BUILD BRIDGES NOT WALLS - Martin Luther King (Jnr)

The earthen pot surrounded by crinkly parchment arrived at our table. My mouth was drooling. Succulent lamb topped with feta, olives, wild mountain herbs and tomatoes lying on a bed of soft potatoes saturated in lemony juices. Lamb Kleftiko. My favourite dish in the whole of Greece. And what a joy to find that it is a speciality of the Zagori region of Northern Greece where we have been exploring for the past few weeks. 

For centuries shepherds and their sheep have had to ford the raging winter streams that proliferate in the Pindus mountains of Zagori. It is sheep country and the people who live here are the decedents of shepherds. The long harsh winter is bitterly cold and it snows heavily. The old people were tough, wearing rough woollen clothes, walking everywhere through snow and over stoney rugged mountains, collecting wood to warm themselves before an open fire.

 

 

Traditionally, bandits or guerillas fighting the Ottomans and hiding out in the rugged hills would steal a lamb and cook it, wrapped in leaves and buried in a hole in the ground filled with coals and covered with earth so the fire could not be seen. How the smell of this lamb kleftiko or 'stolen lamb', did not give the game away is a mystery!

Kleftiko has remained a favourite dish for shepherds and, of course, us. We hunt down kleftiko where ever we go, and this area is the latest our hunting ground!

It is still sheep country. It is still wild with little villages of as few as 20 people connected at roughly 10km distances by winding roads that, in part, owe their history to sheep tracks. 

It's autumn now and the rivers are almost dry but in two or three weeks, when the rain starts, the rivers will be impassable to hikers unless they know where the 45 old stone bridges are that used to connect the isolated villages of the region. We have been hunting them down along with the kleftiko.

The bridges are remarkable; in themselves as well as in their extraordinary settings. We spot a sign for a bridge, and off we go, winding down narrow tracks to the very bottom of gorges and valleys, our itinerary for the day forgotten. The feeling of mysticism and intrigue that wells up every time I catch a glimpse of one of these stone bridges is quite overwhelming.

I have done a bit of digging to find out more about them.

The oldest complete stone bridge in the world is in Izmir (now Smyrna) in Turkey and dates back to 850BC and is still in daily use. There are the remnants of another one in Mycenae, Greece that goes back to 1 600 BC and there is enough of it left to still be useful to the local populace. The Greeks have been at it for millenia!

The bridges of the Pindus date from the 18th to the 19th century in the main and, although built during the Turkish Ottoman occupation, were built by Greeks. The Pindus area was only re-united with Greece in 1913 when the Turks were driven out. I initially thought that the bridges must have been built by the Turks but my friend Mike Sutton queried this conclusion. He knows, he has lived here 40 years! He is right; few if any bridges were built by the then rulers of this part of Greece. They were built by Greek villagers using money donated by monks, monasteries, by the local villagers themselves, and in at least one instance, from a donation by the wife of the Turkish Pasha. Bridges were often named after the benefactor.

  

The arch is a form well known to the ancients for its strength.

 

The stone bridges of the Pindus are made using semicircular arches with a wooden formwork to lay the courses of stone on until the stonework was sufficiently stable to be self standing. The masons started at a narrow in the river where a solid base of rock could be found for the two foundation buttresses. The stones were laid from the outside in towards the middle of the arch and only when both sides met was there any stability in the stonework. Apparently there were failures but it seems they were few and the strength of the bridges has proved to be remarkable.

The stones were laid in a lime mortar such as that used by the Romans and which is exceptionally strong. Due to its ability to 'wick' moisture out of the stone, the mortar protects the integrity of the stone. The stones themselves, found on site or near it, are formed from layers of sedimentary rock called schist. The rock forms near perfect building blocks that must have been irresistible to the ancient builders; I just have to see them to want to place one on top of another. There are also nearby deposits of limestone and marble (the mountains are made of it!) as well as wood for kilns to manufacture lime mortar that the builders needed. 

 

The same building materials were used for the buildings in the area with even the roofs being tiled with thin stones split along natural fault lines like slate. But, more of them later!

It was fascinating for me to see how the supports of the bridge were shaped like the prow of a boat, parting the rushing stream so as to avoid resistance to the water as well as standing waves. Flotsam and jetsam are swept past instead of damming the river and endangering the structure.

 

Under each bridge, at the apex of the arch, the remains of a rusty old chain can be seen hanging. You will see them if you look carefully at the photos. A bell was hung there which the wind tolled when it was particularly strong and travellers were thus warned to be careful crossing so as not to be blown off into the abyss.

The span of the bridges can be up to about 40m which means that the foot path is more than 20m above the river! The pavement of the bridges was made using the same stone with ridges, formed by protruding stones, at approximately 1.5 to 2.0 meter centres. They helped to prevent animals and people from slipping on the ice that covers the surface in winter. These paths are not for those with weak ankles!

 

We never pass one of these beautiful structures without stopping to marvel, no matter how small.

 

  

 

BEWARE OF BEARS

I close my eyes a lot when we're driving in Greece. The roads are astonishing - narrow, winding, treacherous, a feat of engineering skills. We've driven along loopy roads in Nisyros, skinny tracks in Tinos, spiky passes in Lesvos, precipitous roads in Leros.......but none have been as marvellous and terrifying as the steep, narrow, zig zaggy, deserted roads in Northern Greece. 

 

So it was quite by chance that my eyes were open when a bear crept out of the foliage and stared us in the eye. This was a real European Brown Bear - the endangered kind, the ones that no-one ever gets to see, even locals who have lived here their whole lives. She gazed at us for a couple of seconds and then disappeared back into the dense forest. 

So, how, you might wonder, did we get to be driving in Northern Greece instead of sailing our trusty Pegasus in the Aegean? 

Most of us know Hermes as the Greek Messenger God, but he came up trumps for us as in his other role as the God of Travel in June when he helped us sneak out of South Africa moments before a hard lockdown was announced; helped us navigate the tortuous stumbling blocks and got us to our beautiful old stone farmhouse in Lesvos safe and sound. 

We settled in to the long-dreamed of Greek village life in Plomari, pottering around the house and garden, eating delicious meze. taking long siestas in the heat of the day, swimming in the startlingly clear sea and revelling in the simple Greekness of the town that we love so much. 

 

The weeks fled by and just as we were preparing to pack up and go sailing, Hermes lived up to his other claim - the Trickster God. 

Pegasus has been balancing on stilts in a small traditional boatyard on the island of Paros since 2018, and Henry was itching to get her on the water again. The new log book was packed, arrangements for looking after the garden and the house were made, the wonderful Dina was on standby to welcome rental guests ....... and out the blue Marine Insurance wrote to say that, as the boat is so old, the entire rig has to be replaced. After some huffing and puffing we were resigned to it and started to search for available riggers. But getting a rigger in mid August in Greece is like finding a builder in mid December in South Africa - impossible!

Henry and I are the eternal optimists, so, with Hermes leading the way, we set out on the overnight ferry to Piraeus, then the morning ferry to Paros and onto the bus to Naoussa. There was still a small glimmer of hope that a rigger could do it in-between his sailing charter jobs, but that night our hopes were dashed and we were left gazing forlornly at dusty Pegasus up on her stilts, too disappointed to even buff her up a bit. The closest we got to the water was crossing in the water taxi to the boatyard!

And so, with Hermes just in-front of us laughing quietly to himself, we set off on the midnight ferry back to Piraeus, masks firmly in place as we were sardined amongst the returning hordes of millennial revellers that Paros was inundated with. 

   

Our next hastily arranged stop was Galatas where Henry's dear friend and colleague, Mike Sutton lives with his partner Tom.

Staying with Mike and Tom in their house overlooking the channel is a treat. We had a breather to lick our wounds and decide what to do over the next 6 weeks. Philoxenia, our Plomari farm house, was rented so we were homeless. We could, of course, come back home early, but that felt defeatist. The weather was sweltering - had been for weeks - and we started dreaming about exploring the cool mountainous region of Northern Greece. Maybe we could go by train..... or by bus? And then take the bus between mountain villages? Our friend Silina lifted her eyebrow in skeptical Greek fashion at these crazy ideas. 

And then, over an icy ouzo, Mike cryptically asked Henry if he had a drivers license. "Take our car" he said. "We don't need it....."

And here we are. Its cool. It's mountainous. It's forested. It's beautiful. It's wild and craggy. The lamb kleftiko is to die for - and most importantly the party loving millennials don't even know it exists.