Safe Return Doubtful

On my the third and last night in Kagio I realised that there was actually someone there other than me. I had seen a fishing boat go out on a couple of the mornings but not watched closely enough to see if the guy stayed in the village. I walked up and down the beach, as had become my habit, just as the sun went down, and as I got back to the van, the fishing guy arrived with an old wine bottle and two rather dirty shot glasses. It was vaguely Tsipouro, the spirit distilled from the residue of the grapes left in the wine-press. I managed to get away with only having two. We didn’t really speak, just acknowledged each other with a few grunts, but I was touched by the gesture.

On Thursday morning I drove up the west side of the peninsula to Areopolis, stopping at the abandoned village of Vathia on route. After a wander around the derelict stone towers I met the only other person I saw that morning, a Dutch guy who lived in Patras with his Greek wife. She was a retired teacher also, both of us having finished at 56, and was quite knowledgeable of the area. She explained just how tough life had been until the wave of renovations and tourism had come to Mani. Vathia was slowly abandoned between 60 and 100 years ago. Mani has little or no rainfall in July and August, and very little in the months either side. Drought conditions are the norm. In the 1800s farmers dug terraces into the arid hills and constructed stone wall dams to try and irrigate the land. In July of this year the area recorded its highest temperature, 46.4C, which is very close to the highest temperature in the country, in the east, 48C, also, in this last year. These days, here in Deep Mani, there is very little farming any more, a handful of cattle and some olive trees.

In the car park at Areopolis I met a Scottish guy, Tam. The car park permits vans to stay, and I had thought it a good place for one night. I needed a supermarket stock-up, and fancied a beer in one of the taverns. Tam had a 1998 ‘S’ reg motorhome which he shared with his three rescue dogs. We got on well, and after a chat around the vans we decided on finding a tavern, with the dogs of course. There was a good atmosphere in the town, which is much smaller than Gytheio but still is the biggest place for some way around. I’d guess it would be the last relatively quiet night before the Christmas festivities, with the school, which shared the car park, still in session, and many people still working until Friday lunchtime.

Tam was on his way to Turkey, to get round the 90 day restriction, having left Scotland a month ago. He lives in his van, but is ten years younger than me, and still needs to find work. Unlike me, he is a sun-seeker, though like me, a crowd avoider, so sticks on the coast trying to find quiet places to lay low. He was headed ten kilometres or so down the peninsula to meet up with a Belgian couple he knew, in their van. At this time of year, some of the popular places, like Elia beach for example, have as many as a hundred vans parked up – to be avoided, as far as I am concerned.

This morning I drove fifteen kilometres back down the west coast to Alika where I have found a good deal on an apartment in a renovated stone tower for a week. There’s very few people around, and it seems perfect for a quiet week.