We drove up through a series of lovely villages; this is one of them near the Althios Gorge:
As we drove high above the village we happened across a stony track and drove down about a half mile, past a small 'hymac' with a rock breaker attached that was half hidden in the bushes, only to be stopped by the sight of a distant gate. Clearly someone lived down there.
Reversing half way back, we noticed a narrow gap in the bushes and a quick recce showed that it was just possible to get the Landy a short distance off the track. There we found our perfect pitch for the night, hidden from all directions.
So it was all hands to the pumps to get a meal ready. This one is chicken with red peppers, courgette and aubergine. The small clearing had a metal lid which houses some sort of ancient water supply valve. It was a great base on which we sat Smokey Joe.
This is an appropriate time I think for a quick 'shout out' for Smokey Joe. This little chap is central to our holidays and has been for almost twenty years. He began life in Palatine, Illinois, in about 1996 or 1997' no-one can quite remember, but he emigrated very shortly after and came to the UK on a jet from Detroit disguised as a piece of luggage. Once through immigration, he was whisked away along the M4 to Cowbridge and has been part of our life ever since. He's been on every holiday involving a road trip since then and is used almost every day.
It's only fitting that he should feature in this self-timed exposure shot that perfectly illustrates this beautiful wild camp near Stemnitsa.
Now a note of caution to all those who still do washing-up in a bowl. There's nothing quite like the sense of triumph when the dishes are done and it's time to throw the water away. As we were up in the mountains, what little water there was in the bowl was ceremoniously thrown to the four winds in a sort of wide circular arc, across the bushes.
There's always a teaspoon in the bottom when you think you've finished, isn't there? Will this time it was one of two desert spoons. As a result of my carelessness, I am now forced to eat muesli with a fork!
The view in the morning was beautiful and as we were up with the lark, we had plenty of time to appreciate it.
The appreciation continued until about 8:20 when there was the unmistakable sound of a rock breaker operating. This is where Dawn and I differ in our interpretation of situations. I was worried that the rock breaker would be rock-breaking the track, up which we needed to drive to get to the road, whilst SWMBO was totalled chilled.
Of course we therefore continued to appreciate the view and slowly pack-up camp until finally it was time to get back on the road. So it was 'wing mirrors retract' and back through the bushes and onto the stony track. As we drove up, to accompany the unmistakeable sound of a rock breaker, there was the unmistakable sight of a rockbreaker having unmistakably rock broken our route out!
But hey, this is Greece! Did the guy want to know who we were? Did he wonder what we had been doing down a private track? No. He heard me whistle ( too dangerous to get close), looked round and immediately folded the knuckle and spread the track back to something level enough for a Land Rover Defender to scramble over. He was so chilled he wasn't even impressed by the iconic vehicle that effortlessly drove by.
The rest of the morning drive was a continuation of high level driving, into the highest mountains of the Peloponnese, which are on the northern flank, adjacent to the shores of the Gulf of Corinth.
At the point where these mountains are the highest, there is a developing ski area ( Vathia Lakka), and also a gorge, in which a 40km narrow gauge railway snakes its way up and down to the Gulf, from the town of Kalavrita.
Nothing however, prepared us for the sense of 'drop-off' as we almost tipped over the edge of the mountains and began the steep descent to the Gulf. It is a stupendous road and half way down it got even better as we hit that important cultivation belt known as 'The Cherry Tree Belt' ( in the textbooks this is referred to as TCTB). The Landy brakes were tested to the full as we passed a tempting roadside stall and we replenished our stocks, which had been severely depleted since that Albanian seller forced me to buy them at Neochorio, above Stoupa.
The sight of the waters of the Gulf was also a shock. I don't know what particles are suspended in them but they look like a Canadian Rockies postcard.
After a few weeks wandering through the Peloponnese, it was hard to adjust to the frenetic pace on the Athens to Patra motorway. It was very hot with a fast contra flow and dust from massive roadworks. On appeoaching Patra, we had a good view of the bridge which we would cross to take us to mainland Greece.
Cool!
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