Our Room’s a Crime Scene?

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Today I’m hoping to tick off a bucket list item. It’s something else that we didn’t quite get around to last year, a climb up the mighty Mount Zas. OK so it’s not Everest, but it is still a very respectable 1,004 metres high, or 1,001 metres or 999 metres, depending on which source you believe, which either way makes it the highest mountain in the Cyclades.

I follow Issy and the rest of the Rembrandts down to the port where they’ll be spending their morning producing masterpieces. I then bid my beloved farewell and board a bus for the ride up into the centre of the island to the start of the climb. I’m dropped off seemingly in the middle of nowhere just past the village of Filoti. The first few hundred metres is up a road to the start of the track proper at the tiny Saint Marina Holy Chapel. According to the sign I’ve chosen the easy route ... well it didn’t actually say that, but it seems that if I want to complete a circuit back to Filoti I’ll need to come down via a “harder” track. Hmmm.

The path starts off gently enough. It’s hot but there’s lots of shade under the trees. I’ve come out of the blocks hard, and I’ve now opened up a handy break on the young two person French team that came off the bus at the same time as I did. I hope I haven’t gone too hard too early. Ticking off a bucket list item and securing a gold medal on the same day would be a real highlight. I also hope the Frenchies aren’t saving themselves for a fast finish. I pass a four person English team. I don’t remember seeing them at the start but they’re clearly in this race too. The path’s taken me gently around the mountain up until now, but now it’s heading up towards the ridge. It’s suddenly got a lot steeper, and there are no more trees, just rocks.

I pass another rather non-descript looking team. I’m not quite sure where they’ve been up until now and they don’t seem to be moving too quickly. One of them’s got a parasol over her head. That’ll be it. The wind resistance of the parasol’s slowed them down so much that they’re now being lapped by the other teams. I can see the French team behind me. They seem to be gaining. This is not good. I’m slowing right down. It’s hot and steep and I’m really struggling. If this is the easy route I’m not sure I’m looking forward too much to the descent. Noooo. The French team surges past me. The young lady wishes me “good luck”. That was very sporting of her, but I hope she knows I haven’t given up on my quest for gold just yet.

Disaster. A breakaway member of the English team streaks past me. I didn’t see that coming. I can’t let myself be left completely out of the medals after all this hard work. I put in a withering burst of speed and manage to catch and then pass her … well actually she was standing still at the time waiting for the rest of her team to catch up, but it felt good to at least pass someone. I’ve reached the top of the ridge now and the path flattens off a bit again. I can see the finish line ahead of me. I can also see the French team again. They’re powering on up the slope in the far distance ahead of me, and I think my quest for gold might now be over. The English team seems to have slowed down again, so I can still get bronze. One of the English ladies is wearing fashion accessory type sandals, which probably isn’t helping her team too much. I wonder if she even realises she’s in a race. The path gets steeper again closer to the summit but I think I can hold the English off. I breast the tape, I’ve got the bronze! Yeees! … actually I don’t think you get to breast the tape if you finish third.

The views in every direction are excellent. I take a picture of the summit cairn so people will believe I made it. It’s very important to have photographic proof.

So now it’s time to go down. And the first challenge? Well that would be finding the path. The last bit of the path up was indistinct enough, but that looks like it was marked with flashing neon lights compared to this poor excuse for a track. It’s getting steeper … and steeper. I’m now on all fours scrambling over rocks down a near vertical cliff face. I hadn't realised that “harder” actually meant impossible. I pass a couple coming up the other way. They can’t be serious. They’ve got no hope of making it to the summit. The lady has a look of terror in her eyes as she asks me how far she still has to go. I haven’t got the heart to give her an honest answer. I hope I don’t run into her again later.

I’m supposed to be on the lookout for the Cave of Zas, where Zeus, the King of the Gods, supposedly took shelter from his persecutors. And I would be too, but if I take my eyes off the path for even a second and trip over a rock … well it’s a long way down to the bottom of the cliff, and retrieving the body might prove a tad challenging. It seems I’ve missed the cave completely. I hope it wasn’t a world class attraction.

The path suddenly flattens off into paving, and then a road. It’s a miracle! But the challenges of the day are not yet over. If I want to catch the bus back from Filoti it seems I’m going to need to sprint several kilometres to the bus stop. I wonder if other bronze medal winners have had to deal with situations like these - sprinting again after they’ve already finished their events to avoid their days turning into disasters.

Back in Naxos Town, and it seems Issy’s been having some disasters of her own. I don’t know a lot about makeup, but it seems that spilling eye shadow all over your sheets is probably something best avoided. She’s trying to clean it up with damp toilet paper, but all that seems to be doing is spreading it around. The bed now looks like a crime scene. She had a blood nose last night. The cleaners seem to have managed to get most of the stains from that off the bathroom floor, but if they see this latest lot too suspicions will certainly be raised. I can see the headlines now - “Fingerpainter Husband Accused on Trying to Butcher Talented Artist Wife in Vicious Hotel Room Attack”. … actually I don’t think headlines are usually that long.

It’s Welcome Dinner night so it’s off to a lively restaurant down on the waterfront. The musicians are excellent, and our good friend Marija and her sister Anna provide the entertainment with some highly expressive traditional Greek dancing.

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Comments

[RENanDREW]

A piece of my heart is back in Greece
Your photos of these Greek landscapes is giving me a major case of itchy feet :)