Starting At The Top
Greece, Early January
We are heading up into the mountains. Tight twisting roads lead us ever up. The tarmac road is becoming more potholed and patchy, finally it is replaced entirely by gravel. Occasionally we cross rebuilt sections where landslides have taken the road with them. Our little Toyota continues to impress, but not so much that I don’t regularly check his vital signs. Too many HiAces have been lost to overheating to ignore the worry gauges.
When the surface returns to tarmac a dog appears from nowhere and chases us down the road, gnashing at the tyres. It’s reminding me of South America, but I’m in my own vehicle now and just ignore it. Both the dog and our tyres live to fight another day.
Off the Potholed Track
We’ve never really tested the off-road capabilities of our little van. He’s not an off-road vehicle, we built him up for bad roads, just the sort of roads we’ve been on all day. Additionally, I have zero experience at off-road driving, I struggle enough on-road. We see a steep gravel side road leading down to a river, an ideal camp spot for the night. Locked in 4wd low we idle down the stoney, rutted slope with ease. I trust that getting back up will be just as easy.
Greece has a lot to offer. Thousands of years of civilisation to explore, for a start. At school, my history teachers forgot to mention the East in its entirety, so there is much to learn. Then there’s the mountains, beaches and the wide open spaces. I think we’re going to enjoy this. But first, back to our riverside camp.
Sadly, Greece appears to struggle with the same problem that infuriated us in Italy – litter. We pick up much of the mess left carelessly by strangers that have visited before us before settling in for the night, the freezing meltwater from the hills babbling its way along the river our only company.
I really shouldn’t have doubted little Godzuki!’s capabilities, but then I suppose, trust is earned and we’re only just giving him a chance to show us what he can do. He gets us back up onto the tarmac without breaking a sweat, let alone spinning a wheel. Back on the open road we point his stubby little nose towards Dodona.
Mighty Oaks
Dodona dates back to around 2000 BC. Homer (the poet, not the yellow one) described it as an Oracle of Zeus so this will be our introduction to the Greek deities.
It blows my mind that we are wandering around a story that dates back 4000 years. By all accounts, Zeus would pass down his instructions by rustling the leaves of an oak tree. I wonder to myself if the oak currently growing in the courtyard of the temple to Zeus is a descendant or a squirrel planted interloper. The wind rustles the leaves of the tree, Zeus is telling us something but I’m not sure what. Maybe he’s confirming the squirrel theory.
It’s hard to tell what is original and what has been rebuilt. The highlight of the site is the amphitheatre, though that is a more modern addition, if you can call things of such age modern. It’s my first Greek odeon and I perform some Shakespeare (badly).
Mighty Holes
With some culture in the bag, we turn out attention to nature. The Guinness Book Of Records lists Vikos Gorge as the deepest gorge relative to its width. That’s a mighty fine world record to have, if something of a mouthful. We camp at a viewpoint. At 1300m above sea level, it’s both the highest we’ve taken Godzuki! and the highest we’ve camped. The little van handles the mountain roads well. Not fast, probably not even fast enough to be called slow. Glacial might be a better word, but he gets there in the end.
Generally when we hike, we start at the bottom and head for the summit. Lunch on the summit is something we rarely achieve, but it’s good to have goals. It feels slightly odd starting at the top and hiking to the bottom.
We follow a stoney path as it zig zags its way down and successfully reach the river that runs through the gorge in time for lunch. Vast walls of rock tower above us as we munch our way through our sandwiches. The sun is struggling to reach us and our voices echo off the sides (and yes, I am making quacking noises). The water in the river is crystal clear and icy cold and I see no signs of life in it.
Back at the top and my phone is making a funny noise. The Greek weather service is rather concerned about an incoming storm and has spammed a warning to all the phones in the area. We decide that being high up on a mountain is not the wisest of ideas given the warning, so we descend back down the mountain and find somewhere to ride out the apocalypse.
We find a spot between a school and a sports field. There is another van here, but I don’t pay it any attention until there is a face at the window. The lady is quite excited to have found other Brits. We chat a while, she’s been having problems with her van, an old Talbot, and it no longer has an MOT. She’s wondering how she’s going to get it home given it shouldn’t technically be driven within the EU and will likely invalidate any insurance she’s managed to get. We discuss various options then wish her good luck for the storm.
The weather puts on an almighty light show, accompanied by buckets of rain and high winds. Puddles form around the van and we quickly develop our own moat. The football pitch we’re overlooking disappears like Atlantis. After two days, the rains ease, the sun shines and Atlantis FC starts to rise from the depths. We take this as a sign from the gods to move on.
Flickr Albums: Dodona | Vikos Gorge