more ups and downs

Today's rest day I planned to cycle up to visit the crows nest monasteries. In the end I visited four of the six, and other stuff happened.

I carried tools and a basic medical kit, but even so a pretty light load! As you'd expect, it's a steep start. I have been searching for stamps for postcards for days, so when I see a shop advertising stamps (well, 'stambs' in fact) I pop in. Sadly, as everywhere else, 'stambs' are 'finis'. Oh well. When I come out of the shop a kitten is playing with the straps of my pannier, so I give it some cheese from my lunch sandwich. That proves popular...

Heading on, I soon reach the foot of the climb to the first monastery, St Nicholas. I lock the bike but cannot find my wallet. This is a pain, as each monastery asks a small entry fee. I don't feel much like heading back to get it and doing the climb again, so I walk up in the hope of persuading them to let me in. Instead, I meet a kind English chap from Lancashire who gives me ten Euros which will get me into all the monasteries. So it isn't just Greeks who help out strangers! He doesn't ask to be paid back, so I promise to donate it to charity.

Now I am able to enjoy the monasteries. They began in the eleventh century and at their height there were 24, now reduced to six. They are each spectacularly perched on a finger of stone, and each has its own character and treasures. My favourite is the first, St Nicholas, with its charming 16th century fresco of Adam naming the animals... the elephant, camel, snake, owl and others stand in line to be named. As I admire it I can hear the present-day monks singing "kyrie eleison" nearby. Or maybe it if a recording...

Moving on and (inevitably) up to Rousanou - now a convent or nannery as they are known around here. Here the highlight is a little room of frescoes, lit by tiny panes of coloured glass. Back over the tiny, vertiginous wooden bridge and down the steep path to the bike, for another mile or so uphill.

Varlaam stands out for the huge ancient wooden barrel big enough to live in and the apparatus once used to haul provisions and monks up to the monasteries. I like the story that when asked how often the ropes are replaced, the monks used to reply ' when the Lord lets them break'.

The next climb takes me to the biggest and once richest monastery, Megalou Meteorou. This is noisy with coach-loads of tourists. The kitchen and refectory are stately. There are amazing manuscripts, including classics such as Aristotle that survived through the monks' care. The highlight for me is the collection of costumes and photos that tell the story of resistance supported from Meteora, to the Ottomans and later the Germans.

Back down the hill at pace before climbing towards a lookout point. I recall again and again on this trip that 'horizon' means the girdle of seeing; the ring of mountains on all sides, on Olympus and here, makes the metaphor so straightforward.

Pedalling into the lookout spot I meet a car with British plates and a bike on the back, so of course we have a chat. Max has been travelling for a couple of months, but has only pedalled half the distance I have in two weeks. I try to persuade him that it isn't as tough as it looks. Well, it isn't!

We end up spending a couple of hours chatting, perched high on a rock shaped like a huge sack of flour. After a couple of weeks of pigeon conversations it is a pleasure to be more discursive. We agree to meet for dinner and head off in different directions, for me a descent so scary I take most of it at about 20 kph and resolve to adjust my brakes.

When I get back I find to my horror that, contrary to expectation, my wallet is nowhere to be found. I don't want to bore with the details. I spent the rest of the evening searching, informing the police etc. Max is lovely, taking me by car to the shop that had no stamps and to the police (the police report takes three visits, the bureaucracy is saddening). Then this patient man buys me dinner. Without company this would have been awful. At least with someone else there it is possible to laugh sometimes.

Back in my room I search yet again but no luck. It is hard to understand where it went between dinner last night and the monastery, so I go over everything I did, again and again. No luck, of course.