Looking back even to my last blog post in February, the virus was hardly on my radar. I had a couple of people warn me to maybe avoid Italy, but in my usual optimistic fashion, I figured it was all a load of media hype hysteria, and that by the time I got there it'd all have blown over. But by the 16th of March, things had gotten so ridiculous, it seemed I had no choice but to give in and get out. The world went a little crazy and it just seemed like the best place to be was home.
With all the craziness, I'd gotten extremely far behind on writing. Even my personal daily journal had a big month long gap that needed filling it. I've finally caught up, but have so many stories to tell about my last month on the road that I've decided to break this last post into three. The first, a few tales from my romp through Turkey and Greece. The second, my enlightening stay in a Greek squat. The third, my daring escape on the last flight out to the UK, as the national borders closed in around me.
Obviously I'm writing now on the 7th of February, but will date the posts at the point where each part ends.
4th of March 2020, Day 204 - 7050kmish (+ a ferry from Keramoti to Thassos and back)
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| Day 193 - Traffic too hectic to get a picture during, but here's a pic I took in the morning before setting off |
But not before meeting the Cat Ladies of Tekirdağ.
The Cat Ladies of Tekirdağ
I'd found a host on the warmshowers tour cycling app, an adorable 53 year old primary school teacher. Zerrin had just started to learn English, and was looking for a way to practice, so her son had set her up an account as a way to meet travelers.
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| Day 194 - The cats quickly took ownership of the bike |
I walk in the front door to be greeted by not 1, but 4 different cats, all going crazy about the big strange bike taking up most of the hallway. I'm not sure if it's a particularly Turkish thing, or just good common sense, but as Zerrin lived alone she'd specifically asked to host couples or women. Sending her my blog to look at convinced her I was legit. But just to be on the safe side she had some of the ladies round from work, with one spending the night. She'd cooked up an absolute feast, turning what I'd thought would be a quiet night into an impromptu party.
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| Day 194 - After dinner tea and cake |
Now, I've had a fantastic time talking to all sorts of people in Turkey, but all of those people have been men. The public social spaces here, like the mosque or the tea houses, are all so male dominated that I've hardly had the chance to speak to women.
It was enlightening to finally get the female perspective on Turkey. The men tend to think that Turkey is the greatest country on earth. To put it lightly, Zerrin and the girls were far less impressed. Turkey is a secular country, but with the new highly conservative and religious President Erdoğan, they are afraid things are starting to go backwards. They find Turkish men aggressive and possessive, expecting women to take a backseat at home. Almost all the women dreamed of leaving Turkey to find somewhere they could be treated like equals. I didn't have the heart to tell them how few and far between places like that are in the world.
Almost all of them had given up on men, instead opting for far more palatable feline companions. I spent most of the night looking at pictures and videos of their cats.
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| Day 195 - Quick shout out to Zerrin, who was so kind in letting me stay, inspirational in starting to study English at 53, and has quite possibly turned me into a full on cat person. |
In the morning it was time to say goodbye, but not before Zerrin stuffed me with breakfast, and gave me a cute little cat coin-purse to remind me of my time amongst the disenfranchised women of Turkey.
Winds of Change
From there I had to cut inland to get to the Greek Border station, surrounded by rolling hills adorned in the green and brown checkerboard fields of Eastern Thrace. I'd been unsuccessful in getting any more hosts, so resigned myself to camping for the foreseeable future.
Over the next 3 days, the wind slowly picked up from a tiny breeze to a blustering gale. As did my growing anxiety about the Coronavirus. Northern Italy had become completely closed off for non-essential travel, meaning some big diversions to get to the other side of the Alps. Maybe there's no point going to Greece? Am I just cycling into trouble? Should I be heading north through Bulgaria towards Austria instead?
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| Day 196 - Forming a barrier so the wind doesn't blow out the stove |
By Day 197, both the wind and my anxiety reach a climax. I decide to go to the town of Ipsala, right next to the border, and plan out my new route. Maybe it's time to give up on Greece and head north. The cross-winds though are so strong, that I can't move on - the strongest winds I've faced to date, well over 50 km per hour. Every time I lift my feet up to pedal, I'm instantly blown towards the sloping drop into the ditch below.
I give up on cycling and just start walking, my body and the bike both at a 45 degree angle, forming an unsteady upside-down V, pushing against each other to brace against the wind. I consider sticking out a thumb to hitch hike, but every time I move a hand off the handlebar, the bike starts suicidally swerving towards the murky ditch water. With 15km to go till Ipsala, I'm starting to lose hope. This is gonna be a long walk.
Suddenly, a beat-up dusty white pick-up truck pulls over in front of me. An older guy jumps out and offers me a lift. He speaks almost no English, not that we could even hope to hear each other over the roaring wind. We get the bike strapped down in the back, and can finally talk in the truck.
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| Day 197 - The absolute gem of a man who picked me up off the side of the road |
I explain I'm heading towards Greece, and would love a lift to Ipsala. He indicates it's no problem, he's going that way anyway. But something gets lost in translation, and we fly past the sign for Ipsala, right up to the border station, where he drops me off, and drives back the way he came, leaving me just as far from Ipsala as I started. Guess my decision has been made for me. I'm going to Greece.
Thrace
Greece it turns out is absolutely beautiful. I'd always idealised it, and was so glad it lived up to expectation. As bicycles are not allowed on the motorway, I was forced to take it easy on the B roads and country lanes, winding through the olive groves and newly plowed fields, finally free of the traffic.
Along the road, small shrines that look like mini churches, with some pictures of a saint or two and an oil lamp. Apparently they are built to commemorate someone dying in a traffic accident, or on the sites of old pagan shrines. A holy spot to provide travelers with a moment of rest and prayerful reflection, organically merging ancient beliefs with modern practices. (see this article for more detail)
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| Day 198 - The Shrines |
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| Day 198 - Inside |
The smaller back-roads have their own challenges though. All the villages are very small, most not even having a corner store to pick up food. And no more gas stations or cafes to take a break and charge my phone. I found myself constantly running out of water with 10% on my phone battery, desperately searching for a way to re-fuel.
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| Day 199- In Greece they drink nothing but cold frappe's, so still looking for a good Americano! The gent in the background is a 72 year old Greek Turk, who traveled the world on cargo ships in his youth. |
When I did find places though, I was overjoyed to discover the locals spoke Turkish. This area, Thrace, once stretched all the way from Istanbul to Bulgaria, so there's a lot of cultural continuity with it's neighbors. In fact, I found it to be even more Turkish than the European side of Turkey had been. The villages here have their own mosques, they still play the call to prayer 5 times a day, and most of the women wear head scarves.
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| Day 200 - The mosque tower sticking up in the middle of an otherwise very Greek-looking village |
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| Day 199 - Grandma enjoying the morning sun |
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| Day 199 - Outside of the Coffee Shop |
Day 198, the road cut in off the coast, so I spent the afternoon climbing a deserted mountain back road through the Olive groves. As I get to the peak, I spot Clement and Aurore, two tour cyclist from France in matching red pullovers having a picnic. I join them, adding some oranges and sunflower seeds to the spread.
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| Day 198 - On the B road above the motorway |
When tour cyclists meet, there is always an initial sort of one-upsmanship that goes on. Not always a full on... trip-measuring contest, but you wanna see where you stand. How long have you been traveling for? How many km do you do in a day? Do you usually camp? What's your km total? By now I usually win this contest as I smugly reveal my stats.
This couple's way of getting accommodation surprised even me though. They have a tent, but say they hardly use it. Instead they just go from door to door until someone lets them stay for the night. Much braver than me. I wouldn't be able to take all the rejection. Clement and Aurore say it gets easier the more you do it. The worst someone can say is no. I've heard of this sort of ballsy approach before, but I have to be offered a place to stay or it's not gonna happen. For me, forcing people into being hospitable kind of sours the whole thing.
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| Day 198 - My bike doesn't have a stand... |
Then there's the all important exchange of information - good places to stay, roads to avoid, that sort of thing. They suggested I shouldn't bother with the National park, it mostly just being farms and little villages unless you go right down into the wetlands on the coast. However, I had a sneaking suspicion I'd have a good time there, and I was curious about the big island you could get to by ferry on the coast.
They do mention something though which has my curiosity piqued. Some thermal baths, with a squat nearby where you can stay, a few days ride down the road. You have to check it out, they say. You'll love it.
Crazy Homeless Bag Man
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| Day 199 - Vistonida Lake, just off Porto Lagos |
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| Day 199 - Beautiful sunset off Porto Lagos. Notice the weird mulchy packed ground, it felt almost like a sponge. |
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| Day 200 - Turns out these are bee boxes, with two big bags of sugar inside for food. Which I found out when I took the lid off one, running away from the disgruntled half-asleep bees just coming out of hibernation. Thankfully managed to get the lid back on |
Then I ride back up the valley to the river crossing, and down to the port in Keramoti, just in time for the late ferry. I had no idea, but the island, Thassos, is sort of a big deal around here. I was expecting some tiny village, but from the swanky resorts, restaurants, and sailing clubs, I can tell I'm about to get well out of my budget here.
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| Day 200 - I'm a terrible camera man, I swear the sunset was much redder in person! |
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| Day 200 - Again, couldn't quite capture it, but you get the idea |
Mid revelry, a group of 6 greek guys come up to the deck and start taking pictures. So many pictures. But not particularly of the sunset, more of them selves, from ever more imaginative angles. At one point, a guy is literally laying on the ground taking a photo of his friend sat up on the rail. I cannot fathom why. Maybe to make his shoes look big? Every one of them is wearing brand new clothes, clean and sparkling.
I cannot help but giggle, and one of the boys looks at me. Suddenly I become extremely aware of how I must appear. I'm sat there with three plastic bags of food around me, my whole travel pantry spread out on the chairs. A chunk of cheese in one hand, a loaf of bread in the other, alternating a bite from each, covered in crumbs. Today is my 6th day without a shower, sweating under the Greek spring sun, camping every night. The trackies and jacket I'm wearing haven't been washed since Istanbul, so are carrying every colour of dirt and mud Thrace has to offer. And my beard. And my hair. 7 months on the road, and for some reason I decided to not shave the whole way.
I have never felt more like a crazy homeless bag man in my life.
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| Day 200 - Earlier that day, Crazy Homeless Bag Man makes a cat friend |
Thankfully the photo-shoot doesn't last for long and I'm left in peace to enjoy rest of the sunset.
Thassos
I arrived rather foolishly in Thassos at 8pm with absolutely no where to stay, but thankfully the woman at the ticket booth rang around to find me a place. I spoke to the owner on the phone, and managed to argue the price down from 30€ to 20€ by promising to stay an extra night. The room was perfect. A queen-sized bed, kitchenette, and most importantly, a warm shower. After that first shower in 6 days, I felt reborn, like a snake that's just shed a crusty old layer of skin.
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| Day 201 - The Bay of Thassos |
Thassos is simply stunning, a beautiful little old port town nestled in the bay below the mountains. Every bit of Greece overflows with history. As you walk through the cobblestone streets, there are ancient archaeological ruins, dating back to 600 A.D., just casually strewn about between the cafes and shops.
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| Day 201 - If you look real close, you can see an old man in the middle of the rock fishing |
I spent the day hiking around the northern tip of the bay. Clearly there used to be a well cared for footpath there, with signs and chain fence lining the walkways. Even lamps for night walking. But at some point in the 90's with the Greek economic recession, they'd run out of money. Now the ruins were joined by artifacts of a different era, all rusted, broken, and covered in moss. At one point I had to scale a huge fallen tree to keep going.
I'm glad I did though. Eventually the path opened up to the Acropolis of Thassos. What surprises me is how nothing is fenced off or protected. It feels as if you are the first person to stumble across the crumbling towers and walls, hidden away in the forest and undergrowth. I guess they have so much old stuff here, they don't bother looking after it all.
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| Day 201 - The path up to the Acropolis |
It was supposed to be Carnival weekend, but all the festivities had been shut down by the government. It was starting to dawn on me that this Corona thing was maybe a big deal, and that people were taking it seriously. Or should have started dawning on me.
Instead, I met two gristly 60 year old British guys who came to the island in the 80's and never left. Apparently they'd spent that whole time in bars, because they then proceeded to drink me under the table.
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Bonus Photo Dump of Thassos
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| View of the whole town from the top |
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| Some of the old engravings still remain. Here is Hippocrates healing a boy and a horse. You can vaguely see the snake and staff in the man laying down's hand. |
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| Like I said, you can just walk right up and touch buildings that have been there for centuries and centuries |
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| The view from the top looking the other way |
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| I took a selfie using my phone timer! |
