Day 23: Stylida to Litochoro

The first hour of today's ride is through miles and miles of olive trees. As far as the eye can see, they spread over the hills and valleys; all seemingly cultivated and well kept. By the roadside, cacti and walnut trees appear. It's a cool and relaxed start to the day: and then...

Satty takes us down a slip road. The green sign should have rung  huge alarm bells. Greece  is the 'wrong' way round. Blue signs for highways, green for - motorways!
I'm  on a Honda 90 on the main motorway to Thessaloniki. It's big, it's fast. There's no turning around. No stopping to check the route.  I twist the throttle hard, grip the handlebars and ride as fast as possible, looking for the first exit - any exit as long as it's not motorway. 90cc is too small for Greek motorways. 125cc is the minimum. I scan the mirrors for any approaching blue lights. I'm way too tense. You need to be relaxed to ride well. Tense up and the bike feels less stable.
I give myself a pep talk. Pull yourself together man, it's only a motorway.  I've done miles on them on the R-1150 RT. That's the difference 1060cc missing.
After about 15 kilometers I see an exit sign but cones and an illuminated sign shows it's closed. Another twenty minutes and I'm getting desperate. Another exit sign. 'έξοδος'. Again, cones and illuminated sign. Is there no way off this motorway. A tunnel ahead. It's six and a half kilometres long; through the mountain. At least it's lit, unlike Albanian tunnels. I ride on, lorries hurtling past, the slipstream from them hits hard and pushes me off my line.

Light. The tunnel ends and I'm out into the bright sunshine. Another few kilometres, another tunnel. I ride on for forty four miles before I see an exit that isn't closed. I signal, take the slip road and start to breath a bit more deeply. There's a toll station. The cashier looks at the bike with a frown as I pay. I know, I know. I shouldn't be here.

I find a spot by a brook for lunch. I stare into the water. There are lots of fish. A frog jumps in as I peer in. Something larger moves the reeds beside me.
My reverie is cut short by the barking approach of two farm dogs. They're still a way away so I have time to throw my helmet on, my leg over the saddle and ride past them and away. I throw a little of my salami at them as I pass. They turn towards the smell of meat and leave me alone.

I turn onto the old service road towards Thessaloniki. It follows the motorway, occasionally, dipping underneath and to the other side. Many road signs are riddled with bullet holes. Not small air-gun holes like I sometimes see in Britain. These are big enough to put your finger in. 303 maybe. They have guns here then.

I'm back in agricultural territory now. I see a grey heron and a stork standing together in the cooling mist of an irrigation spray.  The trees are in full leaf, still pale and fresh in the Spring.

Satty turns me left off the service road. Towards the mountains again. I start to climb towards to snow still clinging in the shadows. It's extraordinarily wild up here. There are a few goats and cattle. Lizards scurry away as I approach. I see my road winding ahead, zig-zagging up towards the snow. Surely not Satty? There's no other road. The climb is so steep I'm in first gear most of the time. The hairpins are at forty-five degrees. I need to keep the speed up or else the engine will stall.  Around one bend, cattle ...and dogs. There's no chance of escaping at this speed. Should I turn round?
No, I need to carry on. I swerve through them, kicking out and yelling. I didn't have time to reach into my pocket for the meat.

I enter a high plateau. There are a few fields and a small village here. My fuel is running out. The needle has dipped into the red and the tank is almost dry when I see a sign nailed to a telegraph pole. There's a petrol station in five hundred metres. At last. I pull up to a pump. It's not turned on, the blank display staring blindly back at me. My moment of dismay is cut short by the growling of another dog. He's big, brown and guarding this abandoned petrol station. I race away, just accelerating fast enough to stay ahead of the beast.
I leave the village and continue my climb to the peak and then begin the long descent to the sea.  I coast for a while and when I see a level bit of road in the shade, I stop and fill up from my spare can.

Walking down the hill I pass a group of what look like Romany women, herding a few cows with their wispy sticks swishing in front of them. Their dogs turn towards me and they start to attack - three of them. The women simply watch.

Half a kilometer further down, another couple  of dogs chase me... and again another pack chase and snap at my legs. My throat is hoarse from yelling at them.

I lose count, but on the rough road down from peak to the sea there are fifty hairpin bends at least. I'm getting the hang of them. Brake...drop to second. Release the front brake, feather the rear brake then accelerate gently through curve, back up to third: Repeat for the next bend that turns the opposite direction.. left, right left, right... A slow return to civilisation, warmth and the sea.

A final left turn from the old coast road then a gentle climb towards Litochoro, which lies in the foothills of Mount Olympus.
Fourth exit off a roundabout and I'm here. This is our apartment for a week. Sian arrives by plane tomorrow and I'm to pick her up from the station. Yes...on the Honda C90.
Now for a week's break from my travels and therefore, I'm signing off for now. I'll let you all know how it goes when I'm back on the road - to Bulgaria, Romania and beyond!

Chris