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.
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