It's been marginally less hot, and I have been for a very enjoyable (& healthy!) walk, up a winding country road into the interior of the island, through dense pine forest full of jays and coal tits.
The road turns inland just above Monastery Bay, and slowly ascends, zig-sagging and turning through miles of trees. There are wonderful views through the trees and a tremendous sense of peace and greenness all around.
Here and there I passed a little shrine, or a side road, or an isolated house or villa. At one point I found a small cave, with a locked iron grille across the mouth. Intriguing...
In another area there was a collection of low buildings half-hidden among the trees with a big "Keep out!" sign on the fence. No idea what that was all about; army base in the middle of nowhere? NATO listening station? I paid attention to the sign and also did not take a photo!
Just after that I found goat droppings on the roadside, and heard goats bleating, away on the right below the road; but I never saw them. I heard a couple of birds of prey, too, but I didn't see either of them, either; one went "Ky, ky, ky" and the other sounded remarkably like an airborne cat. I'll have to look the calls up, see if I work out what they might have been.
I also saw a lot more cyclamen in flower, and wild thyme, and higher up a lot of a plant sending up a single long flower stem from a large bulb with just its neck showing above ground, but no leaves yet. The flowers were small, white and star-shaped; some sort of squill perhaps?
I met the local fire brigade three times; they seemed just to be driving around. I think it must be that they run patrols in this hot dry weather. The fire hazard here in a drought, with all this resinous pine duff on the ground, must be horrendous. By the third time their truck passed me by, I got a honk and the firefighters all waved at me. Nice hunky bunch, too >preens self<
It seems oddly appropriate that today, polling day, I have visited the spot where the great orator and defender of democracy Demosthenes died. The end point of my walk, after about an hour and forty minutes of steady uphill going, was the site of a Sanctuary of Poseidon which in Classical times was a famous spot for exiles to take refuge.
Demosthenes was an ardent opponent of King Philip the second of Macedon, the father of Alexander the Great; Philip was of an empire-building frame of mind, and wanted to annexe the whole of southern Greece. Demosthenes had argued the case for freedom, and made endless speeches against him. He was an old-school Athenian democrat and loathed the idea of being subject to foreign rule, and he was one of the chief architects of an alliance of anti-Macedon states including Athens and Thebes. Philip promptly defeated them in a massive battle, and Demosthenes had fled into exile, and fetched up here, taking sanctuary at the Temple of Poseidon.
In theory he was then safe from all comers; asylum at a temple was sacrosanct, rather like asylum in an embassy today. But he must have known he couldn't stay there indefinitely.
He was tracked down and surrounded, and suddenly it seems he despaired. Sooner than surrender to his enemies, he took hemlock. Supposedly he waited until he could feel the poison had taken effect and then left the temple precinct, so as not to defile sacred ground by dying there; and he passed away just outside the entrance.
There's very little left of the temple itself; some foundations, and sections of the perimeter wall, including the footings of that entrance way.
It was originally the same size as the Aphaea temple on Aigina. But as happens so often to deserted buildings, it's been used as a source of good cut stone for centuries, and now there's almost nothing left. Pausanias mentions that it was a very holy shrine, and that the tomb of Demosthenes was beside it.
The interior is planted with pines, sighing with a sound like waves in the wind, and casting a welcome shade. All around, ongoing excavations by the Swedish Institute of Archaeology have uncovered the remains of stoas and shops, a public square, and a number of houses, and they now know the area was occupied from the bronze age and was a shrine from the 8th century BC till at least the 2nd century AD.
There was a small city up there as well, right in the northern interior, high up and isolated; it was called Kalauria.
I remind myself that the likelihood is it was no bigger than ancient Aigina, which didn't take up much more than the Cape Kolonna site; barely a small town by modern standards. But it's poignant to see how little is left. Bees and ants and wildflowers, and a few tourists.
I sat on a rock and sketched, and then went and had my picnic under a tree, and walked back down again.
Going down, as usual, was quicker than going up but harder on the knees. I did go for a dip when I got back, but more to cool off than for the exercise.
Well, it's the evening now; the polls have been closed since 7.00pm and I gather that Nea Dimokratia conceded the election about an hour ago. So now, my good wishes to the incoming MPs, and may they manage to form a workable coalition soon. I know what my political views are in my own country, but it's not my place to pass comment on another country. Though I will just say I'm very glad that in Britain, if you move to a different region, you can get your vote transferred there too. One of the chaps waiting at tables at the place where I had supper was saying that he's had to come home for the weekend in order to vote; you have to go back to your home town. That's positively biblical; and must be terribly inconvenient. I wonder if that's general, or just for the islands, or what?
The road turns inland just above Monastery Bay, and slowly ascends, zig-sagging and turning through miles of trees. There are wonderful views through the trees and a tremendous sense of peace and greenness all around.
Here and there I passed a little shrine, or a side road, or an isolated house or villa. At one point I found a small cave, with a locked iron grille across the mouth. Intriguing...
In another area there was a collection of low buildings half-hidden among the trees with a big "Keep out!" sign on the fence. No idea what that was all about; army base in the middle of nowhere? NATO listening station? I paid attention to the sign and also did not take a photo!
Just after that I found goat droppings on the roadside, and heard goats bleating, away on the right below the road; but I never saw them. I heard a couple of birds of prey, too, but I didn't see either of them, either; one went "Ky, ky, ky" and the other sounded remarkably like an airborne cat. I'll have to look the calls up, see if I work out what they might have been.
I also saw a lot more cyclamen in flower, and wild thyme, and higher up a lot of a plant sending up a single long flower stem from a large bulb with just its neck showing above ground, but no leaves yet. The flowers were small, white and star-shaped; some sort of squill perhaps?
It seems oddly appropriate that today, polling day, I have visited the spot where the great orator and defender of democracy Demosthenes died. The end point of my walk, after about an hour and forty minutes of steady uphill going, was the site of a Sanctuary of Poseidon which in Classical times was a famous spot for exiles to take refuge.
Demosthenes was an ardent opponent of King Philip the second of Macedon, the father of Alexander the Great; Philip was of an empire-building frame of mind, and wanted to annexe the whole of southern Greece. Demosthenes had argued the case for freedom, and made endless speeches against him. He was an old-school Athenian democrat and loathed the idea of being subject to foreign rule, and he was one of the chief architects of an alliance of anti-Macedon states including Athens and Thebes. Philip promptly defeated them in a massive battle, and Demosthenes had fled into exile, and fetched up here, taking sanctuary at the Temple of Poseidon.
In theory he was then safe from all comers; asylum at a temple was sacrosanct, rather like asylum in an embassy today. But he must have known he couldn't stay there indefinitely.
He was tracked down and surrounded, and suddenly it seems he despaired. Sooner than surrender to his enemies, he took hemlock. Supposedly he waited until he could feel the poison had taken effect and then left the temple precinct, so as not to defile sacred ground by dying there; and he passed away just outside the entrance.
It was originally the same size as the Aphaea temple on Aigina. But as happens so often to deserted buildings, it's been used as a source of good cut stone for centuries, and now there's almost nothing left. Pausanias mentions that it was a very holy shrine, and that the tomb of Demosthenes was beside it.
The interior is planted with pines, sighing with a sound like waves in the wind, and casting a welcome shade. All around, ongoing excavations by the Swedish Institute of Archaeology have uncovered the remains of stoas and shops, a public square, and a number of houses, and they now know the area was occupied from the bronze age and was a shrine from the 8th century BC till at least the 2nd century AD.
There was a small city up there as well, right in the northern interior, high up and isolated; it was called Kalauria.
I remind myself that the likelihood is it was no bigger than ancient Aigina, which didn't take up much more than the Cape Kolonna site; barely a small town by modern standards. But it's poignant to see how little is left. Bees and ants and wildflowers, and a few tourists.
I sat on a rock and sketched, and then went and had my picnic under a tree, and walked back down again.
Going down, as usual, was quicker than going up but harder on the knees. I did go for a dip when I got back, but more to cool off than for the exercise.
Well, it's the evening now; the polls have been closed since 7.00pm and I gather that Nea Dimokratia conceded the election about an hour ago. So now, my good wishes to the incoming MPs, and may they manage to form a workable coalition soon. I know what my political views are in my own country, but it's not my place to pass comment on another country. Though I will just say I'm very glad that in Britain, if you move to a different region, you can get your vote transferred there too. One of the chaps waiting at tables at the place where I had supper was saying that he's had to come home for the weekend in order to vote; you have to go back to your home town. That's positively biblical; and must be terribly inconvenient. I wonder if that's general, or just for the islands, or what?
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