marble frieze and other bits were taken to the British Museum last century. The keeper rushed back into his house to get warm as soon as we left and we wondered how many visitors he sees in winter. We were glad to descend to warmer levels on a new road as far as Perivolia, then a track to Petalonia and the old road continuing down through Kato Figalia to reach the coast near Giannitsohori. A wonderful ride.

Back at Zaharo, we moved Rosie a mile down to the beach for a quiet night near the Camping Municipal, which was closed.

9 miles. Free night.

After walking into Zaharo to shop and photocopy the January diary we took Rosie a bit further along the road towards Pirgos, turning off to look at the Cave Spa on the edge of Kaiafa Lake. The Canadian minstrels had told us this was an ideal place for free-camping and bathing and there were 3 motorhomes established there (Austrian, German and French). The smell of sulphur was a bit overpowering until we got used to it but the site was amazing. A warm sulphur spring flowed continuously out of a cave in the cliffs, formed a deep pool, then ran into the nearby lake. The water in the pool was a lurid green colour, steam rose from the surface, and bullfrogs croaked from the reeds round the lake. A row of low ochre buildings nearby had signs for a doctor, a cafe and indoor cave baths, but all were locked up at this time of year. A faded notice by the pool said bathing was forbidden because of the danger of falling rocks, but there were a couple swimming, steps to go in and hooks for clothes or towels - a typical Greek compromise. Once the Germans, with their assertive nudism, had vacated the pool Margaret donned her costume and took to the waters. It was wonderfully warm and saltily buoyant and swimming in the sunshine in February was novel.

After lunch we cycled to Zaharo and back, round the lake where the banks were accessible, sad to see so many shotgun pellets on the ground and no waterfowl.

9 miles. Free night.

Our first stop was at the AB and Eurospar hypermarkets on either side of the New National Road at Pirgos. We were greeted warmly by Hans and Inge, the Austrians who winter on Ionion Beach, out on a shopping expedition. He told us that 'our English friends (the Phelans) in the huge motorhome' were at Ionion and that they were all expecting us. However, on arriving at the campsite Family Fligos said 'our colleagues' had left for Patras and a ferry just 2 hours earlier! We were sorry to have missed the chance of a last talk with Patrick and Felicity Phelan but pleased to have the beach side pitches to ourselves. Hans and 3 German couples were grouped further inland round the showers. The family were all pleased to see us and told us that the Italian/Dutch caravanners we'd met in Turkey and Alexandroupolis had also been here for 3 months on our recommendation.

No sooner had we settled in our usual place and put the kettle on than we heard shrieks from the beach - Stan and Celia out for a walk from Aginara had spotted us! We were surprised to see them back this winter and exchanged news over a couple of hours and a pot of tea. They'd been out since October, but had had to fly home in December as Stan needed to go into hospital with intestinal problems, returning in January after spending Christmas with their daughter. We thought Mick was the hero of the story, as he'd driven them to Athens for the flight to the UK through a torrential rainstorm and then collected them on their return. We arranged to meet them and Mick and Flo at Gastouni market tomorrow morning, and did 2 loads of dhobi in a smart new automatic washer. (Margaret likes it here.)

47 miles.

Wonderful weather now, yesterday's dhobi drying quickly on the line between the tamarisks. A very familiar 10-mile ride into Gastouni, taking only 2 minutes longer than our previous record so we've kept reasonably fit. Unfortunately, Stan and Celia had abandoned their old bikes for a new motor-scooter this season, so the Glyfa Cycling Club has folded. We found them shopping but without Mick and Flo, who'd had to go to Patras on business. After riding back, we walked along the beach to Aginara where Celia had made lunch for us all. We asked where she'd bought the lovely pâté (answer, of course, France) and she gave us a jar, along with some books. We'd taken books and photos for them, and all had a pleasant afternoon sitting outside in the sunshine.

We've found the definition of friendship among travellers is about sharing - hospitality, food, drink, books, experiences, stories, music, letters. Friends are those with whom you have something to share, whether for an evening or a lifetime. Over the summer Stan had had the Hymer 'refurbished' - resprayed and fitted with a rack for the scooter and a new fridge and extractor fan - and was pleased with it all. Most importantly, while in the UK in December they'd bought a 1960's detached bungalow in a village about 7 miles from their daughter near Telford, and showed us pictures and plans. It is in need of renovation and Stan (retired builder, of course) plans to do it over the next 2 summers, retreating to Greece in the winter months - an ideal arrangement as they can live in the Hymer in the garden while he's working on the bungalow. We only hope his health is up to it, or that he'll pay for help if it isn't. Celia certainly seems happier now she has a home base.

We had our own business in Patras today, to get the mail and check the ferry sailing times. Alf made light work of the 50 miles along the New Nat Rd and we made straight for the post office. After a 20-minute wait, we got 4 parcels: Barry's Minolta camera posted in December, a package of mail from Alan sent in January, a parcel with 4 videos and some Beanfeast from mum, and a further package from her with the things from Boots posted recently. We were sure that a couple of parcels sent before Christmas were missing, but no-one spoke English and they couldn't find anything else. We did write to the post office last month, asking them to be sure to keep our mail and not return anything to England, so we hope that it will turn up before we return to Patras.

Down by the harbour we tried a few ferry agents and established that Medlink have 4 overnight sailings a week to Brindisi with open-deck camping, on either Afrodite or Ag Andreas at about £80 one way, which was the best deal. Ventouris sail the longer run to Bari for about £140.

After a quick Moussaka lunch in the AB's cafeteria and some DIY shopping in Praktiker, we returned by a new route, taking the inland road through quiet villages below snow-flecked peaks. We turned west towards Amaliada but took an unshod short cut, reaching the Gastouni road between the dammed lake and the site and museum at Ancient Ilis. We were home in time to see the sun set behind Zakinthos, flooding the sea with red, and a huge harvest moon low in the sky.

We cycled the 16 miles to Amaliada, though a stronger wind prevented any record-breaking, had coffee in the Grey Parrot cafe and looked round the familiar market town. As arranged, we met Stan and Celia and (at last) Mick and Flo, at their favourite eating place on the corner of the square, for a lunch of chicken, giro pittas and chips. They were, as usual, laden with shopping from the market for themselves and Etta and John.

Cycling back, a pack of 4 stray dogs chased us (good for Margaret's acceleration) and one was hit by a car as they were crossing back to their field. Back home we made a start on reading our post, picking out the news from friends. It was good to hear from the Canadian minstrels, who are wintering in the Algarve after a summer of performing in France and Switzerland, squatting in Geneva and making a CD. A nice surprise was a book from Mark and Kate Harris in New Zealand, (another of our 'Neighbours' ), with cycle tours in their country, which we hope to use one day. Later we walked round to Aginara for an evening with Mick and Flo, taking them a pile of magazines and sharing their pizza for supper. We walked back late under a starlit sky, disturbing the toads on the beach.

Etta and John (actually Hertha und Johannis), the indomitable elderly Austrians who also winter at Aginara, had planned to have a Christmas party for Mick & Flo, Stan & Celia and ourselves, which had been postponed since only Mick and Flo were there. Today was the ideal day for it, sunny and dry for eating outdoors, and we'd been invited to go at noon. We made a couple of apple and orange flans to take, along with a bottle of Turkish wine and a book, Eric Newby's 'What the Traveller Saw', and made our way along the beach, with kite flying high. They had prepared a real feast for the 8 of us, with Austrian beef and pork steaks, Greek chicken and pork chops, salads, bread, champagne and fresh orange juice. Everyone had brought wine, Celia had done a mincemeat crumble and custard, and there were sweet pies from the bakers which Etta doused in Advokaat! We've never seen so much food and drink before us or felt so welcome and felt very touched. Margaret sat by Etta, who was pleased to be able to speak German, and John worked continuously bringing everything round and making copious coffee.

Later, when the others carried off the washing up, we had a long talk with these wonderful octogenarians. Etta had suffered a traumatic summer back in Vienna, undergoing 2 operations and chemotherapy for stomach cancer. She's already had a mastectomy and is clearly approaching the end of her life, very bravely. She is lucky in having John, a retired doctor and a wonderful man who takes care of her, while she takes care of their dog (a stray from Israel) and, at present, the 29 campsite cats. She is so full of life and energy, remembering the smallest details of their many years of travelling - Turkey, Israel, Greece, Italy, the States, Yugoslavia, they know them all well. Now they have a beautiful home, with swimming pool and gardens near Vienna, but still want to use their Hymer to travel in winter. Sadly they must return in a month as she needs more treatment and we shared her depression.

After a morning's work (writing the diary, bicycle maintenance, etc) we walked along to Aginara Beach. We called on Etta and John to thank them for yesterday's party and talked travel. They'd love to visit Britain but won't go without their lovely dog, so we all hope the quarantine laws will change in time for them to make the visit, as they are both turned 80. Then on to see Stan and Celia, exchanged more books and stayed to share their chicken dinner. We tried again a few times to ring mum from the new Aginara cardphone, but decided it must be faulty as the number was still permanently engaged.

We cycled into Vartholomio and made some successful phone calls at last and the news was all good. Mum and Alan have each had their December parcels returned from Patras, so at least they are not lost in the inscrutable Greek postal system, but we'll celebrate when they reach Gastouni. We also rang our English friend, Margaret, in Globetrotter Travel in Brindisi and were reassured that it is safe, sunny and quiet there. After hearing a few horror stories about Albanian bandits we'd begun to hesitate, but she said all the trouble is over. We also rang to confirm that Camping Onda Azzurra in Calabria is open and were told there were a few winter residents, no problems and a cheap rate for a fortnight or more. So it's Italy next!

After lunch we were busy preparing to set off tomorrow on a short bicycle tour before finally leaving Ionion. Stan and Celia walked by, stopped for a pot of tea, sitting by the shore in the sunshine, and we gave them some of the lovely shells we'd found at Glykovrissi for the new (planned) bathroom in their bungalow as the beach here has none. Later wrote to mum and finished packing.

We awoke to the sound of rain, but the sky cleared mid-morning and we decided to go ahead with our cycle tour. With Alf tucked away in the drying room among the sacks of corn and Rosie well locked up, we left by 11.15 am, posted some letters and ate in the 'Break' in Gastouni.

Then a hard slog, pushing against a strong wind (not from the north, as forecast) for 15 miles along the New Nat Rd to Pirgos. Here we had a brief rest over coffee and cakes in the Eurospar before the final 15 miles into an even stronger wind to Olympia, on a relatively busy, climbing road.

Olympian Tourist Information provided a list of Pensions/Hotels which were open and we took the usual basic Greek room at the Hotel Hercules: white plastered walls and tiled floor, a small 'bathroom' with a shower, toilet and basin, warm radiator and hot water in the evening, price averaging £16 a night (breakfast extra). We usually bought one main meal at lunch-time each day, making our own breakfast and supper in the room, using our trusty Camping Gaz stove.

40 miles. £15.50

After fresh rolls and yogurt, fetched from the baker's opposite, we were away by 9.30 am on a warm, sunny day with clear blue sky and a cold edge to the easterly wind. We climbed virtually all day, the only variation being in the gradient, but on 40 miles of wonderfully quiet roads through forests and villages and gorges, past banks of blue iris, anemones, until above the treeline with scrubland and rocks.

We passed the site and stadium of Ancient Olympia as the first tourist group of the day went in. One or two village schools were char-grilling meat in the playground, on 'Singe the Meat Thursday', one of the pre-Lent festivities. Our route followed the River Alfios for a time but kept leaping above it, not easy going. After climbing 2 passes, we stopped to brew up by a church at noon, then onward and upward, the wind getting stronger, sometimes against us and sometimes behind as our road zig-zagged for 5 miles, with one more break to mend B's front wheel puncture before reaching Stavrodromio. Here we had a welcome meal: half an hour's solid eating, with Greek salad, huge pork chops, chips, bread, all consumed with the appetite that only 30 miles of hill-climbing gives!

The final 10 miles was still climbing steeply to Langidia, a mountain town perched on the edge of a gorge. We were relieved that the 'motel' was open (though without heating - they had a 'problem' and reduced the price accordingly). Our room on the ground floor, entering from the street, had a balcony at the back overlooking a giddy drop as the building was right on the cliff-face. A fantastic setting in which to rest, read, and look at the moon and stars in the clear mountain air at over 4,000 ft.

40 miles. £11.00

After a hotel breakfast of toast, jam, orange juice and coffee (£1.75 each), we went into the village ironmonger's with our problem - one of Barry's cycling shoe soles was hanging off and he put his foot on the counter to demonstrate. The woman responded with a big tin of glue and we were soon on our way, wondering if he'd be stuck into the toe clip when he tried to stop! The road climbed even higher into the clear blue mountain air, still with warm sun and cold wind, up to the Dimitsana turn-off, then levelled out to Vitina, a quiet little town a mile off the main road, where we bought coffee and buns and paused to admire the church - all polished brass rails and candelabra, marble columns, the scent of beeswax candles, a pair of icons bordered in ribbon and flowers.

Now on an excellent road, gently rising and falling, with little traffic and snow on the peaks all around, we waved to shepherds, noticed the flowers and birds of prey and, with no more stiff climbs, arrived happily in Levidi at exactly 1 pm and found the chicken restaurant we'd once used on a day out from Olympia on Alf. (That had been a very different day, freezing cold, damp and misty, searching out a Byzantine church in a meadow below the town.) The chickens turned on a spit behind the counter and were served in quarters with chips, toast and coleslaw. The wind was now stronger and had turned against us but it was an easy 15 miles on to Tripoli as it was all downhill, round the shoulder of the Menalon Mountains.

By 4 pm we were settled comfortably in the Hotel Menalon and Margaret ventured out again to buy supplies. This was our only room with a TV and we fell asleep watching Clint Eastwood in 'Dirty Harry' (again).

45 miles. £16.50

Leaving the Tripoli traffic behind we took the magnificent road which climbs to the border of Arcadia and the Argolid. Here we stopped to make coffee by a little shrine packed with icons and watched a kind motorist stop to light a candle and open a can of dogfood for a cowering stray who was too scared to eat it until we left. After another short climb came the wonderful hairpinned descent, 3 days' worth of climbing behind us, all the way to the sea near Ancient Lerna at Mili. With its warmth and oranges this was a different world from that up at the height of Tripoli. The familiar road led to Argos, busy with its market, and we looked for lunch. Finding no better alternative, we returned to the chicken take-away man we'd found on 6th January and again sat on stools in his window demolishing a spatchcocked char-grilled chicken with fried potatoes and lemon sauce.

Back on the road for Mycenae we rode into another strong head wind, resting at a Kafenion by the railway line which we crossed repeatedly as we followed it to Corinth. After a total of 45 miles, at the Mycenae turnoff, we decided to push on for Corinth hoping the wind would abate (which it eventually did) and knowing the road had to go downhill to the sea again. We got a good view of Ancient Mycenae, often hard to see as it blends into the hillside, and later of the mighty fortress of Acrocorinth, welcoming us at the end of the day, backlit by the setting sun. The road became busy, mainly with pick-ups loaded with empty orange crates returning from Corinth in extraordinary numbers. The light began to fade as we reached Corinth harbour and we got a room with a view across the Gulf to Loutraki. Slept very soundly!

70 miles. £20.00

An easier day's riding, along the familiar road out of Corinth past many landmarks (Alf's home, Corinth Beach Camping, the bike shop which sold mainly Christmas decorations). After 10 miles we got bread and sausage rolls from a baker's and stopped to make coffee and breakfast by the beach. Barry had another slow rear puncture and decided the tyre was worn out, so he dumped it, moved front tyre to back and put the lightweight spare on the front. We are in desperate need of some good touring tyres - those bought in Greece are heavy and rot in the sun, of which there is plenty!

After Kiato the road followed the sea more closely, with gentle rises and falls, and the initial head wind gave out. Snowy peaks hovered in mid-air in the haze across the Gulf as we rode through lemon groves and small quiet towns with low-key tourist development. We had a picnic lunch by the sea at Kato Pitsa, then reached Diakofto, with its rack railway to Kalavrita, after 55 miles. The much advertised Chris Paul Hotel looked expensive, with swimming pool, and we tried the Lemonies Hotel on the way to the beach, where we got a pleasant room with a view of the lemon-grove garden. We rode on to the harbour and made tea in the sunshine before settling in. Later we had steak and chips, freshly cooked by the old man in the hotel restaurant, in company with Skai TV and 2 silent Greek men, one eating, one drinking. The room radiator kept us awake, trickling and leaking noisily, till Barry fixed it with a spanner.

58 miles. £17.75

The Old Nat Rd twisted along, parallel with the toll road, passing under and over motorway and railway as all 3 ran along the narrow gap between the sea and the mountains, climbing over several bridges spanning gorges. We saw the sea again at Egio, a very busy town with too much traffic and ferries across the Gulf. Glad to escape, we stopped to make coffee by the beach just up the coast and found Barry had yet another rear puncture, this time caused by a drawing pin. Mended and off again, a fresh wind channelled in from the open sea slowed us down, taxi drivers and dust carts crowded us, there was no hard shoulder to ride, but at least the sun still shone. The funniest/saddest sight of our ride, as we cycled along a stretch of new white-lining at the verge, was a dead cat with the white line painted straight across its fur. Whether the white-lining machine actually killed it or just ran over its body we'll never know.

Passing through Ag Vasilio, shortly before Rio, we saw the sign for Goody's up above on the toll road but assumed we'd be unable to access it. However, to our joy a little lane turned off under the motorway, just wide enough for a car, and led to some rough ground down a bank near Goody's (a very Greek solution to the problem!) The restaurant was very quiet, no kids' party, and good fresh food - just what we needed at 12.45 pm before tackling the Patras traffic.

We rode into town, fighting for the right to be on the road, and got a hotel list and map from Tourist Information by gate 6 of the port. We checked the Medlink sailings for next week, looked out a bicycle shop by the central square (closed till tomorrow) and went on to Praktiker (no suitable bike tyres) and the Eurospar.

After ringing the Hotel Tarantella at K Alissos to check that it was open we decided to push on another 10 miles to reach it rather than cop out and get the 5.30 pm train to Gastouni (though we might have been tempted if the weather had changed). The hotels we saw in Patras were dingy, noisy and expensive.

Pausing only to brew up and eat cakes by the shore at the 'Patras District Athletic Centre' (a couple of basketball and tennis courts surrounded by gravel and rubbish), we were soon glad to leave the New Nat Rd and turn along the quieter coast road (the Old Nat Road) to K Alissos. We got a smart room with sea view at the price promised on the phone, though Madam did try asking 3000 dr more! She got her revenge by not providing any heating or hot water - 15 all!

50 miles. £15.50

Another fine sunny day, though clouds are gathering for a change in the weather. A favourable wind at last made the 25 miles along the shoulder of the New Nat Rd surprisingly easy, with a wide margin and light traffic. Over coffee at a roadside cafe we played a few hands of Patience, but it never came out, it used to be easier on the computer!

We took the first possible turn-off at Lehana and rode towards Killini, then climbed up to the Kastro from Neohori. We made our lunch sitting by the new ticket office outside the castle, looking across the calm blue sea to Zakinthos, lost in the haze and just distinguishable by the cap of clouds. The workmen were still 'busy' restoring the castle, or rather busy having a lunch break. A village woman climbed up the lane with an empty bucket and returned with it full of cement mix after a few words with them - this must happen a lot and we wondered if the 300 million Dr given by the EU would be enough to ever finish the restoration.

Then the last descent, through the lemon groves to Loutra Killini and back via Arkoudi and along the track past Aginara Beach, only closing the circle of the ride at the end of the lane in Glifa. 45 miles.

Total distance: 350 miles

Average: 50 miles a day

Hotels (6 nights): £96

Food (7 days): £83

Retrieving Alf from the drying room, Barry noticed a broken spoke in the rear wheel so we rode him into Amaliada where it was fixed and the wheel rebalanced. We also asked for a new battery, as he needs kick-starting when cold, but the mechanic insisted there was nothing wrong with it (by Greek standards) and wouldn't sell us one! After shopping, we went to the 'Break' in Gastouni for a fast lunch and called at Aginara Beach to report our safe return. Celia made a pot of tea, then we returned home to catch up with the diary writing, dhobi, etc.

We cycled to Gastouni, pleased with the increase in fitness after the week's touring. We shopped at the market, got a new battery for Barry's cycle speedo, collected some photographs and made a few photocopies of our 'Neighbours' article to send to the various friends featured in it. At the post office there were 2 parcels from Alan (the one which had been sent back from Patras and a new one).

Opening and reading the many letters and cards took care of the afternoon (and replying will no doubt occupy several more). We dealt with the most urgent (an overdue income tax bill to pay out and 2 cheques from MMM to pay in - a net loss!) The letters from friends were many and varied. The most optimistic was a postcard in Turkish from Mustafa, sent with no stamp; the longest was the Newsletter from the Serra family in Florida (14 pages). There were surprises from Margaret Chapman (writing that Nancy Jowitt has been in New Hall prison for resisting arrest for drunk-driving), from Ian Inglis whose new wife is expecting a baby, and most excitingly from Martin Wiltshire that they have made the commitment to sell up and take to the road next year by buying an American RV.

This was finally prompted by the youngest of the 4 children finishing college and leaving home and by reading 3 months in the life of 2 travellers (we sent him June-August 97 when he asked what life was like on the road). Peter and Joy Cox are also selling their Cornish cottage and taking up this way of life in their 70's. Jeff Mason touched us, as ever, with his spirit and faith and photos of the pilgrimage to Lourdes; Jerry and Katie Bates invited us to their 80 acre farm in the American mid-west; Eva and Duco, the Dutch round-the-world cyclists have reached Thailand; Ron and Lois Richardson from Vancouver re-inspired us to spend more time in Italy; Ken Norris has been to India, Cuba, Cyprus and Hawaii (twice!) in the past 12 months; and the Australian Walsh family talked of their social life revolving round running Rosco, the local nudist club!! These, and many others, gave us plenty of food for thought about how we inspire, and are inspired by, those we meet.

We had Stan and Celia over for lunch (meat loaf, baked pots and fresh veg, followed by lemon meringue pie, with a good bottle of French wine they brought). A relaxing afternoon followed, talking Turkey, with photographs and maps. They've toured there twice and had given us information before we went. Stan is now suffering more than we'd realised with his back and shoulders (the cause of him giving up work as a builder in his early 50's), he can't walk far or swim, and even steering the motorscooter they've bought causes him some pain. He'll talk rapidly and amusingly for a short time but has lost his stamina and when they left at 4 pm we knew he needed to lie down.

There was a good film on TV later: Clint Eastwood in 'The Eiger Sanction'. We're saving all our new videos, from mum and Alan, for Italy, where the TV is dire.

Another dry sunny day lured us out to cycle inland from Gastouni to the dammed lake at Kentro. We paused at the little museum by the overgrown site of ancient Elis, then on to the end of the road at a gipsy settlement by the huge reservoir (Europe's largest earth dam?), which looked low for early spring. We found a different route back, on unpaved lanes through little villages, meeting the New Nat Rd again near Andravida where we got toasted sandwiches for a late lunch. There were notices advertising tomorrow's Carnival in nearby Lehena at 2 pm.

We returned via Killini and the climb to Kastro, where we got a coffee in the humble Kafenion before the descent through the lemon groves and Arkoudi beach.