Modern Sparta, a Byzantine capital and a rare traffic jam

The truck driver waved us back from where he had been surveying the road ahead, and we pulled over against the wall of the village church to wait. He jumped into his cab and reversed towards us, revealing a large bus ahead. Then we realised the bus was also reversing, also towards us. What on earth was ahead? We soon saw. It was a huge curtain-sided truck with a trailer almost as big. The bus swung into a small square, the truck ahead of us tried to get down a side street, but realised it wouldn’t make it, so the truck and trailer crept back a few feet to allow him to sneak through the gap. We pulled into a small alcove, and the behemoth went on its way. 

It’s amazing we haven’t seen more such incidents in Greece, as the main roads often go through tiny villages with sharp turns, nasty overhangs, and room enough for only one vehicle. There are plenty of convex mirrors to help see around corners, but it can still be a little disconcerting. What’s made it so much easier is that there is so little traffic, and that Greek drivers are generally good natured and rarely in a hurry, especially in Laconia, from where we get the word laconic.  In the next village along we stopped to wait while a conversation between two drivers was concluded through open windows as they passed in the road. And they never give the impression that we shouldn’t be in their road, they just pull through the narrowest of gaps and go on their way.

Leonidas, hero of Thermopylae

 We were heading east from Sparta, climbing into the mountains which separate it from the sea, as we start heading north towards the Isthmus of Corinth. It was our second visit to Sparta in 48 hours. We’d arrived there on Monday, having had a lazy weekend in the small harbour town of Plitra, and at a quiet beach stop we’d used a few days before on our way to Monemvasia. It was ideally situated to do our weekly shop at the Lidl in Skala on Monday morning. Who should be in the car park, but a German couple in a Motorhome we’d seen back in Thessalonika, and then at Thermopylae, and again at Monemvasia. They are clearly doing a similar route, but they speak no English and our conversations have been friendly, but limited.

We were delighted to discover that Sparta has wide boulevards with a central reservation, making it easy to drive through the town to a side road where we could park up for the night, just around the corner from the ruins of the old town. In the morning we dropped off our dirty clothes at a laundry, before learning that Ancient Sparta is closed on Tuesdays. A quick replan, and it was off to the old Byzantine capital of Greece at Mythras, just twenty minutes outside Sparta.

Sparta from Mythras

The fortress at Mythras

The palace as you approach

We pulled into the lower car park just as a large white Unicat Motorhome drove in from the other end. It was our friends from Camping Finikes at Christmas! They had spent the night 2.5km further on at the top car park, and recommended we carry on up there, so we did, to the delight of two pairs of glutes faced with a very much shorter walk to the top of the fortress.

And from the other side

After lunch we explored the fortress and most of the upper town, deciding that was probably sufficient for one day. It was enough to see the fabulous construction of the innermost keep, high up in the top of the rock. From there we wandered down steep alleys, stepping into churches and ruined monasteries, and gazing at the immense restored palace built by sons of the Byzantine Emperor in Constantinople who had turned the Peloponnese into a despotate in the mid-fourteenth century. Below us were more beautiful monasteries, but we enjoyed the view and declined the trek down... and the inevitable return journey.

 

We spent a quiet night in the car park, taking the spaniels for a wander up the hill for more breathtaking views the next morning. Then it was back to Sparta to pick up the laundry and go for a brief wander around the old town. The laundry was beautifully cleaned and folded, two loads for €20, but to our amusement was several shades pinker than we had left it. How had we managed to wash Nick’s red t-shirt for six months without doing the same? 

Sparta’s old town has been pillaged too often to be more than a vague outline, but there is an impressive Roman theatre, some remains of early Byzantine churches, and a few bits of ancient temple. Entry was free, so we weren’t expecting more, but it was an enjoyable wander. Finally it was time to leave the province of Laconia and return to Arcadia. We are spending the night in a quiet lay-by in the mountains, where to our great surprise, my altimeter tells me we are at 1199 metres - almost 4000 ft. More hairpins tomorrow then. 

The theatre in Sparta

A very long beach and a prehistoric burial site

Greece has some of the world’s finest historic sites, stretching back through antiquity. However, as we found when we visited Ancient Messina, the authorities are remarkably relaxed about letting visitors have access to them. So, where in the UK you might find barriers and notices warning you to keep off, the same does not apply in most of Greece. We therefore found ourselves standing among a number of ancient graves which had been carved out of the rock close to the sea near Neapoli with not a thing to stop us wandering all over the area.

We had walked to the site along what was probably the longest beach we had seen so far in Greece....and it was completely deserted. We discovered it was also one of the main nesting grounds of loggerhead turtles although, regrettably, we were too early in the year to see them.  Our wander had been enlivened, although not in a particularly good way, by Max’s decision to set off again on one of his marathon swims. Thus it was we spent a great deal of the outward walk anxiously watching the head of a spaniel bobbing in the waves at least 50m from the shore. He is a strong swimmer but his tendency to completely ignore our calls for him to come back in are frustrating to say the least. He did eventually return, and spent the rest of the walk on a lead.

The longest beach so far

The dead are long gone

We were standing on the shore looking across the short distance to the small island of Elafonisos. Under the sea in front of us we could see some of the remains of the city of Pavlopetri, which was built during the Mycenaean period between 1600 and 1100 BC. 

It was destroyed by an earthquake around 1000 BC, an event that also severed the island from the coast. Through the clear sea water it is possible to see some of the remains of the settlement. On the rocks where we were standing were graves, dating back even earlier to the Bronze Age. Apart from a simple sign saying ‘Prehistoric Cemetery’ there was nothing else to identify this amazing area. 

What’s left of a Byzantine church

We were already reeling under the onslaught of history following our second visit to the island fortress of Monevasia. The day before we had wandered the narrow streets with the pups but had decided to return on the following day without them so we could climb further up to the old town. This proved a wise move because, not only was the path steep and winding, but the place was crawling with cats. In hot sunshine we climbed as far as the church of Agia Sophia which stands high on the rock overlooking the walls of the old fortress. 

Having gazed down at the roofs of the houses below, and across the sparkling deep blue Aegean, we decided to pop into a restaurant in the new town (a mere thousand years old) where the friendly owner served us with a wonderful mezze and lovely local wine. We took the remains of the carafe out onto the terrace where we were joined by five local cats

Cats seem to run Monevasia

We had originally planned to move on the following morning, but the weather was so nice, and the town so lovely, we decided to stay for a third night. After walking up to the local supermarket in the morning, we split up in the afternoon for a bit of me and her time. I wandered around the town, calling in at a small fruit and veg stall to load up with local oranges. We have become addicted to freshly squeezed juice and 20 oranges for less than €3 seemed too good to miss. Neri meanwhile disappeared for a couple of hours and took herself up to the highest point of the rock. She knows full well that I am not the greatest climbing fan and get vertigo on a thick carpet. 

The top of the rock 

The roofs of the new town

The church on the rock

We left fairly early (for us) on Friday morning and took the winding and sometimes steep road across the island towards Neapoli. In general Greek roads are in very good condition, but going through some of the hill villages, you can almost feel Florence’s sides being squeezed in as the road narrows between ancient houses. Our journey ended alongside yet another beach where we could take the spaniels for a run, and then relax to watch a spectacular sunset over the mountains to the west. 

We have had some lovely sunsets 

There can be few more beautiful places to be buried 

Spaniels seem to like beaches 

Monemvasia, the Gibraltar of the east

Our guide bounded over to us as we crossed the causeway to Monemvasia, giving us the usual enthusiastic Greek welcome. He led us along the road wedged between the sea and the sheer cliffs towering above, glancing back to make sure we were following. At last we reached a small arched gate in the wall ahead, big enough for a pack mule, but not for any modern vehicle much bigger than a quad bike. We ducked inside, turning right and then left to emerge back into daylight, and the sight of a narrow lane twisting ahead between soft yellow stone buildings. 

Our guide takes the lead

Once again our guide led us on, stopping only to confront a cat, and waiting patiently while we read interpretation boards along the way, pointing out churches, narrow steps up to other alleys, and good places to view the expanse of terracotta tiled roofs and the ruins of the great fortress above. The late afternoon sun glowed on the far wall of the fortified village, and it was time to turn back. As we re-emerged from the gate our guide wagged his tail, and went to greet a new arrival. We clearly hadn’t tipped enough. 

This should keep them out

We have barely scratched the surface of Monemvasia, the fortified island which is a sort of Greek equivalent of Mont St Michel. We’ll spend more time there tomorrow, after spending the night on the harbour wall at the nearby marina, apparently a place sanctioned by the police for Motorhome parking. Not that they’ll be too concerned at this time of year. There were only a handful of other visitors to be seen today, in summer the narrow alleys of Monemvasia will be thronging with tourists, and the shuttle bus will be busy ferrying people to the  citadel at the top of the rock. I suspect we may have to walk.

Churches and cannons

Monemvasia (meaning one way, ie there is only one way onto the island, and the same way off) is on the eastern side of the third, most easterly of the three larger peninsulas of the Peloponnese. We made our way here via a stopover on the other side of the neck, a remote track along a beach. It was an ideal place to pause on our way from Gythia, where we had spent four nights at Camping Mani Beach. It was enough to catch up with laundry and cleaning, and to take advantage of another long beach to walk the dogs. This time almost all the other vans on site were German, and although all were quick with a smile and a wave, language barriers prevented more interaction. 

Morning at Mani Beach

We made the most of the opportunity to unpack the chairs and table and sit in the sun, to hang washing up between the trees, and to peg the spaniels out in the sun to dry after they’d been playing in the surf. Our gas barbecue made a brief appearance, and we left a doormat outside. Almost everything that is defined as camping behaviour, and therefore not allowed in most of the places we stop for the night in Greece - and many other countries with the same rules. It isn’t something we particularly crave, but since we were paying €18 a night for the privilege, we took full advantage. 

The advantages of free camping

After leaving Gythia, we followed a spectacular road west to Skala, where we did some shopping in Lidl, and then, as olive trees gradually gave way to orange trees, to our overnight on the coast before Monemvasia. No chairs and tables, but direct access to the beach, a beautiful uninterrupted view of the sunset, and entertainment from passing sheep. They passed twice. A few seconds reflection and a closer look at their udders and we realised why. Just like a herd of cows at home, they had gone off to be milked.

Tonight’s view

Bloody clan feuds, a nice little graveyard, and a lot of rock

We have reached something of a milestone on our journey. Sitting overlooking the sea by the disused lighthouse at the tip of Cape Matapan, we were at the southernmost point of our journey, 3,381 miles from Nordkapp, the most northerly place on our trip. While we will be zig-zagging around Greece for a few weeks more, our general direction from now on will be northwards.

The lighthouse at the tip of the cape

It was off Cape Matapan in 1941 that a sea battle between a British and Italian fleet effectively ended the role of the Italian navy in the Eastern Mediterranean. One of the crew on board HMS Valiant, a Royal Navy battleship, was my father, George Richards Serpell who was serving in the Royal Marines. Also among the crew was a midshipman named Philip Mountbatten. I wonder what happened to him.

Our journey down to the Cape had taken us from the village of Karavostasi where we had enjoyed a fine meal in the O Faros taverna, three courses and wine for €40. We made our way south to the little town of Areopolis, named for Ares the God of War, where we stocked up on some provisions before heading onwards. The Mani peninsula must be one of Greece’s best kept secrets. It is here that the Greek War of Independence first kicked off in 1821 in a bid to overthrow the grip of the Ottoman Empire.

Not much space for agriculture

Previously the area had been home to a number of local clans who spent most of their time warring with each other over the few patches of fertile land in a predominantly rocky and mountainous landscape. In order to protect themselves people lived in towers, all the better to lob stones and cannonballs down on their neighbours. As our road climbed and dipped through a series of vertiginous hairpin bends we passed dozens of these towers, some in ruins, others converted to modern accommodation. The hillsides were dotted with an amazing number of churches, each the property of a specific clan. Obviously it was not the done thing to spend Sunday praying alongside someone you planned to kill the following morning. 

Vathia is one of the most spectacular fortified villages 

We paused for lunch, parked above the village of Vathia, one of the most photographed of the fortified settlements. Some of the houses are still inhabited, sitting alongside the ruins of the rest of the village. After lunch Neri pointed out that there was a graveyard on a hill above us so, naturally, I was keen to have a look. At first I assumed from the tombs that the rocky soil had made it impossible to bury bodies below ground so they had been interred above, much like graveyards in New Orleans we had visited. However, on peering through some of the doors, it turned out the little buildings were shrines to the dead who were buried underneath. They contained photographs and mementoes as well as candles which could be lit on anniversaries and name days. It was a fascinating visit.

A little street of the dead

Anyone in? 

A short drive down narrow winding roads took us to the end of the peninsula, at least as far as vehicles were concerned. The only buildings were half a dozen houses and a taverna, the latter closed for the winter. It had the ‘end of the world’ feeling that we had experienced at Nordkapp. In front of us was a ruined chapel, originally dedicated to Poseidon but hijacked by Christians. Under the cliff beneath it was what the Ancient Greeks believed to be the entrance to Hades. However as we did not see a ferocious three-headed dog we cannot confirm this. 

Temple of Poseidon 

After a very windy night, due to the weather rather than my chickpea, sausage and chicken casserole, we set off on the half hour hike to the lighthouse and the end of the Greek mainland. On the way we passed the ruins of Roman settlements, including two mosaic floors still in good condition after the best part of 2,000 years exposure to the elements. We  were able to let the spaniels have a good run across the scrub, only hooking them up to their leads as the path approached the top of the steep cliffs by the lighthouse. 

Plenty of room for spaniels to run

On our return to Florence we had lunch and then set off back to Areopolis where we

Beautiful stone buildings in Areopolis

intended to stay the night in a quiet car park. It is a beautiful little town, mainly built from the colourful stone that makes up the landscape. We were intrigued to discover some talking litter bins in the car park which informed you whether you were putting your refuse in the correct bin. It was even more fun the following morning when the dustcart arrived. As if by magic, the twist of a key in a slot in the ground saw the whole thing rise up in the air so they could wheel out the bins

We had a wander down some quiet roads with the pups before stocking up in the local supermarket. By now the dirty laundry was stacking up so we decided to drive across the peninsula to a campsite which held the promise of a washing machine. Here we will spend a couple of days getting the washing done and having a bit of a clean up. We are also close to a beach which pleases the spaniels so we sleep tonight to the sounds of the waves on the sand.

One of several churches in Areopolis

A good crop of rocks this year

Talking litter bins....

.....have hidden depths

Following the Man of the Mani

 

We sat in Florence sheltering from a short shower and listening to the familiar tones of John Humphrys talking to people just 200 metres away from where we had parked for the night under a eucalyptus tree. Sadly we weren’t here at the same time. He had visited Kardamyli in 2015 to make a short radio programme about the travel writer Patrick Leigh Fermor, who lived here for most of his life. Although we knew Leigh Fermor’s name, and that he had made a famous journey across Europe, we hadn’t known him as John Humphrys described him: the Man of the Mani. 

We had been looking across at Mani for more than a week from both Kalamata and Analipsi. It’s the central of the three 

The view from Analipsi

larger peninsulas of the Peloponnese, but high mountains separate it from the mainland, giving it the look and feel of an island. At sunset the light glows on the orange cliff faces, and the high peaks behind are covered in pristine snow. We were keen to explore, but mindful that we’d been warned about narrow roads and low spreading olive trees. 

It was Sunday before we were ready to set off. After our day in Kalamata on Thursday we had discovered that the two parcels we were still expecting had been located in Athens and turned around. We tracked them obsessively through the evening, watching as they were checked in and out of the depot and the transport hub. Would they get to Kalamata by the morning? 

The next day I returned from my run along the seafront to find the row of motorhomes by the beach had vanished. Not unreasonably the police had moved us back into the official car park, as by then there were seven vans and although everyone was observing the rules and keeping everything inside their vehicle, it was looking a little too much like a campsite. Luckily I spotted Florence fairly quickly, and was greeted with the news that while I’d been gone, the parcels had arrived. When I got to the courier office, however, only one parcel was there. The other, for some unknown reason, had been sent to Messini, near our wild camping spot at the beach in Analipsi. I declined their offer to fetch the parcel back, and we drove back to Messini, picked up the parcel, and headed for the parking area at the beach for about the fifth time. 

The final parcel arrives

We’d been unable to find a laundrette in Kalamata, so we took advantage of the warm weather to do some hand washing, stringing it across interior of the van, and hanging the smalls in the door. There were now five vans in Analipsi, and the last thing we wanted was to attract police attention with camping behaviour. That means strictly no washing hanging outside. However, we had parked next to a bench, so we allowed ourselves a short technical breach of the rules and put up the table for long enough to eat lunch outside. 

Saturday promised to be another lovely day, so we stayed a second night to make sure the washing was dry, taking the spaniels for a long walk (swim in Max’s case) and relaxing in the sun. On Sunday we filled up with water and set off for Mani at last. 

 

 The road was far better than we expected. There were plenty of hairpins as we came through the mountains, but the surface was good, and we met little traffic. We were parked on a patch of ground at the end of a football field in time for a late lunch. The beach was just across the road, and was like nothing we had seen yet. In part smooth round pebbles, it was also made up of sedimentary rock, carved by the sea into a moonscape of curious formations, leaving warm rock pools in the deep fissures. The spaniels found it equally fascinating as the rock pools contained all sorts of interesting smells.

An interesting beach

The next morning, after another trip to the beach, we walked through Kardamyli, taking in the beautiful stone buildings, the pretty harbour, the numerous statues to heroes of Greek independence, and the old tower, one of many we would see in Mani. The towers are part of the landscape here, dating from a time when every outsider was a potential enemy, and whole villages took refuge and pelted aggressors with whatever ammunition was available. Judging by the landscape, that would be mostly rocks.

Just a small tower

Snow caps in the distance

High Street Kardamyli

Kardamyli’s small harbour

This afternoon we have driven further south, and the landscape has become rougher and rockier. We’ve passed under towering flame coloured cliffs, like the side of a canyon, seen walls built up almost vertical slopes, and knobs of bare limestone pushing through tree covered rolling hills. Along the road, pretty hill villages built of the same stone cling on at impossible angles. After climbing to the base of the big boy mountains behind, we have returned again to the sea, where a canny taverna keeper has opened a patch of ground to motorhomes, entirely free of charge. But of course, should we want to go and eat in his restaurant this evening...