Pilion

Sometimes it's hard to imagine how so much can fit into such a short time.  

I awoke with the dark and now find myself 'writing' under the light of the stars (and my vibrant monitor backlight).

Today was largely about movement.  Meaning I was pretty much on the move from 6 to 5.  I awoke in Athens at Stamatina and Alex's, packed my things and set off - first catching a

 bus to the metro station, then the metro to the bus station, then a bus

 from Athens to the city of Volos and then a bus from Volos to Kissos.  I know I've done more in a day but wow, did that ever seem like a lot.  Perhaps it was also due to the fact that I only got five hours of sleep?

So my stop at the EFTA bus station in Athens gave me an opportunity to experience a somewhat more working class side of the city that I'd been previously unaware of.  With very dense housing and less blatant consumerism on all sides, this seemed to be a much more real side of the city than the commercial promenade I'd come to know.  

With it still rather early for most eateries and bakeries, I had to settle on an unknown filling filled turnover type breakfast with some sort of frappe - chino coffee drink.  I tried to get away with just ordering coffee but the server held me to specifics and I broke under the pressure and picked something random.  It was alright but left me yearning for about four times the caffeine dosage.

The buses were immaculate though seemed rather pricey.  The four and a half hour trip to Volos cost 24 Euros - about $36 - perhaps that's on par with Greyhound prices but somehow I'd naievely expected bus travel to be a bit more affordable.  

I struggled to keep my eyes open but failed at several points during the journey.  We began with heavy traffic as we darted through the streets of Athens rush hour but eventually found our way into much more open territory and were able to cruise along at a modest pace.  

The landscape was the epitome of an anthropocentric ecology - a veritable olive forest.  It was astounding to see how far and wide this tree ranged.

  The mountains on the horizon

 proved breathtaking throughout the

 journey, despite their challenged, rocky eroded facade.  Much of the early part of our journey was also peppered with industrial development of all sorts.  I have no idea what type of factories or manufacturing we rode past but it seemed gross in scale and incessant in frequency.

We passed beyond an astonishingly rocky section of land before we emerged onto a sprawling fan of what appeared to be fertile soil.  The primary indicator here was the transition from tree crops (olives) to field crops - lots of cotton and what appeared to be corn along with another grain of some time.  As we entered the first village for some time, I was struck by the allotment-sized vineyards in some backyards, left wondering how much wine each provided for how many people. 

As we began to near Volos, the sea came continuously into view.  The scale and scope of the city seemed far larger than the 80,000 it boats on its wikipedia page.  We arrived at the station and I purchased my ticket for the next leg of my trip - but had over an hour before we were to depart.  

Never able to settle for the easy option, I set off with my pack and computer (I'm almost traveling light) and explored the nearby streets.  Several outdoor cafes dotted the maze of lanes along with tool shops (a surprising amount of them) and some of the first fruit and veggie shops I've encountered so far (not so much a reflection on their distribution in Greece but rather the locales I've frequented).  I purchased some grapes and carrots - 60 cents worth - and was back on my way.

I found a small market in town and spoke with a man who displayed plums, quince, homemade marmolade and olives.  He told me his farm was 10km from town and all of the produce at the market was 'biological' (European for organic).  I had hoped to find some local honey to help acclimate my immune system to the local pollen, etc.  Not needing any more fruit at the 

moment, I wished him well and set off, but was pleased to see him there and will certainly return when I pass back through town.

As I made my way back towards the bus station, I strode past an arcade lined row of 

storefronts offering fishing goods

 and fresh caught seafood.  Here's where I wish David Ludt was reading this.  The very first thing I noticed - the thing I've been without since I've been here - was an Opinel knife - and the first shop had an extensive display outside.  I entered looking for the shopkeeper and was greeted with a styrofoam container - home to some sort of milli-millipede - I still have no idea what it was - some type of bait or something.  Whatever the case, it was friggin HUGE!!

While he spoke no English and seemed reluctant to deal with me, I was able to pick up my precious Opinel and set back off for the next thing on my list - lunch.

I settled on a convenient cafe around a small outdoor square and was warmly ushered in by the hostess.  She proceeded to show me each of the dishes available that afternoon and I awkwardly ordered about twice as much food as I needed.  I hadn't intended to order a $20 

meal but it was good and I really hadn't eaten all day so I just made due and enjoyed the fish and potatoes and sauteed eggplant (aubergine) that I'd ordered.   That left me with just a few minutes before the next bus was to depart.

We boarded the bus set to traverse the Pilion peninsula and I sat with Rob Hopkins (vicariously - I was reading the Transition Handbook) as we made our way through the city and beyond.  This was most definitely not an express bus and we frequently stopped to pick up anyone and everyone along the way.  Though the journey is only about 50 km or so it took 

over 2.5 hours to get there.  While it may not have been the windiest road I've ever ridden on (the trip out of the crater at the Lago de Atitlan in Guatemala may have it beat) it would certainly be a formidable challenger.  Our trip today claimed one victim twice over who 

requested the bus driver stop so that he could give up his lunch to the god Pilion (not sure if that's a god that exists or not)

As we began to round the southern tip of the peninsula, we started to climb in elevation and the vegetation began to change.  Initially I wasn't sure what it was but definitely noticed something different.  As we progressed though I quickly realized that fire was the primary contributor.  The landscape was deeply scarred by a widespread fire but what made it equally difficult to diagnose was the growing profusion of stone products on all sides.  

Probably one of the most exciting insights at this point was the transition from clay tile to 

heavy slate roofs that I began to note.  This was some serious slate!!  Like probably 3/4" thick.  For those of you who have seen the slate on Clark Sanders house in New York, you know what I'm talking about.  Some of the roofs bore a slate base that stretched along the first 2' or so of 

the roof edge, capped by tile.  The pattern varied, but the frequency grew with distance.

We passed several stone quarries that told stories of heavy material extraction over who knows how many centuries.  This is something I witnessed incessantly throughout the journey north from Athens.  The unsurprising legacy of materials (geological) extraction that the landscape wore like a continuously peeling scab.  I try not to look at it

 judgmentally but rather reflect on it as a historical account of human civilization.

Soon thereafter reached a point where water again became visible and this time we were looking out over the Aegean Sea - and around that time, I spotted my very first one! - a chestnut tree!!!  Very likely the mediterranean native Castanea sativa, it seemed that we had transitioned from olive plantation to barren fire remnants to chestnut grove.  How deeply exciting.  

I'm not sure exactly why this change happened so suddenly.  When I finally got out of the bus I realized that both our elevation and perhaps also our orientation were strong contributors.  We were likely well over 1000' at that point and the temperature there is dramatically cooler.  Regardless, it was as if something remarkable had happened and we were in a woodland that was not overharvested, abused or burnt and instead was lush and stable.  I'm not sure of the story of the chestnut here yet - I hope to find out soon.  I have a strong feeling it's the result of human intervention but perhaps not.  Additionally, sycamore (Platanus) and some type of Holly (Ilex) also began to grow commonplace and as we descended into the steep walled 

valleys between each set of ridges, you could feel the humidity rise and it reminded me fondly of home.

There was to be one more reminder before I arrived in Kissos -  on the fringes of a nearby village, I noticed fruiting apple trees along the road.  Again a clear indicator of the climatic shift we'd traversed through.

Unsure of exactly where it was that I needed to 'de-board' the bus, I waited anxiously until I noticed a sign that read Kissos and followed it to what appeared to be the end of our road.  It was a small parking lot at the edge of the town center and it instantly reminded me of something that I would expect to see in a land like Austria or Switzerland rather than Greece.  Sure enough I soon noticed a sign that depicted skiers riding up lifts to the top of a snow covered mountain - seemingly implying the winter character of this land.

I rounded the bend, unsure of how to find the Kalikalos community for which I was bound and 

was greeted by a breathtaking town center - cobbled streets with a drooping canopy of ancient Sycamore trees (literally 2.5' diameter!).  A centuries old church and several pensions and tavernas lined the perimeter of this square each having stories of countless generations to tell.  I sat in the courtyard surrounded by enormous horsechestnut and linden trees and soaked up the view of the sea to the east.  

The town was completely dead during the mid-afternoon hours so I found few people to ask about the location of Kalikalos.  I did meet a very kind Albanian man who was working in the 

village and also spoke English.  We chatted around the central village fountain that produced amazingly clear, cool fresh mountain spring water - something I've been in desperate need of ever since my arrival in Athens.  While I was unable to locate my host site, fortunately, my electronic 

brain (computer) told me where I was supposed to go and I realized that I was only 100 meters of so up the street.

I found the site and was quickly engulfed in a sea of kind community members and volunteers giving the space a very warm character.  The rest of the day was rather relaxed.  I toured the grounds - which didn't take long.  The near vertical landscape leaves very little space between neighbors.  I noticed the kiwi laden arbor outside above the courtyard - now these are the typical kiwis we're all used to - not the hardy kiwi that we've grown so fond of in the cold temperate reaches of the world.  

I settled in, chatted with folks in the community, did what I could to bundle up (it got chilly - autumn is definitely in the air) and then we made our way into the village for taverna night - dinner at a local restaurant.  About 14 of us sat around a large table and proceeded to enjoy a veritable feast of Greek dishes that included salad, fried cheese, bread with different types of cheese spreads, beans, lamb, sausage and a light red and white wine that appeared to be produced locally.

The night was crisp and cool and the stars shone bright.  I can't believe I'm still writing about just one day.  It's definitely time to stop.