[2018, May]
There’s been an awful lot of rain during the whole spring and it seems the weather is not going to change too much once the summer is coming, so my only reasonable option for a week-long tour is to go as far south as I can get to, where I hope I’ll be able to enjoy plenty of sunshine and warm temperatures. Therefore, as I always feel an irresistible attraction of cruising along sea shores, the more rugged the better, I think of riding to Greece, follow the Aegean coastline down to the very southernmost point of continental Europe – the Matapan / Tainaron Cape, then return along the Ionian Sea shore up to the island of Corfu and cut back home through the Pindus and Rodopi mountain ranges. As a matter of fact, this one would be the first part of a wider project I’ve been thinking of for some time now, that is to ride to each of the four extreme compass points of the continent, the other ones being Nordkapp in Norway, Cabo da Roca in Portugal and the Absheron Peninsula in Azerbaijan. I have to admit that, in addition to this route, a quick tour of the island of Crete had also crossed my mind, but, since my time is already short, I decided to leave it for another occasion. Long story short, route sketched and luggage packed, on Saturday morning I set off!
Southwards. 1,010 miles
Even if I’m absolutely fed up with it, the first section of my transit route through Bulgaria has always to be the same: the Danube bridge at Ruse, the city of Veliko Târnovo, across the Stara Planina mountain range by the 2,300 ft. high Pass of the Republic, then close by Kazanlâk to Stara Zagora; and the same as always, I ride it as fast as I can, without taking too many breaks, so I get to the “Trakia” motorway running from Sofia to Burgas at about noon. From this point on, I want to take a route I’ve never rode before, westwards to the Rila and Pirin National Parks, then southwards to the Greek border crossing at Exochi and finally to the shores of the Strymonian Gulf at the Aegean. I’m not able to take full advantage of the 75 miles of motorway riding, as the first lane is completely ruined by heavy trucks traffic, so bumpy that my teeth are uncontrollably chattering :), while the cars running on the second one are doing 90+ mph and I can’t keep that pace, therefore I have to take the emergency lane, where my sense of self-preservation tells me 60 is enough. Never mind, I have plenty of time until tonight, I remain calm and, when I’m getting close to the city of Plovdiv, I stop in a gas station to refuel with both gas and coffee; suddenly, while I’m sitting on the terrace and enjoying the sunshine, I accidentally look up in the sky and I’m stunned by the sight of a massive black cloud reaching all the way to the ground, right in the direction I’m supposed to head to! I hurry up and take off at once, hoping I’ll get to dodge the imminent storm, but to no avail – less than ten minutes later, the sky breaks up and an angry torrential rain starts pouring down. Fortunately, I spot an abandoned gas station just a couple of hundred yards away and I pull over and take shelter under the canopy above the dry fuel pumps, waiting for the wrath to ease up. Meanwhile, I also get to have some serious fun with not one, but two different drivers who seem to be tricked by my presence and stop for refuelling, even if one can tell from the distance the gas station is not working. Moreover, the more stubborn one of them isn’t sure about what he can see by himself, but asks me if it’s open, then, regardless of my negative answer, gets out of his car and starts pulling the locked door, maybe someone would let him in, despite the plain obvious!?
About fifteen minutes later the rain looks to be no longer a threat, so I decide to continue my route, as I’m only halfway to my tonight’s destination and I’m starting to run quite short of time. Sadly, though, the weather doesn’t look to be my ally today and I barely ride past Plovdiv, when the downpour starts again and I’m forced to take shelter in another gas station. I have to wait for fifteen more minutes until I’m able to start again, then I get to the town of Pazardzhik, where I face one more short round of deluge, but this time there’s no place to hide, so I keep on riding, even the streets are literally flooded. About ten miles farther, the traffic free flawless road enters a narrow and winding gorge, the gate to the imposing Rila Mountains, which are the tallest not only in the Balkans, but along the whole distance of more than 2,000 miles between the Alps and the Caucasus. I get to enjoy the countless bends and even almost dry out my clothes in the airflow, before the rain catches up with me right ahead of the spa resort of Velingrad. By now, the pattern appears clear to me: it seems me and the bad weather front share the same route, so I stop and put on my rain gear, as I’ll probably have to cope with it for the rest of the day; nevertheless, I still take two more forced breaks – one downtown Velingrad and the other in a roadside wooden summerhouse close to Yundola, in order to escape more downpour rounds. Otherwise, the landscape is really beautiful, the road is winding through endless pine forests and broad views south, to the Rodopi Mountains, are opening from time to time across crude green clearances.
I get rid of the rain for good only after I descend to the small depression between the Rila and fellow Pirin Mountains, where the ski resort of Bansko is located; however, I skip that and take a shortcut through Eleshnitsa, then continue along the Mesta valley towards the town of Gotse Delchev and I eventually get to the Ilinden / Exochi border crossing at six thirty in the afternoon. I’ve still got about 80 miles left to go today, so, once I pass the brief documents control, I enthusiastically launch myself upon a wonderful mountain road across the lower section of the Rodopi range, towards the city of Drama. Further on, right after I get out of the mountains, I see in the distance, at the end of a straight line, the road is blocked by a bustling crowd and a couple of police cars. “I’ve nailed it!” – I say to myself, that’s all I’ve been missing today, some farmers’ protest and a roadblock which may force me make a miles-long detour on godforsaken backroads! I get to the police cars, stop to ask what’s going on, but one of the cops just smiles and waves me on; I really don’t get it, but abide by his order and slowly get closer to the human beehive. Well, once I’m in, I finally realize what it’s all about and the reason I’ve been invited so kindly to join the party: there’s no protest, it’s a bikers’ meeting and parade! There are hundreds of motorcycles around, most of them sports ones, and some of the guys are showing off, making wheelies and burn-outs right in the middle of the road, while the rest of them are cheering from its sides. Unfortunately, I don’t have time to linger, so I slowly sneak in among them and relentlessly continue my route.
I’ve already been to Drama two years ago and I know there’s little to see there, therefore I take the bypass to the road heading further south, towards the ancient city of Amphipolis. Considering the late hour, I ride the last 30 miles in a total lack of respect to the legal speed limit and at eight o’clock I eventually reach the Aegean shoreline, close to the Nea Amphipolis motorway junction. From this point on, it takes me just a few more minutes to get to Paralia Ofriniou and find the booked accommodation, then I take a shower and walk to a beachside taverna for a late dinner and a couple of beers. It’s been a busy day, but I’m looking forward for tomorrow, when my Greek adventure is about to start!
I leave the still sleeping townlet at about nine in the morning and take the motorway towards the city of Thessaloniki. My plan for today is to ride the coastal backroads south of Katerini, along the Ossa and Pelion mountain ranges, cross the Artemisiou strait to the island of Evia, then return to the mainland at Chalkida and spend the night somewhere nearby Athens; this route’s single fixed anchor is the ferry crossing from Glifa to Agiokampos, which is scheduled for departure at three in the afternoon, and I have to make sure I’ll be there by that hour, while all the rest of it remains fluid and negotiable, exactly the way I like it to be. As usual, I make good progress during the early morning hours and soon I’m already on Thessaloniki’s belt road, where the only thing that bothers me is the fuel level indicator, which starts blinking relentlessly, giving me a heads up that I’m in great need of a gas station. I know these are quite rare along the Greek motorways, but I reckon it won’t be too difficult to find one nearby such a big city, so I keep on speeding ahead. Well, the belt road is ending and there’s still none in sight, so I start worrying a bit, as I’ve already ridden 20 miles out of my reserve range; I slow down below 60, in order to decrease the fuel consumption, and decide to get off the motorway in the direction of the closest settlement, where I’d surely be able to buy some fuel. Eventually, after few painfully long miles I reach the exit towards Chalastra – never heard of it before :), ride some more miles and finally see in the distance the redemptive totem of an Eko gas station; I feel relieved, get closer and bang! – it’s closed, because today is Sunday and the Greeks do have the bad habit of not working on weekends! I can’t believe my bad luck, I guess there are just a few drops of fuel inside my tank and I decide to crawl to the village and ask somebody where I can find fuel. Expecting the engine to stall every moment by now, right ahead of the first houses I see a Shell station, which is miraculously open! I fill the tank up to its lid, then move the bike a few yards farther, into the shade, because I really need a break to cool down from this stressful experience.
However, my hard times are still not over for today, although I don’t know this yet. I have to make a quite long detour to get back to the motorway, which adds some more minutes to my schedule’s already existing delay, then pass by the town of Katerini and pull over in a parking lot with nice views towards the famous snow-capped 2,918 ft. high Mount Olympus, in order to decide about the upcoming coastal backroads I’m gonna ride onto. I take off my gloves, reach for the phone – which also serves as a GPS for me – and I get what might be probably the biggest scare I’ve experienced during all my trips so far: I can’t find it in its place, where I always keep it, inside my jacket’s inner left side pocket! [As I’m obsessively tidy, all the things I carry – phone, wallet, passport, glasses, cigarettes and lighter, and so on – have their precisely designated spot and I never, and I mean really never, put them elsewhere.] I desperately seek it throughout all my pockets, to no avail. What the hell am I going to do now? No phone means also no map, no accommodation booking and no way to get in touch with anybody in case of emergency! I try to recall the last time I’ve used it; it was at the gas station, when I searched on the map for the route back to the motorway. Did I leave it on the saddlebags? If true, it surely fell while I was riding. Should I go back towards the gas station? That would be of no use, it might have fallen after I left, it surely broke and it’s not working anymore. I light a cigarette and try to find a solution. Then, when I put the lighter back in my outer left side pocket, I seem to feel something hard inside my jacket; I reach for it and I have the great surprise to find the secret pocket’s zipper open (that’s the place I keep my reserve cash); I shove my hand inside and there it is – The Phone!!! Now I understand: I took out some money at the gas station, as they didn’t accept credit cards, I may have forgotten to close the zipper afterwards and I slipped the phone there by mistake, as the two pockets are right next to each other. What a relieve! I smoke the best cigarette in my life, take some pictures of Mt. Olympus and get back going.
It’s already noon, I’ve got 125 miles left to ride up to the port at Glifa and now I face a dilemma: if I take the route I’ve been thinking of this morning, on the backroads running between the mountains and the seashore, I’d need about three hours plus at least a couple of breaks to get there, which means I’d be in real danger of losing the ferry; the other option I have is to continue onto the motorway towards Larissa and next Volos, which would be awfully boring, but that shouldn’t last for more than two hours and I’d be able to enjoy the last 30, maybe 40 miles along the seashore without feeling the pressure of time. It’s a tough choice to make, but, as I’m thinking of it while riding, I miss the last exit before entering the 15 miles long section along the Tempi valley, therefore I can’t take the coastal road anymore, as the next one will be right on the plain of Thessaly, beside the opposite side of Mount Ossa. That’s it, the hazard has eventually chosen for me!
Two hours and three breaks later, after I’ve passed by the exit to Volos and in the comfort of a full hour left until the Evia ferry’s departure, I get off the motorway attracted by the sight of some barren steep peaks on its left side, separating it from the Pagasetic Gulf’s shore. Further on, a narrow and traffic free road climbs between huge rocks and thorny bushes and eventually reaches the crest, where I get a fabulous view from, across the intense blue sea and the small fishing village of Achillio. I descend there in sharp steep bends and stop for a short walk along the empty pier and the nearby marina; the place is so picturesque and its mood so tranquil that I feel I wouldn’t leave it anytime soon, nevertheless I hardly cut myself loose, then climb across another mountain crest and, twenty minutes later, I get to the ferry terminal at Glifa. The ship is already docked, so I buy my ticket, embark and comfortably install myself on the deck over a much-deserved frappe, waiting for the short crossing to the island of Evia.
Once I disembark on the other side of the narrow strait, I head towards Chalcis, the island’s biggest town, along the southern shore, passing through its row of small fishing villages and vacation houses; the road is free, with large bends and spectacular views across the secluded Euboean Gulf and Attica’s coastline. Some 25 miles farther, I leave the azure sea behind me and start climbing the mountain range, whose ridge is running like a spine along the island’s entire length, through dense and dark pine forests. From the village of Strofilia, the traffic changes dramatically, as it seems that the weekend tourists are returning in corpore back to Athens, and I’m stuck into an endless line of cars crawling painfully slow up and down the tight hairpins, which are almost impossible to overtake. It’s five thirty in the afternoon by now and I’m quickly running out of patience, so I pull over at a roadside taverna ahead of Chalcis, in order to have dinner and search for some reasonable accommodation for tonight. I sit at a table and start doing some maths: I’ll be leaving this place one hour later, so I’ll be able to ride for about 50 or 60 more miles by the fall of dark; looking at the map, turning left from Chalcis I’d approach Athens, but I really don’t feel like getting into that human beehive, therefore I choose to go right and book a hotel room in the small town of Vilia, close to the Gulf of Corinth’s coastline. Well, problem solved, but what about dinner? It’s been more than twenty minutes since I’ve got here and nobody came to take my order yet! Although I’m hungry, it seems this place is not an option; I get back on my bike and head to the town, I’ll surely find plenty of tavernas over there to choose from. Obviously, the hundreds of cars going the same direction as mine completely fill up the narrow streets downtown, causing terrible jams, which make me forget about looking for places to eat. I do my best to sneak out of this madness as soon as possible, eventually I get to the new bridge across the narrow isthmus separating Evia from the mainland – I’d wished to cross the more picturesque old one, but it was just not meant to be like that – and I happily escape towards the motorway. I make one more try to eat something in a rest area restaurant, but my bad luck keeps on haunting me, it’s closed, then I take the exit to Thiva / the ancient Thebes and, right at the fall of dark, I get to Vilia and the hotel I’m going to spend the night in. After I leave my luggage there, I hurry to the main square, all lined by traditional tavernas, randomly choose one of them, eat too much and too late, then go to sleep. Tomorrow I’ll be riding in Peloponnese!
This morning I’m already in my usual travel pace! This means I wake up really early, have a coffee on the balcony, then I’m the first customer for breakfast and before eight o’clock my luggage is loaded on the bike, ready to go. I’m a bit worried about the thick cloud covering the imposing rocky mountain nearby the town, but I’m heading to the opposite direction, where the sky appears to be clear, so I trustfully take off towards the Corinth isthmus. This is the time of the day I like the most, especially here in Greece, where life starts late in the morning and the roads are free, the villages I pass through are still sleeping and deserted, and I make good progress without noticing the hours passing by. In about half an hour I get close to the seashore, somewhere up on a hill’s crest, and the view opening in front of me is absolutely fabulous. I carefully descend the tight hairpins and continue at the sea level, where the road basically sneaks in between the vertical rock wall and the foamy sea waves which are constantly spraying the tarmac. Further on, I cross another steep forested ridge and suddenly get to the famous 4 miles long, 70 feet wide Corinth Canal, which connects the Aegean and Ionian Seas; although the place is packed with tourists, I still stop for a few minutes and take some mandatory photos of it.
OK, once I’ve crossed the canal I’m already in Greece’s southern part, the Peloponnese; I plan to ride its eastern coast on the Aegean up to Monemvasia, close to its southernmost tip, skipping the tour of the Argolida peninsula which I’ve initially thought of, as I reckon I don’t have enough time for it, too. Therefore, once again I take the motorway for about 15 miles, then exit towards the town of Nafplion – modern Greece’s first capital – and reach the Argolic Gulf’s shore at noon. From this point on, I follow the coastal main road, where the villages are more distanced to one another and the traffic scarcer the more I advance south, the views across the open sea are stunning, the sun is shining brightly upon the absolutely clear sky, all of these summarizing a perfect riding scenery. In the town of Leonidio, the extremely steep waterfront forces the road to leave the seashore and start climbing the 6,000 ft. high mountain range, upstream the spectacular Dafnon valley to the village of Kosmas. I like this place so much that I decide on the spot to spend some time here and have lunch in one of its huge buttonwoods shaded main square tavernas. An hour later, I get back in the saddle and take some absolutely deserted backroads southwards, along the Mount Parnon’s crest, where the landscape leaves me absolutely speechless; the mostly barren slopes are covered in thorny bushes, which are bursting with strong scented colourful early summer flowers, the road is crossed from time to time by short black and yellow snakes and the calm blue sea is quietly sparkling in the distance. I want this section to never end and I can’t help myself stopping every few minutes to take more and more photos of this wonderland!
Eventually, at about five thirty in the afternoon, I get down the seashore again, in front of the majestic enormous rock island which is capped by the 6th century medieval fortress of Monemvasia, the Gibraltar of the East. I cross the 200 yards long causeway linking it to the mainland, up to its main gate, then stroll a bit in its narrow cobbled streets and have a coffee on a sunny terrace. Although it’s still early, I reckon this place would gloriously put an end to an almost perfect travel day, so I rent a room in a nearby hotel and spend the evening cooling down with a couple of beers on its large street view balcony.
Rila National Park
Mt. Olympus
Achillio
Agiokampos, the island of Evia
Vilia
The Gulf of Corinth
The Corinth Canal
The Argolic Gulf
Dafnon valley
Kosmas
Gaidourovouni, Mt. Parnon
Limin Ierakas
Monemvasia
Monemvasia, the fortress
Monemvasia, the old town
To the end of the world. 215 miles
The Peloponnese features three almost identical long and sleek peninsulas in its southern part: Epidavros, the one I’m currently on, Mani and Messinia. The middle one’s tip, Cape Matapan / Tainaron, is the geographical southernmost point of continental Europe, so it has to be the most important landmark of my route today and of my entire journey, as well, and the latter is the starting point for Greece’s western coast tour, so that’s where I’ll be sleeping tonight. OK, the plan for today is ready, so let’s go!
The main road connecting Monemvasia to Githio, the townlet which is one of the two access points to the Mani peninsula, is quite boring and crowded at the same time, therefore I decide to spice up my route a bit by taking some backroads running closer to the Lakonikos Gulf’s shore. However, this have proved to be an uninspired choice, since they are crossing a mainly agricultural area, full of orange orchards, the lack of tourism also meaning a total lack of road signs – I guess I’ve stopped at least ten times in just 30 miles, to check the map if I’ve made the right turn and in most cases I didn’t, so I had to go back to the last junction – and an unbelievable amount of roadside piles of all kinds of garbage, from rotten oranges to empty bottles and construction debris. Not even the long sandy beach at Elea makes a somewhat good impression on me, so I can’t wait to get to Githio, which proves to be something completely different: a cosy small town, with an elegant waterfront and majestic Venetian style old buildings, so it’s worth a break and a short brisking up walk.
From this point on I turn south, on Mani peninsula’s eastern coast, and the views I get are absolutely fantastic – the narrow road is winding along the rugged rocky slopes which steeply plunge into the sea, and the rare villages are featuring the famous traditional stone houses, many of them decrepit and abandoned, with tiny windows and tall defence towers, which make them look like impenetrable small fortresses. The more I’m going south, the more distant the villages are to one another, I don’t encounter any traffic at all and suddenly, after a tight bend, the prominent Cape Matapan appears right in front of me! The combined beauty and wilderness of this place, its solitude and absolute silence and the strong blowing wind make me feel like I’m an explorer of far and unknown territories, so I stop and sit down on the side of the road, just contemplating the end point of our small world. Back on track a few minutes later, I descend to the sea level, in the small settlement of Porto Kagio, where I cool down with a frappe sitting at a table on the pebbly beach, just a few feet away from the crystal-clear turquoise water, then I ride to the terminus point of the road, which is only a couple of hundred yards far from the continent’s very last rock, and take some witness photos of it.
It’s already way past noon when I start back north, this time along the peninsula’s milder and more populous western coast. I’ve got an awful lot to ride to the city of Kalamata and Peloponnese’s third peninsula, so I keep on riding relentlessly, without stopping at all throughout the towns of Areopoli, Stoupa and Kardamyli, just admiring the landscape on the move. The barren mountains of Mani are first replaced with some lower hills, covered in widespread olive groves, which then gradually rise to the forested 7,890 ft. high Taygetus Mountain, overlooking the Messinian Gulf and the row of small tourist resorts on its shore. As the road broadens and the traffic increases, I realize I’m approaching Kalamata, the biggest city in Peloponnese, where I know there’s not much to see, therefore I cross it to its western side, pass by the airport and, in the village of Velika – a classical Slavic name, probably a reminder of the 6th century invasion of Greece by those tribes, I turn left along the Messinia peninsula’s eastern shore. Villages and small towns are chained to each other in an endless row, there are roadworks in progress and the traffic is slow and busy – I don’t quite like that! Moreover, I start feeling the tiredness and discomfort caused by almost uninterrupted riding in the excessive heat, I’m hungry and thirsty at the same time, so I’m in desperately need of a prolonged break. Fortunately, I shortly arrive to Koroni, a Venetian style townlet and port, close to Messinia’s tip; I sneak in through the maze of narrow streets and alleys downtown up to the long pier, where I randomly choose one of the countless waterfront tavernas and enjoy for more than an hour a rich dinner, with fish roe, a plateau of sardines and a huge bowl of Greek salad. Only the beer is missing from the menu, but I withhold myself, as I’d like to ride 20 more miles today, up to Methoni, where I’ve already booked a room at a hotel located right into the town’s main square, overlooking the beach and its 13th century Venetian fortress. The road there passes by some excellent sandy beaches I know from my previous visit here, some eight years ago, bringing back nice memories to me, then I admire a fabulous flaming sunset over the Mediterranean Sea and I eventually get to the hotel by the fall of dark. It’s a bit worn out and humble, but I bet it’ll do its job, considering how tired and worn out myself I feel right now!
Githio
The Mani peninsula
Cape Matapan
Porto Kagio
Cape Matapan, the road's end
Methoni, the 13th century Venetian fortress
Northwards. 995 miles
I’ve got a quite vague plan for today: what I know for sure is that I’ll be riding northwards, as much as possible along the Ionian Sea shore, but exactly onto which roads and how far I’ll get still remain unclear to me for now. I’d like to also make a short tour of the island of Lefkada enroute, but I don’t know if I’ll have enough time for that, as tomorrow afternoon I’ve got to be back to Paralia Ofriniou – remember the first night on the road? – and that’s far away in the north. The unusual hour I wake up at – the mosquitoes have killed me during the night – and the lack of breakfast in this shitty hotel actually help me fulfil my plans and no later than seven thirty in the morning I already joyfully cut off the bends on the road heading to the town of Pilos, ashore the Navarino Bay. Nobody’s up yet, no car bothers me on the road, so I trustfully speed up northwards in the direction of Patras. I pass without stopping through few townlets that don’t say much to me – Marathopoli, Filiatra, Kyparissia – and their neighbouring endless olive groves and orange orchards, but, unfortunately, the landscape changes after the town of Pyrgos; this seems to be an important agricultural area and the road broadens, the heavy trucks’ number increases and there are also traffic lights at almost each lateral backroad junction, which all conspire to significantly slow me down. I’ve been riding for more than three hours by now, I start boring and I’m in need of a reinvigorating coffee; I stop at a couple of gas stations but I’m in no luck, it seems the locals over here use to drink their coffee elsewhere, and I don’t want to lose time by entering any village in search for a taverna. That’s it, I’ve got about 60 miles left to ride up to the city of Patras and I guess I’ll have to cope with it and take a longer break there, as I’d already have some snack, too. The stupid thing is that, being preoccupied with the coffee, I didn’t pay any attention at all to the fuel level indicator, and suddenly I’m surprised by the damned gadget starting blinking brightly to me. All right, it’s been already a few days since I’ve experienced this kind of chills, time to do it again, I guess! Of course, I don’t find anymore gas stations now when I really need one, so I start comapring the range to the distance to Patras and the result is somewhat at its very limit. I try to encourage myself thinking that the distances shown on the road signs are calculated to the city centre and there’s got to be at least one gas station in its outskirts, so maybe I have enough fuel left to get there, so I keep on scanning the horizon for a redemptive totem. At a certain point, the road broadens to four lanes and it shortly transforms into a motorway, which surely bypasses the city; eventually, I decide to get off it at a randomly chosen exit out of the five ones which are leading downtown and suddenly find myself amidst a chaotic busy traffic, where I wander for twenty more minutes until I spot my salvation on the opposite side of the street! I don’t abide by any traffic rules anymore and cut off in front of an upcoming bus, feeling I’d really hug the fuel pump; I fill the tank with precisely 3.7 gallons of fuel – exactly my tank’s full capacity, which means I’ve ridden the last hundred yards on fuel vapours only! Incredibly, I’ve narrowly escaped one more time of having to push the bike!
Much more relaxed now, it’s time to take care of the fuel for myself, too. I try to go back to the motorway on the same route I’ve come onto, but this strategy doesn’t work, as I’m getting lost in the crowded streets of the city. Luckily, I stumble upon a shopping mall and right in its parking lot I find a good-looking café, which I triumphantly enter and order a coffee and a cheese pie. What a surprise! My never-ending bad luck keeps on teasing me :), as the young girl at the counter is one of the few in Greece who speaks bad English, so I put her in big trouble; she doesn’t understand what I want, asks for some help at the bar, but to no avail, so she comes back with the answer: “We don’t have tzeese pie!” OK, I’ll settle for the coffee, I sit down at a table and in a couple of minutes she promptly brings me a frappe! That’s quite normal, I think, as this is coffee in Greece in summertime, who the hell would have thought I’d drink a hot one? There are quite a lot of sell-outs I’ve got to make over here, but I feel I don’t have any other option, so I try to cope with the situation. And while I’m patiently drinking my frappe, suddenly the same girl appears back glowing with happiness and enthusiastically tells me she was wrong, in fact they do have cheese pie! Well, see how things are settling down eventually? “Then bring me one of them, ‘cause I’m really hungry!” Of course, when I reach the half of the pie, a bulb lights up inside my head: tyropita, that’s how they call it in Greek! OK, I’ll try to remember that for the next time.
The day looks better now, with both my tank and belly full! It’s one o’clock and time to move on. I get to the motorway easier than I expected, ride few more miles to the spectacular fully suspended bridge across the Gulf of Corinth, connecting the Peloponnese to the Attica province in the mainland Greece, then take the old national road along the Ionian seashore. The landscape has changed again, to the better this time, to a mountainous area where the extremely low traffic lets me bend in the curves up to the extent when my pegs scratch the tarmac. I turn left to Aitoliko – a small town filling up an island too perfectly rounded not to be man-made, right in the middle of a shallow lagoon, then I cross another boring agricultural area along the meandering Achelous River and climb a moderately high hill crest to descend on its other side, in the port of Astakos. Further on, after I sneak in on some streets so incredibly narrow that they look to lead nowhere, I continue on an absolutely deserted magnificent road running along the tall steep cliffs, where I show off a bit, doing 70+ mph and taking both my hands off the handlebar. 20 miles farther I get to Paliovarka, where I find a deserted and quiet beach I like a lot, backed by barren high mountains and facing a couple of forested small islands across the clear and intense blue horseshoe bay. I guess that’s the way the paradise should look like and, as I don’t have any precise target for tonight, I afford the luxury of resting for half an hour over here. Later on, I ride for few more miles and stop to have a gyros in Palairos, a bit more animated townlet also populated with few early tourists, then I find myself on a completely broken road, taking me among loose goat flocks and beside the ruins of an abandoned village – the consequence of a major earthquake and landslides some 50 years ago – across the mountain which separates me from the panhandle connecting the mainland to the island of Lefkada. Meanwhile, it’s already five in the afternoon, so I reckon I won’t have enough time to take a complete tour of the island, so I settle for an hour spent on the sandy beach of Agios Ioannis and my first bath into the sea this year.
While sunbathing, I also booked a room for tonight in a good-looking hotel located somewhere nearby Arta, at the foothills of the Pindus mountain range, which I have to cross tomorrow enroute to Thessaloniki. I’ve got about 50 more miles to ride up there, so I cross back the floating bridge to the mainland, then take the road through the one-mile-long undersea tunnel at Preveza and head on north, chased by a black cloud which seems to be determined to soak me. However, I eventually escape it, except for some stray drops, and arrive to the hotel at about eight o’clock in the evening; I get an unexpectedly elegant room, then chill down over a couple of beers on the terrace amidst the olive grove in the backyard. The owner’s reaction to my answer regarding the place I’m coming from since this morning confirms this one has been quite a long day, too: “Wow, Methoni, that’s really far away from here!”
I don’t have any breakfast in this hotel either and this thing helps me leave quite early once again. I shortly get to the “Ionia Odos” motorway and head on north across the mountains, towards the city of Ioannina, making just one short break to take some photos of the imposing 6,476 ft. high Mount Tomaros. Although it’s still early, I’m riding under the pressure of time, as I need to get to Paralia Ofriniou as soon as possible – I’ve promised my son, who’s on vacation there with his mother, that we’ll spend at least half day together at the beach, so there’s no room for changing plans today! Nearby Ioannina I turn right onto the spectacular “Egnatia Odos” motorway, with its endless row of tunnels and tall viaducts and keep on riding for about 100 miles until I stop one more time, for another brisking up short break. At about noon I get close to the Aegean seashore and the stiffness I feel after four hours of almost uninterrupted riding force me take a longer one, for a coffee and snack in a rest area restaurant, then I continue past Thessaloniki and lose some more time getting off the motorway in search of a gas station – no big drama, I’ve already got used to doing this. On the last section ahead of the exit towards my destination I get a bit of amusement by easily overtaking a group of German guys riding some shiny Harleys, as this thing reminds me of a photo I’ve seen online some time ago:
Eventually, at two thirty in the afternoon I park my bike in front of a beach-bar and spend the rest of the day relaxing in the sun, bathing, having dinner and beers – vacation style!
Usually, when I go back home coming from the south, the last day feels terrible, a necessary evil the geography doesn’t let me get rid of, as the roads in Bulgaria, whichever I’d choose to ride, had become way too familiar to me, to the extent of blindfoldedly knowing each bend, village or pothole enroute. This time, though, I’ll try to discover something different, at least for the first half of my route home, so I exit Greece by the same border crossing point at Exochi, then, in the town of Gotse Delchev, I turn right along the northern slopes of the Rodopi Mountains. [As an interesting fact, this guy Gotse / Georgi Nikolov Delchev, who is a national hero for both Bulgaria and Northern Macedonia, had been the leader of the Internal Macedonian Revolutionary Organization some 100 years ago, that is the boss of the actual inventors of terrorism the way we define it today, and a town still bears his name! Ours are the good guys and the others are bad, is that a double standard, or what?] Anyway, the road is winding in large bends through wide green meadows and dense pine forests, at an altitude of about 3,000 ft., and the landscape really doesn’t make me feel sorry for coming this way. I turn north in the townlet of Dospat and serve another portion of mountain roads, this time going even higher, up to the 5,000 ft. mark, passing by some small tourist resorts and a couple of reservoirs, their only downside being the debris and sand on the tarmac, especially in the tight bends and hairpins, which force me keep my speed a bit lower than I’d like. The fun ends once I pass through the town of Peshtera, I get out of the mountains into a hilly area, then I pass by Stamboliyski – a decrepit, horrible looking ex-industrial town – and take the motorway towards Stara Zagora and the usual transit route. With no more notable things to say about, I’m home by seven in the evening, after a tiresome week-long tour, but the excitement of wandering through Greece neatly surpasses all the downsides and mishappens I’ve overcame along these more than 2,200 miles of riding. In fact, I think I said I’m going to Crete next year, didn’t I?
The Ionian Sea at Astakos
Paliovarka
Paliovarka
Mt. Tomaros
The Rodopi Mountains
Golyam Beglik reservoir
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