Jane was keen for us to
be on the road by 09:00. While our planned trip to Stoupa wan’t a long one, our
destination was on the coast and Jane was keen for some beach time. Shortly
after 8 o’clock as I was getting Mabel ready for the road our host appeared “Un
pain, noir?” he asked, I gave him the thumbs up and repeated our bread order,
in French. He smiled and walked back up to reception, presumably happy he had
the order correct today.
It was just before 9:00
when Jane and I took a table in the eating area outside reception to see if we
could pick up wi-fi there. We could, I checked my email while Jane caught up
with what was happening in the world of Facebook. While she was doing that I
went in to pay, it wasn’t a quick transaction!
Our host laboriously
wrote out our bill which he signed using the Greek alphabet, I asked if he
could write his name on the back of the bill using the English (Latin)
alphabet. It was Thucyalides. That started the same story, in French, we got when we arrived about
his name being that of a Greek philosopher who wrote about the 27 year war of
all wars between Sparta and Greece. According to Nietzsche, the German philosopher, ancient history started at the
beginning of that war and ended at its end. Then he told me he was an author
and took me over to a bookcase with lots of books on philosophy he had written.
I was asked to wait a minute, he disappeared and returned with the manuscript
of his latest book on Greek philosophers from Plato to Alexander the Great. It
consisted of sheets written in pencil clipped to newspaper cuttings, each of
which dealt with a different philosopher. It seemed the cuttings were his
research for the book. I was shown the forward that had two shakily drawn
circles at the top. That on the left was going to contain Plato’s bust and
Alexander the Great was going to be on the right. He told me again he was 91. He
asked where we were going next and when I told him he produced one of the
camping ground pamphlets and kindly marked the best route to take out of the
village. He assured me it was good enough for camper vans. Just as he had done
on Thursday he pointed out the sites of Olympia and told me about Coubertin’s
heart being brought to Olympia. He also repeated how the Olympic
flame is kindled from the sun, not matches. If we were heading south then we
should visit the Temple of Apollo at Andritsena, designed by the same architect
as the Parthenon. It was something in French I didn’t understand, but with the
aid of a French – Greek and then a Greek – English dictionary he announced it
was a masterpiece.
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| Our Host With The Manuscript Of His Latest Book |
At
least twenty minutes after we started we got to the financial transaction. He
didn’t take cards, only cash. He shook my hand wished us a good trip today and
for the rest of our time in Europe and a safe journey back to New Zealand which
he knew was 3 hours by plane from Australia. I had to remind him I had just
paid him for two beers. He got his keys, unlocked the outdoor fridge and gave
me my two half litres of Mythos and then gave Jane a small bottle. Jane
received the same farewell as me, then we were taken to see five newly born
kittens play fighting nearby. He asked if we needed a hand getting out of the
camping ground, we said we were OK.
He
really was a lovely man. Very kind and well meaning and I think anyone that
gets to 91 can be forgiven for repeating stories. I know people a lot younger than
him that have the same trait, I think I do it.
We
decided to give the temple of Apollo a miss. We were going to see the Pathenon. We also decided to follow the satnav route rather than the
directions given by our host. The latter was a mistake, Stoupa was south of
Olymbia, but the satnav route took us north for 20km, then down the worst road
we have ever driven on. It wasn’t just potholed, it had trenches a good 200mm
deep in places. Before turning onto a main road to head south we stopped so I
could check Smarty was still firmly attached, she was. After driving about 15km
south we passed a road signed ‘Ancient Olympia’ where a large bus was waiting
to pull out. That’s where we would have come out if we had taken the old man’s
advice!
Our
route south followed the coast initially before turning inland at Kastro where
we joined one of the best roads of the trip so far – a brand new motorway on
which Mabel burbled along in near silence. We stopped at an incomplete service
area for our lunch of the extremely good brown bread, tzatziki and taramasalata.
It was my turn to drive the second leg. We stopped at a toll booth to pay the
cheapest toll yet - €3.50.
The
large seaside resort of Kalamáta could have been Italy with tightly packed
umbrellas stretching for kilometres along the beach with lots of adjacent
hotels. From Kalamáta the satnav showed we had just another 24km to run, but it
was going to take 1 hour 40 minutes. It soon became apparent why. The road
started a steep climb into the mountains via lots of hairpin bends. We were
very impressed with the way Mabel coped going as fast as was safe while
negotiating the bends and climbing the straights in between. Not bad going
considering she had three quarters of a tonne of Smarty behind. We passed
through a number of small villages and reached 440 metres above sea level
before descending through yet more hairpin bends to the coast. It was then
fairly easy going than to Stoupa.
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| Greek Churches Come In All Shapes and Sizes |
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| Satnav Showing More Filling Stations Than You Can Shake A Stick At In Kalamata |
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| Wall to Wall Beach Umbrellas In Kalamata |
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| We Passed Many Hill Towns |
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| Everything Including The Kitchen Sink On This Trader's Truck |
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| Beginning Our Descent Towards The Coast |
We
found the camping ground without any difficulty and found a good spot. We
performed our first ‘differential cheese getting the left front wheel higher
than the right to deal with the slope of our pitch. We set up all our outdoor
gear, it was hot, 35° according to Mabel. We hadn’t seen a single UK registered
campervan on our travels since leaving England. Parked nearby were two of them
and they were both large Auto Trails. We said hello to a couple sitting under
the awning of one of them. They spoke with unmistakable Lancashire accents. It
turned out they were from Whalley where in 2010 Jane and I watched a Whalley v
Settle cricket match, a low scoring game that Settle won against the odds with
Harry taking a fivefer if I remember correctly.
We
took a short walk down the hill into the village of Stoupa. It was a delight
with a long sandy beach busy with umbrellas and loungers to rent. Tavernas and
shops lined a quiet road on the other side of the beach. We stopped at a shop
where I bought a straw hat to replace my Aussie leather thing that was
absolutely disgusting having absorbed gallons of sweat over the years. We
walked the length of the beach deciding that a quiet day there tomorrow was in
order. We walked past the camping ground to another busy beach where the
Whalley couple had cautioned the water was cold because springs from the
mountains ran into the sea there. Jane went for a dip anyway. She didn’t think
the water was any cooler than Aginara and, in any case, it was refreshing given
the heat of the day.
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| Stoupa Main Beach |
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| Stoupa Main Beach From South |
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| Stoupa Taverna |
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| Stoupa Cold Water Beach |
That
was enough excitement for one day. We walked back to Mabel and spent the rest
of the afternoon under Mabel’s awning. Dinner was the remainder of Jane’s pasta
and potato with pistachio pesto.
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| Today's Trip (174km) |
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