Day 85, Saturday 19 July - Sutivan, Brac Island, Croatia

Keeping up to date with my journey
Aside from the recent episode of Doctor Huw & The Daleks (see below) the mediterr annee blog has been a little quiet this past month. As this magnificent journey progresses, it seems the  Facebook page has seen the regular action so keep an eye here (you don't have to join Facebook to view this page). Nothing other than the book will of course tell the full story! Indeed in past weeks I have thought how best to juggle both blog and Facebook and have come to conclusion that with limited time, internet and a lot to say, I will focus on the Facebook posts from now on. These seem the easiest for people to access/be notified of and are an easier way for me, often by smartphone to tell stories short and long. So I encourage all of you following my journey around the Mediterranean to regularly check in with the Facebook page whether you are members of Facebook or not.

Day 84, Friday 18 July - Sutivan, Brac Island, Croatia

Never too much of Brac.......

That's what the T shirt says and for those who are checking my progress here but are not viewing the mediterr annee Facebook page will note I have not moved in the past 10 days. I have spoken little about the discomforts and challenges of paddling day in day out for 8-10 hrs a day. The rashes and wrenches, the effects of salt and sun, pushing on when you want to laze on the beach.

It was not my plan to visit the city of Split on the mainland and if I should then not to spend time in a little loved attraction; Split Hospital. A little pain on the left knee started 12 days ago, like a insect bite gone septic. But there was nothing there on the surface. Then some 10 days ago the knee ballooned and I could hardly walk that morning. I set off paddling to the nearby gorgeous village of Sutivan. No doctor there, only back 10km in Supetar. I don't like 'back'. Bugger it, it will be ok. I got ready to paddle over to small Solta island. Then Ivo walked past, enquired about the journey and I'm suddenly in a car to the doc in Supetar with this great guy who runs an outdoor adventure business on Brac with his wife, the lovely Eti. Doc is worried about thrombosis (all that sitting!) and sends me across the water to Split. After all manner of tests and scans, 6 hrs later no thrombosis (Yay and Double Yay!!) but an inflamed bursa and instructions to rest, ice and antibiotics.

So, after not stopping for more than a day at a time in the past 80 days, I've now been here in Sutivan some 10 days. The knee is improving, but slowly and I don't want to set off only for it to flare up again. The great thing is that not only am I in a wonderful place but Wendy, my wife, has joined me here. The first time we've seen each other since I left Australia 4 months ago. We did plan to meet in Slovenia, at the end of this magical paddle section and before the next stage; 3 months trekking through the Alps. But Wendy arrived in Italy and within days was en route to Croatia. Every cloud.......

There is a long way to go on this journey and fair winds have been with me in spades since I left Turkey. Rough weather is to be expected too.

Day 67, Tuesday 1 July - NEW RELEASE: Dr Huw & The Daleks - The Albania Episode

Dr Huw and his ever faithful companion Miss Grape entered Albanian waters and within minutes the Daleks were upon them; sneering from their rocky pedestals ashore. There was much work to be done in the fight of good against evil for sure.

The battle raged the length of Albania. Miss Grape was fired upon from the heights of Mt Gjivashit. She entered huge caves to chase out Sextopuses and other forces of evil.

Then eventually, near Cape Rodonit, the good doctor used his superhuwman powers to inflict mortal wounds on the last of the Daleks. Invoking the power of global warming to raise the level of the Mediterranean Sea, the Daleks were drowned en masse.

The final 3, the most powerful of all the Daleks, Samson like strength afforded by their hair, were chased by the speeding Miss Grape and  now lie broken and balding.

The good people of Albania can now get on with their lives, safe in the knowledge 50 years of darkness is done. The bunkers that once stored munitions now keep the beer cool, others are kitchens for the cooking of fish pulled from the now safe waters.

Children can safely dive in front of subterranean harbours which once harboured monsters from the deep.

New bunkers rise from the sea in a wave of welcome to the world. The people of Albania are free; free at last.

And Dr Huw can now relax until his next mission........

Day 53, Tuesday 17 June - Igoumenitsa - The last weeks in Greece

In the Corinth Canal (Thanks to Jose from Spain for the Pic!)

After some 1600km I'm here in Igoumenitsa, happy to be staying at the Jolly Hotel. My favourite pub name in all of Britain has to be The Jolly Taxpayer in Portsmouth and, as the 13-14 Tax Year in Australia draws to a close at the end of this month, so does my time in Greece. From my balcony I can see the mountains of Albania and, weather permitting, I plan to be under them tomorrow. There is no doubt that Greece has been a very generous and beautiful host this past 7 weeks or so and there are feelings of both melancholy and excitement as I move on to the Balkan nations, 5 countries in the final month or so of this kayaking stage of mediterr année.

(By the way Croatia is still for sale for Save the Children, the only Balkan country left. I'd LOVE to see it bought before I get there in early July. Check here for details. While Croatia are trying to score some goals in the World Cup why not get a team together and score a BIG goal for Save the Children's work with children affected by war and conflict? Continuing the Tax theme, all donations are tax deductible!)

Albania has me intrigued. The first country bought for Save the Children (thanks Prosser family!), the first alphabetically of the 20 I plan to travel through. Albania was ruled by the self proclaimed King Zog up until the outbreak of World War 2. Zog sounds more like a piece of IKEA furniture than such royalty. I've often thought that one of the best jobs in the world must be a position on the IKEA naming panel. I imagine, in the 6 month darkness of an Arctic winter, they retreat to a cabin complete with a crate or two of vodka. There, as the snow falls and the shots are drunk, the suggestions ring out in the cold air: 'Blat!'perfect for a bookcase perhaps? 'Leftos!' for that comfy sofa?

Then for over 40 years up until 1992, communist Albania closed its borders and, ruled with an iron fist by Enver Hoxha, slowly retreated from the world, alienating firstly its Russian allies then its Chinese friends. The country neither welcomed nor sought contact with the outside world. 700,000 concrete bunkers were built - one for every 4 people. Now the country is open again, visitors are welcome and the economy finding its way on the international stage after some desperate teething troubles. Many Greeks warn me to 'be careful and travel quickly' but those travellers I have met who have been there say it is a fine and hospitable country. Understandably the Greeks may have some residual mistrust of their once out of reach neighbour. The next 10 days or so will tell.

A Canal so deep
Stavros, from Cannibal Kayaks House, a magnificent host in Athens, farewelled me from Perama on 3 June. I was not game to cross the shipping lanes of Piraeus, one of the busiest ports in the world. It was bad enough dodging freighters amidst the smell of fuel refineries heading away from Athens. As darkness fell I landed at Pichi and went in search of a hotel. This small town had bars aplenty but hotels none. I couldn't believe it when, unknowingly paraphrasing from Little Britain, one bar owner told me 'This is a local town for local people'. I pitched camp amidst the tables of a harbourside taverna as the rain bucketed down.

On a grey old day I battled wind to get to the Corinth Canal in time to go through. For thousands of years boats were hauled across the 6km Isthmus of Corinth on logs, to save the time and treacherous journey around the Peloponesse. For thousands of years thoughts had turned to building a canal. Indeed Roman Emperor Nero had one started, turning the first sod himself with a shovel made from gold. But it was French and Greek companies who finally completed this magnificent engineering feat in 1893. 25m wide and with 76m high walls, What a privilege; to pass through the Canal, in a kayak, alone. Incredible! Thanks to the Corinth Canal Company for facilitating the passage and my apologies for holding up the waiting shipping taking too many pics! And to look up at one of the high bridges and see a massive Aussie flag and a Boxing Kangaroo flag hanging down. Thanks to Olga Tzimos-Zarris, secretary of The Greek-Australian Society!

A Bridge too Far
Olga and Antonis hosted me at their house near Kiato, the start point for my 100km Gulf of Corinth marathon paddle attempt on 6 June to the Rio-Antirrio Bridge. 100km to finish my Marathon Week and to raise more money for Save the Children. In truth I was so tired before I got on the water. A week of late nights, often 1am, and paddle days was not ideal prep and indeed just getting to Kiato the day before was a haul into strong headwinds. Olga took me around to meet the mayor, the sailing club but I could have happily had a proper siesta.........

Tired before it even began

Started well enough......

The forecast seemed OK........at 5am Olga waved me off. Paddling into the dawn and onto a caffeine break after 3 hours, all was good. Then it began, the NW wind when I wanted to travel NW. And apart from one or two short breaks in the wind to encourage me on, there it stayed. I plugged on (as those who followed on the Facebook page saw) but it became increasingly obvious I was not going to make it and I was not prepared for night time paddling. At one point I nodded off; at another I decided to call it a day after 70km or so of my own Battle of Marathon. You can't win them all. It was of course flat calm the next day!

After resting up in a hotel run by George, an unctuous sort of bloke, I plodded on down the Gulf, at one point landing to watch and be hammered as a massive storm cell turned the sea wild within a minute and bucketing rain soaked me with nowhere to shelter. It is these sort of storms to watch when doing open crossings.

I planned to camp at Nafpaktos but George Kaltsis would have none of it and had arranged a hotel, the best in town for me, before taking me out for dinner (at midnight!). George, who I'd met at the Surfers4Life festival was a local lad, 28, who was one of Greece's leading whitewater kayakers. He recounted to me how he'd missed out on selection for the Beijing Olympics because the Greek Canoeing Federation (!) had told him he only needed to attend one selection race of 2 in either Slovenia or Brazil. He obviously chose Slovenia for convenience and cost reasons. Then, just after the Brazilian event, the Federation told him the IOC had now told them he should have gone to both! George had an endearing way of using the word 'stupid' to describe everything from the Federation, to food, mountains or people!

the Bridge too Far is reached.....Finally

The following day, after 43 days of solo paddling, I had company. I had another kayak to photograph instead of the bow on mine! We paddled under the Rio-Antirrio Bridge. If the Corinth Canal was impressive in 1893 then this huge 3km long suspension bridge at the western end of the Gulf was so in 2004 when it opened. But still the ferries ply back and for between Rio and Antirrio. The bridge owners must rue the fact that the ferries guarantee to charge no more than 50% of the bridge toll, currently 13 Euros!

The Ionian.....heading north, snake country?
George, having seen some of his backyard for the first time, left me at Messologi, the start of the delta for Greece's longest river, the Acheloos. From a kayak you often see things that turn out to not be what you saw. Large castles turn out to be little sheds when you get close, rocks tumbling down a hillside turn out to be a village. This is amplified in flat delta country. At one point I saw a couple on a beach, fishing I thought. Then as I got closer one sat on the other. Nothing too unusual in that; as I've gone along the coast I have passed quiet beaches with lovers in embrace and more, averting my gaze and gliding slowly past. As I glided past this couple, the man was sat on a chair.......

In the Ionian

I was in the Ionian Sea, I was heading north, my direction all the way to Slovenia. The prevailing summer winds are northerlies.......wish me luck!. The delta became cliffs and islands; all great paddling. And suddenly yachts were around. I'd seen but a handful to date but now they'd come out to play.

The engine woke me up on my island camp. It was 11-30pm. The small boat came closer. The engine cut and he drifted into the shallow bay, bumping up onto some rocks a few metres from shore. I climbed out of the tent, he shone phone light my way, I shone my headtorch his. He couldn't understand a word I said, I not one of his. He beckoned me to get into his boat. I shone the light on my kayak, my tent and indicated I was going nowhere. Then he started using his arm in a snaking motion and hissing, using his hand to 'bite' his other arm. He kept repeating this.He kept beckoning. In the end he gave up, shrugged his shoulders, said 'OK', pushed off from the rocks, started the engine and disappeared back into the night. For all I could work out he was warning me of snakes on the island. Warning an Australian, home to 8 of the top 10 most venomous in the world, about Greece's only poisonous snake, the viper, to move camp? Still I could not be 100% certain and slept fittingly that night.

Conditions yachties hate!

Temperatures were rising into the 30's across often mirror calm seas which pleased me but not the yachties. The sea sparkled against a backdrop of grey, rocky mountains. In my Corinth Canal excitement I forgot that Greece had one more canal for me. The Lefkas Canal separating the island of Lefkada from the mainland. Cut through swamp country it might have been as long as the Corinth but there was nothing spectacular about it. I briefly touched the left bank of the canal, remembering Wendy and my first holiday together in 1998 on Lefkada, my last visit to Greece.

Birthday coffee on Birthday Beach

50 Days and 50 Years
3 days ago I pulled into a rocky cove of cliffs and caves on a truly spectacular bit of coast. A yacht was moored off a sandy beach that seemed perfect for the last night in my 50th year and to wake for my birthday on the 50th day out of Gallipoli. It was a good spot to be, reminiscent of the beach in NW Australia's Kimberley where Wayne and I celebrated my 40th birthday in 2003, as we paddled that remote and gorgeous coast. Greece put on a great bit of coast for the following day. It was a quiet day and I felt a bit melancholic. Missing Wendy and family but also realising that my time in Greece was coming to an end and also perhaps that with summer arriving, holidaymakers are starting to take over 'my' Med.

But I don't think they will have taken over Albania..........time to get going and get there!

PS There are only 3 countries in the world that start with A but don't finish with A....Can you name them?

Day 39, Tuesday 3 June - Athens - It's Marathon Week!

Start Point.....Finish Point

Ah Athens....the last time I was here I was an impoverished 19 year old school leaver. With the last few pounds in my pocket I found a 3 day bus back to UK. We started with 2 drivers but one was arrested at the (then) Yugoslavian border for smuggling coffee. I was sat next to a nun who would not allow me to open the window for 3 days. When we arrived in Belgium on the 3rd day, our remaining driver, deserving I guess of some additional reward, took the coach on a tour of the back streets of Brussels and pulled up outside a row of windows with women sitting in them. One of the women left her perch as the driver went inside. We remained transfixed and unbelieving on the bus (The look on the nun's face remains with me to this day!). 20 minutes later the driver came out, all smiles, and we continued to Ostende to catch the ferry to England.

Anyway such digressions from the business of the week. It is Marathon week as many of you know.

Andreas - Bouzouki player, postman and football coach

Last Friday was paddling down the coast and pulled into tiny Sesi for a quick stretch. Then the sounds of a Bouzouki floated down from the taverna.......

Andreas, Costas, Georgious and more instructed me to join them for a late lunch. A quick stretch turned into a long, long one. Well Sesi was as good a place as any to start walking. That night strolled into the darkness to Grammatiko and slept in the house of Costas, the taverna owner. Then Saturday morning I left and walked the 7km to Marathonas, to breakfast with Andreas and his family. Andreas; bouzouki player, Marathonas postman and coach of the Marathon Fighters soccer team, took me to the start line for the classic 42km marathon route to Athens.

The crowd roared at the start in Marathonas. 42km to go

9am, the crowd roared, the gun went off and I was away. It started well enough but a third of the way in, my training programme of sitting down in a kayak for 35 days not using my legs, was starting to pay off (or was it payback?). My quads started to pain me, initially just twinges. But by the halfway mark, they were bloody sore! Rain began to fall on a day when I hoped to stay dry after all the time in the kayak, in the water. Luckily it didn't last.

41km to go

Race Marshall holds me up

The route of the marathon is not quite what it was when Phidippides ran it in 490C. For those familiar with Sydney roads, I'd liken it to spending a day walking down a combination of Parramatta Road and the M5. I took my chances on the road itself a few times, but was usually scared back onto the verge and the bushes by close calls with cars.

Pain grew as kilometres passed ever slower. Would I break 10 hours? At one point I was thinking how much of a beer desert Greece was - not a lot of choice - and pondered whether there was any move to boutique beer brewing. As I did, on the other side of the 6 lanes, I spied The Beer Corner. But it was too far for me to visit! 30km in, a tortoise passed me on the trail.

Overtaken by tortoise and not moving much faster than hubcap

The closer I got to Athens, the blue line, painted for the 2004 Athens Olympics, faded further, a function of more and more tyres screeching across it. The legs felt dead (how will I be for the first days in the Alps trekking traverse!) and I even started looking for the laybacks on the pavement to avoid stepping up 20cm onto a kerb.

A defiant finisher outside the fence at the Panathenaic Stadium

Then I looked to my left just before 7pm and there was the Panathenaic Stadium, the home of the first modern Olympic Games in 1896 and the finish for the Marathon that year and again in 2004. But the crowds had left but for a few milling around inside. 'Can I go in?' I asked an attendant taking down some barriers. 'We are just now closed' he replied. So with 300 metres to go, around the track, I'm stymied but I'm done. Pleasingly though, the IOC have subsequently confirmed my time of 9:49:15 is a new Olympic Record for a Welsh Australian Kayaker aged 50!

From Famine to Feast

My first kayak race in Greece

Legends Stavros and Dimitris (plus some no hoper)

Stavros Georgarakis, legend and founder of Cannibals Kayak House (a brilliant kayak shop in Athens) picked me up and 2 hours later we were back at Sesi collecting Miss Grape. Thence to Schinias in readiness for Sunday's kayak/run/bike festival run by Surfers4Life, a brilliant organization supporting young cancer sufferers. I was a guest at the festival; handing out a few trophies, talking about my journey, about my own efforts to rauise money to help children. Andreas turned up with the President of the Marathonas Football Club to present me with a jersey too. A really great day with a magical vibe. Having seen no kayaks since I left Turkey, that day I was amongt a large chunk of the Greek kayak community. A fun 3km race saw sit on tops, sea kayaks, surf skis and whitewater boats getting soaked as a thunderstorm hammered rain down. Fun times!

2/3 of the total number of Tiderace Pace 17 Tour kayaks in Greece (plus some plastic thing!)

Aussie, Aussie Aussie!! - No more under a Flag of Convenience
Many of you will know that I have been flying a New Zealand flag since Gallipoli. Here, back in Athens, a huge shipping conference is taking place this week. It only seemed apt that now was the time to move away from my 'flag of covenience' and return to the Australian fleet. So a visit to the Australian Embassy was arranged and a very nice little presentation from the Australian Ambassador, saw me leave with an Aussie flag. Ok, it's a bit smaller than the Kiwi one........
I celebrated last night at Dimitris house, another kayak legend here, making a Greek salad, my 'signature dish'!

There was some talk about taking the bigger one behind....

To the Canal....To the next Marathon - 100km paddle in one day!

Late today I get back on the water. Tomorrow I hope to pass through the Corinth Canal and thence to Kiato where Olga, Secretary of the Pan Hellenic Greek Australian Society, is helping rally the locals and helping with.......the big paddle on Friday 6 June.

BUT I need more pledges to get me to the Start line. I'm well short of my target of $2000 just to start (see details below). So come on people....give me the incentive I need. Over 1300 people read the last Blog post about my 100km plan. If you all just gave $2/1 Euro I'd be there!!

Big thanks to those who have made pledges so far!

How you can Help....
I'm not doing this cos I need the challenge. I'm doing it to raise money for Save the Children. With this in mind I'm asking you to join my challenge and pledge to donate an amount if I complete the mediterr année Marathon. If I don't succeed you don't pay. I need to know there is at least $2000 (1300 Euros) pledged to ensure I start (but I hope to raise a lot more than that). You can make your pledge either by sending an email to info@mediterrannee.com.au or stating your pledge on the Facebook item about this.

If I'm successful then you can go to the mediterr année Save the Children donation page here . To all my Greek and European friends you can use any valid Visa/Mastercard here. There will be a small conversion fee from Australian dollars on your bill. If for any reason you are not happy with doing that then we can find an alternative so don't be afraid to pledge your Euros/Pounds etc!

Remember 100% of your donation goes straight to Save the Children for the superb work they are doing with children affected by war and conflict in Syria and elsewhere.

Finally, for now, for those following me on the Spot Tracker to see where I reach each day, we've changed to a new website to show the map. On this it shows from Day 1 not just the last 7 days. The new link is http://huwkingston.followmyspot.com/mediterr-annee

Thanks for your support!

A Marathon in the home of The Marathon.......Paddling 100km in one day!

Have I done enough training in 35 days for a Marathon paddle?

It's day 35, 30 May and I can almost smell the Athens pollution. As the crow flies from where I am now it is probably some 60km to the Acropolis (or an hour to drive and and hour to find somewhere to park as someone told me today).

I really don't need another challenge but there are too many connections........

Over the past week I've been concocting a plan, there being a fair bit of time to think when paddling for 8 hours or so each day. In 490BC the vastly outnumbered Greek army defeated the mighty Persian army in the Battle of Marathon, thus saving Athens from capture. Legend has it that a runner was despatched the 42km to Athens to announce the victory. And thus the Marathon was born.

Surely, while I am in Greece, I should respect the tradition and undertake a marathon paddle to raise funds for Save the Children. But what is a marathon paddle? The classic Marathon distance of 42km is about my average day so that's out. 100 is always such a lovely round number AND mediterr année is commemorating the Anzac Centenary so 100 works well. It's also twice my age!

So one night I looked at the map.......

After I go through the Corinth Canal I paddle out into the Gulf of Corinth. A quick measure with my thumb in the tent that night showed it was around 100km. A more detailed measure by those with more technological grasp than I confirmed that from Kiato, near Corinth to the bridge across the far western end of the Gulf near Patras makes a nice fat 100km!

So ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls; with your help, next Friday 6 June (the 42nd day since I left Gallipoli....another connection), assuming no major hiccoughs with my planned schedule, I will attempt to paddle 100km in one day. Let there be no doubt this is a major challenge for me. The one and only time I paddled that distance was the Hawkesbury Classic Canoe Race in 2001. I was young and foolish then....

You will be able to follow my progress on Follow My Spot here. Ordinarily I only turn this on once a day to log my camp position but for this Marathon I will post the position hourly.

How you can Help....Please!
I'm not doing this cos I need the challenge. I'm doing it to raise money for Save the Children. With this in mind I'm asking you to join my challenge and pledge to donate an amount if I complete the mediterr année Marathon. If I don't succeed you don't pay. I need to know there is at least $2000 (1300 Euros) pledged to ensure I start (but I hope to raise a lot more than that). You can make your pledge either by sending an email to info@mediterrannee.com.au or stating your pledge on the Facebook item about this.

If I'm successful then you can go to the mediterr année Save the Children donation page here . To all my Greek and European friends you can use any valid Visa/Mastercard here. There will be a small conversion fee from Australian dollars on your bill. If for any reason you are not happy with doing that then we can find an alternative so don't be afraid to pledge your Euros/Pounds etc!

Remember 100% of your donation goes straight to Save the Children for the superb work they are doing with children affected by war and conflict in Syria and elsewhere.

The Australian Embassy have offered to help spread the word to their contacts in Greece including the Australian community. I'd love to engage as many locals in Greece as possible so to all those I've met who are now following mediterr année on Facebook etc do share this around and encourage your friends/family etc to get involved.

And some Logistics help too......
Also to all my Greek friends or others in Greece reading this. I'd love to have one or two people in support for the Marathon attempt. Taking photos, posting on Facebook and carrying all my luggage so I don't need to carry an extra 30kg of weight in the boat. So if you're free on 5-6 June, have a car and are able to help let me know. You get to share hopefully a great day, a celebration meal/drinks at the end and helping a great cause! Masseurs welcome - I'll need one at the end!
Drop me an email huw@mediterrannee.com.au or call me on my Greek mobile 6945917635

So Pledge Away People either by sending an email to info@mediterrannee.com.au or stating your pledge on the Facebook item about this.

The Greeks won the war in 490BC. I hope Save the Children win this one. 

After announcing 'We Won!' to the Athenians, the runner promptly collapsed and never recovered. I'm planning on perhaps the collapse part after but a quick recovery!

And there's More.......connections
I realised after I had the idea of the Marathon paddle, that I was going to pass close to the town of Marathon. So today I've decided to pay homage to that site and then walk the classic 42km Marathon course to the centre of Athens. (No I won't be running it - I gave up running 20+ years ago and, not having walked much further than up and down a beach this past month it's going to hurt enough as it is!)

So later today,F riday, I will leave Miss Grape at Shinlas, the location of the Canoe/Kayak/Rowing events in 2004 Olympics , walk the 10km or so to Marathon and then Saturday walk the 42km to Athens. Once in Athens I will be driven back to Shinlas by the organizers of the SurfersforLife Wellness Festival (bike, kayak, run) for Sunday to talk to the participants, hand out  the medals etc etc.

Everything falls into place. Not only do I get to exercise my legs but I get to miss some very strong headwinds (Force 6-7) over the next few days!

Thanks for getting involved. Thanks in advance for getting me to the start line of the inaugural mediterrannée Marathon!!

Hopefully Miss Grape, the Pace 17 Tour kayak will speed away with me in it on 6 June!

Day 29 - 24 May, Katigeorgis - Pelion Peninsula

Another rotten camp on another rotten beach.......

 4 weeks now along this watery highway where I can wander at will and overtake nothing but the land (generally) on my right hand side and where rest areas are plentiful if I dare take them (always aware that a simple stop to stretch the legs can become a 2 hour lunch......).

I'm resting up for the day at a tiny little harbour called Katigeorgis near the end of the Pelion Peninsula. I say 'resting' but truly the most stressful part of the journey so far is chasing power to charge devices and download images. Rest days involve as much sitting (in front of a laptop) as I do in the kayak. Something that worries me as I watch my legs waste away and the Alps trekking traverse gets closer.....
At least the room tonight is mosquito free. The last time I took a room; by morning the walls were smeared in blood and the floor littered with carcasses. I was still alive but who had won the battle?

Mikalos, a shack dweller living on a beach back on Sinthonia, amidst a clutter of nets, cats, welding equipment and beer bottles, could not understand why I did not have a small engine. 'It make it easier for you. You sit and enjoy the scenery, maybe read or write your thoughts as you travel'. He'd obviously never sat in an unstable kayak! But it would be easy to update this blog then eh? (for those looking for more regular snapshots and updates check out the Facebook page )

Lunch beach on the Pelion

The last week has seen a very settled spell of weather, pretty much since I was up near Thessaloniki, either the 2nd largest or 3rd largest Greek city (if you believe the claims of Melbourne to be the former). The last 2 days down the Pelion have featured probably the most impressive section of coast since I left from Turkey. Forest clad mountains, stunning cliff scenery and dozens upon dozens of sea caves; all accessible in the millpond conditions. Yesterday, eventually I had to stop my speleological explorations and push on!

Cave Man

Of Mountains.....
Mount Ossa, Pelion - familiar names in this unfamiliar environment. So those same name mountains, back in Australia, in Tasmania, take their names from these in Greece.
But these mountains crouch respectfully beneath snowcapped Mount Olympus (2911m), the party room of Zeus and his fellow ancient Greek gods and the highest in Greece. Olympus has been my companion for much of the past week in the same way that Athos was the week before. Indeed as one faded into the background the other grew larger each day.

Camp with Mt Olympus in the background

I thought back to early plans for mediterr année before it had that name; 'one year in the Mediterranean'. It started as an idea to kayak all the way around. But I couldn't get excited about sitting on my arse for 15 months or more. So as a means to move away from the coast and use the legs it became that plus climb, from sea level, the highest mountain in each country. But then the journey headed towards 2 years; something neither Wendy nor I were keen on. So now, I stayed at sea level and passed beneath Olympus.

Of Hills......
The wind blew hard against me, waves breaking over Miss Grape. I headed for the shelter of Nea Moudania harbour. I landed on one small beach outside the harbour, absent mindedly hooking myself up in some fishing lines. Pushed off again and headed into the harbour to a small sandy beach. As I pulled the kayak out of the water an old man waved from the only house on the harbour. 'You are from Australia?' (no-one yet has recognised the difference between my NZ flag or the Aussie flag I should be showing!). 86 year old Theo came out of his gate to tell his story. In 1954 he moved to Australia and worked in the Port Kembla steel mill and for the evil (my words not his) Hydro Electric Commission in Tasmania. He fell in love with a Greek girl there and they married in Sydney but she was homesick so in 1959 they returned to Greece, Theo less keen for the return. As we spoke on the beach I glanced over Theo's shoulder, I think I was wondering if I might see his wife. Was she still alive? But what I saw surprised me. There in the yard, full of washing luffing in the sheltered harbour, was a Hills Hoist! One of Australia's proudest inventions and an icon in the mould of Vegemite and Victa lawnmowers. "I brought a few things back with me on the ship in 1959. You see my Hills".

You can view a short video of Theo here

Hills Hoist still doing its job 55 years after leaving Australia

Later, when I returned to the beach to set off, sporting new haircut and beard trimmed, Theo came out again. This time with a selection of photos of 1950's Australia. Of his wedding in Hyde Park in Sydney, at the Three Sisters up in the Blue Mountains, in Hobart and of the 1956 Olympics in Melbourne. Then he pulled out an old map. A map of western Turkey. There he pointed out the names of towns around the Sea of Marmaris (near Istanbul) -Greek names like Moudania, Kallikratia. He explained that was where his family was from, before the forced migration of 1.5 million Greeks (and 500,000 Turks the other way). Many to 'new' towns with the old names like 'Nea' (new) Moudania where I was and Nea Kallikratia which I would later paddle past. Greek history, right up until relatively recently has been a story of changing boundaries and turmoil, of monarchy, republic and coup. Today is election day in Greece.....

I'd raised some emotions for Theo and as I left watery eyes bade me farewell "Ah Australia, Australia...Yiassou, Yiassou."

Route Canal Therapy, Fingers and Rings

Route Canal Therapy No 1

I mentioned in my last blog post about my plan to wheel the kayak across the line of Xerxes Canal as a means of crossing the first of the three 'fingers' of Halkidiki, the Athos peninsula. 

For the second, the Sithonia, I gave it the full finger. And great paddling it was too. On the day I went around the end of the peninsula, it was a little blowy. I pulled in for a short break at Kalimitsi before huge cliffs would offer no respite. That turned into a 2 hour lunch with a Russian Greek and his 2nd wife...... Finally got away and bounced around the end onto the western side, glad to have got around before forecast 40 knot southerlies.  I landed at a caravan park/campsite as the sun set. When I arrived the owners said they would not charge me as I was raising money for charity. I then explained it was for Save the Children. Nicki then exclaimed 'No way!' (or the Greek equivalent) and then proceeded to show me her and her husbands wedding rings. From Bvlgari jewellers with Save the Children engraved on the inside! Bvlgari are a worldwide partner of Save the Children. Of all the camps in all of Greece.......

It was back to route canal therapy for the final finger, the Kassandra. This time a canal with water in it, The Portes Canal, allowed me to paddle across the neck. No bad thing I gather as I'd heard the Kassandra had been wrecked by over development for tourism. I looked west at my first glimpse of Mount Olympus and east for my final views of Mount Athos.

Route Canal Therapy No 2

So I'm heading south toward Athens, perhaps a week away. There's a lot of time to think when I'm paddling (aside from singing hastily made up love songs to Wendy at full volume!) and I'm hatching a little plan. I really don't need more of a challenge but with your help...........More soon!!

Plenty of fishing boats. I have yet to see another kayak

The Winds of Change

Day 16 - 11 May, Nea Roda, Greece

Today I have a cunning plan.......

"We are here to take a painting back to our church in Romania, prepared for us by one of the monasteries of Athos" Sylvia (a man) informed me

I am in Nea Roda, a small village at the neck of the Athos Peninsula, the most easterly of the Halkidiki peninsulas; 3 fingers that reach down into the Aegean Sea. Athos is home not only to the holy mountain of that name that soars over 2000 metres straight from the sea, but upon it reside some 20 monasteries that make up this autonomous region of Greece. Permits are required to visit the peninsula and none are available to women who are absolutely forbidden to enter. Were I to visit it would be a great opportunity to pick up some time; as the monasteries follow the Julian Calendar and I'd step back 13 days, thus immediately putting me almost 2 weeks ahead of schedule (if you get my drift!).

But I prefer the way of the Persian King Xerxes. In 500 BC he had his fleet of invading warships sunk by wild katabatic winds sent down by the gods off Mount Athos. So Xerxes had a canal dug, some 2km in length, across the narrow neck of the Peninsula from present day Nea Roda to Tripiti. Little remains of this incredible engineering feat from 2500 years ago save a few depressions amongst the farmland. But today I will wheel Miss Grape, my own warship, across the peninsula thus saving me over 100km of paddling and also the issue of illegal camping on the Peninsula.

That's what I call a Greek Salad!

So I'm in Greece; for the first time since 1998, a trip notable for Wendy running me over with her hire scooter. Kayaking should be safer! 9 days ago I left Turkey. I met with the coastguard in the border port of Enes. Ramizan, the commanding officer, made a number of phone calls after inspecting my 'craft'. We waited for some return calls. "No problems then?" I enquired. "Yes, there are big problems". My heart sank, as I thought of the alternative - trucking my kayak to the nearest land border crossing 50km away."What is the problem?" I asked. Then Ramizan broke into a broad smile "I joke with you. You are free to go to Greece tomorrow!"

So I arrived in Greece, crossing the watery border at the Evros Delta, clearing immigration at Alexandropoulos. Easy enough once the police accepted that kayaks don't come with shipping registration papers. Greece will be home for the next 6 weeks or so; a time when I'll learn a little more about the economic crisis that engulfed this country. Of reducing salaries and increasing costs. Only last night Evi, the daughter of a taverna owner, told me about her job in a hotel; 7 days a week for 700 euros ($1000) per month. And Constandinos, a Greek coastguard officer, whose salary has gone down by 20% but the repayments on the house he proudly built increase.

Blue skies, turquoise sea

But Greece has been 'bought' for Save the Children and it is fitting that my mum and dad bought the first full mediterr année country I pass through; given of course I passed through mum to first enter this beautiful and fragile planet! (ah memories of Jackie's Pass on Mount Kingston deep in the South Australian desert......)
I'd like to take the opportunity to acknowledge those who have bought a country as I pass through that country with the words they wrote. So to mum and dad first up for Greece:

'Our enormous pride is tinged with concern that you stay safe and healthy in your pursuit of this hugely worthwhile cause. You will be constantly in our thoughts and prayers. 
Mountains of love, Mum and Dad
"They are ill discoverers that think there is no land when they can see nothing but sea". Francis Bacon (1561-1626)

12 out of 20 countries have been 'purchased' now. Israel & the Palestine Territories went the other day (thanks to Liam and the boys of the Club Cyclistico Coglioni (!) in Perth). Perhaps I should say that all but one of my first 6 countries have gone 'under the hammer' - Greece, Albania, Montenegro, Bosnia, Slovenia. Croatia awaits an owner........

Preparing to launch off a rocky beach using beach detritus for boat protection!

Thanks to ALL who have donated so far to Save the Children in whatever way, whether by direct donation. or those taking up their own challenges to raise funds for Save the Children. People like Trent Moore who is attempting to match my 15000km with his own on the bike in the same period, Kate Schnabel who is running 150km per month and Helen Dorsett who has a complicated formula of cycling km that only she understands but that should see a few $1000 to Save the Children! And of course the mediterr année mountain bike team is up and running.
And what about 10 year old Maizy Evans who has galvanised her school in Exeter, Australia to have Save the Children via mediterr année as the fundraiser for the year. Love your work Maizy!

Children Saving Children

Just now I skyped with Anna (9) and Anders (6), 2 of my gorgeous grandkids. Today, on Mothers Day in Australia, they have set up a nail painting salon outside their house in Sydney. Offering $2 for Adults/$1 for Kids; you can get your nails done for Save the Children. $8 in the bank already!

Catching some sun rays at last....

But I am in Greece and now starting to feel the rhythm of the journey. And at last the past 3 days have seen warm sun and sparkling seas from the grey and storms of before. I feel like I am now in the Med! Some beautiful coastline but also some terrible rubbish (more on that another day). The Mediterranean is not yet awake from it's winter slumbers. Occasional Bulgarian babes in bikinis have been spied but most hotels are closed, all beach umbrellas likewise. The fishing boats are out but I have yet to see a yacht or a powerboat. It will be interesting to see the human tide of summer slowly engulf this sea as the months progress.

Munching on a large slab of Halva.......

So I'm in Greece and 1/26 of the year is done. That sounds pretty good and not as daunting as '350 days to go'!

Day 5 - 30 April, Vaylak, Turkey

Lightning forks into the sea, rain buckets down and a Force 6 wind whips up the water. A good time to find my first internet in 5 days and hide in the only bar on this harbour I'm camped at. Although I'm soon to leave Turkey I'm looking forward to being back here as this journey reaches it's end - such fine people!

Vaylak is about 40km from the Greek border. Been an interesting few days since I paddled off from Anzac Cove on 26/4. That was a blowy day too and obviously a somewhat emotional day. Both for my leaving but in the imagining of the arrival of the Anzacs on this same beach 99 years ago. After packing (everything fitted - yay!), photos, a last few calls including of course to the gorgeous and incomparable Wendy, and enjoying the company of a group of Kiwi kayakers on a Anzac week tour, I gave Marco and Elena one last big hug and set off; mediterr année had begun! Elena presented me with a little shell from the beach, instructing me to put it back when I returned in 12 months. Those 2 are such beautiful people and a key part of the project. I hope to see them again in 69 days for Elena's 40th - in Croatia perhaps?

return this shell next year.........

Geez it felt good to be paddling! Many people enquire how I train for such a trip? Here's a little secret. This was my first paddle for over 4 months. Well you know; other stuff sort of gets in the way! On the job training is always best eh?

The first few days were interesting to say the least. After a couple of hours I rounded a headland to face a strong nor'easter full in the face. Struggled on for a couple of hours before camping on the rocky beach with a patch of grass just large enough for my tent. The Nemo Obi tent, home for the next year, went up and the all important first brew of the journey was poured into the faithful mug (see Blog entry below). I stayed put here for the next 40 hours or so. Day 2 presented strong headwinds which would have seen me unlikely to move. However during that first night I woke with an unbearable need to pee. When it did it was like doing it through the proverbial razor blades; Bloody painful! And on it went all night, along with chills and shivering. I assumed a Urinary Tract Infection and texted (Dr) Trevor, a good mate of mine (who'd recently been in Sicily with me) for advice. Got straight onto the antibiotics and then lay utterly wasted for the next 24 hours. Even getting to a kneeling position outside the tent for a razor pee took 30 mins of build up!

Camp 1 (and 2!!)

Day 3, 28/4 felt a bit better, still weak, but the wind had dropped so, like an old man, I packed slowly and headed along a beautiful coast in grey conditions with heavy rain at times. Wind, sickness, rain - nothing like getting some contrary doses early on! Apart from a few fishing shacks it was just cliffs and a couple of beaches. Not wanting to overdo it, I pulled up to camp at 4-30pm or so, beneath an old concrete sentry box; another reminder of the battleground this whole peninsula was 100 years ago. I had no appetite but forced a small amount of pasta down and a cup of tea, knowing I needed some energy.

'I'm paddling in the rain.....'

Day 4, 29/4 and the sea was calm, the sun was out and, as I popped my head out of the tent, a pod of a dozen or so porpoises frolicked offshore. I took it as a good omen and, despite having no weather forecast, decided to beeline it straight across to the north side of the Gulf of Saroz - some 12km -  rather than go deeper into the gulf; a move that would save me some 50km or so. Fortune (sometimes) favours the brave and I did my first open crossing of the trip in good conditions only to see a strong wind (Force 5) whistle up within an hour of my crossing. Now I continued paddling in choppy waves amongst impressive cliffs interspersed with long beaches peppered with clusters of deserted holiday homes. Ghost towns for 8 months of the year. But there were enough people around......I'd spoken to no-one in the past 3 days but now, like the earlier rains, there came a deluge.

Yusuf, town planner at the local government, called me in from the jetty he was supervising building at Erikli. With black trenchcoat 2 sizes too small he cut an interesting figure in the wind and sand. Soon a small crowd had gathered, each wanted a photo, each proffered help in some way. The most useful was the weather forecast. Finally they pushed me back off the beach but I'd only gone half and hour when I heard a horn beeping madly. I looked over my shoulder to see a car bouncing down a dirt track, the driver hanging out of the window beckoning me in.

At first I thought it was the Turkish Police, caught up to me before I paddle across the border. So you cross a border in a kayak; you are not a registered craft like a yacht, nor are you using normal channels of entry. In the hotel at Cannakale one guy enquired whether I heard about the guy shot by Greek police for trying to cross in a 'small boat' recently; they thought he was a refugee or some such like.... Following this I did make some calls to Greek police and they are waiting for me to arrive in Alexandopoulos!

The car pulled up, a young man ran onto the beach followed by his father. As I hit the sand, the young man tried deftly to hand me a large glass jar whilst trying to keep his shoes dry. I climbed out to greet them and the 1kg of honey that was their gift. The father, Erhmet, explained in mixed Turkish, Italian and German that they'd seen me paddle by earlier and chased me down to wish me well and provide a gift. He had a tear in his eye; perhaps it was the wind....

Random acts of kindness

So I now have enough honey for the rest of the paddle (Danien/Dennis - I hope you'll perform a random act of kindness with some Bundanoon Bush Honey......) and I'm going to need more space than my kayak has if it goes on like this. As I type away, Yildiray, the owner of this bar has taken to Google Translate to show me messages 'If ever you need help; call us' 'If you are cold in the tent tonight, you are welcome to sleep here' and finally 'you will always remember us' accompanied by a Seahorse shell to take with me!

I certainly sense the strong bond between the Turks and Australians, expressed to me a number of times and borne out of that time as enemies at Gallipoli when respect for each nation grew amongst the carnage. I wonder how well they know their flags?  I'd forgotten to pick an Aussie one up but thought, with stories of border insecurity etc, showing my colours seemed not a bad thing. So, in the ANZAC spirit of cooperation, one of the Kiwi paddlers gifted me his flag. So a Kiwi flag now flutters on the back of the kayak. So when I say I'm from Oz who will be first to ask why I've a NZ flag?!

The ANZAC spirit of cooperation

The forecast is better tomorrow but now....... bira clock......