18 September continued
while the rest looked spick and span.
The afternoon was wearing on as the air became cooler and the road narrowed and wound further into the mountains. I saw a man, a shepherd or goatherd, carrying a rough-hewn wooden crook, and wearing a long dun-coloured robe. Where it opened slightly at the bottom, below the knees, I saw that he was bare-legged and wearing shoes with no socks. His dark and greying hair was long and loosely pulled back, and his beard hung thickly to halfway down his chest. He gave me a look as I went by, which, though friendly, seemed entirely self-contained, just him, the mountains and his flock. Arkadia.
The mountains of Arkadia are beautiful. They’re also prone to rock falls. Every now and then I’d see little piles scattered on the side of the road. Suddenly, there were some on the road, with one about ten inches long and six inches high, smack in the middle of my lane. I’ve mentioned that I was driving a Suzuki Splash, and I’d already found out that they don’t don’t have much clearance underneath (see “Check before parking on the roadside to visit old tombs”). To avoid it I could go left or I could go right. Unfortunately I didn’t decide quickly enough to avoid it altogether, and my heart sank as I heard the k-chunk, felt the impact and the slight drag to one side before the car straightened. However, straighten it did, and I heaved a sigh of relief as everything seemed to settle down to normal again. However, about ten minutes later there was a definite drag to the right and a lot of rattling. Thinking, “That feels like a flat tyre,” I pulled over, and there it was. The driver’s side front wheel was completely flat, and worse, the rim had a big ding in its edge. “That’s not good,” I thought.
Outside of the car, there was a definite chill in the air. I dragged my suitcase out of the back, and lifted the floor of the boot up. No spare. I looked around. I was next to a long uphill driveway that had a taverna sign, but I couldn’t see a building. On the other side of the road was a kafenion, with an open front door and a log fire burning inside. I opted for the kafenion. The lady didn’t speak English, and I didn’t speak Greek, but between us, and a gentleman who was passing, we managed. The lady rang a mechanic in the next town, which was Lagkadia, and they conveyed to me that the mechanic would come soon.
A few minutes later a young man pulled in and they both greeted him. “Mechanic?” I asked. “Ohi, ohi (no, no)”, they answered, however they told him the trouble, and we all trooped over to the car. He seemed from his clothes to be in the army. He said, “Do you have tools?” I told him there was no spare. He lifted the floor of the boot, and then he lifted the second floor! There was the spare, and it had air in it. O frabjous day! He proceeded to change the wheel for me, and was at pains to ensure that I understood not to travel at faster than 80 kph, because this wheel “is smaller than others so it fit in bottom”.
In his website Matt Barrett’s Travel Guides, Matt Barrett advocates getting a larger car for various safety reasons when driving in Greece. I had forgotten this sage advice, and I can add a couple more reasons; the clearance from the ground, and the fact that these tiny cars come with a temporary spare only.
I wanted to pay these kind people for their time or at least buy them a drink or a coffee, but they wouldn’t accept anything but thanks, and waved me on my way with smiles and a last admonishment from the young man to “drive slow”.
At that point there was no other way I wanted to drive. The roads are so narrow and windy around Lagkadia that it took me more than two hours to drive the last seventy or so pretty much uninhabited kilometres to Olympia. I was so happy to reach Hotel Pelops and my comfortable little room.