I clear the camp and pack everything away. Elena's beach is a hard place to drag yourself away from. I wave to the couple camping near me as I go. They're on a road trip of a lifetime with their very young daughter: to India, through Pakistan & Iran in an old camper. We'd swapped stories over a beer last night to the sound of gently lapping waves and crickets chirping.
I follow the long coast road South with its wide tarmac and stunning views over the sea. After about an hour - it's easy to lose track of time with the hypnotic rhythms of bike and road, I turn left, inland onto the Filippiadeas Prevezas towards the blue hills.
Its warm. It was 17 C when I set out but the cheap plastic thermometer is now showing 27.5C even on the move with the air cooling us down. I open my jacket a bit more and lift the visor to let the air flow through.
It gradually rises to 33C and I stop in the soarse shade of some trees to drink from the blue aluminium flask clipped in the fairing.
I pass through a small town and stop at a tiny shop to pick up supplies; bread, olives, cheese & water. All the essentials for eating on the move in Greece. I've got tins of sardines and stuffed vine leaves in the panniers - plenty to make a meal when I settle tonight.
The road is climbing once more. The sky is turning greyer and there's a faint mist in the air as I ride through roads lined with high rocks and pine forest.
Something's not right. The bike isn't feeling as 'tight' as it should. It wallows over the tarmac in an uncertain manner. I pull in by the entrance to a deserted yellow building. Greece is full of closed down businesses, empty factories and deserted buildings. A sad sign of hard times for the people trying to make a living here.
The tyres are fine but I see that the swinging arm bolt has worked loose. I really need to check everything before I set out each morning but today I'd just done the basics. 'BOLT': Brakes, Oil, Lights, Tyres, and checked the fuel. Spanners out and a quick tighten. I look around to see if anything else is wrong. No. It all looks fine so I swing my leg up and over the saddle, press the starter and head out onto the road, checking for approaching traffic. Cars travel very fast on these roads and they can catch you unawares as there are so few of them. I have to constantly remind myself to keep checking the mirrors.
Gradually the road starts to head down towards sea level again. The high gorges give way to wide landscape and the familiar coastline with blue sea and white buildings with terracotta tiles.
Arriving at Lena's place in Antirrio, I hadn't even switched off the engine when Lena comes rushing out with a huge smiling welcome in very broken English. She shows me the tree house where I'm sleeping tonight and fusses over me, dragging bundles of blankets to the bottom of the rickety wooden ladder, insisting that it is cold, despite the evidence to the contrary.
Within ten minutes she has me sat at a table with the biggest tray of food imaginable. Three boiled eggs, cheese, bread, a bowl of soup, cake, biscuits, fruit, a plate of pasta with meat and sauce, a can of beer and three slices of bread with chocolate spread. I'm stunned. How can I eat all of this? I start and realise how hungry this riding has made me.
Stuffed to the gills, I climb up to the gently swaying tree house to lie and digest. Of course, I nod off, to be woken by a voice from below.
"Mister Chris, Mr Chris.... I've made some pizza for you."
Indeed she had. She passes up a huge slice of homemade pizza, dripping with cheese and I do my best to express how overwhelmed I truly am at her generosity. What an extraordinary place to stay - in a tree house, eating wonderful pizza while looking out over the bridge leading across the water to the Peloponnese in the distance.
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