Last days in Greece and an interesting ferry crossing

It was a strange feeling after seven months of being almost constantly in each other’s company to be told that we would board the ferry to Italy separately. It was my turn to drive, and so Nick would take Max and Elsa and board the ferry as a passenger, while I took Florence into the port and onto the car deck. 

We had parked outside the port in Igoumenitsa in our customary cautious fashion: twelve hours before departure. We verified that Lonely Planet was right when it promised little from a walk around the town, but it was a warm day, and we wanted to tire the spaniels out so they would sleep later. We checked in for our midnight sailing at 5.30pm, much to the amusement of the desk staff. By 9.45pm the Florencia had docked at the quay and it was finally time to go our separate ways. 

Florence goes aboard Florencia

I drove into the port, and passed through security, expecting some indication of where to go next. There was none, so I drove about 400m along the quay in the dark until I caught sight of our ferry, and headed towards it. As I poked Florence’s nose in front of the gaggle of trucks waiting to board, I was beckoned over by a man in a face mask and a laser pointer who directed to me to my lane. I was the only one there. 

Meanwhile Nick had passed through passenger security and spent an hour alone in the waiting room with the pups. As I watched the lorries board, exchanging text messages with Nick, it dawned on us both that it was entirely possible that no one would tell him when and how to get on. Ten minutes later he appeared at my window, having wandered unquestioned along the quay and established that passenger boarding was via the vehicle ramp, and he could get on whenever he wanted. He could have come that far with me after all. He was soon on board, delayed only by someone stopping him to take his temperature. We had only been issued boarding cards on condition we signed to say we hadn't been in contact with anyone with Coronavirus, and had no symptoms. Apparently random temperature checks were an additional safeguard. 

Soon after Nick boarded they either took pity on me, or wanted to use a convenient gap between lorries, as I was ushered on too. We don’t use ferries often, and usually only for short crossings, but I’m not unfamiliar with the difficulties of a vehicle deck. However, I have never been so comprehensively boxed in by lorries only inches apart on what is more cargo ship than ferry. As I ducked between those few lorries with sufficient gaps, carrying the dogs’ beds and a small rucksack, with no clear idea of where the stairs were, I began to think I’d have to choose between climbing under a lorry or spending the night in Florence. After a deep breath I reached the bulkhead on my third attempt to beat the maze, and followed it first one way, then the other until I found the completely unsigned door to the stairway. I headed to the cabin number on my boarding card, but the card didn’t open the door, and there was no response to my knock. Just then a text arrived from Nick. We were in a completely different cabin on the floor above. Two minutes later I was greeted exuberantly by the rest of the pack in a large dog-friendly cabin.

A surprisingly large cabin

I’d like to say all went well from then on, but Max’s motion sickness kicked in when we hit some deep swell mid-crossing, and a visit to the outside deck was required at 3am, as well as a lot of spaniel soothing. Eventually we all got some sleep, but were jerked awake by a Hi-Di-Hi style tannoy announcement instructing us to leave our cabins and wait in the lounge for disembarkation instructions. We duly dressed and returned our key, but spaniels are required to be on deck when not in the cabin, so we huddled on a bench with a coffee and croissant until land hoved into view. I went to the lounge to await the drivers call, but Nick had another half an hour of waiting outside before in the end we all trooped down to the vehicle deck together. I decided against trying to get to Florence, and waited with some other drivers while the lorries peeled away to reveal her. Nick and the spaniels walked down the ramp and waited for me to pick them up in due course. Ten minutes later we were parked up in Brindisi’s free Motorhome area, where we shall recover, and spend the night.

The bridge at Arta

 A slice of ancient Nikopolis

It's a shame that the last 24 hours have already started to blur the past few days in Greece. From a lovely overnight stay overlooking a lake in Arta, we had visited its rather elegant Byzantine bridge. We'd then wandered around just a few of the ruins of Nikopolis, the huge city founded by Octavian after the nearby sea battle of Acteum at which he defeated Mark Antony and Cleopatra to become Emperor of Rome. Rain, the extent of the ruins, and the presence of some locked gates meant we only really had a glimpse, but it gave us a sense of the scale of the city.

The next day we'd gone in search of an entrance to the underworld, the Necromanteion of Acheron where ancient pilgrims had come to talk to the dead, after making the appropriate preparations and sacrifices. It was a pretty site, blanketed in wild flowers, but just a little underwhelming after some we had seen.

Wild flowers at Necromanteion

Entrance to Hades, apparently

We spent the night in the beautiful resort town of Parga, which came as a surprise after the flat river valleys of the previous few days. Suddenly we were back among stunning cliffs, gazing up at a Venetian castle, and the next morning, walking through pretty winding streets. It was the Sunday of the Bank Holiday weekend which falls at the start of Lent, and there was bunting everywhere, streamers on the streets, and a holiday atmosphere. 

Bunting abounds in Parga

Firecrackers drive the spaniels together

Later that day we parked up in Plataria, a harbour town just south of Igoumenitsa, where children were delightedly setting off firecrackers, much to the annoyance of the spaniels. They were happier the next day, Clean Monday, on which children traditionally fly kites. I think it's supposed to be the children. We watched a fair few Dads and Grandads, with a sprinkling of Mums, engaged in trying to tie more string onto an already airborne kite while children looked on in amused frustration and wondered when they might get a go. It's clearly a competitive business, and I imagine no washing line was safe, as some of the kites were just dots in the sky.

That's a kite up there, honestly

It was a colourful end to our Greek winter, but yet another reminder that spring is approaching, and it's time to explore more of Europe before we are called home by the ticking time bomb of the MOT.