Whiteout in the wild Wets

Today became frightening, after a straightforward start. The first 15k sped past, down from the acropolis of Levidi and through a plain of fields, baring dark brown earth. Very little traffic, being Sunday morning.

Inevitably, the road headed upward, onto the flanks of Mt Oligirtos at 1935m and alongside Lirkio at 1808m. As I turned the bend of one hairpin a rainbow spanned the two slopes, reflecting off the cloud.

The cloud is close enough now that I feel its dewy clamminess on my face. As I climb higher, the cloud grows thicker and wetter. It still isn't raining, but it's wet enough to switch to a waterproof jacket and put the lights on. With the poor visibility, it feels safer with a reflective, bright yellow top. It is demoralising though, to see how quickly the tail-lights of an overtaking van dwindle to nothing in the gloom.

Parts of the climb are very steep, especially the hairpins. I walk some of it. With visibility down to 20m and sometimes less, I review my situation. I have come about 20k and reckon there's between 7 and 10k of climbing left. I ate a good breakfast, I have plenty of food and water. I don't feel cold yet and I have decent warm clothing. On the downside I am already wearing every bit of warm clothing I have, and I don't have winter gloves so I am losing heat through my hands. Overall, it doesn't seem too risky to continue, and there's nothing to be gained by going back, I'd only have to do the climb again tomorrow, with no guarantee the weather would be any better. Only three cars pass as I climb the next 7k and start the descent. The word whiteout seems to fit. There is almost no colour difference between the road, the cloud ahead and the cloud above the grey barrier to my right. Everything is dirty white, with a dull glow rather than light. It is surreal and eerie. There is no sound but my wheels on the damp road.

Gradually, as I descend, the cloud thins and I can see further, colour returns and it feels easier to breathe. A motor cyclist passing me gives a thumbs up. He doesn't know what's ahead of him: but doubtless he'll be fine, like me.

At one bend I startle a gang of goats: they probably can't see much either, and have wandered onto the side of the road. As I pass they hop over the safety barrier, one after another.

Another 5k and I can see properly and feel safe enough to turn off the lights. The descent is magnificent, of course, munching the miles. I am almost startled when I speed through a patch of warm air. It feels an age since the air was anything other than cold and wet. In fact, three hours since I set out, I've come 30k. It's only minutes before I have come 40k.

This was an ambitious day even without the weather. I knew there would be a climb between the two high mountains (both invisible, perhaps surreally absent, the whole time). My fallback is Nemea, but time is running out and I really want to see Mycenae and Tiryns. So if I can I want to manage the extra 25k to Mycenae. Worst case there is a mountain between me and Nemea and another between Nemea and Mycenae.

As it turns out, the run to Nemea is easy enough. I can almost imagine the Nemean lion terrorising the neighbourhood before Heracles turned the lion into a cape. The crops change from cabbages to grapes and it seems I am cycling a wine route. The mountains are now 40k behind me, still wrapped in cloud as they recede.

In Nemea, which isn't that big, I get lost but eventually find the route up (of course) to Ancient Nemea. I am in two minds about visiting the site and museum, but not knowing how hard the ride to Mycenae will be, I press on.

There is a very steep, but short hill ahead of me, complete with excitable dogs. Then the ride becomes a breeze and it seems I barely have to pedal before I have covered 20k through olive groves and orange plantations, to reach the turn to Mycenae.

There is a bit of a hill into town, as one would expect on the approach to a hilltop citadel, but I am soon in the hotel, planning the next ride. It was a heck of a ride, testing mentally as well as physically, but I wish I had another 20 k or so to go. It felt as if so much of the ride was downhill, it's disappointing not to be really stretched. I've always preferred uphills to down, and a tough day to a rest day. Looking forward to seeing this legendary place.