In which Sid and Doris find the next port and ferry, leaving Greece for Italy.
Our last day in Greece starts fabulously well with cyclists’ breakfast of egg, local cream yoghurt, host’s mother’s marmalade, a croque Monsieur, toasts, orange juice, coffee by the pool. Seems a shame to leave. But we do find our way back to the old coast road.
Vehicle of the day and load of the day are all in one as one of the little Datsun pick-ups struggles to come past us uphill, towing a BMW Mini. It was going vairy slowly as we saw it over the next crest.
Our 60 kilometres and 441 metres of climb were spent on the new old road between the old old road, the new road, the new-but-not-functioning railway and the old-but-not-functioning railway. We stopped at a caravan and awning cafe still making a living on the old road. Every now and then we encounter some new road building to get us from one side of the motorway to the other.
The headwind had not turned around, as the forecast had promised. Bikes don’t tack so we bash on into it. We arrive in Patras as the sky is darkening. We had planned to stop as soon as we saw a ticket agent, because they could direct us to the right port and gate. Sid spots one and we stop. Doris sets about them, though the agent’s system is not showing much availability for the Patras to Bari night crossing. Eventually we have tickets for inside cabins.
It is raining as we leave the ticket agent with about five k to go through unlovely Patras but it soon stops. We get up to the right gate with about four hours before the Superfast is due to leave. We go inland for lunch and a shopping spree to provide beer and salties for the trip. Lucky to find a great kebab restaurant and leave Greece on a good culinary note.
In the terminal Doris finds the ticket counter and upgrades to a room with a view. We are able to board from 4pm for a 6pm sailing, but not before we have been bossed about by an Official Person and everything on the bikes has been x-rayed. (They do not x-ray the cars’ contents. Bikes are subversive.)
Aboard the ship, mainly a truck freight ferry, the canteen is worse than a British motorway service area. Doris’s salmon may have made the journey from Greece to Italy and back before finally finding a customer. Fortunately we are anaesthetised (in both taste buds and sense of smell) with beer and nachos sat on the smoking deck.
We enjoyed Greece and our little holiday on Lesbos. Riding through the towns on our way to Patras has been a lesson in defensive driving as at any moment you can expect a car door to open, a car to pull out, a person to step out, a large hole to appear in the road at a time when you cannot pull out. Probably not bad training for Southern Italy.