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[ridingintotheunknown]

[ridingintotheunknown]

[ridingintotheunknown]

Day 5 - Reflections

Karditsa to Kalabaka and Meteora  77km | 417m elevation gain

Greeks and cyclists Cycle touring is not something Greek people do.  We are somewhat of a novelty. Wave at a passing driver, and you get a friendly toot of the horn. The old men on the roadside terrace of the village cafe's follow our progress. Sometimes their noble bearded faces break into a smile and we get a cheery wave.  But always, drivers have treated us with patience and care. 

The final day Karditsa, unlike everywhere else we have visited, is full of bicycles. The roads have cycle lanes. Everyone, young and old, seems to be making their way quietly and calmly on two wheels. It's far too hot to do anything fast.

The streets are flat. The roads out of town is flat. The plain of Thessaly is flat. 

We cycle out on a dead straight road back towards the mountains rising in the distance. The Spine of Greece. 

We ride at a good easy pace, the fields full of hay and crops pass by. Slowly. The mind turns inward. 

And then here we are climbing again, hopping over a small castle topped ridge. A pretty village full of pink flowered shrubs. White flat cobble stones. A little chapel with a Greek cross.

We press on, skirting the base of the mountains, riding in singles and pairs, keeping together as a loose group.

Into Pyli, for a quick visit to the local market -  we get a kilo of cherries for €2, apricots, greengages, bunches of Chamomile... But curiously, no honey. Dimitriou is commissioned by phone to find some. The brightly coloured beehives have dotted the landscape along our whole journey.

Coffee: Frappé (cold whizzed up Nescafe and water, served with ice) - or Freddo (iced espresso).

Out of town on a deserted dual carriageway. Velvet smooth tarmac, plenty of distance to go. Peleton!

Back on a country lane, we all skid to a halt. A BABY tortoise! In the middle of the road. Photographs for daughters and goddaughters, and then it is carefully placed to the side of the road. It's easier to play God when it comes to the young.

A bridge over the fairly empty river we have been following, and the rocks of Meteora start to loom ahead of us. Dark columns and lumps rising out of the plain. Some with Monasteries perched atop.

A final group shot whilst we are still in the countryside. And we ride into town for lunch in a pretty umbrella covered square. Then meet up with Dimitriou to load the bikes and jump into the van for the five hour drive to Athens.

Martin gives a valedictory address to Alex and Georgios: something about Achilles - who came from Thessaly - not being hit be Hector's arrow if he'd been on an "electric chariot" like Martin's (I may have got this wrong, it was all quite confusing).

Nevertheless, Georgios is genuinely emotional. We all have a group hug. Together.

What a week. What a ride.

(An in joke, I can't explain, because I've forgotten where it came from.)

To sum up, let's go back to where we started. The three inscriptions on the Temple at Delphi.

The third: Give a pledge and mischief arrives.

The skill of the cycle tour guide is their ability to tailor to the group and to adjust to the unforeseen.

Alex and Giorgios have been excellent.  Alex, the anarchist showman guiding us to the remote paths and places of beauty, surprisingly knowledgeable, constantly good humoured, ever vigilant, always looking ahead. Giorgios, the calm quiet backup - literally at times - driving the van behind us on main roads to protect us. In the remoter parts, he’s been our scout - checking the road ahead, keeping us on track, ensuring the village Café is open. And in the mountains, he’s always there when you need him, feeding and watering as well as gathering up stragglers.

We have felt remarkably well cared for. The unexpected has been handled with calm. The tragic, with professionalism and deep humanity. Thank you. 

The second: Everything in moderation.

When you are burning 4,000 calories a day, moderation takes on a slightly different meaning. 

But there is, perhaps, a more subtle reading of the maxim.

We are all such different characters. The strength of the group is the ‘moderation’ with which we have dealt with each other. A respect as well as a recogition that we all live in our own chaos. And that whilst some of us may be greater agents of chaos than others, none of us perfect.

Throughout some challenging situations, this diverse group has supported and helped each other to achieve and to make the right decisions. All in a country where the people couldn't have been kinder, cheerier or more generous. 

Here is moderation and it is precious; putting the needs of others before your own.

The first: Know thyself.

Many of us have been riding together for over a decade. And we are becoming increasingly aware of the dimming of our physical abilities. Some of those climbs were hard, deeply physically challenging. We have certainly explored our limits.

Martin points me to an extract from Tennyson’s Ullysses. 

And see the great Achilles, whom we knew. Though much is taken, much abides; and though We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are, One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

We have also once again been reminded not just of our frailty, but also of our insignificance.

Surrounded by the vast majesty and beauty of nature.

In a different poem, Tennyson questions whether we'd be better learning our place in the world.  

He asks whether there really is anything within oursleves worth spending time getting to know. We can learn a trade, we can take pride in what we make. But, rather than fix on knowing ourselves we would do better to focus on higher things.

Γνῶθι σεαυτόν!—and is this the prime And heaven-sprung adage of the olden time!— Say, canst thou make thyself?—Learn first that trade;— Haply thou mayst know what thyself had made. What hast thou, Man, that thou dar'st call thine own?—

What is there in thee, Man, that can be known?— Dark fluxion, all unfixable by thought, A phantom dim of past and future wrought, Vain sister of the worm,—life, death, soul, clod— Ignore thyself, and strive to know thy God!

But far be it for me to tell you what to think or do.

As the old Greek lady told us, in what may well have been the wisest and most incisive words anyone said all week:

"I know what I know. You know what you know."

Of course, what we all know is that we did not all survive the adventure in one piece. Simon, has been a constant presence in our thoughts over this week. His messages have been relayed to the group, and we all hope he gets home soon and wish him a fast and full recovery. We have missed his company and can only hope that we share the next adventure with him. 

[ridingintotheunknown]

Alex (the guide):  I’ll cycle on ahead, to take a photo of you.

Martin:  You’ll need a fast shutter speed when I go past.

John:  …and a wide angled lens.

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[ridingintotheunknown]

Day 4 - The Reward

112km | 1,500m ascent | 2,300m descent | 60km/h max speed.

John returns When the day starts with John cleaning his chain, you know all is right with the world. And there he is, cleaning and tweaking and pumping. A sight we haven't seen til now. And the sign of good things to come. For much of the day, we see John's back ahead of us on the climbs. The Jaguar may have got a little older, but today it showed signs of purring.

Mountain climbing The day starts with a 400m climb. The trees have changed - from the fresh new green deciduous leaved oaks and acers (?) that have made much of the travels so beautiful - to the alpine firs of previous trips. It smells different. The shade is denser. As the gradient increases, we each sink into our climbing world. 3% - click onto the small front ring. 7% - you are on the big 32 tooth back ring. That's it, the only thing you've got now is power (effort) and cadence (spin speed). The gradient is far from shallow. Breathing gets deeper. Heart rates rise and are managed - 140-150bpm - you don't want to be holding it much faster than that for long. There's talk of the 'tap of desperation' a gentle push on the gear lever just to check that there isn't another gear.

Pain in the piriformis Climbing requires more power than any of us are used to on our UK rides. The piriformis is a muscle in the buttock that connects the thigh round to the back of the pelvis that appears to come into play. (The one you stretch in the pigeon pose.) It's here you feel the climbing. And it hurts after a few days.

Like a wounded wildebeest...! Quietly struggling at your limit, hoping that every corner will reveal the summit, this is the cry you don't want to hear coming from behind. It means you are slowing down and Mark's Swiss alpine training is paying off - soon you will be overtaken and sink even deeper into your pain cave.

No flies on me As the pace slows, the flies arrive to hitch a ride. Careful how you breathe. Luckily the big biting horseflies don't seem to be able to keep up, preferring to bite when you're resting in the shade of a tree.

The high ridge The climb done, that's the worst of it for the day. We emerge onto a high ridge with beathtaking views. Green as far as the eye can see. This is the greenest (least industrialised and least populated) parts of Europe. The air is clean. Breathe deep.

The road twists and turns gently meandering slightly up, slightly down, snaking its way along the ridge. It's lovely. We zip along in ones and twos just absorbing it all.

Sometimes you just need to stop pedalling There's a small chapel, wooden tables with views to both sides. As my pace slows, I'm enveloped in peace. Just cicadas and birdsong.

Wheel hubs Different brands of wheel have different freewheels. Some are silent. Some are bloody noisy like Mark's - "If it's annoying you, it's working."

The ride starts to go downhill In a good way.

Look where you want to go That's the secret to cornering (and perhaps a lesson for life.) It's not easy to do. You want to look at the road you are about to roll over, or the rock you want to avoid. But no, you will go where you look, so keep your eyes up.

The corners are fast though kept in check by the surface that is not reliably smooth..

The lunch stop Is in a little village just off the road. We make our way down a steep narrow hill and arrive at a pretty cafe at the heart of the village. A hearse goes past. Then the local greengrocer in his pickup truck replete with till at the back an loud hailer. The honey man is promised but never arrives (he doesn't have a phone). We are fed to bursting - the ubiquitous Greek salad, meatballs, sausages and chips all sprinkled with fresh oregano. (Everything comes with oregano, it even seems to be the most popular flavour of crisps.)

Having come down, we need to go back up. We ask the lady - she recommends going down a little further, then left - "it's entirely flat the whole way up" - we think we hear her say.

It's steep - 20% in paces - the front wheel lifts - stand up - weight forward - take your time.

Our Alex He's lovely, careful in what he says, diplomatic you could say. Warm and funny. Underneath it all you know he's a good sensible man. But put him on a bicycle going downhill and he's transformed. Caution is shredded and torched. Has anyone told him how to use the brakes? The king of the descents, he seems able to take the corners faster and with a firmer line than any of us. Even Alex the guide struggles to keep up, and he's an anarchist madman.

The swim The road levels out somewhat. The temperature is rising. We are cycling down a valley, clicking off the kilometres. But it feels sleepy. I feel sleepy. Then there is Georgios pulled up under a glade. Swim time. We all jump in, looking like 1920s men in our 'bathers'. We slide over a weir into deep, cold, fresh mountain water. Sanity and spirit are restored.

Peleton! Onwards. We are on the flat plains of Thessaly. A long dead straight road as far as the eyes can see, and beyond. There's only one thing for it... an informal peleton forms...and then, as is the way of the world, it gets serious.  Now we are travelling at 35-40km/h - about the speed the Tour de France peleton travels all day. (That surprised me too, but it's on the internet so must be true.)

Each that can takes their turn at the front. Others cling on, as a peleton 'leach' (though, if you know the science, contributing nevertheless.) Some get dropped. Fall off the back of a peleton it's almost impossible to catch again. We arrive in Karditsa, our stop for tonight, and last evening together as a full group.

Tomorrow is a shorter day. But promises to be special.

[ridingintotheunknown]

[CORRECTION: It was Torren, who has consistently outpaced all of us on the hills, who claimed King of the Mountain. A truly epic performance. ]

[ridingintotheunknown]

[ridingintotheunknown]

Alex, our guide.

[ridingintotheunknown]

Day 3 - Mischief making

Planned   59.14km | 2,107m climbing Actual      87.90km | 2,507m climbing

Mark gushes From the hotel, the road leads gently down the valley we so admired last night. Almost immediately we are stopped by a jaw-dropping view of the church bell- tower perched on a cragg.

The balsam is in full bloom lining the road with its citrus yellow flowers scenting our journey with its heady perfume. A short descent and we turn left to start the first climb. 

40 minutes later we are at the top and Mark, does something quite unusual. 

He starts gushing - "that has to be THE most beautiful ride we ever done!" - an unqualified superlative! And he is right. The early morning light, the mountain flowers in full bloom, the road snaking upwards revealing new vistas at every corner.

From the summit, long sweeping descents full throttle at 50km/h, enlivened by debris and uneven surface. It's difficult to look at the road and the view at the same time. But it would be a shame to slow down. A beautiful morning.

Give a pledge and mischief attends The third, and often forgotten, maxim found at the Temple of Apollo in Delphi. Make a plan and it goes awry. It's been happening for thousands of years and it happened today.

We had stopped for an early lunch - our Alex had put his foot down, rightly insisting on ‘food’ not ‘snacks’ before the final climb of this slightly shorter and easier day.

Refuelled with feta and the rough mountan sausages we have been so enjoying, we set off in good heart....only for mischief to ‘attend’ almost immediately. 

The road Alex had planned to take us on is being rebuilt and is impassable. We'll now need to do an extra almost 30k and 400m climbing. It's hot and getting hotter. There are compensations. We get to cross another Bailey bridge and then a long modern bridge across a huge deep blue lake.

The old lady We stop and are approached by a smiling old lady walking up the road in her red cardigan, staff in hand. Alex talks to her in Greek and we are joking about what they are saying. She asks him what we are saying. He honestly replies, "they are thinking you are asking who these idiots in tights are". She laughs and then Alex translates her reply, "No, no. You know what you know, and I know what I know." She cheerily waves us on our way. A lesson in Greek philosophy.

After hubris, nemesis. After beauty, the beast. A 1,000 meter climb in full sunlight. The gradient wasn't as steep as the morning, but still rising to 8 or 9% in places. Thank goodness for the 32 toothed cog. We settle ourselves into a comfortable rhythm. And cycle ourselves to exhaustion as the sun beats down. Sweat stings our eyes. Breathing heavy, snatched words with each other. Then Andy saunters past having a business call on his phone. He really is King of the Mountains. For some of us exhaustion hits before the summit. For others it is the fountain 200m climb from the top that saves us from jumping into the van, ice cold water onto the head calms the throbbing fever and helps us to the top. Fist bumps, applause. The team is back together for the long fast descent to Karpenisi. [yes it has. No I’m not going there]. 

Our final mountain town. Tomorrow we descend to the plain. Tonight we will sleep well.

[ridingintotheunknown]

[ridingintotheunknown]

Day Two

87.20km | 2,366m ascent | Nafpaktos to Prousos.

Simon Simon is new to the group, though a good friend of many within. A well-built, strong man, with an air of authority and firmness. He has fitted in well from the start, mixing well and telling remarkable stories of his adventures on motorbike and under sail. And showing unexpected strength and stamina on the climbs - keeping up with the fittest of us. We'd done the first climb, which was unexpectedly sharp, some really steep bits, and Simon was struggling with his gears - not correctly set up by the hire shop, he couldn't shift to the easiest gear - a necessity when the hill gets to 15%. Though that hadn't held him back. And then in a freak accident that appeared to happen in slow motion, he was over his handlebars and on the ground and in great pain. The ambulance arrived 40 minutes or so later with two paramedics, one a burly man with an impressive builder’s crack on display, the other a remarkably pretty paramedic, masked, who took control with exactly the right mix of authority, gentleness and humour. Simon was clearly in good hands. He was whisked away to the hospital, where they confirmed he has several broken ribs.

Simon tells us his wife got hold of the British Ambassador in Greece, who contacted the Ministry of Health, who spoke with the Director of the Hospital... where he is now being treated with great care. We are all somewhat in awe.

Martin has just returned from visiting to tell us Simon is in much better spirits.

We are all shocked and our thoughts are with him.

The accident has overshadowed the day and the group is now diminished in many ways.

Other events feel somewhat secondary. But need to be noted. If briefly.

Nafpaktos What a pretty little port, with an enclosed harbour below a castle on the hill above. The scene of the battle of Lepanto (still awaiting Martin's essay).

Wardrobe failure 'Our Alex' has joined us, not to be confused with Alex the guide. It's lovely to have him with us again. He came to breakfast in his iconic shirt, the one we recognise him by from all previous trips. ..and then someone pointed out it may not be the best idea to cycle in a red shirt emblazoned with CCCP and a hammer and sickle.

Full force faffing's back The 7.30 start had been clearly communicated. Some of us were ready. But not all. The poor discipline has been much discussed.

The ride A day of two parts. A couple of smaller climbs and then the big one. We'll stop for lunch at kilometre 44 in the valley before taking on the 1,100m monster. We leave eee-ventually. Cycling through the narrow streets looking up to the castle. We're quickly out of town and climbing. The first climb is brutal. 15% in places. Simon's accident happened at the bottom of the descent. We waited to ensure he was safe. We then crossed a Bailey bridge put in by the British in the war, still in use - traffic limited to 5kph. The second climb is longer but no less brutal. Beautiful views of a huge lake as we climb and traverse above. At the top: Where's Martin? Somehow he has 'taken a wrong turning', skipped the hill and is near our lunch destination. He swears it was a genuine mistake. We stop for coffee and a lunch of snacks in a pretty little town. Martin can be heard talking to Simon: "what nurse, Simon? We didn't see a nurse. It must be the drugs." Then back in the saddle for the main event. The planned road is closed, but there's another one. The group fragments. The whippets push on while others wait for the stragglers. The climb is gentle, meandering along the foothills, gently following the valley and it’s bubbling stream. It's lovely.

Is that the chamomile we can smell? Not this time, it’s some wild boar skins hanging on the crash barrier.

And then the road turns brutal. Steep segments sap our energy, sweat stings our eyes. There are mountain springs to the side of the road to plunge your head under to regain some sanity, if briefly. So many false summits. So may more 15% climbs. It broke some of us. And then we're at the top. Alex stops to talk to a friend of his who keeps the beehives we have been admiring all the way up. A long sweeping descent with uncertain surface to keep us on our toes - and we arrive at the most charming little beer terrace looking down an idyllic valley. Heaven.

Tortoises Tortoises, tortoises everywhere. We've seen four or five. What's the right thing to do when you see a tortoise walking up the road? Do you take it to one side? Which one? Maybe you'll be placing it back on the side it has been working so hard to leave. Maybe it has chosen to be in the road. To intervene or not to intervene? It must be hard to be God.

It’s been hard writing today’s blog. Sorry for the spelling mistakes. It’s late and there’s more climbing tomorrow.

[ridingintotheunknown]

[ridingintotheunknown]

The museum and Temple of Apollo

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DAY ONE

103.1 km from Delphi to Nafpaktos

Know thyself - one of the three best known Delphic aphorisms carved in the Temple of Apollo - can also be translated as 'Know thy place'.

Last night's visit to the museum and temple is still weighing on our minds.

The rumbles of thunder as we wandered the ruins were certainly telling us who is boss.

The ruins are ruins, but it is the location that strikes you now as hard as it must have those who buit and rebuilt the temples, ampitheatre and stadium.

Nestled on the slopes of steep craggs - dark but seemingly rubbed and scratched in places to reveal a red gold shining beneath - the paths and platforms look out down across and down a valley to the sea. Ancient olive groves wash across the valley floor like water as far as you can sea.

A magical place the Ancient Greeks considered the centre of the world.

Our point de depart.

We gather at 7.30 breakfasted, for a group photo. And are off with no faff.

Down. Down. Down. 600 meters of vertical descent at a steady shallow gradient. Little need to brake. Plenty of time to enjoy the view. And then we turn left and are cycling through Olive trees. The morning sun dappling the road.

We are being guided by Alex (Mark's find) ably assisted by Giorgos in the smart black support van.

Alex leads us from the front. He's far fitter than us. Though has a rather curious way of standing with his pedals level that is going to get some getting used to.

We break up out of the olives and the rest of the day, we follow the coast road, the sea blue and calm to our left. The mountains up to our right. We've had bad experiences with coast roads, they can be busy transport routes, lorries and coaches thundering past. But this one is calm, with little traffic. Nevertheless, Alex regularly takes us off the road down, to stay closer to the coast and through little seaside holiday villages, each of which looks almost exactly the same. Alex says tourists don't come here, lovely as they are in their simplicity, in the summer they are corwded with families with roots there, now living in the city. But now they are quiet. Just a few people gently getting on with the daily grind of sweeping, washing and sitting.

We stop after 50k for coffee, CocaCola and some flaky pastries - cheese, ham, sweet...

A brief outbreak of faffing breaks out as we leave - "why do you start fixing your bike now!". The point has been made. Discipline will surely be restored.

Now, we need to talk about Martin. Martin is the reason this group exists and why we always drink so well at dinner. He's a force of nature. But a force somewhat dented by a skiing accident earlier in the year. His usual training regime (two 70 milers and a couple of bottle of chianti should do it) was disrupted. He did buy a new bike, but that was about it.

Your ride in the van for the last few km was well earnt. Managing the battery will be a skill we will all be learning in the next few years.

The signs to Nafpaktos have been a constant presence on our route, most of them saying it is 43km away, but finally the town arrives. Just in time. It's hot and we are running on empty (no lunch stop!)

Finally, we can jump in the sea that has been tempting us. Poseidon calls. Swimmers on and in we go.

("Is it safe to swim here? Yes if you are brave enough"). It's lovely once you get used to it.

Alex has just arrived to complete the group of eight.

Tomorrow, we head North into the mountains and into the Unknown.

[ridingintotheunknown]

[ridingintotheunknown]

DAY ZERO

Moustakas bikes.

We met at Moustakas. Dismantled bikes mantled. Hire bikes hired.

Much comparing of equipment, as boys are won't to do.

Size and width of various bits and pieces discussed.

Disc brakes or rim brakes? Electric assisted or not? Carbon... Hydraulic... Oh the minutiae we debate… and the group bonds form.

Apparently a Campagnolo gearset is the choice of a gentleman cyclist.

Shimano 105 is more for the BMW driver (ouch!).

Bikes loaded and netted onto the trailer and we are driven to Delphi by Dimitri who drops us off and departs.