Half a blog onward...more Greeks being helpful

After two hours I had the small and middle rings working, so set off. In such hilly country, it's a nuisance to be without a high gear for the downhills, but without low gears I'm stuffed! I only had to pull the cable tighter, but without a fourth hand or bigger pliers, I had to wait till I could find someone to whom I might be able to explain the issue. The hill was marked 10% for a few kms, and I pushed the steep bits. Once up on the crest on the middle of the island, it was fantastic. It's always magical, somehow, being able to see the sea on both sides, a steep, scrub-shouldered hillside leading down to each coast. The crest was a nice ride, smooth with tough but doable ups and downs. Few cars and a good road surface let me get above 50kph, which I didn't manage for days afterwards. With heavy panniers on and the likelihood of a sudden hole or patch of gravel, I'm circumspect about steaming along. Then came my big mistake... Pootling through a busy village (only the second of the day), I was amazed to see a bike shop, with tools and (apparently) a mechanic in the doorway. Communication was hard but the issue was simple (please tighten this cable) and the symptom clear (not reaching the big ring). Helpfully, cigarette in hand, he put the bike, panniers and all, on a stand. He started to try the gears out... He seized a tool and was suddenly forcing the front changer down and around from the position it has happily occupied for years. I tried to remonstrate and to mime pulling the cable tighter. He waved me away. His friend (no bike mechanic in Greece seems to work without an appreciative audience) meanwhile fiddled with the front changer. Not clear why... The mechanic cried 'Problem!'. He turned to pick something from a bench and suddenly, he was hitting my derailleur with an adjustable spanner. He bashed and bashed, ignoring me, the derailleur getting more and more waney-edged. He tried the gears again but (unsurprisingly, as he had not touched the cable) we still only had the two rings. 'Broken' he pronounced, taking the bike off the stand This all happened in moments. I could hardly believe it. I set off again, my derailleur no longer a beautiful parallelopiped but all wonky and at an angle across the chain. Down to the coast and a lovely run along the shore, grasses rustling in the stiff sea breeze. I headed into Eretria, my destination, asking on the way for bike mechanics.. But all were shut, and tomorrow not only Sunday but a national holiday... I quickly found a lovely hotel, flowers and vines wrapping it round. The landlady mentioned that there were three other cyclists staying there, Americans Amazing luck! A chance of help with the gears and maybe to bend my poor derailleur back into shape, and without language challenges... Christine, Bob and ten-year-old Anna are taking a year to go round the world on bikes (Anna up front on Bob's recumbent). Their blog is 3bybike. Bob was brilliant. He put the twisted derailleur back in place and straightened it with pliers. Not as elegantly parallel as it used to be, but working. And we tightened the cable. Pretty weary, I headed for a shower before sharing beer and kebabs with Christine, Bob and Anna. Well, Anna wasn't on the beer... The wind all that night was violent, the hotel awnings making all the sounds of a harbour in a strong blow. So, be wary of Greeks being helpful!