The week staying in Litochoro with Sian was wonderful; a chance to relax and recharge. We went for long walks and rides in the foothills of Mount Olympus. Sian got a chance to experience something of the extraordinary views and landscapes that I've been privileged enough to have enjoyed over the past weeks.
The bike got a bit of TLC as well. An oil change, a service and a new tyre on the rear. The garage only had a 2.75-17, which is a bit bigger than the previous tyre, but it looked good and seemed to fit well.
On with the blog:
I'm sad to see Sian off on the coach, heading to Thessaloniki airport and home. She was going by train but this being Greece, and today being May Day, they're all on strike.
I walk back down Litochoro main street in the morning sun to start loading the bike. Mount Olympus towers behind me and the sun reflects off the pond-still sea in front of me. Taverna owners are hosing down the pavements ready for the day's customers. A sad, red and blue parrot stares out from its cage in the, already baking, pet shop window.
I walk back down Litochoro main street in the morning sun to start loading the bike. Mount Olympus towers behind me and the sun reflects off the pond-still sea in front of me. Taverna owners are hosing down the pavements ready for the day's customers. A sad, red and blue parrot stares out from its cage in the, already baking, pet shop window.
I set off down the hill, away from Litochoro. The bike feels good. Everything is tight and it handles well even on the unreliable Greek road. My mood lifts as I head once more into the pale green countryside of Greece in Spring.
I get even further away from town and the roads deteriorate. I hit a few big pits and bumps. There's an ominous squealing, rubbing noise from the back end. I pull into a picnic area - a few upturned wooden drums, once used to hold cables, serve as benches. There's a little shade and I park the bike under a tree. The tyre is polished on one side. I feel it. It's hot. Melting. The rubber sticks to my finger. I investigate the mudguard. A bolt holding the rear rubber trim is very hot; it's obviously catching the tyre.
I unfold my tool roll. The bolt is too corroded to undo with a spanner so I wrench it out with pliers and to make good, I glue the trim back on with impact adhesive. I ride on a little, hoping, but not expecting, the problem to be cured.
No. The first big dip in the road and the noise returns.
What can I do? I shuffle forward on the seat, trying to take weight off the rear suspension. My knees ache and my legs start to feel the strain in this unnatural position. I have to do something. I try to think if I might find a motorcycle tyre dealer any time soon. Of course not: it's May Day. Everyone's at the beach. Then it comes to me. I can swap the tyres around. The narrower front tyre will fit on the back and certainly won't rub. The front can cope with the bigger tyre. It won't be a pleasant job in this heat, but it should do the trick.
I unfold my tool roll. The bolt is too corroded to undo with a spanner so I wrench it out with pliers and to make good, I glue the trim back on with impact adhesive. I ride on a little, hoping, but not expecting, the problem to be cured.
No. The first big dip in the road and the noise returns.
What can I do? I shuffle forward on the seat, trying to take weight off the rear suspension. My knees ache and my legs start to feel the strain in this unnatural position. I have to do something. I try to think if I might find a motorcycle tyre dealer any time soon. Of course not: it's May Day. Everyone's at the beach. Then it comes to me. I can swap the tyres around. The narrower front tyre will fit on the back and certainly won't rub. The front can cope with the bigger tyre. It won't be a pleasant job in this heat, but it should do the trick.
I'm riding carefully, avoiding potholes and looking for a place to stop. It needs to be shaded, level and away from people. I try to avoid an audience when I'm working on the bike.
At last, after another ten kilometres, I find the perfect spot - an abandoned factory. It's got a level concrete floor and there's plenty of shade. The dilapidated building has been taken over by swallows and fly-tippers. Rubbish and birdshit cover the floor. I clear a space and lay my tools out. I have a plan. Take the front tyre off then put the tyre-less wheel back on to stop the front of the bike tipping over while I'm working on the rear. Take the rear wheel out and swap tyres. Put the rear back on. Take the front wheel off again, fit the tyre and refit the wheel.
I use laundry soap and water to lubricate the tyre bead so it slips onto the rim a little easier.
The front wheel rim tape is torn as well, so I have to repair and glue it before fitting the tyre.
The whole process takes exactly one and a half hours. I'm quite pleased with that. It could have taken much longer.
At last, after another ten kilometres, I find the perfect spot - an abandoned factory. It's got a level concrete floor and there's plenty of shade. The dilapidated building has been taken over by swallows and fly-tippers. Rubbish and birdshit cover the floor. I clear a space and lay my tools out. I have a plan. Take the front tyre off then put the tyre-less wheel back on to stop the front of the bike tipping over while I'm working on the rear. Take the rear wheel out and swap tyres. Put the rear back on. Take the front wheel off again, fit the tyre and refit the wheel.
I use laundry soap and water to lubricate the tyre bead so it slips onto the rim a little easier.
The front wheel rim tape is torn as well, so I have to repair and glue it before fitting the tyre.
The whole process takes exactly one and a half hours. I'm quite pleased with that. It could have taken much longer.
I celebrate with lunch. Water from my bottle and a tin of cuttlefish cooked in tomato sauce.
Back on the road. The rubbing noise has gone.
I'm entering the outskirts of Thessaloniki, along the back roads. Thr air is filled with what looks like snow. It's some white fluffy substance falling from the trees. Satty tries to send me up a motorway slip road but having fallen for that before, I realise what's happened just before it's too late. I do have to wheel the bike back 20 metres inside a coned off area and pointedly ride in the opposite direction on a small road - just to show her who's boss.
I arrive outside the apartment and give Mateo a call. He helps to arrange for the bike to be safely stored in a locked building with the word 'parking' showing above the graffiti. The woman in the corner shop took a couple of euros from me.
I arrive outside the apartment and give Mateo a call. He helps to arrange for the bike to be safely stored in a locked building with the word 'parking' showing above the graffiti. The woman in the corner shop took a couple of euros from me.
It's party time in Thessaloniki. Trumpets blare. There are crowds chanting and clapping. Loud fireworks, or possibly guns, make a dozen or more loud reports that set dogs barking. There's running and shouting. Drunks walk under my balcony, four floors above them, singing snatches of one of the chants in the distance.
The chanting becomes louder, more insistent. Thousands of voices join together. It sounds political -demanding, protesting. The Greek people are having difficult times. They are understandably angry. Pensions have been cut. The minimum wage has been slashed to a derisory level. Taxes have rocketed and there's unemployment and real poverty.
More bangs - one after another. They are coming from different streets around me. I shut the shutters. It's too hot. Way too hot.
Mateo returns. He's shiny with sweat.
"It's really hot out there you know. Even for Greece it is hot and it is only first May."
I ask him about the noises.
"It's another protest," he confirms. "This is Greece. There are always protests." Mateo describes the scene: angry crowds, police in helmets, fireworks, rocks. A normal protest. Everyday stuff.
This evening the protests are centred on the local administration offices. It continue into the night. Shouting and chanting, punctuated with bangs and sirens; their anger and sense of injustice marinaded in the sweltering heat of a Thessaloniki May Day. I turn over and try to shut the sounds out. My last night's sleep in Greece is a fitful and restless one.
Mateo returns. He's shiny with sweat.
"It's really hot out there you know. Even for Greece it is hot and it is only first May."
I ask him about the noises.
"It's another protest," he confirms. "This is Greece. There are always protests." Mateo describes the scene: angry crowds, police in helmets, fireworks, rocks. A normal protest. Everyday stuff.
This evening the protests are centred on the local administration offices. It continue into the night. Shouting and chanting, punctuated with bangs and sirens; their anger and sense of injustice marinaded in the sweltering heat of a Thessaloniki May Day. I turn over and try to shut the sounds out. My last night's sleep in Greece is a fitful and restless one.
Safe journey
ReplyDeleteI've really missed the blog!