Olympia - Greece

Walking through Olympia is an easy thing to do. One long shop front, or thats how it feels. Shops, restaurants and hotels line the 2km strip. It's only until I walk up a fairly steep hill, to a pretty much bland and empty theatre, that I see the size of Olympia. For a town with so much History, I was expecting something else. It is tiny in size. I guesstimate that for every shop, restaurant etc there must be as few as 8 houses.

The bleak and run down Olympic museum is just worth the 2 euro entry fee, only cause it enables you to have a look at the Olympic torches that have been used in recent years. My favourte, in case you were wondering, is the one from Sydney. Slik, unconvetional and it breaks the mould - All the elements I exude!

My next port of call is the Ancient Olympia Museum. My short walk is a sereal one. I cross a bridge and in a nook, tucked out of the way are two familar looking BMW motorbikes. On closer inspection, I realise they belong to Chris and Chris, the Albanian and BiH badges on the panniers give them away. As I search about my person for a pen to write a note, they round the corner, all I can do is smile and think how efficent the Germans are. We exchange routes and share a joke and I leave them to continue to rekindle the magic of their honeymoon.

I enter the Olympia Museum and immediaty there is a stark contrast from the previous museum. The grandure and the sharpness of attention to detail, can't help but leave me feeling impressed. The helpful staff point me in the right direction. He must know I have a knack of starting museums from the present day and working backwards. Not this one tho. I am plunged way back to when the 1st signs of life were discovered at Olympia. There is certainly a trend in the museums I have been to and that is that a high percentage of the lead archiologists are German.

The museum is cleverly laid out with pottery, busks + marble statues dating back prior to 4BC. Like all good showpieces, they save the best to last. A cavenous room which could easily engulf a 5-a-side footbal pitch. Down the length of the rectangular room on either side is the statuary from the temple of Zeus. Both tell a story in marble, peaking in the middle at around a height of 2 metres. The one in better condition tells the story of Ancient Greeks fighting off the centaurs, who are trying to abduct Greek women. A showstopper that leaves me gobsmacked by the detail and intricacy. It also left one question - how long would it take to make.

It is now time to turn theory into reality. I head outside to the ruins. A sea of people, hundreds of people are crowded around various people holding up boards with numbers on. Bus tour groups have descended on Olympia's archilogical site, on mass.

The magical shine has been removed by the volume of people trapsing around and on the ruins. I manage to steal a couple of seconds away from everyone. The enormity then hits home. I am lost by the scale, the only thing that is easy to workout, and the main reason for my visit to Olympia, the stadium.

Beautiful in its simplicity. No marble in sight. No seats. No buildings. There is a tunnel though which was covered by grass and completed the four steeped banks slopping to the centre. A 200m by 30m sandy track waits for the games to begin. Over 40 000 people would have crowded round to watch the stadium, and in truth, the whole site.

A bitter taste is left in my mouth by the amount of people. I would feel better, I think, if people were satying locally and 'new' Olympia was reaping the rewards. However this way, the only ones making money is the travel agencies and the site.

Monemvasia - Greece

Magical Monemvasia it has been called, just not by me!

It doesn't start well. Entering the town of Yefira, the town closest to the mainland, I already know what I am looking for. I even have the name of the campsite. Heck, I even have directions and a distance from the centre of town, but can I find Camping Paradise , can I b*ggary! After 45 minutes of driving around I spot a gent who might know. Sure he is on a scooter, pottering somewhere, but if you don't wear your helmet, not only are you more likely going to suffer fatal head injuries, you will also get shouted at by bearded Englishmen. If his helmet wear in the correct place, on his head, rather than acting as a massive elbow pad, then he could have pretended not to hear me and go on about his daily business. He pulls over and we chat, for a few moments before he kindly says that the campsite has been shut for over two years! A very useful recommendation Rough Guides, thanks. He explains where the site used to be, and although I believe him, it is on way back to town so I have a look. If it were open it would have been by far the biggest campsite I would have stayed on. The closed metal gates mean that it is a no go.

This really doesn't put me in a sight seeing mood, so as I cross the causeway, I realise that there is nothing magical about this place. I don't know what I was hoping for, in my mind when reading about the fortress and ruins that are set on an eruption of rock with a causeway leading to it, I was hoping for Le Mont St Michel, one of my favourite places. The reality of what stands before me is not what I hoped for.

A quick airing of my legs, it gets hot in full kit when the temp is 27 degrees, I make a U turn and head back towards Sparti. Sparti comes and goes.

The only other place I want to visit, in the Peloponnese, is Olympia. The roads are good and the weather is better... until I get to the 200 mile marker for the day. The roads are now so tight and twisty, even if inclined to go like a bat out of hell, I would be struggling to get over 35mph. I would normally be loving these undulating roads, with more bends than a Curly Wurly, it is a bikers dream. Just not for me after being on Suzi for the last 6hrs. Villages cling to mountainsides, some look like they are defying gravity, but my mind is focused on one thing, getting to Olympia before the black clouds get me.

Too late. Just as I manage to get the waterproof layering on my panniers the earth rumbles with the sound of thunder. I don't see any lighting, but each mighty crack makes me flinch. I have never been in a storm like it. Water cascading over me like a hose is gushing out over my helmet. There is nothing I can do but put my hazards on and grin and bear it. Actually that's a lie... I rant, rave and curse like never before, I even think I have created some new unprintables!

5 minutes later, the sun is shining and I am stood Camping Olympia's reception.

Nafplio + Mystras - Greece

Nafplio and Mystras are today’s targets.

Nafplio is a magnificent fortress overlooking the new expansion of the city. It is only until you get up to the highest of the 9 bastions that you understand why on entry to Nafplio, there is a sign saying ‘Welcome to the first capital city of Greece’. It is an amazing place perched so elegantly on the tip of a mountain, the sides of which slope into the turquoise sea below. The people swimming look like bits of ice in a blue Slush Puppy.

Fortunately there are brown signs to guide you from sector to sector.Sadly the computerised interactive information boxes only provide info in Greek, which is a language I am yet to master. The vistas are stunning though. Even driving away glancing over my shoulder, looking through the palm trees lining the road, I find it an awesome sight.

Mystras won’t mean much to most but Sparta might ring a few bells. Mystras is about 5km from Sparta or, to give its correct name, Sparti. It is up there with being one of the most interesting paces I have visited so far. Sparta and the road leading to Mystras is flat. Even the new town of Mystras is relatively flat. The old town though is prominently poised on the ascent of a large, forbidding mountain, on top of which sits a castle.

The steepness of the climb is sure breath taking and combined with the views and the altitude sure makes for a light head. The first church I come to stands tall and fully restored, around the ruins of other buildings. On entry I realize the painting style I commented on at the Church in Kosovo must be from the same period, it is in a very similar style, frescoes painted on a back background. The church I now find myself in is from the Byzantine era. A young lady religiously crosses herself so many times I loose count. She then moves to the next religious painting and repeats the same ritual. My camera is in my hand but I feel rude about taking pictures. I hear the lens of a camera close by opening and shutting, I look around and see it is the girlfriend’s partner taking photos. I continue about my business, if it is ok with him then it is ok with me.

Apart from numerous, smaller churches, the only other building showing sign of restoration is the palace. I decide to head up the near vertical slope for a closer inspection. On arrival the site around the palace is cordoned off and the journey seems to be a waste, until I turn round and gaze over Sparta in the distance.

Mycenae - Greece

5.30am is when quarry action starts in the countryside near Thiva. I am woken by 3 enormous trucks passing 20 metres where I am peacefully resting. I can't help but laugh at the scenario the drivers are faced with. Three motorbikes, 0ne tent and one daft sod in a sleeping bag in the middle of a field. I get a smile and a wave from one driver, the others carry on without barely noticing we were there.

At a respectable hour Miake and Rick wake, to find me packed and ready for the off. I wish them well on their journey to Deli, which prompts Miake to inquire if I want the web address where I can get a carnet, for Suzi, so I will be able to pass into Iran. I pass on the but I vow to keep in touch. A great couple on a true adventure of a lifetime.

Although I have left them, their mentality has stayed with me. I ride to Mycenae, the home of Agamemnon's citadel. I pitch up at a very interesting little family run campsite. I am the only guest but the campsite is still loud and action packed. After several family rows I feel I am invading on their privacy. I head to the ruins.

The entrance, the Lion Gate, is the most impressive sight. Still standing tall, the gate gives the scale needed to realise how formidable the fort would have been. The only other specticle was the Circle Of Graves, which is self explanatory.

The rest of the site comprises of walkways with information boards. After reading a couple I find that I am looking but not reading. I give up and take it for what it is; rocks on a hill with great weather and a lovely views. It is however tainted. There are Americans everywhere, some of whom are so obnoxious. I over hear one saying 'It's easy to see why they are twenty years behind the rest of us'. She should cross to Albania or even still visit some countries in Africa. I retreat back to the campsite, armed with ear plugs.

Delphi - Greece

I woke fresh and early and did something I had not done since a child. Now I am really back to nature! I start to pack away as Rick introduces me to a jeffal. A jeffel is basically a toasty but the added ingredient is an egg. It tastes great, now all I need to do is get myself a waffle iron. With the egg out of my beard and the camp totally clear we head back to the comfort of tarmac. Today's destination, Ancient Delphi.

6 miles in an Miake's front break looks again. Fortunately we find ourselves on a petrol station forecourt. Rick dons the imagery mechanics overalls and strips the break down. The disc is so warn that it is half the size and one of the pads is wafer thin at the edges. The whole process takes abut an hour and half. There is no rush though as Delphi is only 30km away and the vies are amazing. The only annoying thing, for me, is the pesky tabby cat seeking attention. Rick seems to be a competent mechanic. He worked quickly and efficiently, only requiring my services, to chase the cat away. The bike is not perfect, the brake is still catching, but Rick has done all he can, so we press on.

20 minutes down the road and Miake is by the side of the road with smoke coming from the brake pads. I am no mechanic, but I sense that this wasn't normal. I suggest taking the pressure off and ride with the back brake only. It was the only solution but a dangerous one. 70% of bikes braking power comes from the front. This means that Miake is down to 30%, not great on mountainous twisty bends. Miake's speed is kept very conservative.

We eventually hit Delphi, a tranquil village set on the edge of a mountain. On top of the lofty mountain, which acts nicely as a backdrop for Delphi, stands a very small building, which turns out to be Apollo's Throne. We follow the route thousands of buses have taken for decades previously. We are heading out of the village, to the ancient ruins.

Rick and Miake are different in so many ways. Not just stature, Rick towers at about 6'5" over Miake, who is around 5'3", but also their approach to traveling. Miake enjoys seeing the sights and getting up close to history, whereas Rick is content seeing them for the comfort of his bike.

We walk around 2 distinctly ordinary ruins, those of The Sanctuary of Athenia and a Gymnasium. Miake makes it a little more interesting by enlightening Rick and I to the reasons why Delphi became so famous. Turns out it was all about a girl!

The archeological site, where the true gems of history are kept, is sadly mostly closed off, due to fallen rocks from the mountain. So I will never be able to build on my knowledge of Delphi other that saying... it was about a girl.

We laboriously plod south. At this point I don't have a next destination. The Dutch are heading to Athens, but I am way ahead of my schedule. I had met a Greek lad in Berat, Albania, and when I spoke of my route he offered to host me in Athens. However he wouldn't be returning for a week from his trip.

Rick and Miake are a great couple and we got along very well. I got the feeling I was a third wheel on their motorbike though. Our travel styles and the reasons for travel are very different. I like to stop and take stock every other day or so, they just plod on. Mind you they have a destination, I am just a nomad.

As we set up camp in a field near Thiva, I opt to go back to basics and leave the tent in the bag. A chair and a sleeping bag with the stars being my roof will suffice tonight. It gives me a great chance to reflect and I make the decision to part ways in the morning.

Meteora (2) - Greece

After the early alarm call, we hit the road. It is not long before I realise that Christian loves his photos. He brings us to a halt in order, as he puts it, 'to take adventure photo'. This consists of taking photos of the bikes on the move. It took a while for us to arrive at our destination, as we were routinely stopped every 20km or so, but it was well worth the wait.

Northern Greece is quite mountainous, more so than I realised, but what stands before you at Meteora is something else. Rock formations stand alone in the middle of a relatively flat section of land. The giant mass of rocks seem to have been put there. They don't represent mountains of the like I have seen before. The rocks are said to have once been inhabited but now the formations are only host to 6 monasteries perching on different summits.

Rick, Miake and I set off to take a look at the nearest monastery. I am holding the map, which turns out to be a questionable decision. Even after the local elderly ladies point us in the direction we are heading we turn up at two small churches. On closer inspection I realise the monastery has the same name as one of the churches.

The next morning I am woken by normal campsite noises, rather than goats, bells and a herder shouting in Greek. Chris and Chris have decided to split from the group as they are pushing onto Athens. Rick, Miake and I had already talked about heading to Delphi, after visiting the 2 highest monasteries. One is closed but the other has a full car park and a large mass of people being herded like sheep off a bus.

Rick is not a fan of the touristy side of traveling, so he gets a lucky break when Miake's front break seizes. It is a problem that has resurfaced, the same thing happened a few days prior to them leaving. Rick waves us away toward the monastery, he already has his tools in hand.

Legend has it that hundreds of years ago a solo monk came and scaled the rock to build a church as close to god as possible. In future years more and more monks came and a monastery was formed.

On the ascent towards the monastery we pass people who stopped for a breather. The thought comes to me of a new line of work, pilgrimage to music. It could be a big seller, God knows enough people need it! (Excuse the pun)

Miake has to select a skirt to go over her jeans. A dress code I have not heard of before. I decline the offer of joining her.

The monastery is very well kept, even with hundreds of people milling around. It is still a working monastery which, like the other five monasteries, is why it is shut one day a week.

One thing I don't understand is the no photo rule in museums. I actually get shouted at for trying to take a sly one. The security chap had me on CCTV - surely a contradiction in their somewhere.

A group of Chinese followed a guide who spoke english to the translator. The guide was going through a couple of points when one of the group, a overly excited lady, turned to the group and proceeded to shout 'Wahhy Potter, Wahhy Potter'. The guide looked stunned, and all I could do was laugh and leave.

We returned to find Rick with a smile on his face and Kermit, Miake's bike, fixed. Within minutes we are back on the road. I was on stag as I had the only map. We made slow progress on boring slow roads and we didn't make it to Delphi. So it was another night of rough camping, again another quarry, this time i get a great nights sleep.

Meteora (1) - Greece

A few days have passed since my last thoughts were written for all to see. I am now in the heart of the Peloponnese, Greece. A whirlwind of events has found me so busy that I have had hardly enough time to think, let alone, time to make it legible. I will try now though.

It took me 5 days to leave, what was going to be a 1-2 night stop, at Berat. Scott, the soft spoken Geordie, is a top guy. He runs and owns the Backpackers Hostel with the current help of, a Helpx volunteer, Roshni, an American. They make a good combination, Roshni normally does the breakfast whilst Scott sleeps. Scott enjoys watching and laughing at guests indulge and in my case over indulge on his fabulous flavored Raki. One night this Raki even made me dress as a woman and head out to a local restaurant... why you ask... I like to call it 'for shits and giggles'! It was a good night and virtually the whole hostel headed out and returned, where we drank for free. Although some didn't need the extra alcohol!

I left with Scott's number and said I would meet up with him in Athens, as he s planning a trip before returning to the UK for the winter. I hope to meet him for 2 reasons, social and business...

My next destination was to be Gjirokaster. Sadly a near vertical cobbled road heading to the castle on top of the hill, sees me turn round and head further south. Saranda is the last destination of note I want to see in Albania but fate intervenes.

I turned off the main road and within 1km I see 4 motorbikes meandering down the hill I am plodding up. It's Rick and Miake with a German couple in tow. I had been in contact with Rick, since they departed Berat, as they had left some clothes and I had promised to bring them with me for when we met. I hadn't expected it to be here, and fortunately I wasn't wearing Miake's bikini bottoms at the time!

With the goods delivered and introductions, to Christian and Christina, made, I decide to join the conga. Their next, correction, our next stop is Meteora, Greece.

It is my first experience of group riding and just as I am getting into it, we stop for petrol and to use up the last Leke, not realising we can see the border. It gives me chance to chat, but most importantly, to check out the other bikes. The German's, sticking to their stereotype, are riding 2 BMW's. Chris and Chris are also decked out head to toe in BMW clothing. They are a very nice couple who are following the route they took 10 years ago for their honeymoon. Their love for riding even made them relocate to the Alps.

After freshening up we press on into mainland Greece. However time is ticking by and when we realise we have crossed into another time zone, we know we won't make it to the campsite. Rick and Miake suggest rough camping, we all agree and within 20 minutes we are putting our tents up with the backdrop of a sinking sun.

It had been a long days ride for me and whilst we sat in a disused quarry, out of sight of the road, but just metres away, I find myself staring between a roaring fire and cloud free night sky. A romantic setting, although for Christian, he is content just with beer.

We were woken the next morning by a goat herder and his flock, all of whom are wearing bells trekking through the quarry. He obviously takes this route on a regular basis but I am fairly sure he is not used to seeing the 2 Dutch, the 2 German and me at the bottom of it.

We pack up and hit the road. Destination Meteora.

Berat - Albania

My ıtchy feet have dıctated my day, that and beıng the only guest at Hostel Albanıa. I feel lıke I am ımposıng on Clas and Lıra's day.

I set off south through the mountaıns and back on the road I came ın on. Once I have retraced my steps the 'new' road ıs flat and fast. I arrıve ın Berat, Albanıa's thırd bıggest cıty, to be confronted by houses on both sıdes of a steep valley. At the bottom lıes a meanderıng rıver whıch can be crossed by two brıdges, a sıngle lane road controlled by traffıc lıghts, the other a pedestrıan brıdge.

Once over the correct brıdge, I am confronted by the slopıng houses and cobbled walkways leadıng to closed gates. Thıs does not bode well! I decıde to chance my arm and follow the ınstructıons up rather precarıous streets. A few mınutes later and I am outsıde Berat Backpackers Hostel.

On entry I meet 2 Honda motorbıkes comıng out of the wooden door/gate. Rıck and Maıke are travellıng to Delı from theır home ın Holland. After brıef ıntroductıons and a chat about schedules ıt appears that we wıll be headıng on a sımılar route for a perıod of tıme. Detaıls are swapped but the meetıng ıs fleetıng, whıch ıs a shame as they seem really nıce. They mentıon talkıng about campıng on a beach ın Saranda, whıch sounds great and we agree to try and meet.

They leave me ın 'bıke mode' talkıng about bıkes to an Englısh lad, Wayne, or Shaggy as he prefers. He ıs travellıng wıth an Auzy gırl, Katrına. He mentıons about goıng up to the ruıns of a castle on the other sıde of the hıll. I crash theır party and joın them.

Pearched on top of the hıll ıs the remaıns of a fortress. It ıs claımed, by people of Berat, to have been one of Europes oldest cıtadels. It aın't much cop, but ıt gıves me the chance to fınd out other peoples travels and experıences by comparıng thoughts and vıews. Turns out I am faırly normal!