A route that I’ve made so many times before. Growing up in Zakynthos, it first seemed like a big adventure. As a college student, permanently living in Athens, it became something like a boring procedure. Then I drove it on a car. It was somehow interesting, but it didn’t blow my mind. And then I rode it on a motorcycle. A bit more fun, but still nothing to remember for long. Some weeks ago, while talking to Giorgos, a close friend of mine who lives in Zakynthos, he accidentallty posed the question: “How are you going to come to Zakynthos this time?” He obviously wanted to know whether I would be riding another fancy but borrowed motorcycle from the magazine to ride to the island. The most immediate response he would get was: “I will ride my bicycle”. Of course he never believed me. I would probably not believe myself at that time.
Flashing lights on the back, a strong led light on the front, special saddle cover with added foam, 60psi of air on the tires, a pair of bicycle shorts with protective foam inside, a sleeping-bag, my favorite air mattress and two sets of clothes. Finally I got to carry a lot of extra weight and this time I had no engine power to make them move, I had to do it by my own. I locked my house’s door and put on the flashing lights on the bicycle. It was 1.30a.m on a Thursday night. Although empty, Athens was great on that mid-August night. People were standing in line to get the next day’s newspaper in Omonoia square, the flashing kiosks never shut down, for another night at exactly the same spot besides Kavalas avenue this bunch of tall pretty boys in their sexy girly suits waiting to please their next customer. Accompanied by the city’s thousands of lights, noises and dark night colours, it was easy to reach the first toll post station, in Elefsina.
From the very first meters in the old national road to Korinthos, images of the surroundings change completely. Loneliness. The dim light of a shy moon won’t light my path. A few meters on my left, the sea. Calm and sleepy. On my right the monstrous rocks on top of which would stand the new national road. I can see the lights from the trucks creating a great theatrical performance with the huge rocks as their scenery. But I am all alone. And the atmosphere feels frightening. At least until I calm down and inhale the calmness of the surroundings, becoming part of the after-hour environment.
I reach the Corinth Canal, stop for a while, but the sunlight is still hidden. So I ride again, pedaling towards the new national road. On the long straight just before the turn to Tripoli, I can slowly admire the dark sun getting a light pink color, slowly becoming blue, from the tiny mirror on the left hand side of my handlebars. I stop for a few minutes outside Corinthe to drink the third isotonic and fill my camel-back with the second large bottle of fresh and icy cold water. Then keep pedaling on the old national road, passing through small villages. Lechaio, Perigiali, Assos, Vrachati. At the bus stops on the opposite direction to Corinthe, I can see early rising people waiting for the bus that would take them to their jobs.
The sun is slowly rising. I think Kiato looks small. But it takes time for Ksilokastro to arrive. On my right hand side I constantly have the beach, ready for the August visitors. Some of them have already wore their swimming suits and are ready to dive into the blue water, even though it’s still eight o’ clock in the morning. I start getting some first signs from my knees. They are getting tired. So does my butt. Just after Aigeira, it’s time for my first swim. I follow a small path that’s leaving the main road, crossing the “under-construction” new national road and reaching a deserted but stony beach. I haven’t got used to the bicycle’s extra weight yet, so I get my first fall. Nothing to worry about.
Seawater is feeding my exhausted muscles. I’m relaxing. But I cannot rest here for long. The large stones are so uncomfortable. It’s nearly 12.00p.m and the sun has started getting really hot. A few meters later, I turn right, follow a descending path and reach the crowded beach of Trapeza, just before Diakofto. There are people everywhere. Umbrellas, sun beds, rackets, sun tan oil, little kids playing… And some large trees, offering their shadow. I blow on my air mattress, using the sleeping-bag as a pillow and fall asleep.
No more than two hours later, a lost tennis ball is waking me up. I don’t have much more time to sleep. In a few kilometers I would reach the half point of my trip. So I buy cold water from the kiosk, a bottle of isotonic liquid, some energy bars, and get back on the saddle. But the next kilometers are getting hard. Even small hills are difficult to climb. It’s hot, the sun is burning me back, I’m tired, my butt hurts. I stop almost every ten or twenty minutes for a little while. It’s hard but I have to go on. I stop at a drugstore on my way, buy a pack of muscle smoothing pills, and take two in a row. They work.
Just after another left turn I can slightly see the Rio – Antirio bridge. But it’s time to stop. I can hardly pedal anymore. Chicken, greek salad, lots of water and salt to avoid getting a cramp. A few hundreds of meters after the restaurant, a quiet beach with small ahite peddles and an amazing view of the bridge. The water is cold, but that works better to sooth my muscles. Up until now, I’ve made something like 170 kilometers. I even find a fresh water shower, take my shampoo and remove all that dirt from my body. I blow on my mattress once again, but this time my sleeping-bag unfolds completely to protect me from the cool afternoon breeze. Just before I close my eyes, I stare at the sun hiding beside the bridge. The colors of the air are replaced by thousands of shinny lamps that light the bridge. It’s one of the most beautiful images of the whole trip. It takes me away.
I sleep well, but not for long. Just before 1.00a.m my eyes open. It feels like I’ve been sleeping for days. I’ll have breakfast in Patras. Reaching the city, I turn right, following the ring road to the port. Painted in the walls I see: “Solidarity for immigrants”, and then there’s a bunch of them sleeping by the road. What a life!
I have breakfast on the big quare of Patras, by the port. But I still feel exhausted. The city looks deserted. At the main road by the sea, I would hardly see a late night car driving its owners to their bed, or the next bar. Eyes red, the alcohol, the night, the cool breeze. And then there’s the church of Agios Andreas, distracting but deserted. And I am alone, still pedaling. Finally I can’t go on anymore. I feel wasted and I have to stop once more that night. At the small beach of Vrachneika, next to the fish taverns. Their chairs and tables are resting too, waiting to serve the next day’s customers.
I fall asleep at once. It’s 3.00a.m One hour later, I suddenly wake up. I hear steps in the sand, just next to my head. This poor guy is searching for his food from the garbage. Smell is awful. But he insists. I get up, pretend I’m just watching the calm sea. What a job. I feel sorry. So things in life are not always so good.
But I don’t have the strength to get back going again. I lay me body on my air mattress and sleep for another two hours. I wake up just before the sunrise and pack my things in haste. I want to see the sunrise on the saddle. Still on the old national road to Pyrgos. I come by some clubs beside the sea. It’s almost 6.30a.m and I see people coming out of the clubs, so ending their night. Girls, white, pink, beautifull, a little bit dizzy, the alcohol… And some guys, looking tough, looking strong, looking insecure. They keep starring at me. I can see instances of irony in their looks. “Where is this crazy biker going at that time of the day?” Let them be wondering. I have no time to pay attention. I still have a long way to go.
I am bored. A few kilometers later, I get on the so-called highway to Pyrgos, one of the most dangerous roads on earth. At a junction I stop and to buy raisins. A refreshing breakfast. And then back on the hard saddle. I feel my knees stuck on the same movement. And my butt hurts, it hurts a lot. At least I manage to improve my average speed at the highway. But kilometers are coming by slowly, one after the other.
I’m waiting for the turn to Lechaina. I’m waiting it for long. But it doesn’t show up. The sun has started burning the back of my neck. Suntan lotion. And then I reach the right turn I was expecting. I see people on the streets again. In front of my eyes. The bakery’s got its selves full of fresh bread. I smell coffee outside the traditional coffee shops. There are only 15 kilometers to Killini port.
I chose my favorite tracklist on the i-pod, just to feel good again on the last kilometers. Probably the most difficult of them all. I am amazed. How many cars go to that port? They won’t stop passing me by. Carrying the children’s bicycles on their backs, the mothers-in-law, the holiday dreams. Finally, I’m at the port. “What should I pay to get the bicycle on board?” “Nothing, sir”. Great answer! I hide the bicycle behind a truck inside the ferry-boat and slowly climb up the stairs to the bar. Looking so different, I guess people are looking at me. I look dirty, I am sweating. But I don’t really care. I fall asleep on a chair. And Zakynthos port seems so close.
I pass by young ladies with their swimming suits already worn underneath their white shirts, young children pulling their mothers’ hands, theis husbands are still trying to get the family car out of the over- crowded ferry-boat. Just after the church of Agios Dionisios, I get lost inside the city’s narrow roads. I get a smile on my face. Two kilometers after that, I am home.
από την The Fuoristrada Co.
No comments:
Post a Comment