After getting off the previously described ferry, we headed to our hotel in Piraeus. When most people think of Athens they think of the Acropolis, Olympics, Ancient Greeks, and the foundation of European civilization (which, arguably, would be the Middle East, but that is not the point of this post). What people do not think about is Piraeus. Piraeus is scummy. Athens as a city is dirty, but Piraeus is scummy. Thus began our excursion into Mainland Greece, walking, at midnight, through the main port of Athens. Which is scummy.
Our baggage was somewhat unusual for this walk, as our luggage could not accommodate the rocks collected during Sarah's field work. I was carrying a duffle bag as a backpack (the Patagonia Black Hole, which Air France managed to put a hole in) and a messenger bag. Sarah had a backpack, and a cardboard box without tape (surprisingly difficult to find on Milos) which was quickly degrading in the humidity. We wound through the streets of Piraeus, hitting every landmark we were supposed to. Then, we missed the street. This would not normally be an issue, but both of us were still dizzy, nauseous, tired, hot, and sick of carrying all that junk around at midnight. We slogged back to the nicest hotel in Pireaus, a welcome reprieve from the world we stumbled out of when we entered the air conditioned lobby.
In the morning, we checked out of the hotel, loaded as we were the night before, the cardboard box worse for wear, still sea sick, and headed for the metro. Boarding a subway when sea sick from the ferry ride the night before was nothing I was looking forward to, but it meant Sarah could set down the box of samples, which had torn at two corners at that point. We transferred trains, then walked to where Google Maps said the car rental was. Should you ever use Google Maps in Greece, and you think, "that doesn't seem right," it probably isn't. Luckily, we were not too far off of where Sarah and I thought we should be, and we were at the car rental agency shortly.
We loaded our stuff into the Lancia Ypsilon, and Sarah took the wheel. We headed north out of Athens with no real map, and Rick Steves' limited directions headed for Delphi. In all honesty, for as crazy as driving looks in Athens, it is actually pretty straight forward. There was a bit of adjustment to Greek driving. First, all traffic laws are suggestions, so one must expect that drivers will only occasionally observe one-way roads. Second, one does not have to get out of the way of emergency vehicles. We stumbled onto this custom in Athens only blocks from renting the car. An ambulance with lights and sirens was taking a left turn from oncoming traffic. When Sarah stopped for it, both paramedics began enthusiastically gesturing for us to come through, and not wait for them. Lastly, all roads in Greece are passing roads, and Greek drivers find at least one more lane than is painted on the roadway. To accommodate this craziness, on moves onto the shoulder so cars may pass in the center, even with oncoming traffic. With these lessons learned, we navigated north with nothing but Rick Steves.
Rick got a few things wrong, like the number of toll booths, but even when we purchased our Greek road maps, Rick's directions were pretty good. We arrived in Delphi, getting turned around only once, to enjoy the ruins after the museum had closed, presumably indicating that fewer people were there. Both Rick and The Lonely Planet suggest staying in Delphi town when touring Delphi. I could not disagree with this recommendation more. We headed back about 15 kilometers to Arachova. While in winter this ski town may be pricier, during the summer season this cute mountain town had more character, more facilities, more hotels, and better views than Delphi for the same or a bit less money. We found some food at a minimart for dinner, and ate on our balcony watching the sun set behind mountains and the Arachova clock tower.
In the morning we ran through the steep streets and stairways of Arachova, touring the alleys and back streets, then climbed the stairs to one of the towns churches, that housed several cannons in the courtyards. We ran to the top of the town, then back to our hotel. We showered off, ate breakfast, and climbed back in the Lancia for the drive over the mountains to Meteora, with promises of spectacular rock pinnacles, World Heritage Site history, hermit monks, and endless trails.
Once out of the mountains, the road to Meteora is flat, and as the miles passed, we began to discuss the fact that most sites are overstated by the guides. Sarah maintained her generally more optimistic outlook that it would be awesome, I felt my own pessimism rising (this should not be confused with Sarah being an optimist and me a pessimist, just a statement about our anticipation of monasteries perched on sandstone pillars). We arrived in Kalambaka after crossing the Plains of Thessaly. My expectations, like the plains themselves, had flat lined. While some might argue that such an outlook dooms any site to fail to impress me. While they may have a point, it also lowers my expectations. So I was impressed by the bluffs. It is not Zion Canyon, but it is impressive none-the-less. One also has to be in awe of the monks building these structures as well. It is an impressive place. Unfortunately, the most impressive thing about Meteora is not the geology or the monasteries. It is, in fact, the road.
The road at Meteora is not so much impressive as far as roads go. In fact, it is not much of a road at all. The grades are not that steep, nor the corners that tight. The traffic is not dense nor light, and the view points are impressive, but not notable beyond any other road that climbs a hill overlooking a valley. What is impressive about the road are the vehicles. The Lonely Planet suggested that Meteora was the most visited site in Greece (presumably outside of Athens). All of those people have to get to the monasteries, and walking is out of the question. Thus, the purpose of this road is to allow dozens of tour buses to get to the monasteries that hermit monks built on top of sandstone pillars hundreds of feet above the valley floor so that thousands of tourists can gawk at their way of life. The endless monk's trails, now essentially a moot point with the road to each monastery, added up to less than 10 kilometers. Sarah and I decided to head for Mount Olympus, with the hope of finding the solitude that led hermit monks to Meteora centuries before.
We drove east, towards the home of the old gods, and as Mount Olympus loomed into view, we were struck with essentially the same impression, "that's it"? The southern, western and northern sides of Mt. Olympus are beautiful, but they do not inspire ideas of the home of gods, or stairways to the heavens. The towns on these flanks are also unremarkable, saving their crazy traffic patterns. With the disappointment of Meteora fresh on our minds, we headed for the access point for Mt. Olympus, Litochoro. The Eastern face of Mt. Olympus does not disappoint. While it is not a Saint Elias towering nearly three and a half miles above the coast, it is an impressive massif, reminding me strongly of the desert mountains of the Basin and Range. We found a hotel, and wandered around the town, heading for the gear store.
At the gear store, we gawked the impressive mountain running selection, then spoke with two of the employees who run on Mt. Olympus daily. We came to the realization that we could summit Mt. Olympus. We wandered around the town a bit more, then headed back to the hotel. We decided not to summit Mt. Olympus. Doing so would require a crazy alpine start, and neither of us had been sleeping well. We did decide to go for a run on Mt. Olympus, so we set an alarm for 05:00, and went to sleep.
Before the alarm rang we both got up, ate, and headed up Mt. Olympus. At the parking lot at 1100 m, we started jogging, but the trail soon proved too steep for a continuous run. We walked the steep sections, and ran the more gentle ones. Between light rain, and cloud gaps, the sun rose on the summit above us, and the Mediterranean below. We made it to the shelter ahead of schedule, but not enough ahead to summit. We continued up until we were out of time. As the trees thinned, then stopped, the cold wind took its toll. When we decided to push our deadline a little, the wind chill started to tap our strength, and neither of us was disappointed to head back for the trees when the time came to turn around.
As we jogged down the mountain we discussed our trip to that point. Cliff jumping on Milos was cool, as was swimming into sea caves and hidden coves. Driving around Milos was unique, and walking up Profitis Ilias was great. Obviously the ruins are pretty awe inspiring, but the thing that would bring us back to Greece was Mt. Olympus. The trail map showed miles and miles of trails that seem good for long runs, and of course the summit still awaits. We dreamed of running tours of Europe, and talked about including this mountain. We talked about the lovely Macedonian mountain villages, and how lovely they would be to explore. On the drive back to Litochoro to shower and check-out, we passed people driving, their horses tied to their bumpers to get the animals back into town. Unlike a dog gleefully chasing after its owner's car, these horses looked stressed, and we were brought out of the mountain euphoria, and back to Greece.
On the drive back to Athens we drove through countless tolls, on a motorway that could be in any poor nation. We checked into our hotel in Athens, with sparkly red and black counter tops and harsh, blue LED lighting. We returned the car, and met up with the wedding's Australian Contingent a bit late, and went out for cocktails. Introducing us to everyone else who would be experiencing a Greek wedding for the very first time.
Our baggage was somewhat unusual for this walk, as our luggage could not accommodate the rocks collected during Sarah's field work. I was carrying a duffle bag as a backpack (the Patagonia Black Hole, which Air France managed to put a hole in) and a messenger bag. Sarah had a backpack, and a cardboard box without tape (surprisingly difficult to find on Milos) which was quickly degrading in the humidity. We wound through the streets of Piraeus, hitting every landmark we were supposed to. Then, we missed the street. This would not normally be an issue, but both of us were still dizzy, nauseous, tired, hot, and sick of carrying all that junk around at midnight. We slogged back to the nicest hotel in Pireaus, a welcome reprieve from the world we stumbled out of when we entered the air conditioned lobby.
In the morning, we checked out of the hotel, loaded as we were the night before, the cardboard box worse for wear, still sea sick, and headed for the metro. Boarding a subway when sea sick from the ferry ride the night before was nothing I was looking forward to, but it meant Sarah could set down the box of samples, which had torn at two corners at that point. We transferred trains, then walked to where Google Maps said the car rental was. Should you ever use Google Maps in Greece, and you think, "that doesn't seem right," it probably isn't. Luckily, we were not too far off of where Sarah and I thought we should be, and we were at the car rental agency shortly.
We loaded our stuff into the Lancia Ypsilon, and Sarah took the wheel. We headed north out of Athens with no real map, and Rick Steves' limited directions headed for Delphi. In all honesty, for as crazy as driving looks in Athens, it is actually pretty straight forward. There was a bit of adjustment to Greek driving. First, all traffic laws are suggestions, so one must expect that drivers will only occasionally observe one-way roads. Second, one does not have to get out of the way of emergency vehicles. We stumbled onto this custom in Athens only blocks from renting the car. An ambulance with lights and sirens was taking a left turn from oncoming traffic. When Sarah stopped for it, both paramedics began enthusiastically gesturing for us to come through, and not wait for them. Lastly, all roads in Greece are passing roads, and Greek drivers find at least one more lane than is painted on the roadway. To accommodate this craziness, on moves onto the shoulder so cars may pass in the center, even with oncoming traffic. With these lessons learned, we navigated north with nothing but Rick Steves.
Rick got a few things wrong, like the number of toll booths, but even when we purchased our Greek road maps, Rick's directions were pretty good. We arrived in Delphi, getting turned around only once, to enjoy the ruins after the museum had closed, presumably indicating that fewer people were there. Both Rick and The Lonely Planet suggest staying in Delphi town when touring Delphi. I could not disagree with this recommendation more. We headed back about 15 kilometers to Arachova. While in winter this ski town may be pricier, during the summer season this cute mountain town had more character, more facilities, more hotels, and better views than Delphi for the same or a bit less money. We found some food at a minimart for dinner, and ate on our balcony watching the sun set behind mountains and the Arachova clock tower.
In the morning we ran through the steep streets and stairways of Arachova, touring the alleys and back streets, then climbed the stairs to one of the towns churches, that housed several cannons in the courtyards. We ran to the top of the town, then back to our hotel. We showered off, ate breakfast, and climbed back in the Lancia for the drive over the mountains to Meteora, with promises of spectacular rock pinnacles, World Heritage Site history, hermit monks, and endless trails.
Once out of the mountains, the road to Meteora is flat, and as the miles passed, we began to discuss the fact that most sites are overstated by the guides. Sarah maintained her generally more optimistic outlook that it would be awesome, I felt my own pessimism rising (this should not be confused with Sarah being an optimist and me a pessimist, just a statement about our anticipation of monasteries perched on sandstone pillars). We arrived in Kalambaka after crossing the Plains of Thessaly. My expectations, like the plains themselves, had flat lined. While some might argue that such an outlook dooms any site to fail to impress me. While they may have a point, it also lowers my expectations. So I was impressed by the bluffs. It is not Zion Canyon, but it is impressive none-the-less. One also has to be in awe of the monks building these structures as well. It is an impressive place. Unfortunately, the most impressive thing about Meteora is not the geology or the monasteries. It is, in fact, the road.
The road at Meteora is not so much impressive as far as roads go. In fact, it is not much of a road at all. The grades are not that steep, nor the corners that tight. The traffic is not dense nor light, and the view points are impressive, but not notable beyond any other road that climbs a hill overlooking a valley. What is impressive about the road are the vehicles. The Lonely Planet suggested that Meteora was the most visited site in Greece (presumably outside of Athens). All of those people have to get to the monasteries, and walking is out of the question. Thus, the purpose of this road is to allow dozens of tour buses to get to the monasteries that hermit monks built on top of sandstone pillars hundreds of feet above the valley floor so that thousands of tourists can gawk at their way of life. The endless monk's trails, now essentially a moot point with the road to each monastery, added up to less than 10 kilometers. Sarah and I decided to head for Mount Olympus, with the hope of finding the solitude that led hermit monks to Meteora centuries before.
We drove east, towards the home of the old gods, and as Mount Olympus loomed into view, we were struck with essentially the same impression, "that's it"? The southern, western and northern sides of Mt. Olympus are beautiful, but they do not inspire ideas of the home of gods, or stairways to the heavens. The towns on these flanks are also unremarkable, saving their crazy traffic patterns. With the disappointment of Meteora fresh on our minds, we headed for the access point for Mt. Olympus, Litochoro. The Eastern face of Mt. Olympus does not disappoint. While it is not a Saint Elias towering nearly three and a half miles above the coast, it is an impressive massif, reminding me strongly of the desert mountains of the Basin and Range. We found a hotel, and wandered around the town, heading for the gear store.
At the gear store, we gawked the impressive mountain running selection, then spoke with two of the employees who run on Mt. Olympus daily. We came to the realization that we could summit Mt. Olympus. We wandered around the town a bit more, then headed back to the hotel. We decided not to summit Mt. Olympus. Doing so would require a crazy alpine start, and neither of us had been sleeping well. We did decide to go for a run on Mt. Olympus, so we set an alarm for 05:00, and went to sleep.
Before the alarm rang we both got up, ate, and headed up Mt. Olympus. At the parking lot at 1100 m, we started jogging, but the trail soon proved too steep for a continuous run. We walked the steep sections, and ran the more gentle ones. Between light rain, and cloud gaps, the sun rose on the summit above us, and the Mediterranean below. We made it to the shelter ahead of schedule, but not enough ahead to summit. We continued up until we were out of time. As the trees thinned, then stopped, the cold wind took its toll. When we decided to push our deadline a little, the wind chill started to tap our strength, and neither of us was disappointed to head back for the trees when the time came to turn around.
As we jogged down the mountain we discussed our trip to that point. Cliff jumping on Milos was cool, as was swimming into sea caves and hidden coves. Driving around Milos was unique, and walking up Profitis Ilias was great. Obviously the ruins are pretty awe inspiring, but the thing that would bring us back to Greece was Mt. Olympus. The trail map showed miles and miles of trails that seem good for long runs, and of course the summit still awaits. We dreamed of running tours of Europe, and talked about including this mountain. We talked about the lovely Macedonian mountain villages, and how lovely they would be to explore. On the drive back to Litochoro to shower and check-out, we passed people driving, their horses tied to their bumpers to get the animals back into town. Unlike a dog gleefully chasing after its owner's car, these horses looked stressed, and we were brought out of the mountain euphoria, and back to Greece.
On the drive back to Athens we drove through countless tolls, on a motorway that could be in any poor nation. We checked into our hotel in Athens, with sparkly red and black counter tops and harsh, blue LED lighting. We returned the car, and met up with the wedding's Australian Contingent a bit late, and went out for cocktails. Introducing us to everyone else who would be experiencing a Greek wedding for the very first time.
It should be noted that we mutually decided to stay in the nicest hotel in Piraeus that our LP guide recommended. After the ferry barf-o-rama, we were in need of some frivolous comforts.
ReplyDeleteI was in holding up a huge line of traffic during the ambulance incident, which added to my stress.
The set of sixteen (1: 400 000) maps of Greece was pretty good for rural driving, once we were accustomed to their limitations. Namely, that they seemed to have some inaccuracies (notably there is no publication date). We are professional map readers, and we still managed to get lost a few times!
There were very few non-Greeks in Arachova, as all of the travelers during the off-season seemed to congregate in Delphi. I think we had a fairly authentic experience of that little Greek mountain town.
Also it should be noted that we loved the drive through the mountains between Delphi and Gravia, to the north. We daydreamed about running through those Montana/Nevada-like mountains. A ski trip based from one of those ski villages would be pretty awesome, too.
I think the trail network at Meteora is only about 5 km, and covered in trash from slovenly tourists.
The excellent, very detailed topographic and trail map of Mount Olympus (1: 25 000) is published by Anavasi, and is available at road side kiosks in Litochoro.
This comment turns my frivolous writing into something that would probably be helpful for someone looking to travel in Greece! I am inspired to add to Sarah's usefulness.
DeleteOur road maps, published by Rama Editions, were not the maps recommended by Rick Steeves, and were not the cheapest or most expensive, but were the most reasonable looking maps available at the gas station we stopped at. Thus, I wouldn't worry too much about seeking out "the best" maps as listed in guides, but a set of maps is highly recommended.
Arachova is a ski town, so winter is the tourist season there, and it is a touristy Greek mountain town, but seems targeted more for the Greek tourists, than the internationals. Accordingly, it seemed authentically Greek, yet also comfortably situated for travelers.
Pictures from the trip to Greece can be found here: https://picasaweb.google.com/113802252094103841878/Greece2012
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