Continuing the squiggly bits

Of course, what goes up must also come down, and the descent beckoned. Not quite as steep, this dropped a small way before climbing the back of another ridge, to a town called Spartillas. This is a larger village, similarly clinging to the edge of the ridge, and looking south east over the coast towards Kirkyra town. The views are spectacular, a fact which has prompted the local property developing fraternity to turn out in force. Descending from Spartillas is a broad, well surfaced, recently improved roller coaster, much grander in sweep and scale than the scrabble up to Sokraki, but no less fun to drive, if somewhat easier. And between each turn, a new block of apartments is being built, each offering a slight variation on the ‘Luxury/Sea View/Apartments’ recipe.

At the bottom, we turned north, hoping to find Gerald Durrel’s one-time residence, The White House, where he lived and wrote several of his most famous books. This is in Koulami, so the guidebooks assured us, and so to Koulami we went. There is a very pretty (closed) taverna located on the harbourside, a quintessentially tranquil spot. But only one road in, and no opportunity to turn round, so our only escape in the face of a parked delivery van was to retrace our own wheeltracks halfway back up the hill. No sign of Gerald, though.

Having escaped Koulami, and with the smell of fried clutch receding, we turned instead to the neighbouring bay of Kalami. And almost immediately reached The White House. You believe everything you read, too? There it was, and to rent as well. Must come back and pen my masterpiece. Carried on through Kalami as we had seen a sign pointing to it earlier on the main road, and presumed that forward was simpler than reverse. O sweet naivetie!

The rain, which had accompanied us from Spartillas, had increased in intensity with every meter descended, and was now torrential. Our road went from smooth and paved to gravel track. Then concrete, with lateral ridges inscribed to aid traction on the steep sections. Onwards and upwards our game little Fiat pulled, somehow finding purchase where there was none, spinning first one wheel then the other, but always somehow forwards, upwards, onwards. This was at the limit of my driving experience and comfort, but more by good luck than good judgment, we finally emerged at the main road south, at Agni. South again, to Kirkyra, in search of internet, laundry and lunch. The rain got heavier.

Splashed south through the deluge to Kirkyra town without finding any of our three objectives, and so did a quick 27 point turn across the traffic and headed back to Paleo. Nothing on the way, not a fruit and veg stall, not a traditional woodfired bakery, not a free taste of Kum Quat, could prise us from the warmth of our car.

Home, lunch, and warmth, pausing only to admire the rollers breaking turquoise over the harbour wall. Quite a swell sight.