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