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[pedallingthepyrrhicpindus]

VALEDICTION

(I asked Chat GPT for help - I think it may have gone a little over the top) Ladies and gentlemen, gather 'round and bear witness to this extraordinary tale of seven remarkable men, whose spirit of adventure and camaraderie has ignited the very essence of exploration. 

Allow me to present to you the intrepid cyclists, whose wheels have rolled upon the ancient soil of Greece, unearthing treasures of both the land and the soul. 

Hearts overflowing with gratitude, these individuals embarked on a journey that would forever transform their lives. 

From the moment they departed, their heads held high, they knew they were bound for greatness.Venturing far from the relentless noise of the world, they sought solace in the bosom of Greece's storied past. 

In the footsteps of legendary philosophers and playwrights, they discovered a sanctuary far removed from the chaos of progress. And as they emerged from the sacred realms of ancient wisdom, a profound calm settled on them, encapsulating the very essence of their privileged journey.

Guided by an unconventional visionary—a sage whose instinctive spirit and freethinking nature ignited the path before them—they ventured into uncharted territories. These were no ordinary paths, my friends. They were trails woven by the daring few, traversed by cyclists of immeasurable resolve. Through sunlit meadows and rugged mountain passes, they beheld the breathtaking wonders of Greece's untouched landscapes. Fresh leaves danced upon verdant trees, while blossoms painted the countryside with vibrant hues, celebrating the arrival of spring.

The Pindus Mountains, with their towering peaks and ancient whispers, bestowed upon our valiant adventurers a timeless revelation. Life, they learned, transcends the confines of mere conquests, for it is not in victory alone that true fulfillment lies. It is in the bonds formed, the shared laughter echoing through time, and the respect bestowed upon one's fellow journeyers. 

Pyrrhus may have sought victories at all costs, and Ali Pasha may have pursued power at the expense of others, but these stalwarts knew better—they embraced the harmonious rhythm of life.

As we bid farewell to the hallowed lands that embraced them so warmly, let us join in celebrating the triumphs of these modern-day pioneers. In the words of the illustrious poet and scholar, Percy Bysshe Shelley, "We are all Greeks. Our laws, our literature, our religion, our arts have their root in Greece." 

These seven exceptional men have embodied the very spirit of Greece, carrying its legacy within their hearts to share it with the world. So, my friends, raise your voices and applaud the courage, the unity, and the unyielding spirit of the Marty Tours cycling holiday. For they have unveiled the beauty of ancient Greece and, in doing so, have ignited a flame of inspiration within us all. Efcharistó.

[pedallingthepyrrhicpindus]

[pedallingthepyrrhicpindus]

[pedallingthepyrrhicpindus]

DAY 6  - ELATI TO IOANNINA

The first climb is the steepest. We bid fond farewell to the sisters. Dragging Martin away, Alex decides we need to go back up the hill.  Not down.

Our thighs are like steel now. It’s a joy to put our Greek legs to work.

Monument to the Women of the Pindus Andy gets another puncture. Rather than stand on the roadside, we ride on to an impressive monumental statue of a woman carrying a big box on her back. The Zagori woman. It commemorates the brave women of the Pindus who supported the Greek soldiers fighting in the mountains against the Italians. Carrying supplies to them, and carrying back and tending the wounded.

Going into a steep decline. Today’s is a shorter ride. To Ioannina, the capital of the region. And the transfer back to Athens. Pretty much all downhill. Bigger roads. We start to encounter cars, lorries, people, buildings…all the mess and noise of civilisation.

Lakeside decompression Rather than cycle straight into town, Alex‘s route takes us around the lake. It’s hotter down here, but riding by the water is calming. Martin is enjoying his non-electric bike. We all can sense the end coming. Reintegration.

We pass the island where Ali Pasha had his palace - the water provided natural protection. “Do they call it Ali’s Pally?” - thanks for that Andy!

Ali Pasha was a remarkably successful ruler of this region during the Ottoman occupation. He had an extensive harem of wives and boys. And lived into his 80’s. He is known for his active interest in the inventive torture of his enemies.

Mark has his own torture plans. And suggests a series of sprints.

We arrive in town to dismantle our bikes and prepare for the six hour drive back to Athens.

Many of Ali Pasha's victims ended up being drowned in the lake. Alex suggests we don’t swim in it. Once again Hamish’s plans for a wild swim are foiled.

53.78km  198m climbed  

[pedallingthepyrrhicpindus]

[pedallingthepyrrhicpindus]

[pedallingthepyrrhicpindus]

DAY 5 - TSEPOLOVO TO VIKOS GORGE AND THEN ELATI

Trails Leaving the haunted Scottish girls school we follow the side of the valley. At the top of a small hill, Alex points across the ravine to a zig-zag wall going up the steep side of the slope. He says it’s the sort of trail that covered the whole country. Hardy mountain folk would use them to travel between villages and to trade.

These trails are one of his passions. He spends much of his time maintaining those that still exist. (2% of what used to be.) In the old days people would walk with a knife in their hand and cut off any overhang - “trees have memories, they can sense the passing of people and animals and they grow away from the path.”

Then the fascists came and built roads across the whole country. “Many of them useless, but good for us!” And off we go downhill, just the right gradient, no need to use our worryingly worn brakes.

Gorgeous climb. The sun is out. At the bottom of a valley we turn to follow the river. Stop for an impressive arched stone bridge. There are other people. Tourists! In coaches! But not enough to bother us.

The big climb approaches. John senses his opportunity. And pushes for the summit coached by Toren. The landscape is different. Heavily stratified rock cliffs and columns - some either side of the road look like monumental gates.

The verges are strewn with brightly coloured spring flowers. Daisies, forget me nots, vibrant pink little flowers with five petals stretched to the fingertips, thistles with their pink furballs.  And the broom, yellow and fragrant.

A flock of sheep and goats, with shepherd - not sure which smells more. The little dog started it. Got the big one angry and it was he that bit my back tyre. The police turned up in a car and intervened using a special clicking siren.

And I was back to climbing in pastoral bliss. Keeping heart rate below 140bpm. Don’t look back.

At the top we change shoes and walk the pretty path  to the viewing point for the Vikos Gorge, the deepest gorge - relative to its width - in the world. Forget the Guinness Book of records - it’s quite a show, made all the more exciting by the lack of guardrail. Vertigo!

Back down the hill we race. Coffee and lunch. Less meat more vegetables was the order of the day.

Rain We leave the roadside taverna as another coach pulls up. And it starts to rain. Then rain heavily. We all stop to put coats on. Twenty minutes later it stops.

Climb frenzy Suddenly it goes all lord of the flies. Mark starts beating the drum for a race between me and Hamish up the next big hill. It’s all a bit cruel. “My money’s on Piers but I’m coaching Hamish”. The chatter and jabber intensifies as the hill approaches.  War cries echo across the valleys. “Hamish, Hamish…”

We start together. Matching each other’s pace. It’s going to be a long climb. The road flattens out a bit, Hamish shoots off ahead and gets a lead from his superior cornering skills. As the climb resumes, I wind him back in. “Don’t worry Hamish, I know Piers, he always goes out too hard and blows up,” Mark needles.

I pull ahead, Mark pushes past to encourage me to ’blow up’.  But I’ve been watching Mark all holiday. He’s a really impressive climber, with a super light bike and bucket loads of confidence. But… when the climb really starts to bite, when it starts to hurt me, it’s hurting him more. 

And it’s he who cracks. With still 100m to climb I pull past him and he’s left behind. Broken.

He won’t admit it, but the race was always between me and him. He’d used Hamish as a straw man. And now a shield for his pride.

Actually that’s a bit harsh. It’s all been about that special connection that comes from competion. The sheer unalloyed joy of pitting yourself against another human. The shared experience. It really is all about the taking part. Mark loves it. And we love him for it.

Of course, Toren has watched all this and is calmly up ahead enjoying the view, first to summit, as always. A racehorse travelling with donkeys. History lesson A few more km and we arrive at our hotel run by two lovely sisters. Big rooms. Lovely food. And Yannis gives the most extraordinary history of Greece - he spoke for two hours without notes starting with the first settlers and ending in the current day. Answering questions along the way.

It was striking how modern day Greece was created on the basis of an idea - about Ancient Greece, about the birthplace of civilisation. And how that idea was imposed from outside.

Ants in my bed though. 92.86km  1,837m ascent

[pedallingthepyrrhicpindus]

[pedallingthepyrrhicpindus]

[pedallingthepyrrhicpindus]

DAY 4 - KONITSA TO TSEPELOVO

Elevation

The day starts with a climb straight from the hotel door. 800 meters over 10km - a punchy 8% on average. Warm up? That was the ride yesterday. There's some trepidation. The slope starts steep. Martin whirrs up, keen to chat. But finds the conversation distinctly one-sided as we gasp for oxygen.

My mouth is open, panting, an insect flies straight in, and down -far more successful at finding an acid bath than Hamish at finding wild water swimming.

We're cycling in the Sun, the road slowly coiling its way up. A huge mountain with sheer dark sides looms up in front of us. The sun disappears behind. And what was dark becomes clear, the sheer face becomes visible. In its lee nestles a small Hermitage with a water fountain.

I'm talking with Alex, about how difficult it is to describe the landscape and how I used to skip the pastoral sections of Maupassant and Zola to get back to the story. He says he tries to describe the feelings it gives him. He chose to study literature at Ioniannou university because he wanted to be close to this region, the other side of Greece to his home. He tells me about a book he read about a man who decides to live in a small hut by a river. The man chronicles his life in meticulous detail. Every little thing. However trivial. For a whole year. Then there's the line he loves, "the second year passed pretty much the same as the first". He has become one with his surroundings.

Toren I've been spelling Toren's name wrong. It's Norwegian, and there it is pronounced with a less hard O - like 'more' and with a scandi lilt. The name has links with Thor. Toren has been mighty on this holiday, by far the fittest of us all, he spins up the hills with apparent ease. No laboured breathing, totally able to talk. He's on a different level of fitness to the rest of us. This morning he is on fine form, slowly distancing himself as Martin empties his battery and the rest of us empty ourselves. Toren, God of the Mountains!

Into the valley. One by one, after Toren, we arrive at the top. We sit in a circular wooden pagoda and gather . The view is of high grey rock mountain tops, snow blown, the valley below  full of white cloud.

Alex's route takes us down the side of this valley, looking across to the other side at the mountain tops. It's colder at speed and less in the sun. There are waterfalls, wild flowers, and a constantly changing dramatic landscape. The road surface is highly variable so we have our wits about us. Hairpin bends, pot holes, Gravel, Rocks...

Punctures and Skids We stop for lunch and Toren gets a dramatic puncture. Then Andy..

We cross the Aoos river and start a 450m climb. It's not a race, but it is. Each of us has their own 'target.'  On a long piece of steep gravel Piers's wheel spins and he falls off - nothing hurt, and importantly the shorts not damaged. Mark  catch him up and overtakes. It is too steep to remount. The sparring continues to the top.

Lunch We turn off the road down a ridiculously steep stone cobbled cart track to lunch. One of the best we have had - with a remarkable beetroot salad - sliced beetroot with grated beetroot, walnuts, garlic and vinegar in the middle. The beers had by some proved to be a mistake later.

We sit on the terrace watching lightning bolts and listening to the most impressive thunder ever - starting with an electric rumble building and developing into a roar, echoing across the valleys. Alex says, "I shoudn't say this. Actually i won't, no I will..." (big expectations of some revelation about a secret about the Greek Gods or modern day Greece) "...it reminds me of my father's farts" (oh dear!)

Elevation After lunch we have another 20km to cover. The landscape is more relaxed. And we spread out. A gentle ascent of 3-4%. Trees on either side, clearings of meadow grass strewn with flowers. I'm alone. Alex's conversation  of the morning about the man and the river goes off like a depth charge. All is quiet. Cuckoos. Chaffinches. Running water. It's a good place to be alone with your thoughts. A place where thos thoughts are kind. Why race when you want this feeling to go on forever? It's not about where you are going. It's about where you are. Being with nature. In nature.

As Mark says later, "this feeling should be illegal".

I emerge from the trees to another edless Epirus view, with two benches. It's meant to be. I stop, sit, look and listen. Slowly I notice more - a deep gorge in the far distance, cow bells, bird song, a footpath. I try to let it all be. Then the world starts to intrude, perhaps I'm the last and everyone is waiting for me. I look round and a herd of beautiful cows with new-born calves are in the road calmly gazing at me. I gaze back at them. Calm.

Mark and Alex appear. Mark has had a similar experience. He too has settled into his dreams. He waves as Yannis passes in the van. And then finds he has a puncture. At the back, alone. He sends a message on his phone. No signal. So he just crouches down and looks at his bike. It is what it is.

Alex comes back, worried, and helps him get going again.

A few more km and we arrive at our hotel - which Martin says looks like a Scottish girls boarding school - definitely haunted. It turns out to have been built in 2008. Another example of massive investment made in the early 2000's into tourism in the area that never took off. 64.2km.  2,166m climbed.

[pedallingthepyrrhicpindus]

[pedallingthepyrrhicpindus]

The Konitsa bridge was completed in 1871. One of the largest single arched bridges in the region.

[pedallingthepyrrhicpindus]

[pedallingthepyrrhicpindus]

[pedallingthepyrrhicpindus]

Day 3 - Smixi to Konitsa

The sun is shining. The view is stunning. John has been cleaning his chain since 6.00. We leave early. And straight up the long hill we came down last night. The views are amazing.

For a day billed as mostly downhill, there is a great deal of uphill.

Coffee in a pretty town square sets us up for the day.

The landscape is jaw dropping. Beautiful forests. Serpentine roads. Myriad hairpins. How to show you when you can't take a hand from the handlebars at 50km an hour hurtling downhill, braking for the next hairpin desperately hoping the cables don't fail.

There’s a moment when we all stop to watch a grpup of large dogs herding a flock of sheep. The sun is shining, They are on the grassy slope or a long mountain valley. The sheep are wearing bells. Time stops. The dogs and sheep are walking on at a relaxed pace. Bells ringing. It is so relaxed. And relaxing. We could have stayed for hours....

Not much further on, at the top of a particularly large climb, we reflect on a couple of dramatic changes in performance in the team and the probable cause.

Alcohol John is back to the climbing form we have come to expect. This is clearly down to his claimed reduction in alcohol intake. Martin too had a go at abstinence but couldn't hold out til the trip, which certainly explains his improved performance compared to last year. He may well have achieved the fastest time up some of the hills - on his electric bike.

Love Andy, by contrast, is a changed man. He is deep in love, which is truly wonderful to see. But this seems to have injured his knee, his back and his mental resilience. The poor man is suffering badly. But we've never seen him happier.

Life's swings and roundabouts.

We arrive at Konitsa and a small contingent of us carry on towards Albania for a bonus loop. Lightning flashes and thunder echoing down the valley. Light showers and one heavy one.Then sunshine again. The weather really has been unpredictable. The landscape has been consistently extraordinary.

Over this year and last, we have cycled the length of mainland Greece - from Nafpaktos to Albania. Up the Pindus - the spine of Greece. Really some of the most spactacular scenery we have seen.

We finish exhausted, low on fuel, but happy to have made it. Lovely hotel. And more food than we can eat at supper - with a proper royalist of a proprietor.

112km. 2000m climbed  2,700m descent

[pedallingthepyrrhicpindus]

[pedallingthepyrrhicpindus]

We are where we are.

In a hotel with an unbeatable view. The skyline is the ridge we cycled along.