Got going by eight, into headwind as predicted. The nearby peaks meant the sun is late to reach down to me. After an hour of uphills I stopped for a breather, some yoghurt, and to listen to the birds. The delayed sunrise means I catch the dawn chorus. The birds hide assiduously so they are hard to identify. Among the small, chirpy ones there are certainly finches and warblers. There also seem to be flocks of fieldfares or some relatives.
The road rolls steadily on, up and down in equal part. Round one corner I have to slow for a herd of curious cows. Round the next bend I meet the cowherd. He is cheerful and chatty, offers me a cigarette.. He is impressed by my route, the climb yesterday, and cries ' bravo' repeatedly.
The route becomes a swift descent and surroundings turn from cloud-topped mountains to crops, even vines (which seem to need better soil than olives).
At one point I pass a bank of tiny, wild crocuses, lilac. They are said to spring from Prometheus' blood, though I don't know if that refers to purple or saffron crocuses.
Making good speed into the valley, I have done 30 km by 10.30. It is finally warm enough to switch to shorts (the mountain air is cold, especially at 35 or 40kmh into a headwind).
I approach a cafe to refill a water bottle and am invited to join a couple of old codgers, Paulo and Giannis, who are knocking back ouzo, cloudy with water. I decline the ouzo but share their bread and omelette. The omelette is delicious, full of peppers that are piquant but with flavour, not just heat. Quite like some we grow at home, in fact. Paul and Giannis are delighted to feed me and order another capsicum omelette, this time with local cheese as well. Superb! They point at their wine-sack stomachs and claim they don't need the food. Giannis is proud of his dog, which he says he loves more than his wife.
We spend an hour chatting, the ouzo slowly disappearing (the omelette disappears rather faster: yum). Then I head off again towards Elasona.
By the time I reach Elasona, I have come over 40k downhill.. Which shows how high I climbed yesterday (about 1100m it turns out, in about 9km).
As ever, what comes down must go up, and there is a climb out of Elasona. The villages are small, the purported A road is uneven and the sun is hot. The headwind feels nice and cooling but I am conscious it is dehydrating, too.
There are lakes and rivers here... Cormorants hung out to dry like umbrellas after a thunderstorm, a tiny, diving grebe and a heron, soaring like a majestic airship.
As the heat grows the birds fall silent. I shelter in the shade of any tree that offers cover, though with the sun so high there are few places to escape it.
Although the road barely looks like a slope, I can only manage 6 kmh. Presumably it is actually steep, plus the heat and headwind must be making it tougher. Between pedalling pushing and pausing, I manage to progress, but the remaining
25 k is starting to look challenging. A white van and slows to offer me a lift but I smile my refusals. Within fifteen minutes I am regretting this. He clearly knew about the hill that was coming. I end up pushing for a few k. The mountain to my left is marked as 1150 m and I can see myself edging past it. I start to feel hope that I may be approaching the high point of the road. For 20 k there are no villages (and hence no options for an overnight stop) and this makes it hard to be sure exactly where I am. Once over that crest, it all gets easier. It is 3.30pm so the sun is cooling. The road curves down and even my faithful headwind is gentler. I must by going west, as it becomes hard to see with the setting sun in my eyes. Some uphill, but now it feels doable. I meet a French cyclist on his way to Istanbul. He assures me there isn't much uphill left before Dheskati, and I explain what he can expect on the way to Elasona. It seems right to wish that he "faites un beau voyage" the line from Verlaine popping into my head (it refers to Odysseus' voyage, so seems right for Greece). A lot of poetry rattles randomly round my head as I ride, which is quite a pleasure. Usually life is too hectic for it to surface.
As I reach Deskhati I ask an elderly man with a fishing rod if there is a hotel or domatia in the town. He assures me there is none and suggests I head for Grebena, 65 km away. It is now getting dark.
I have come across this before...after all, why should people know about hotels in their home town? I am fairly confident this town is big enough to have a hotel.
I ask in a cafe - they seem to think there is one near the church. A few chats later I find someone who speaks good English (he used to have a fish and chip shop in Sydney, NSW).
He directs me to the hotel. It is shut so I wander back to the cafe where I met him. He has gone, but the owner invites me in. Some broken German serves to explain the situation, and as I warm up they seem to be making helpful phone calls. I go with the flow. The cafe is warmed by charcoal on a grill, which is building a cheerful fug.
After an hour all is sorted, the hotel opens for me (no hot water though). I return to the cafe after my cold shower to thank people and share souvlaki from the grill. Ready for a good night's sleep. I have met so many welcoming and helpful people, today: it is a real privilege to encounter Greek philoxenia.
No comments:
Post a Comment