Turning Point

First we go away, then we head back, so it goes. At some point on all our trips we reach a turning point, the spot on the map furthest from Buxton. 

On this trip Vasiliki is IT, from here on we're wandering homewards. We will end up taking a shorter trip than we planned. Though this does raise the question, which plan? Our trip to Greece has gone through so many iterations. Inventing imaginary journeys was one of the things that kept me sane during lockdown. So there was the Schenghen busting one through Croatia and Albania; the one to Delphi, onwards to Thessaloniki then back via Igoumetsita; a return trip to the Peloponnese; or Athens then onwards to Crete... There is a spreadsheet, fully costed, for each one, and as usual we followed none of them!

It was kind of the hotel next door to hold a  'Greek Night' especially to mark our turning point. It's what we all want surely, to be sent on our way accompanied by weaponised bouzoukis. It kicked off about eightish while we were eating outside, the woman singing had a plaintive voice, the songs were wistful yet impassioned, like chanson or Fado. They sounded melancholy, as if they were bewailing unrequited love, but equally they could have concerned something just as tragic, like over-cooking a moussaka or Galatasaray thrashing Olympiakos in the Europa League group stages. It's all Greek to us.

After a short intermission the tragic woman was replaced by a perky group of men. Bouzouki music does not improve with the addition of more instruments, the brighter the tune the more disconsolate I felt. After another short interlude all the musicians seemed to join forces, soulful woman plus perky men, I mean that's our assumption, as we could hear the goings-ons clearly but couldn't see them. It might have been another group together. 

They were still at it as we headed for bed. There is an unwritten rule governing 'Greek Nights', an unspoken agreement that no matter what the preceding content the event will conclude with a sprint finish. Zorbas dance is non-negotiable. So, tomorrow when we leave Lefkada, I will be left with two abiding memories, the ghostly outline of Odysseus's island on the horizon and an intimate moment serenaded by Zorba the Greek.

When we arrived in Greece three weeks ago we hadn't booked our return tickets, neither back to Italy nor across the Channel. All we knew is that to be Schengen compliant we needed to be back in the UK by the beginning of November. Maybe booking our returns this late was an error.  Booking a crossing back to Brindisi at the end of September cost considerably more than I expected - £427 once you factor in the extra for a cabin. This will give us three weeks or so to explore Puglia before heading homewards.  Now we are pondering what to do with the 10 days or so between leaving Lefkada and catching the ferry to Italy at the end of the month from Igoumetsita.  

Going further south towards the Peloponnese no longer makes sense, if we'd wanted to do that we should have booked the return crossing from Patras. Visiting Delphi, then returning to Igoumetsita by the inland route via Kalabaka is still a possibility, but it adds a lot of kilometres, with inflated fuel  prices this comes at a considerable cost. Delphi  will have to wait. 

The Ambracian Gulf, a big salt water lagoon west of Preveza, looks interesting. The protected wetlands are home to a

wide range of bird life including white Pelicans. We like pelicans. The regional capital - Arta looks attractive too, with rare examples of vernacular architecture from the Byzantine period. However, there are few places to stay, mostly public car parks. This is difficult with the thermometer rarely dropping below the upper-twenties even at night. Really we need to stay somewhere secure enough to open every window and skylight. When I looked at the roads into the wetlands - single track and unmetalled, that definitely put the kibosh on the lagoon option; ok if you drive a compact VW camper but not a good option in a 7m coach-built; experience has taught us, don't be adventurous!

Now we were left contemplating re-tracing our steps, I felt a tad deflated, especially as most of the campsites on the coast between Preveza and Igoumetsita have dreadful reviews. The exception seemed to be one at Nissos beach, people were more positive about it so we headed there.

The best places are those we happen upon by accident without pre-conceptions and no expectations. In fact the worst thing about Camping Nissos beach is the access road. It's only a couple of kilometres from the main road, the first 1500m is a typical Greek side road, narrow, steep with blind bends, the final section resembles the final plummet downwards on an Alton Towers white knuckle ride. We made it in one piece and no-one screamed. A pleasant young man greeted us and showed us around. We chose our ideal pitch, easy to access with a sea view. 

You have to congratulate the people who have developed Nissos Beach, clearly there has been a lot of recent investment and a concerted effort to raise the standard of Greek beach campsites to match those in Iberia. Indeed the only place I have seen a swankier camping kitchen - all brushed steel surfaces, induction hobs and hi-tech ovens - was in Denmark.

However, this being Greece not Scandinavia how cool things look does not necessarily mean they will actually work. The showers here really do look the business, with two heads, a fashionable fixed 'rain shower" and a conventional hand held spray type. All the showers I had were great, every one Gill had was on the chilly side of tepid. So it's a bit of a lottery.

These are minor points because Nissos Beach is a great site, one of the best we've been on anywhere. It's located among olive trees next to a gently curving bay. 

The beach is mainly pebbles and shingle, but the view more than compensates for it not being very sandy. To the south you have a view of the mountain's beyond Preveza, and out to sea the rocky profile of Lefkada.

Northwards there are two small islands on the horizon. I am uncertain if they were Paxos and Antipaxos, or the larger of the two may be the southern tip of Corfu. 

get breakfast. A very civilised way to start the day, I think.

Our shady pitch is less than 30 metres from the beach. My morning routine, have a coffee, go for a swim, a very civilised way to start the day.

Most days we've cooked outside using the Cadac and portable induction hob but yesterday we ate at the campsite restaurant. It was excellent. 

I had tuna, Gill chose the salmon option with beetroot and creamed goats cheese.

The starter was delicious too, an unusual take on fried zucchini, rolled into balls and deep fried, they were lightly seasoned, quite garlicky, and just the right balance of squidge and crunch. Yum!

Just to complete the magic moment the sunset was amazing, the afterglow a deep tangerine.

 Or so I am led to believe, Gill was facing it, I had my back to the pyrotechnics.

Beyond the restaurant, right on the shore is a beach shack style bar. It's perfectly positioned for Ibiza style cocktails at sunset. We don't do cocktails, I get shocked by the prices 

We have had a wonderful four days here. After the 'turning point' each day matters more, it won't be long before we begin 'we can't do this in Buxton' mantra. Not yet though, we are still in the moment, living the reality, we are not interested in dreams.

Oh, I forgot to say, the stars are amazing here. Every night has been crystal clear, the Milky Way dusting the zenith. How good is that?