A white salt plain hill is surrounded by the exquisite, green Lesvos countryside, engulfed by a beautiful display of flowers and plants.

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Beware of bears

I close my eyes a lot when we're driving in Greece. The roads are astonishing - narrow, winding, treacherous, a feat of engineering skills. We've driven along loopy roads in Nisyros, skinny tracks in Tinos, spiky passes in Lesvos, precipitous roads in Leros.......but none have been as marvellous and terrifying as the steep, narrow, zig zaggy, deserted roads in Northern Greece.

So it was quite by chance that my eyes were open when a bear crept out of the foliage and stared us in the eye. This was a real European Brown Bear - the endangered kind, the ones that no-one ever gets to see, even locals who have lived here their whole lives. She gazed at us for a couple of seconds and then disappeared back into the dense forest.

So, how, you might wonder, did we get to be driving in Northern Greece instead of sailing our trusty Pegasus in the Aegean?

Most of us know Hermes as the Greek Messenger God, but he came up trumps for us as in his other role as the God of Travel in June when he helped us sneak out of South Africa moments before a hard lockdown was announced; helped us navigate the tortuous stumbling blocks and got us to our beautiful old stone farmhouse in Lesvos safe and sound.

We settled in to the long-dreamed of Greek village life in Plomari, pottering around the house and garden, eating delicious meze. taking long siestas in the heat of the day, swimming in the startlingly clear sea and revelling in the simple Greekness of the town that we love so much.

The weeks fled by and just as we were preparing to pack up and go sailing, Hermes lived up to his other claim - the Trickster God.

Pegasus has been balancing on stilts in a small traditional boatyard on the island of Paros since 2018, and Henry was itching to get her on the water again. The new log book was packed, arrangements for looking after the garden and the house were made, the wonderful Dina was on standby to welcome rental guests ....... and out the blue Marine Insurance wrote to say that, as the boat is so old, the entire rig has to be replaced. After some huffing and puffing we were resigned to it and started to search for available riggers. But getting a rigger in mid August in Greece is like finding a builder in mid December in South Africa - impossible!

Henry and I are the eternal optimists, so, with Hermes leading the way, we set out on the overnight ferry to Piraeus, then the morning ferry to Paros and onto the bus to Naoussa. There was still a small glimmer of hope that a rigger could do it in-between his sailing charter jobs, but that night our hopes were dashed and we were left gazing forlornly at dusty Pegasus up on her stilts, too disappointed to even buff her up a bit. The closest we got to the water was crossing in the water taxi to the boatyard!

And so, with Hermes just in-front of us laughing quietly to himself, we set off on the midnight ferry back to Piraeus, masks firmly in place as we were sardined amongst the returning hordes of millennial revellers that Paros was inundated with.

Our next hastily arranged stop was Galatas where Henry's dear friend and colleague, Mike Sutton lives with his partner Tom.

Staying with Mike and Tom in their house overlooking the channel is a treat. We had a breather to lick our wounds and decide what to do over the next 6 weeks. Philoxenia, our Plomari farm house, was rented so we were homeless. We could, of course, come back home early, but that felt defeatist. The weather was sweltering - had been for weeks - and we started dreaming about exploring the cool mountainous region of Northern Greece. Maybe we could go by train..... or by bus? And then take the bus between mountain villages? Our friend Silina lifted her eyebrow in skeptical Greek fashion at these crazy ideas.

And then, over an icy ouzo, Mike cryptically asked Henry if he had a drivers license. "Take our car" he said. "We don't need it....."

And here we are. Its cool. It's mountainous. It's forested. It's beautiful. It's wild and craggy. The lamb kleftiko is to die for - and most importantly the party loving millennials don't even know it exists.

Build Bridges Not Walls - Martin Luther King (Jnr)
Bikes and Boats