Lefkas, then Parga

Oct 14

Leaving the boat at 9:30, we headed straightaway into the hills. We were meant to visit a waterfall, but a few people had walked there yesterday and discovered it to be less than a trickle. Giota said it’s like that year round and she never takes groups there. We stopped in Karya, a village with a view…and a bakery…and a shop selling embroidered and woven goods. When a fellow rider came back with some quirky cushion covers, we all headed up there and loaded up with goods we’ll probably not want when we get home. I think we needed the therapy of shopping. We had coffee in a cave of a café. Cappuccino is everywhere, and paying by tap is everywhere, even in the tiniest of places. Cash is no longer king, in Greece at least.

Bright sky in the east

The herd in Karya

By coincidence, my bike has the same name as me!

Karya with yellow bakery...

...where they sell the biggest donuts I've ever seen

Snow!! (Not really, it's a poster commemorating the one snowfall they've ever had, probably.)

Guides Dimitris and Giota. Love them!

And the motley crew

Our coffee cave

A history lesson, with enthralled students

Above Lefkada; the swing bridge is to the right, off the photo

Shipwreck Lefkada

Our ride ended with a ride across the swing bridge we’d lined up for a few days ago. The Panagiota had already passed through, ready to carry us forward.

The sea once again looked calm but wasn’t. We sat on deck, speechless and watching the horizon as we rolled our way to a mainland harbour filled with more sailboats than I’ve ever seen in one place. There was one berth available to us, but the captain determined it was too rough, even in the harbour, to stay safely — for the safety of the boat, that is, not to be damaged by other rocking boats. 

 

Preveza Harbour, not safe enough for us

So we sailed on, for five hours this time. I kept checking our location on Google maps and our progress was practically indiscernible. I watched a lone hilltop tree for maybe an hour. I watched a town, a resort, the mountains behind, as we followed the coast to Parga. 

The lowering sun shone red on the cliffs as we neared the town. The sea settled. Just as the sun was about to set, we slid behind a hill and missed the show.  

But the moon sparkled on the water, and we moored in the prettiest little town we’ve seen on this trip, many coloured buildings climbing the hill to a castle at the top.

Parga, on the mainland

Tiny church on a tiny island, 7 pm

Tiny church, tiny island, 7:30 pm

Dinner was provided by the ship tonight, and let’s just say the cook is getting tired. Chicken, rice, boiled (canned?) peas. I suppose it’s a feat to cook at all in his tiny galley on an eight-foot sea. Gratitude.

Nondas the cook, the subject of my second novel, after the one about the couple in Kardamyli

We danced on the pier after dinner, first the Greek choros, then the Greek chicken dance, then YMCA. YMCA?! I try to be a good sport. 

Grace

We wandered the town a bit. It’s a higgledy-piggledy medieval kind of town, probably shaped mostly by the Venetians. I love these places. 

 

There was no back door

 

Quiet street in a party town

Ithaca

Oct 13

Getting to Ithaca was a “maybe,” according to the captain, but the sea cooperated well enough, and we arrived safely in the tiny harbour of Frikes, at the north end of the island. 

I’ve learned that I tend to think ahead on these rides, or on any trip — “Are we there yet?” — and that’s a mistake. I’m trying, instead, to enjoy the moment, because really, what other moment will ever come up to this? So, as we rode into the hills, I soaked up this legendary home of Odysseus, rolling through villages and countryside marked by bougainvillea, hibiscus, and the ever-present olive trees. That this place inspired a poet three thousand years ago moves me to look for the muse. I might have found her but for the rain, which started part way up the mountain. 

We’d stopped in the little town of Stavros to hear about the legend, to see a bust of Odysseus, and to see a painted map of his ten-year journey home. 

That bottom word says Odysseus. Not that hard to figure out, but I haven't a clue about the other word.

 

Odysseus's legendary route. The story of Odysseus is a myth, of course, made famous by Homer, who may himself be a myth. Our guides told us these myths were presented to them as history when they were little. 

Our bike seats were getting wet as we paused, and then the skies opened up. Climbing switchbacks in the rain isn’t bad, because the workout keeps you warm, but coming down, switchback after slippery switchback, we were freezing. There were few cars foolish enough to drive the route, fortunately, and we all made it back without incident, but the corners seemed pretty treacherous. Missing a corner would mean flying off the mountainside, or so it seemed. Two of our members had opted to take a lower route out of Stavros, one of them having wiped out on a corner on the very first day, gathering a bloom of bruises all over her body. We passed them on the way down the hills, walking their bikes in the pouring rain. Better slow than injured, I guess, but I felt for them

Cows and a goat. Some goats ran across the road in front of us, too. 

A bit about e-bikes, for those not in the know: they don’t do all the work for you. The more torque you put on the pedals, the more assist you get. Going up hills, it’s a dance between the gears of the bike and the amount of assist you choose. If you gear too low, you don’t get any “bite,” and while the legs have less work to do, you find yourself spinning away and not getting anywhere. I use the “turbo” setting a lot when I’m climbing, but I don’t use the lowest gear. My legs will be really strong by the end of the week. And then I probably won’t ride for another six months. Oh well.

Looking towards Vathi, where our boat would be waiting.

I was grateful to be cycling the last few kilometres — Are we there yet? — along what would have been a glorious ride on a coast road had I not been soaked to the bone. I'd forgotten all about my resolve to live the moment. The muse was taking shelter, I'm sure. 

Back on the Panagiota, we sailed straight away to Nydri, on Lefkas (alternatively known as Lefkada).

A hot shower and a hot lunch pretty much fixed everything, though I’m not sure how anything is going to get dry. It’s remarkable how cheerful everyone is, though. I think the kind of person who takes a trip like this is ready to enjoy it, no matter what. I asked Giota if anyone ever gets grumpy on these trips, and it seems not.

The rain let up in the afternoon, and we wandered the town of Nydri a bit. It's a lot like all the other little harbour towns we've stopped at: a row (or in this case rows and rows) of eateries, and a bunch of shops selling mostly junk that tourists might be interested in. Many shops have shut down here, too, at the end of the season. In two weeks, this might feel like a ghost town.

Nydri Harbour.

Gill and I shop for sunglasses. My very expensive prescription Maui Jims have broken. Grrr.

There was an option to eat tonight in a restaurant owned by the owner of this boat. The Seattle crew all opted out, but the rest of heartily participated. And what a feast! This was served family style, and dish after dish arrived, many of which we wouldn’t have thought to order off a menu. There were appetizers of tapenade and olives and sourdough bread with olive oil, cheese pie, and taramoslata — a creamy fish-roe dip — who would ever order that?! That was followed by a bread salad, an arugula salad with manouri cheese, then prawns with rice, calamari orzo, grilled squid, and chicken and pork souvlaki. It was a challenge to limit ourselves to small portions as each dish came out. 

Nobody looks too great when stuffing their faces. This was the first of many courses.

The owner of our boat is the center man in the center photo. 

Tomorrow we ride here on Lefkas. It won’t be pleasant putting on our wet gear in the morning, but the day is supposed to be sunny, and the wind of riding should wick the damp away.

 

 

Meganisi

 Oct 12

We were motoring by 7:30 am into a rocking sea. We were headed towards Kefalonia, which was a four-hour sail. I tried to write in the cabin, but my stomach was having none of that. I sat on deck with several companions, watching the horizon rise and fall. I went down to the cabin just once, a nausea-inducing venture. Staying outside was fine, and it was a beautiful day. 

Michigan Anne, Frances, Carol -- they can summon up smiles despite the rocking sea

Some people ride it out on the top deck

Schedule posted daily

We finally approached Lefkas, a mountain of an island, and pulled into the harbour to wait for the swing bridge that joins Lefkas and the mainland to open. I’d read about this bridge but didn’t understand it before I saw it. It appears to float on the narrow channel, and at particular times of the day, it rotates to be parallel to the shore so that boats can pass through. 

Swing bridge beginning to swing

We were the first of a handful of yachts waiting for the bridge to open. When it did, we realized there was a long line of yachts on the other side as well, waiting to get out. After motoring in a calm channel, we finally reached the tiny island of Meganisi, where we tied up alongside dozens of yachts. I took advantage of the sun and breeze to wash a few clothes. We seem to be at liberty to hang our stuff anywhere, so we do.

Yachts heading out as we head in

Fresh fish was on the menu for lunch today, and I watched crew member Usman fire up a grill right on the deck. He cooked a sea bream for each of us, and grilled some zucchini, eggplant, and peppers to go with it. It was too much food for me, as usual, but so good!

Why wouldn't you light a huge fire on a wooden boat?

Usman grills sea bream

and veggies

At three o’clock this afternoon, like yesterday, we headed out for a 17k ride. The terrain was much like the previous rides, very hilly, but fascinating, passing through villages and stopping at viewpoints. At one point, I looked down and saw our ship, but we flew past and I couldn’t get a shot of it.

A stop at a pebble beach

I watched Usman load the boats from the pier onto the upper deck of the boat. Each bike weighs over 25 kg. He was loading several boats per minute. Sheesh! (I have a video to add here, but it simply won't load here on the boat; to come at a later date.)

He grills fish, he hoists bikes -- what can't this sailor do??

I think Dimitris was on the top end

 

Back at the boat, we were treated to a wine tasting on the pier, a bottle each of Greek while, rosé, and red, plus munchies. The wines were delicious, but it’s unlikely we’ll find any of them at home.

Guide, bike-hoister, sommelier -- again, a multi-talented dude!

Out for another seafood dinner (calamari, giant prawns) with Gill and Frances. And home again, to collapse into bed.

Dinner at Stavros

 

Hanging and Riding in Paxos

Oct 11

I was woken up this morning by lightning coming faster than I’ve ever seen, followed, naturally, by thunder and sheets of rain. It would let up at bit, and people would go out walking only to come back soaked. Our guides decided to delay our ride until afternoon, when things promised to be better. The storm, and the captain, decided we would stay in Gaios (the main town on Paxos) another night, fine by me, as it’s a very sweet little town. 

Things are starting to shut down in these tourist zones. Some shops are already packed up, and some restaurants are running out of things (like 0% beer!). It’s a great time to be here, but I imagine high season is also great, lively and festive. It is nice, for sure, to be instantly seated in a quiet restaurant, a contrast with Athens.

The Panagiota flies the Greek, Canadian, American, and Scottish flags this week, representing all of us. She ought to be flying the Jolly Roger as well.

Dimitris, one of our guides, checks out the tables set for lunch

Food supplies down in the hull

Above: fish caught by a friend of the captain. I think they're anchovies, which are fantastic fresh.

After another sumptuous lunch provided by our ship’s chef, we set out on a ride, circling Paxos. This is the kind of riding I love most; while there are some mighty hills, we passed through a number of tiny villages. We stopped in Lakka at the northern tip for refreshments. Lakka was like a mini Venice when it’s in flood.

Lakka, flooded

The café at the end of the promenade, Lakka

We got a restaurant recommendation from guide Giota and all of us passengers and all of the crew ended up there for dinner. Taka Taka, highly recommended. 

Taka Taka Kat. The clipped ear means she's been spayed.

As we walked back to the boat, I felt a twinge of regret to be leaving this place.