Up early and out on the road to Kipos Beach. Where the road finally runs out as it hits a mountain.
Nobody here and nothing doing.
The season definitely over at this spot.
The coast road was clinging on by its fingernails. Landslips had taken out small sections and the crash barrier hung limply in many places completely unsuspended in clear air.
On my side there were small rockfalls from the brown bluffs that edged the landside of the road. Around a corner I hit a wayward boulder that clattered under the car. Luckily it was made of shale and shattered. Scattering across the carriageway in the mirror. Pedro raised a quizzical eyebrow at the nut behind the steering wheel.
All along this stretch, where the road was close to sea level, were fords where small rivers ran down to the sea. They were filled with basketball-sized rocks that were hard work to drive over, the interior of the car swaying at mad angles. Not something to spash through. I thought what a nightmare this road would be at night.
The torrents that come off the mountain are famed for their brutal nature in spring.
On the way back we crossed the most famous one at Fournios Gorge. Known as ‘The Murderer’ for its flash floods taking out the odd unsuspecting hiker every year or so. A small coach of American tourists were gathered around in floppy hats and plaid shirts taking snaps.
Then on to lovely cool glades of oaks and ferns growing among the car-sized boulders. Very pretty.
We stopped off at Loutra. Famed for its hot springs and waterfalls an hour and a half’s trek up the mountain. But I wasn’t up for it with my clutch foot in such poor condition…sadly. My friend Caroline Finkel, Professor of Ottoman Studies at Edinburgh had raved about it. The place was full of young hippies who were wild camping in the woods next to the beach.
A quick coffee in the village known as Samothraki and then back to the port. Where the Mikaelis K was offloading ammunition, and army trucks were carting it off with a police and fire brigade escort.
I had my first souvlaki. Cooked pink and delicious. I thought of my mother warning against undercooked pork. She would be shaking her head at such risk-taking.