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...