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Cacti and Snow The return walk to the tent was a challenge as we tried not to fall into the mini ravines while sidestepping mud puddles. We arrived back at the tent having had our second shower for the evening. Hefty clumps of mud were attached to each shoe by the time we reached the tent. Our choice of camp sites proved to be less than ideal. All the soil around was powdery clay like substance. Our tent was beginning to resemble our shoes. If the rain didn't stop soon they would find us entombed in a clay dome tent. It rained most of the night. There was blue sky for an hour in the morning then rain rolled in again. Our camp spot seemed to offer two choices: Getting washed away if the water rushed off the cliffs behind us-or drowning in a pool of water. We hoped the rain would stop soon. The rain didn't stop. We spent two days inside the tent. Luckily we had something to read. Huge thunderclaps cracked overhead. One corner of the tent sat in about three inches of brown water. Our food supply was a little low-nothing was left except one ball of rice. Sharon called it our thunderstorm rations. We didn't dare leave since the trail was so muddy. I could hear it already "This is really unusual weather." Thunder and lightning capped my thought. I could see my breath. During the night the rain stopped. By morning the sun was shining. We waited for the tent to dry a bit and brushed off the accumulated clay. As we emerged from our campsite we realized how cold it had been the past two days. It was an interesting sight seeing snow and cacti. All the peaks were covered in snow. Some were quite thickly covered while others looked as though they were lightly sprinkled with icing sugar. We were fortunate we hadn't been in the mountains when the storm struck. We pushed our bikes back to Agia Galini on the still mucky path and bought bread, fruit and veggies. The town was dead. Hardly anyone was around. As we pedaled towards Phaistos, we met Gary, a cyclist from Alaska. Noticing our heap of tent and sleeping bag he told us he had sent his camping gear ahead as all the campgrounds were closed. He hadn't thought about camping in olive groves. We discovered that we were not alone in our disappointment with the Greek's indifference to our cycling and presence in general. Gary told us even though no one reciprocated he kept smiling and waving. Continuing on our way we began receiving waves and nods from passing motorists. We attributed it to Gary's breaking trail and were reaping the rewards of his hard work. Perhaps it was a delayed reaction with the Greeks. By the time we reached them they were prepared to wave. The Minoan ruin in Phaistos was our tourist stop. There, we met a couple from Germany. They were more interested in our trip than all the Greeks we had met put together. They invited us to their place near Stuttgart the next time we were in Germany. They were so excited it made our day. In Timbáki Sharon's rack attachment broke, but we managed to fix it with a hose clamp. Afterwards, I went into a tavern and ordered a pita gyros. I was doing a taste test across the island. The tavern owner said he had visited Canada and he was very friendly. "Sit down. Help yourself to a glass of wine," he said. In a small village I stopped to take a photo of a church reflecting in a puddle. An elderly Greek ambled around the corner. "Yasou!" Sharon greeted him. It was her first verbal Greek greeting rather than waving or nodding. I think she had been avoiding it, thinking it sounded like something Fred or Barney would say. "Hello" he said. "How are you? I lived in New York for twentyseven years." We pulled into an olive grove just as the sun was setting. Sharon didn't like it. It was too close to the main road and house. Within fifteen minutes it was pitch black. While brushing my teeth, I watched two falling stars streak across the clear sky. |
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