MBA - Day 22

Day 22 – Tuesday 14th June 2011

I’m in Athens! I can’t believe it. This is the first time I’ve ever gotten emotional about achieving something.

For at least the last 15 days, as I’ve cycled further and further from home, I’ve had one line of a James Blunt song stuck in my head. One line, because that’s all I can remember... I’m not really a fan of his. Anyway, the line is: “Gotta ask yourself the question: where are you now?”

I’m not entirely sure why... it’s not even the right question that I’ve been asking myself, it’s more like, “What are you doing here??”

Going through France didn’t seem too bad: I’ve done it loads of times before, especially on motorbike trips with dad, Neil and Pete... it’s just a little different on my own. As I went up the Alps into Switzerland, that’s where the question really started ringing: what on earth was I doing trying to cycle up the Alps with an overloaded bicycle? Not only is it an overloaded bicycle, but a bicycle that’s not intended to carry a load, especially not a load that’s about twice the weight of an American on a diet of Big Macs. Ok, so that might be a slight exaggeration...

Then I got to Geneva. I was last there 5 years ago... again on a motorbike trip, and yet here I was on a bicycle. The question rang out loud and clear as I wrestled with the Grand-St-Bernard and flew into Italy like a speeding bullet.

Pisa was a little odd: the question disappeared for a day. Then I got to Rome and it fired up again, especially as I got sight of the Colosseum and stood in front of the Vatican.

The question was louder than ever as I woke up on the ferry with Greek mountains in the distance, knowing that it wouldn’t be long before I set foot in a country I’ve never been to before.

As the craziness of this trip sinks in, the question fades away and I’m left staring in amazement at the fantastic sights and scenery, overwhelmed at having got here by myself... with a bicycle!

Even so, today wasn’t easy.

After bivvying under a tree, I was away at 6.45am. I stopped off at Argos to do some shopping... (Ok, I just wanted to say that! In fact, the whole reason for me heading east over the Peloponnese mountains instead of north east towards Corinth was so that I could drop by Argos and make a bad joke. I know that’s sad, but aren’t you used to it by now?) Actually, I got to Argos before the shops opened: at a Carrefour Express I was asked to leave because it was only 7.45am and they opened at 8am; and I got to another supermarket at 8.20am and decided to wait the 10 minutes for them to open.

I got to Mycenae and had a quick go at finding the ruins. It looked like I had to go uphill for 2 kilometres and I really couldn’t be bothered, so I continued towards Corinth. I managed to avoid getting on the Autoroute (why am I still calling it “Autoroute”? That’s the French term, I might as well just call it motorway...) and made my way to the sea where a little lie down, a dip in the sea and a couple of hours’ rest with a coke was a good call.

Shortly after 2pm I hit the road again: about 50 miles to Athens and I could be there by 7pm.

First I had to get across the canal that separates the Peloponnese from the mainland. Carefully avoiding the “motorway,” I found a small wooden bridge. I watched as a car went across, and then I followed suit... getting shouted at not only by the bridge supervisor, but also from the driver of a car coming the opposite way. Eventually the supervisor tries English: “On foot! Walk!”

No sooner had he said that than I see why. The front wheel slips between 2 of the planks, almost wedging itself. As I pull it out, the back wheel does the same thing, going down with a thud.

“See, now you have big problem!”

With a heave I get the wheel out, quickly check that the pannier rack is still attached – amazingly it is! – and rather sheepishly walk the rest of the way.

Something doesn’t seem quite right. I pull up next to a wall and inspect. The bolts holding the rack have bent a little more and there’s now a bit of contact between the rack and the tyre. Great. I’ve done about 5 miles since the beach, I’m aiming to be in Athens tonight and I’ve got to sort this rack out right now. Oh well, it could be worse... it could be raining.

Luggage off, tools out. With a bit of coercion, I manage to bend the rack so that some smaller bolts can fit, making the whole thing more solid (assuming I haven’t broken the rack as I bent it by force). The rack is now a little wonky, but it’s well away from the wheel and it feels very solid. Luggage on and off I go.

I notice that there is far less creaking now, especially when I go over some bumps. I stick to the Old National Road, since the new one is the motorway, going right by the coast. The view is awesome and I’m blitzing this section of the journey. Things are going so well...

And then the heavens open. I swerve into a little “mini market” shop by the roadside, buying a can of Sprite to justify me sitting on a bench under the covering as I wait it out. It could be worse... it could be – no, wait, it is raining!

It doesn’t seem like the kind of rain that lasts a long time, but still I’m well aware of the time ticking by. Eventually it eases up a little and I decide to just get going. It isn’t long before it stops completely.

More stunning views as I get to Megara. I’m really careful to avoid going on the motorway (going through the centre of Elefsina instead, which is very busy), and then it happens. The road I’m on – which is still the Old National Road – has a barrier across it and all traffic is shunted onto the motorway. Well, I tried.

Carolyn told me of a campsite in Dafni, just before Athens, so I figure I’ll try to find it.

I stop at a service station to try to get a drink but it’s shut. There’s a man sat there and I ask him where Dafni is... a little further up the motorway. I continue on and see a sign for a “Byzantine Monastery.” I stop to have the last of my water and find that this monastery is completely fenced off. Not much of a tourist attraction.

There are children playing nearby, and a restaurant, so I try to see what it is in case it’s the campsite. I see a big sign saying “Café” and assume that’s all it is. Looking back, I think it was actually the campsite, but never mind.

I get to the outskirts of Athens and pull over to ask where the campsite is. One man seems very helpful: “You go on the big road about 4 kilometres. At the fifth light, turn left.”

I pass the fifth set of traffic lights after about 1 kilometre. The road is now 4 lanes wide – on each side. I keep heading down a hill, growing more uneasy as I’m aware of time ticking by. It’s 8pm already.

I come to a huge interchange. It’s like another motorway is crossing the one I’m on. Motorways in Greece are just like normal roads, except that they are a few lanes wider. There are still shops right by the side of the busy road!

I head straight over the interchange on a huge bridge... and then I see the sign that says no cyclists. Too late. There’s nothing I can do but keep going.

I stop to ask a lady at a roadside kiosk where this campsite is. As she speaks Greek to me, I figure from the tone of her voice and her gestures that I’m not supposed to be here with a bicycle, and that the campsite is back the way I came.

I try to find a way to head back. Stopping at another service station I ask a guy about the campsite. He says 1 kilometre back up the big road.

I find a footbridge over the huge interchange (which is much nicer!) and cycle a little further before stopping to check with another passer-by.

“About 1 or 2 kilometres, on the right you will see Camping Athens.”

He’s absolutely right. It’s now 8.45pm and I feel much better. A good – and much-needed – shower and then food at the campsite’s little restaurant. It’s been a long day so I’m going to treat myself!

Stats

Mileage = 95.64 miles
Riding time = 8 hours 15 minutes
Average speed = 11.5 mph
Top speed = 33.0 mph

Total mileage since start = 1044.7

MBA - Day 21

Day 21 – Monday 13th June 2011

After a couple of days’ break, I get back into the thick of cycling. As soon as I left the house in Kallithea, I cycled uphill for a few kilometres. It was no bother – I was fresh and the view was stunning! Nassos kept telling me how lucky I am: it’s meant to be one of the hottest months of the year for Greece and yet the temperature has barely hit 30°C! It feels like one of Britain’s hot summers. Today was a little hotter than the previous days... or so it seemed. Maybe it was because the sun was beating down and I was cycling hard that it felt that way.

My mountainous journey was slow going. I knew there’d be a fantastic downhill to come, but the miles ticked by so slow I almost wondered if it would ever come. With Andritsena long gone, I came to a major junction and faced a choice: down the hill to Megalopoli, then up to Tripoli; or continue over the mountains towards Stemnitsa, turning right towards Davia and then down to Tripoli. I postponed the choice-making and took a break at a service station a few yards from the junction.

As I enjoyed a can of 7-Up, the choice got made. At this point in the day, time was no issue and the question popped into my head: “Are you a man or a mouse?” Mountains it is then!

There was a long, gruelling hill to Elliniko and for a few kilometres beyond. A car came round the bend towards me and I got a glimpse of the shocked look, not just on the driver’s face but on 2 of the passengers’ faces as well. Yes, only a lunatic would bring a bicycle up these mountains!

Some of the downhills were hard work: nice, gentle descents are not good as the friction in the tyres, combined with the air resistance, means freewheeling is not an option. Even with pedalling, I struggled to go faster than 12 mph. If this was the downhill I got after all my hard work, I would not be a happy bunny!

Soon after Davia, the real descent began. Now this was more like it! I passed a campsite, but I was still high up in the hills and there were a few miles left to Tripoli. My map indicates a campsite at Tripoli, so I enjoyed the downhill and pressed on.

My knees were aching quite a lot at this point. The vast number of uphills, combined with me only taking short breaks (because I wanted to make the distance fast) is not the best. The downhills don’t help as I always take those opportunities to give my bum a break from the saddle, using my knees as a bit of suspension over any bumps. At least my foot no longer hurt (when I was at St-Laurent-en-Grandvaux, many days ago, I lowered the saddle and it worked a treat – just a few millimetres took the strain off as I pedalled).

I hurtled towards Tripoli, trying hard not to use the brakes unless absolutely necessary. When I reached the town, I realised I had no idea where I was going. I figured heading straight was the best option and soon I came across a supermarket. A few supplies, and I tried to ask where this campsite is.

“No campsite, only mountains in Tripoli.”

Ok, now I’m in trouble. My map has lied to me... well, maybe it didn’t lie: maybe when it indicated campsites in Tripoli it meant in a 15-mile radius of the town, which included that one up in the mountains that I had passed. At any rate, I wasn’t going back there. The man at the supermarket said there are campsites at Nafplio and south, down the east coast from there. That’s good since that was the direction I wanted to head; the downside was that there were 42 km (26 miles) between me and the coast... and it was 8pm. I could only hope I passed something suitable along the way.

The road started off pretty flat with only gentle ascents. I was riding faster than I had all day, about 14 mph. The uphills were no bother, my speed remaining above 10 mph. As the darkness slowly set in, my adrenaline was pumping and I was blitzing this road. The lights went on and the man upstairs was more alert than ever... well, for today, at least.

I cruised along a nice flat section and came across a little shelter by the roadside. Next to it was a little shrine with a candle burning. I’d seen many of these throughout Greece. The best I can figure is that they are there to commemorate the lives of people who have died in a car accident at that spot: some have photos of people in them; yet others have pictures of Jesus, so I’m still not completely sure. Anyway, bivvying in the shelter could be a good call, despite it being right beside the road... I could just hope for the best, like usual.

But it was too late. Whilst I was trying to decide, Ol’ Betsy kept rolling forwards, down the hill and far away. I couldn’t be bothered to turn back.

It was past 9.30pm, it was as dark as it was going to get and I found myself flying down a major descent. The road is reminiscent of the Alps: tight bends and lots of speed. Except this time I could only see about 3 metres in front. A little LED bike light does not make a very good headlamp: it allows others to see me, but does not allow me to see where I’m going. The point was well made as I sped round a hairpin and hit a pothole. The rack on the back took a jolt and one of the panniers took a hit to the spokes of the rear wheel. I had to stop.

My lovely needlework I did back in Avallon (O Avallon!) had ripped apart. It’s a miracle the rack was still attached: the little bolts holding it on at the base had slowly been bending under the weight. In fact, when we arrived at Kallithea I noticed one side had snapped off. I have no idea when it happened (it could have been the cobbled roads in Rome, the ferry crossing, or even taking it on the bike rack on the back of the car... I can only speculate) but with some help from Nassos we managed to replace it. Even so, it was slowly bending, and by the grace of God it was still hanging on! Everything else seemed ok, so I carried on down. If I’m lucky, I could get to the coast by 10pm... do I factor in a break to let the wheel rims cool down? No, I’ll risk it.

At 10.05pm I pulled up to a restaurant. “Is there a ‘camping’ here?” (Greek people seem to get a little confused at “campsite”, but “camping” is their equivalent, and it helps.)

The couple in the restaurant talked amongst themselves. It turns out that there is no campsite in this village, the nearest one is in Nafplio, over 10 km away. After more talking in Greek, the man said I could take the next right, follow the road round behind the buildings and camp in the trees, well out of sight of anyone. Wild camping is technically illegal in Greece but apparently people still do it (according to me little phrasebook – thanks mum!).

The man said that what I could do instead is to take the right turn, but then turn left and I would come to a restaurant which used to be part of the old campsite. He said that perhaps if I told them that I saw on the map that there was a campsite here and that I’m a little confused, they might let me pitch in the trees for one night.

I thanked the man and decided to buy a can of coke off him for his trouble... but he took pity on me and gave it to me for free!

I decided to ask at the restaurant first.

“This campsite closed 10 years ago! If you go up the coast 10 km, there is one there.”

That was no good. It was late, I was tired and I really didn’t want to cycle that far, especially if it ended up closed like all the others. I headed the other way to wild camp in the trees.

I got to where I thought I was in the middle of nowhere and took a left turn down a dirt track... with an abrupt halt. There was a car parked there! There were no buildings around, so it was blatantly a couple enjoying a bit of Smooch Club.

I went a bit further on and found a bunch of trees that looked overgrown and wild enough. It looked like an old orchard, but where the orchards either side of this patch were nicely kept, this part had trees with branches almost to the floor and longer grass in between them. I went deep in so I was completely off the road. Someone would have to come looking to find me.

I was still a little uneasy about it: I was only at the back of a village, not in the middle of the mountains. As such, I decided not to put the tent up. It’s bivvy time!

Bivvy bag, roll mat and sleeping bad. I put the handlebar bag (with all the important stuff) down at the bottom of the bivvy bag, pulled the drawstring and enjoy a nice warm night, trying to keep one eye open just in case.

With all the hard work of hills, annoyances of not being able to find a campsite and blitzing over 25 miles at 8pm, I can look back on it all and confidently say:

This is the stuff adventures are made of!

Stats

Mileage = 90.04 miles
Riding time = 9 hours 22 minutes
Average speed = 9.6 mph
Top speed = 38.7 mph

Total mileage since start = 949.0

MBA - Day 20

Day 20 – Sunday 12th June 2011

Breakfast consisted of a nice big fry up: 4 rashers of bacon, 4 eggs, 4 pieces of fried bread and a fried tomato. Absolutely gorgeous! Staying with people makes a nice, welcome change to camping by myself. I could get some washing done, the bike is safe and I can relax and enjoy being looked after.

Not a lot happened today. I had breakfast, caught up on diary entries (yes, I’d fallen behind...), we had lunch and then took a siesta. After siesta, we planned to go to the village where Nassos grew up – Kallithea – since they have a house there.

Carolyn was cooking some beans to take with us and left a few for George’s dinner. Nassos saw them in the fridge and said, “No, no, no. These are my favourite, I’ll have them now!” So it was that we ate George’s dinner (although Carolyn left some more for him), I found that black-eyed beans and olive oil with a sprinkling of lemon juice is actually rather nice, and we got to Kallithea a bit later than planned.

But it was worth it. We got to Kallithea as the sun was setting, making the fantastic view even better. Carolyn and I took a stroll into the village to get some supplies, getting back to find Nassos comfortably tucked into the bag of oranges and apricots.

Although I hadn’t planned to cycle through Kallithea (I intended to go along the more major road through Olympia, further north), we found a bike rack that Elene uses, I hooked it up to the car (something which I’d never actually done before, but I knew the principle behind it...) and it would make tomorrow’s cycling easier as Kallithea is at an altitude of 400 metres. I’m not complaining!

Stats

Mileage = 0 miles

Total mileage since start = 859.0

MBA - Day 19

Day 19 – Saturday 11th June 2011

Fried egg and bacon sandwiches for breakfast – this is the life! After a marvellous night’s sleep in a proper bed, I feel well rested after all the camping and bunking at train stations.

Carolyn comes over to take me to Olympia, where the Olympic Games originated. We park up and walk over a stunning bridge (I couldn’t get the right angle for a photo – gutted!) to get to the entrance. She has some card which gets her free entrance and I wonder if I’m going to have to pay. The man waves her forward.

“And what about the nephew?” she asks. A bit of communication in Greek and I’m allowed in too. Nice!

So Olympia is basically a bunch of ruins, but what ruins! Parts of the huge pillars which lined the various temples are laid across the grass. One pillar on the Temple of Zeus has been reconstructed, standing tall in its glory. Other pillars which form part of the gymnasium still stand and the outline of many buildings can still be seen. On the edge of this little collection of buildings is the Olympic Stadium, 192 metres in length! Some tourists run up and down it as runners would have in the first Olympic Games in 776 BC. The ceremony of lighting the Olympic torch still takes place here.

After a couple of hours of walking around in the sunshine, we head to the museum. Carolyn tries the same trick and it works again, although this time I did have to take out my passport as proof of my age.

The museum is also a sight to be seen. One room is lined with various statues: gods, people, animals, etc. Another room is to do with pottery, another with craft tools. In Olympia there was this big pyre into which people would cast little statuettes and figures of animals and people as an offering to the gods. Because they were made of metal, they didn’t burn up and many of them have been recovered. It looks like an ancient toy figures set! Another room contained shields and helmets and other war equipment. I’m not usually one for looking around museums, but this one was fascinating and well worth it.

We head back to Pyrgos for some lunch and a siesta. With the morning’s heat, I fall asleep almost instantaneously. I was probably still trying to catch up on lost sleep from the ferry and train stations.

As late afternoon and early evening comes, Carolyn takes me to a nice seaside village called Katakolo. There are some good views, nice little fishing boats and a plethora of seaside restaurants looking out over the calm water. A very nice place, but not a huge amount to do there.

We get back to the house where George, the youngest of the kids (ages 22) is practising for a gig in the evening with a friend. The music they are playing is fantastic, apparently of Turkish origin. His sister, Elene, is also there, packing to go away camping for the weekend. Chatting with them, albeit briefly, is good and I really feel part of the family. Apparently that’s just Greek culture – and it’s great.

It hasn’t been a particularly long day, but the hot sun has drained my energy. As I’m getting ready to turn in, I suddenly get a big shock: some insect flies past. But this is no ordinary insect like I’ve seen before – it’s huge! Its body is at least 3 or 4 centimetres long, fat, and when it flies past it sounds like a small aeroplane. Imagine a fly about 10 times bigger and you might be getting close to what this is. Anyway, I’m not having it there whilst I’m trying to sleep... a shoe to the head and – Thud! – it’s dead.

I can sleep easy now the bug is gone...

Stats

Mileage = 0 miles

Total mileage since start = 859.0