Northwest Greek Odyssey - The Magic of Zagori

Morning in Vikos Gorge

Vikos gorge is located in the Vikos-Aoös National Park, in the heart of the Zagori region of Northwestern Greece. It is listed in the Guinness Book of World Records as the deepest canyon in the world in proportion to its width. While some folks contest this claim, Vikos Gorge is a monster of a canyon, and beautiful. It begins near the village of Monodendri, where we were staying. 

From our village, the descent into the gorge is about 490 meters, or 1,600 feet. Prior to setting out, we fueled up on a huge Greek brekkie. I was laughing about the sign at our hotel: "Immer mit Frühstück" for the German-Speaking guests: Always with Breakfast. Good advice for those setting out on a long canyon hike. Originally the sign had read "Zimmer mit Frühstück" but the Zed had faded away. I will leave you to figure out the joke.

Modern Ikons

Tramping the stone lanes of the village, we stopped to fill our packs with many litres of water, and an assortment of tasty hiking treats. I was surprised to see the Honda Speedy Woodpecker adorning one of the stone walls outside our chosen shop. The same ikon adorned my little race moto for many years.

The Cool Green of Morning

Leaving the stone walls of the village, we began the descent into Vikos Gorge. The side canyon we climbed down was in deep shade, exuding the refrigerator coolness of rock slabs chilled during the night. It was a coolness that would not last, not a bit of it. 

The sun finds Vikos Gorge

Emerging from the forest shadows, we found ourselves on the dry, boulder-strewn river bed at the bottom of the canyon. The river is seasonal. By the end of summer, the upper end of the canyon is a dry river bed except for hidden pools carved deeply into the rock. The sun was bright and already hot, a promise of the sweaty hike to come. 

As it happened, we had missed the turning of the trail just above the bottom of the canyon. After perusing our map, and a few false starts, we got ourselves oriented and headed down the canyon. Several hundred meters of boulder-hopping brought us to a side trail. We scrambled up the steep goat path until we regained the main trail. After that, the way was clear and obvious.

Pockets of Coolness

The first lie I told prior to the hike went something like this: "Since we are hiking downriver in the canyon, it should be downhill the whole way." Yes, well, that is true if one takes the long view. There is indeed an elevation drop from the Monodendri end of the canyon (the upper end) down to the Vikos section of the canyon. The thing is, the trail happily ignores the elevation drop. Instead, it climbs up and down like a drunken goat, climbs over rock outcroppings, cliffs, whatever it feels like climbing. It is a trail that seems to say "Hey, let's go up there, that looks pretty."

The second lie I told was that the canyon would be relatively shady. Good idea, yes, a shady canyon hike on a hot, sunny day. The truth, however, is that once the sun reaches the point of its mid-morning arc, the canyon is bathed in an intense Greek light. Yes, nice and toasty, sheltered from the wind. Remember that bit about carrying many litres of water? Good advice.

Uphill, downhill, hot or not, Vikos Gorge is stunningly beautiful. Look up, and there are rocky vistas soaring above ones head. Look across, and the boulder-choked river bed is full of pure, white light reflected on stone. Look down, and there are exotic flowers, mosses, and ferns enough to stop all forward progress.

Aging Ikons

In one shaded patch of mossy trees, a stone pillar rose beside the rocky trail. The pillar was worse for the years of wear, leaning a bit. A niche in the pillar held these Ikons; small blessing to travelers on the trail.

Rest for the Weary

Hiking the canyon between Monodendri and Vikos takes abut six hours; more if one stops to linger. We chose to linger, or rather, the canyon compelled us to linger. It is eighteen kilometers of strenuous hiking, and eighteen kilometers of bliss. The light, flooding the canyon, illuminating the rock cliffs, creating deep shadows in the tangled forests that line the canyon floor; the light alone was worth the hike.

The Full Heat of the Day

Leaving our lunch stop, the canyon widened, embracing the full sun of a hot late-summer day. We were sweating through the straps on our rucksacks, sweating through our shirts, and pounding down the water to stay hydrated. Everything glistened in the sun, the shimmering pools of water hidden behind boulders, the sheer rock cliffs, and the ribbon of the rocky trail. There were brief respites as the trail climbed a into a forest glade, or through labyrinths of spit rock. Then came the sun once more, baking us as we walked.

Wider Vistas

As we descended, the canyon opened up, affording wider vistas of the rugged landscape above us. We were dwarfed by huge rock pillars rising into the azure sky. The biggest danger of the trail is paying attention to where one is walking. There is always another view, another rock spire, another massive cathedral of stone puling ones eye from the trail.

As the afternoon drew on, we came to a fork in the trail. This was where we must begin our climb out of the canyon, snaking up under the rock faces to the top of the canyon. The village of Vikos was where we would meet our ride back to Monodendri, but it lay hundreds of meters above us. It was time to climb. The switchbacks leading out of the canyon were fully exposed to the afternoon sun. The sun, reflected off the grey stone walls, and the white stone trail, made the climb more than a bit warm.

The Last Vikos Vistas

Eventually, more than a little footsore, we emerged at the top of the canyon. There was the tiny village of Vikos, and there was a café. We phoned for our ride and settled in for a well-earned round of Greek coffees.

We shared our table with an Australian couple, comparing notes of the day's hiking adventure. It was agreed that this was it, the gem of Zagori, an incomparable hike that was worth every sore muscle and sweaty step.

Late-Afternoon Goodbye

One of the brothers from our host family arrived in a ratty pickup truck. By this time, our party had grown to six, all tired and ready for the return to Monodendri. The women sat in the cab, and we menfolk piled into the bed. The forty-minute ride back to Monodendri was a lurching trip over narrow, one-lane roads. We dropped into deep valleys, climbing back up steep switchbacks. By the time we arrived at the hotel, my butt was happy to disembark.

Goat: It's What's for Dinner

The sweat was showered away, clean clothes donned, and then our attention turned to food. Food, and lots of it. The repast for the evening was a huge Greek salad, a basket of fresh bread, and a delicious bowl of stewed goat meat. Heaven, it was heaven. There was not a crumb left when we finally pushed back from the table.

The planets shown brilliantly, visible even with an almost full moon. Jupiter and Mars were both in the sky, Venus dipping to the black of the horizon. The village dogs barked, the moon lit the rocks a ghostly silver, and the chill of the night washed over us. 

We had found our spot, there was no doubt. Plans were laid for extending our time here in Monodendri. There were more trails to explore, more villages to see, more than enough to hold us here.

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Northwest Greek Odyssey - The Road to Zagori

It's Déjà Vu all over again: Ioannina Bus Station

We would get there, we had to get there: the mysterious region of Zagori. There were reports of a bus, a small bus, that serviced the isolated villages of this mountainous corner of Northwest Greece. So we left Igoumenitsa behind, ready to give this thing a try. The bus from Igoumenitsa climbed back into the mountains, leaving the waters of the Aegean far below. We were retracing our route to Ioannina, hoping to find a local bus to the north. 

Zagori, that was our destination, an isolated region with a name more Slavic than Greek. The name means 'The Place Behind the Mountain.' It is 1,050 square kilometers of steep mountains, gorges, and scattered villages of grey stone. Bordered by the Aoos and Varda rivers the mountainous and inaccessible character of this place has contributed to its colorful history. Its is peopled by loggers, ranchers, merchants, blacksmiths, and musicians. Due to the rugged terrain, and the skilled negotiation skills of its peoples, Zagori remained largely autonomous during the long Turkish occupation.

The region prospered during the 17th and early 18th centuries. The local folks built a network of paved roads, steep paths, and stone bridges that stand to this day. Goods from Zagori traveled across Eastern Europe. Caravans carrying trade goods reached far-flung destinations: Romania, Russia, Istanbul, and as far as Amsterdam. Money from trade flowed back into Zagori, helping to build schools, churches, bridges, and stairs. Many, many stairs, as we would discover.

The 19th Century brought hard times for the Zagori people. The Ottomans revoked the region's autonomy in the early 1800's. The 19th Century brought war to the region, with World Wars One and Two, followed by the Greek Civil War. More than forty of the isolated villages suffered the consequences, including Nazi reprisals during World War Two.

Zagori

Our destination was the village of Monodendri, the gateway to Vikos Gorge. Vikos Gorge is one of the deepest, or narrowest, gorges in the world. It depends on which source you wish to read. Vikos Gorge is in the Guinness Book of Records, and draws many adventurous hikers, including the likes of yours truly.

We arrived at the Ioannina bus station, made our way to the counter, and, Hurrah! we were able to buy tickets to Monodendri. Yes, yes, see the boy over there (vague wave) on that side. I went in search of 'the boy over there.' Instead of the shrug-shrug, I found the most helpful bus driver in Greece. This guy looked at my ticket, looked at me, scratched his head, then leapt from the bus and proceeded to ask every bus driver in line just where in the hell Monodendri was and how did these foreigners get there. A local woman, overhearing the exchanges, informed the driver which bus we wanted, took us in tow to make sure we didn't get lost, then put us on the correct bus. It turns out this same bus would stop at her home village.

The bus left Ioannina, stopping here and there to pick up the local Zagori school kids, the only reason for the bus's existence. Full of chattering students, we angled along the steep mountains north of Ioannina. Leaving the main road at Metamorfossi, the road became a lane, and the bus was climbing in earnest. The remains of villages passed by, beehives of stacked stone blocks. There were signs for the National Park we had just entered. We were on our way!

Students piled out as we stopped in isolated stone villages that looked unchanged by the centuries. Then, at a lonely crossroads, the bus stopped. The helpful local folks took us off the bus, pointed to another bus, and motioned us on. Monodendri? Nodding heads, smiles, waving hands. Okay, it was our turn to shrug-shrug. We boarded the other bus and were soon creeping up hairpin switchbacks on a one-lane road. Hell yes, this was the real adventure, right here: The Road to Monodendri.

Monodendri Street (Really!)

And then we were there, easing along a narrow lane sandwiched between grey buildings of cut stone. The bus driver waved us off, laughing. The village of Monodendri is tiny, perched on a steep ridge offering an amazing vista of the rugged terrain below. We found our hotel, an unbelievably charming three-storey pile of stone dating to the late 1700's. We were greeted by the host family, escorted to our amazing room, and settled in. 

It was too late in the day for a full-fledged hike, but the tangled lanes and rock paths were too much to resist. We had to a least see Vikos Gorge, sample some of the crazy steep rock lanes, pathways, and stairs. We hiked out of the grey stone hive, and onto the rough, cobbled goat paths that pass for roads.

A Branch of Vikos Gorge

One hour's hike from Monodendri, a semi-ruined monastery offers an amazing view into the depths of Vikos Gorge. How lucky could we be? A travel day and a hiking day rolled into one! Perched under soaring rock cliffs, we let the late-afternoon wander away. We were content to watch the changing light, the hunting birds riding the thermals, and the lengthening shadows .

The head of Vikos Gorge

I am here to tell you, Sisters and Brothers, with that view, and a comfortable rock seat, a well-earned cigar never tasted so good. We had done it, found the mystery spot, found the perfect old hotel, the perfect village. This place, this region of Zagori, it would prove to be the lynch-pin of the entire journey.

The Gloaming of the Day comes Early

The Gloaming of the day brought pangs of hunger. We left our cliff-side aerie, climbing the rough, stone paths back to Monodendri.

Rock Spires

We spent the evening sampling the local grilled chicken and pork. The ever-present stray cats were there, of course, vying for a tidbit from the table. When the cat combat grew too fierce, our host intervened. Rather than chasing the felines away, he tossed a burned hunks of meat in opposite directions, separating the combatants and being charitable at the same time.

The nights are cool and crisp here, reminding the traveler of the elevation he or she has gained. We watched the stars, listed to the chorus of village dogs, until the chill finally drove us to our bed. Tomorrow we would hike Vikos Gorge!

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Northwest Greek Odyssey -- Igoumenitsa

Igoumenitsa Sunset

Countdowns, Giveaways, and New Novels, Oh My! Yes, like the Lions, and Tigers, and Bears, things have gotten a bit busy here in writer-land. But one most soldier on, I suppose. Either that, or find unaccompanied Literary Agents to taunt.  Ahem... Where were we? Ah, yes, on the coast of Northwest Greece.

Igoumenitsa is a busy little port town in the northwest corner of Greece. It is nestled onto a protected bay, sandwiched between the off-shore spine of Korfu, and the rise of Albanian hills to the north. If one is traveling overland in Northwest Greece, there is a good chance one will pass through this town. And, honestly, there are not many reasons to spend the night.

The Harbor at the Gloaming

Steep hills hem the town against the Aegean. The main highway, the E55, comes to an abrupt end at the ferry docks. There is no more land for a roadway, thus the reason for the town's existence. It is a port town, pure and simple. The town stretches a few kilometers south to north. The north end of town is cute and quaint; a lovely main street along an aging promenade. The south end of town consists of modern concrete buildings, and more than two kilometers of concrete on the shore side: ferry docks, loading lanes, and low-slung ferry buildings. Huge car and truck ferries leave from Igoumenitsa, bound for Italy and elsewhere. These ferries ply the Mediterranean, bound for Bari, Venice, Brindisi, Ravenna, the list goes on. It is a busy place. But we did not know that. 

Greek Salad, Of Course

We were in Igoumenitsa due to uncertainty. Every journey requires a mystery destination, an out-of-the-way and difficult to find place, the holy grail of that region. Whether it is the mythical Backwaters of Kerala, India, or the elusive border-crossing out of Palin, Cambodia, no trip is complete without a destination that is difficult, if not impossible, to find.

Zagori, that is where we wanted to go. But the buses, well, the buses that go there leave from Ioannina, maybe, shrug-shrug. Remember that guy, the Greek bus guy? So it was take a chance that afternoon, or leave early the next morning. Having already spent some time in Ioannina, we did not feel like being stuck there overnight. So why not a new town, aye? Why not a cute little port town?

Goofy Self-Portrait in Foil

So, here is where the honest disclaimer comes into play: You do not need to spend the night in Igoumenitsa. Sorry, but that's the way it is. True, the old center of town is charming. One can walk it in an hour. There are a great variety of cafés, which the residents fill on a nightly basis, or so it seems. Dinner and drinks by the water? No problem. On the plus side, lovely cafés. But then there is the other nightly show.

The other entertainment in town is the nightly ferry show, which we did not know about. We watched the show from our balcony. The ferry show begins in the evening, with hundreds of lorries stacking up at the south end of town. Mixed in with the queues of trucks, there are travelers hauling caravans, motorcyclists, bicyclists, cars with kayaks, you name it. Some sort of mysterious signal is given, which I missed, and then the games begin. Shouting cops, arm-waving ferry workers, pleading drivers, contrary queues, and everyone working at cross-purposes. It is a wildly chaotic, slow-moving train wreck. This went on for hours, just across the street from our balcony. For better or worse, I had a ring-side seat for the show, which runs well into the night. Remember the basic essentials that are always in your traveler kit? This is when the earplugs come in handy. 

A funny little town with a split-personality. In the morning we were on our way, the long stretch of the ferry complex quiet in the sunshine. Today was the day: we would find the mystery bus for Zagori. Failing that, our backup plan was to hitchhike, rent a car, or steal a mule, whatever. But that is the stuff of tomorrow.

Remember to travel often, travel well, and Ciao for Now!

Marco Etheridge is the author of two published novels, The Best Dark Rain, and Blood Rust Chains.

His third novel, a romantic thriller set in Vienna and other exotic locales, is pending publication. For more on Marco's work, go to his website at:

Marco Etheridge Fiction

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Northwest Greek Odyssey - Korfu Two

Korfu Fauna

Time has passed, and I have been waylaid by the perils of attempting to publish the newest novel. Apologies all around. It is a case of life on life's terms. But regardless, i cannot leave us stranded in Korfu, as much as that is a pleasant thought. So, through the miracle of blog time travel, we find ourselves still on the Greek island of Korfu.

We boarded the bus for Kavos, with the intent of hiking on the southern tip of Korfu. Kavos is the last stop on the Green Line, the bus that serves most of the island. Kavos is also party-central for the mainly young, mostly British folks who holiday here. 

Stepping off the bus was like stepping onto one of the party streets on Koh Lanta, or Phuket, in Thailand, except the signs were in English. Open-air bars lined the streets, shuttered and quiet against the late morning. Rental scooters and quads motored about, bearing dread-locked folks looking worse for the wear. There was no doubt, this was party town.

After a quick coffee, we turned our backs to the strip and walked out of town under the heat of a brilliant sun. We were heading for the trails on the southern tip of the island, a few kilometers past Kavos.

Fierce Flyer

At the start, the hiking proved to be more of a game of dodge-the-quad. We were walking a narrow, rocky road, climbing the hills outside of town. Every few minutes, a rental quad sped past, heading for the secret beach. We knew the beach was secret because a very large sign, complete with arrow, proclaimed it to be so. I suppose the word has gotten out. We found a quieter trail an turned away. Once again, stepping off the beaten (and dusty) path brought the reward of a return to the quiet Greek countryside. We climbed through olive groves, glad for the shade and peace.

Korfu is a strange place. At first glance, it is a tourist enclave, an island overrun with folks seeking beach time and sunshine, sunsets and late-night cocktails. But wander up onto the rugged spine of the island, or the quieter west side, and Korfu is an island of rugged scenery and quiet villages. The southern town of Lefkimi, the ferry port for point south, offers a refuge from the bustle of Korfu town. To venture off the beaten path in Korfu requires only a small effort, and offers profound rewards.

Shining Eyes

Reaping the rewards of the path less traveled, we climbed about on the hills that make up the southern tip of the island. The trail dipped down into a large open bowl of land. Nestled between the hills was a lovely little lake. Alarmed at our approach, frogs shot from the grassy banks, plopping into the water. Fish meandered through the shallows, and turtles surfaced and dove. A bright magenta damselfly decided to ham it up for me, striking a brilliant pose.

Korfu Idyll

Sweating through our clothes, we whiled away the afternoon until it was time to catch the bus back up the coast. There was grilled octopus for dinner, and cigars on our perfect balcony. We watched the planes descending to the Corfu Town airport, bringing in the next loads of tourists. On the morrow we would be taking the ferry back to the Greek Mainland.

Ferry and the Albanian Hills

It was another hot day in Corfu Town. The piles of rubbish were still stacked around every dumpster. We retraced our steps from San Marcos square to the New Port, there to await our ferry to Igoumenitsa. The sun was shining on the water as the fortifications of the old city slid away. The brown hills of the Albanian coast stood sentinel against the blue sky and the still bluer sea. I think I could ride the ferry back and forth, back and forth, and be happy. I do so love to travel by boat; the slow, stately progress, the thrumming of the engines, the sea birds diving across the wake.

Igoumenitsa at the Gloaming

 

Uncertainty about the possibility of ongoing buses left us in Igoumenitsa for the night, with hopes of a journey into the mountains the following day. We would travel back to Ioannina and attempt to catch the mysterious bus up into the small villages of Zagori. All that I could learn of the bus schedule to these remote villages was culled from reports on the internet. At the bus station, the man behind the glass sold us tickets to Ioannina, but could tell us nothing of any way to get north from there. It was the usual shrug-shrug, lift-of-the-hands: "A bus, yes, we have heard of such an invention. Possibly one goes to Zagori, but, shrug-shrug, I have no knowledge of such a thing."

Such is the way of it, venturing off the main routes. I don't believe the man-behind-the-glass meant to be unhelpful, though it certainly felt that way. The local folks we met were, as a rule, extremely friendly and helpful. It was not unlike India, where the the folks least likely to be friendly or helpful were, for the most part, wearing uniforms, and sitting at a counter behind a glass partition. So it goes.

So it was a hot and sweaty walk to find digs for the night, a cool shower to wash the day away, and a sunset evening in which to explore this small port town. But that is the stuff of the next post.

From the west coast of Greece, be kind, travel well, travel often, and Ciao for Now!

Marco

Marco Etheridge is the author of two published novels, The Best Dark Rain, and Blood Rust Chains.

His third novel, a romantic thriller set in Vienna and other exotic locales, is pending publication. For more on Marco's work, go to his website at:

Marco Etheridge Fiction

Northwest Greek Odyssey - Korfu

Igoumenitsa and Ferry

We left Ioannina via bus, dropping down steadily from the highlands to the coast of the Adriatic Sea. Stopping in the busy little port town of Igoumenitsa, we boarded a ferry for Korfu. Or Corfu. Or...

The day was hot, the sun bright, a perfect day for a ferry ride. The boat slid out of the port, passing rocky, sun-drenched shores. As we moved into the open water beyond the harbor, the rugged mountains of Albania came into view to starboard. Dead ahead lay the island of Korfu, its undulating spine a dusky green against the vivid blue of the sea. I do love traveling by boat.

Κέρκυρα, Kérkyra, Korfu, Corfu: Take your pick

Korfu is a place from ancient history, from the Peloponnesian Wars, a great naval power along with Athens and Corinth. There were pirates, Ottomans, Venetians, battles upon battles. The British took control following the Napoleonic Wars, finally ceding the place to what would become modern Greece. 

Today, Corfu (Korfu for us folks from a German-speaking region) is one of the busiest tourist destinations in the Greek Islands. It is one of the closest islands to Europe, and is served by direct flights from European mainland, as well as the UK. Even in the shoulder season, Korfu is chock-full of tourists intent on getting in a lot of sun, and a lot of partying.

The ferries dock at the New Port, just outside the fortified Old City. Corfu Town was once one of the most fortified places in the Mediterranean, a testament to its violent past. Our digs were further down the coast, on the east side of the island. To get there, we had to walk through town to the San Marcos square, then catch a city bus down the coast.

Korfu Rubbish Piles - Politics meets Landfill

The first mystery of Corfu presented itself immediately. There were piles of rubbish everywhere. Every dumpster was accompanied by a huge pile rubbish, bags and boxes of it. Were the garbage collectors on strike? The scene repeated itself down the coast, with roadside dumpsters almost invisible under a small mountains of trash. 

The key to the mystery lies in the political upheaval in Greece. The short answer to the trash piles is that the landfill on Kérkyra is full, plain and simple. The rest of the answer is a bit more complicated. The EU, trying to help out the struggling government, made a grant of Euros to build a proper new landfill. The Corfu folks will tell you, if you ask, that the local government then pocketed the money. Instead of building an approved landfill, they tried to open an unapproved landfill down south near Kavos, the main area for the British party crowd. There were protests, police in riot gear, and damaging headlines in the UK papers. As it stands, the piles of trash remain uncollected.

The subject of pirates has come up more than once in our travels. There is a new 'special' tax on tourist accommodations, fifty cents (Euro) per night, per person. Our hosts generally apologized for this, explaining that they were forced to collect the fee, and that they believed the money went straight into the pockets of the officials collecting it. I do not know the truth of any of this, except that we had to pay the tax. For the locals, times are hard here in Greece. The economic struggles of the Greek nation are well-documented by many sources far more knowledgeable than I. For my part, what I heard were tales of low wages, high prices, and rising taxes to cover the national debt and the flight of capital out of the country.

Benitses, Korfu - The Strip

The coast of Korfu is dotted with resort towns at regular intervals. Wherever there is a bit of level ground, or a bit of beach, there is a resort. Where the level bits are bigger, there are resort towns. Our spot was Benitses, a smallish town about forty minutes by bus from Corfu Town. Only venture a little way inland, however, and one will find a very different island.

Corfu is a bit schizophrenic, at least to my eyes. There is the coast, and then there is everything else. Running up and down the rugged spine of Corfu is the Corfu Trail. Winding back and forth through quiet villages and forested hillsides, the Corfu Trail is 220 kilometers long. While there a certainly hikers that come here to walk the trail, I would say the vast majority of tourists do not know the trail exists. 

The Other Korfu

Our evening was spent along the busy beach strip, eating grilled octopus and watching the party folks gear up for another night of revelry. Before they could get into full swing, we were back at our digs, enjoying the warm night from the privacy of our balcony. 

The next day found us following a hand-drawn map, supplied by our host, which purported to lead us up the rough hillsides to the spine of the island, and the Corfu Trail. After just a few hundred meters, the bustle of the coastal strip fell away. We climbed in the hot sun, under wild olives and junipers. As if with a wave of a magic wand, we were suddenly back in Greece proper.

Village Church, Corfu Trail

The map proved true, leading us to trail signs that pointed up, always up. We climbed away, the blue Adriatic shimmering below us. The steep, green ridges climbed above us. Lizards skittered across the trail, song birds flitted through the shadows, and the climb continued.

Hot and sweaty, we broke out onto the top of the main ridge and into a quiet sun-drenched village. We were now on the Corfu Trail itself, welcomed by the village cats.

Village Traffic Jam

Voices and laughter led us to a café, which we were happy to take advantage of. Thick Greek coffee, a shady table, all on a quiet village lane. What else does a wanderer need? We chatted with the locals, rested our tired dogs, and let the world take care of itself for a bit. Our travels across Greece had become a hiking journey. My Heart and I are both serious walkers, but we had not specifically planned this trip to be a hiking sojourn. Yet this is what it seems to have become, and we are not sorry for it.

Rock Walls, Stone House

Leaving our café behind, we wandered south, following the road which makes up this part of the trail. It is the sort of road that can be walked two abreast without fear of traffic. There simply isn't any. Our way led past stone houses, some still in use, some crumbing to rubble, some a combination of the two.

The Trail Back

We walked as far as our legs would take us, letting the sun bake into us. With the advantage of the trail signs, we were able to find a new route back down the ridges to the coast. What can I tell you about hiking on a beautiful, hot day? There were rocky viewpoints, the welcome shadows of wild olives, the stony trail beneath our feet. It was altogether wonderful, and more so that we could hike directly out of town without resorting to any transport other than muscle power.

Classy Souvenirs

The souvenir shops and bars were right where we had left them, enticing the tourists out of their Euros. For today, it was Corfu Trail: 1, Beach: 0.