Our stay in Greece finished with a grand finale of monuments — Mycenae, the settlement that preceeded ancient Greece, was impressive with its enormous tombs where they buried their dead, that seemed on scale with the pyramids being constructed during the same time in Egypt.

And then ancient Korinthos, another large excavated site dotted with enormous columns. Most of the Greek buildings were destroyed by earthquakes and rebuilt by the Romans. I couldn’t stop looking at some of the Roman mosaic tile work, with their intricate patterns. And dozens of headless Roman statues (the heads to be seen in a London museum).

Our biking in Geece ended in modern Corinth as we boarded a bus to Patra which would get us to our Italian-bound ferry. We had climbed more than 10,000 meters in Greece (30,000 feet), in 840km over 10 days of cycling. Despite the constant hard, steep climbs, we always looked forward to getting on the bikes each morning to explore what was beyond the next corner.

The ferry dropped us off in Bari, Italy where the land was flat as a pancake, as Paul Sherwin would say. This is the last ferry of our trip and we finally began pedaling toward Portugal. Once out of Bari, we rode on secondary roads mainly used by tractors and agricultural vehicles. Closer to the sea it was orange groves and grape vines, turning into golden wheat fields and rolling hills as we continued east. We stayed in Altamura for the night and continued on in increasing heat:
37C (upper-90s F). Our mood was greatly determined by how hot and thirsty we were. After riding out in the sun for awhile, with water bottles full of hot soupy water, we would be silently panting along. But if we came across a roadside fountain — the kind built of stone where water pours out of a spigot continuously into a basin and drains off underground — the mood would quickly change to elation and talking and laughter. This happened repeatedly on this old forgotton road — the one used by travelers of decades past — with the fountains spaced out in the nothingness about every 10kms. Heat and drenched in sweat, to the coolness of the water. There was even a countryside church, Nostra Signora dell’ Acqua Fredda, Our Lady of Cold Water, and the water was frigid.

We also used the old high school physics department trick of wetting a sock and putting it around a water bottle. Rather than turning to miso soup in 15 minutes in the sun, the evaporation of the drying sock keeps the water cool.

While we’re still climbing a lot in Italy, the Italians actually move some dirt to even out the grade, where the Greeks would put the pavement on whatever bumps and inclines were already there. The Italian roads seem to follow more of a contour around valleys rather than go straight up and down them. The exception was a 12% grade for several kilometers outside Potenza that we had to walk. We can barely sustain a 10% grade for very long with loaded touring bikes, and lowerer gearing on our bikes would put us at the speed we would walk them anyway. But the Italian landscape that we’ve seen has hills shaped more like large bowls that offer nice straight descents rather than the Pelop conical hills that you climb up and around and then brake all the way down on loose gravel and twisty turns, losing any momentum before the next climb.

In Potenza, after the 90km moody roller coaster ride, we found a hotel. A British journalist from The Evening Standard who was there covering the Cosa Nostra’s Capo della Mafia trial taking place in Potenza, and staying at our hotel, asked us why tourists would come to Potenza. I replied that Potenza was simply between where we were coming from and where we’re going — it’s not that scenic of a town despite the nice rural surroundings.

We have also begun seeing more recreational cyclists in the area out enjoying themselves, wearing Banesto and Mapei jersies riding Pinarello or other Italian frames. All greet us enthusiastically with Buon Giornos and Ciaos. I haven’t yet seen any cyclist — touring or local — wearing a helmet. They certainly do make your head hot and I can see why the pros used to take them off on climbs, but we continue to follow our better sense.

In Potenza, about half way across the width of southern Italy, we needed to catch the train the rest of the way to Naples because we fell a day or two behind schedule, and one reason we are coming to Naples is the wedding reception of our friends Steve and Loredana on Saturday, a long-planned event that helped shape our itinerary. It will be great to be among friends after our first month on the road.

The road to Tripoli was not all dowhill, but followed a lush valley floor up to the pass, more like the alpine forests we’re familiar with around Seattle. This Greek road didn’t even make too many unneccesary trips up to the ridge and back. But the area was used as a giant honey production center — the roads were lined with thousands of wooden bee hives and millions of bees swarmed around us for more than 20km. Fortunately neither of us were stung on this day as bees careened off my helmet and sunglasses, bounced off arms and buzzed by our ears.

Honey is used a lot in Greece and even the smallest markets will have a notable selection. We were introduced to it our first day when we had yogurt with honey for dessert, and have eaten this nearly every day since.

We’re just outside of the archaelogic site of Mycenae which we’ll explore tomorrow. Today had us descending out of the mountains down a lovely twisty road — it reminded me of skiing in fresh powder, back and forth through the turns until we reached the sea. We stopped for lunch in Nafplio, the original capital of Greece, before catching a tailwind to our current campground location, averaging 20km/hour, fast for us over the course of a day.

European campgrounds are one of the best friends of a touring cyclist. For 10-15 euros you get a hot shower, place to wash and dry your clothes, usually a restaurant or at least a place to cook some food, and often a swimming pool to cool off at the end of the day. They are often near cities or tourist atteactions. And there are other travelers, sometimes cyclists, in which to talk to and learn from. This is our first choice for overnight accomodation.

It has become preferable for us to cook dinner in the evenings mainly because restaurants never give us enough carbohydrates and if anything is fried or greasy we’ll feel it in our legs the next day. Not to mention that being vegetarians (or more accurately “vegequarians”) there aren’t a lot of meat- free choices in Greece.

The private rooms for rent are another option when no campground is available — almost always maintained by older, often widowed women, advertised on signs in the outskirts or center of small villages. In Croatia, as is more often the case in touristy areas, the women would wait by the incoming ferries, trains or buses with photos of their rooms and homemade brochures in several languages, competing for your attention.

Hotels, our least favorite option, involve hauling all our panniers up flights of stairs and none of the other amenities, and are several times more expensive. We haven’t tried any “wild camping” like we often do at home mainly because of the lack of water and smell of goat shit out in hills. And the draw of a hot shower keeps us pedaling until we find something.

Our introduction to Pelopenese mountains was a difficult one, despite the rewards of great views and ancient sites. The road that snaked its way up the valley was steep. The lowest gear on our bikes is 18-gear inches. That is, with every revolution of the pedals, the bike moves 18 inches forward and this is what was on my mind as the climb progressed. Thousands of 18 inch segments strung together.

When my altimeter read 250m Susana asked how long this would continue, and I said that it couldn’t continue like this forever. At 1100m I was finally right, and we had only gone about 15km. More Portuguese curse words were uttered this day than any of the trip, and we finished the day in Kalavryta with 1590m of climbing and legs like wet noodles.

The next day continued much the same, up high on twisting roads, just specks on a mountainside, passing through villages and drawing lots of blank stares from locals. But a simple “Kalispera” (Good afternoon) is always met with an enthusiastic, friendly response. There are far more sheep than people in this part of the country, and not a tour bus in sight. We stretched the descent out of the mountains and reached Olympia in the evening. As we rounded a corner nearing town, we came upon the stone stadium and columns of the 3000 year old buildings — seeing this from our bikes will be one of the images I will remember for a long time.

We took a rest day the following day to check out the site and museums and recover from some brutal cycling. This has been the largest display of an ancient site that either of us have seen and were impressed with the display and organization of the archealogical site and objects.

>From Olympia we headed back up, on more quiet mountain roads. We’ve encountered every kind of livestock on the road — cows, pigs, donkeys and of course hundred of goats and sheep. Also plenty of crazy flying insects, lizards and snakes — one as long as I am tall — the kind which inspired many a Greek mythological tale I’m sure.

Today, starting in Andritsana, we were deliberating our route on the side of the road when a man stopped and offered some advice in broken English and German. He was raised in Greece but said he didn’t want to work in the fields, didn’t want to move to Athens or Patra, so instead moved to Germany. He led us to some great sites that weren’t mentioned in our guidebooks — a hidden monastary at the end of a trail that we certainly wouldn’t have found otherwise. The place was mostly in ruins, but the chapel was preserved and unlocked, and from the sunlight pouring in from the door we could see amazing frescos from the Byzantine period, when the monastary was originally built. We saw the Greek-German man several more times throughout the day, playing leapfrog from site to site as he was on vacation visiting familair sites in his home.

We continued on today from the river at the bottom of the Lousios Gorge at 200m, and 30-some switchbacks later, at 996m, got to the top of the ridge that took us on to Dimitsana, a nice village with a lot of stone houses and more Byzantine churches. Our daily mileage has more to do with meters climbed than kilometers cycled. We ended today with 1700m climbed (more than a vertical mile), our most of the trip, in only 66km.

Aside from the hills, we have the best tans, are eating great yogurt, olives, and feta cheese. We defintely eat healthier when we cook for ourselves, but we’ve also been staying in some private rooms belonging to old ladies, so that’s not always practical. World Cup games are on whenever and wherever we care to watch (how these mom-and-pop restaurants can afford several expensive flat screen TVs I don’t understand).

Tomorrow we plan on exploring more of the Lousios Gorge and heading towards Tripoli, all downhill.

Our first day in Greece, after the ferry dropped us off in Igoumenitsa at 5 a.m., had us climbing 1540m in 85km, but the smell of wild taragon, dill, and oregano kept us pedaling. The cow bells we heard didn’t belong to cycling fans but to cows and goats grazing where they pleased, although in our sleep-deprived state it was easy to mistake for the former.

A rain shower had us finding shelter in an abandoned gas station. As it got colder, jackets and then sleeping bags came out. Since the rain continued and we were already wrapped in sleeping bags, we took a little nap. The rain stopped and we continued sleeping. There’s a slippery slope between bike tourist and rural vagrant.

Our first rendezvous with ancient Greece came at Nekromanteio, discovered in 1958 underneath the ruins of an 18th century church. The ancients thought that the vault below was the entrance to Hades and conducted seances and sacrifices in order to communicate with the dead.

We arrived an hour after closing time. With some deliberation, we climbed the tree over the fence and contined into the maze-like labyrinth of ruins. We found the vault with no further barrier and descended. The room was big but pitch black. Not even the flash of the camera revealed anything. Next time I make a trip to the underworld I’ll be sure to bring a flashlight.

Traffic has been great with few exeptions. Many people wave as they drive by and groups of kids have ridden with us through a few towns. We found the perfect road south of Paleros—we literally didn’t want it to end. No cars or civilization of any kind, mostly flat, the sea lapping at the rocks a few feet away. We passed a roadsign marking the grade at “0%”, as if to say that even in this small paradise the climbs are non-existent. We ended the day when we reached the campground in the tiny town of Mistikas which means “mythical” in Greek.

Our only beef is with the trash. Greeks, as we’ve seen, treat their county as a giant landfill, and some kids found it strange when we walked to a trashcan rather than throw our bottles into the sea. It’s worse in some places, of course, but so many ravines are filled with matresses, appliances, and household trash.

We’ve just crossed into the Peloponese today, just east of Patra, and had a lighter day after yesterday’s 125km ride. We waited out another rainshower under an overpass and we were soon joined by a German cyclist and then a pair of French cyclists, the first bike tourists we’ve seen in Greece. The French couple had just covered the same ground we plan on exploring the next 10 days, so we learned all we could from them. The outlook is hilly (but that is obvious from the 2000m mountain range staring us in the face).

Today came to a close watching some World Cup games with the locals and playing foosball in the campground… a little relaxation before tomorrow’s climb into the mountains.