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