island hopping in motorhomes? IMPOSSIBLE!
Lefkada Island, Greece
“Not sure you’ll make it to any Greek islands, not in campervans,” people have commented with a degree of un-hide-able remorse-for-us in their voices.
Never easily deterred, we made investigations. Over one thousand euros to get us to Santorini. Fiscally thwarted. We’d heard of hiring a gulet with crew to sail and cook, but that would surely cost even more. Besides, we seem to recall those long boats actually come from Turkey anyway.
So when we drove off the ferry at Igoumenitsa, we were in total darkness, both figuratively and literally. The sky was black, the GPS didn’t have even the port marked and we hadn’t yet found a paper map to buy. Greek islands were as far from our minds as it seemed they would be from our motorhomes. Mere kilometres along the road a gas station truck stop welcomed us for the night. Not exactly a remote isle, but not bad given the circumstances. Before dropping off to sleep, we consulted the Greece pages saved on the computer and picked Killini as a plausible beach destination for the morrow.
Only we don’t get that far. Following a sign saying simply BEACH, we end up here:
That’s right, we step straight from the motorhomes onto the sand. Transfixed, we go no further.
And may not have done the next day either, except perilously full toilets force a search for a suitable dumping station. On again to Killini.
Through an “immersed tunnel” (according to the translated sign) and over a clanging metal barge functioning as a bridge – we find ourselves detouring to our first Greek isle – Lefkada Island.
This isn’t even one of *the* famous islands, but by jiminy it’s gorgeous. Like diamonds dropping from heaven, sparkles dance on the water. An assortment of boats, from little dinghies to moulded money are moored in every other bay. Heads bob in the water, bodies stretch out on the sand. Idyllic.
Hills are stacked up in layers, each one receding into the distance one shade lighter than the previous one. With the appearance of sharp needles, the dark, skinny cypresses punctuate the grey-green olive tree cloth spread over the hillside. Following the main (and almost only) road, we climb. Up, up, up. You wouldn’t credit how high a small island can go – and how quickly! Far below the sea still dazzles its brilliance. We begin our descent towards it.
The hardly generous road winds its way in hairpin bends down the stunning cliff, where chickens and goats scramble for a living under olive trees. This is Island Greece!
At the bottom of the hill is a FREE PARKING sign. It’s not right ON the beach, but it’s only a stone’s throw away and in the shade of a fruit-laden olive tree.
Ain’t half bad, don’t ya think?
The big kids swim from “our” bay around to the tourist bay, while everyone else walks the three minutes it takes to get there.
As dusk falls a steady stream of hotel-inhabitants files past our treasure spot, heading to the restaurants, which we surmise must be a little further around the bay. We have already cooked our own meal and eaten in the best dining room in the world
(the dinner was average enough, but it was finished off with our first Greek yoghurt. Ooh-la-la, oh so thick, oh so creamy, slightly tart, totally lived up to its reputation).
And so, for a second day, we don’t get anywhere near Killini.
But we don’t mind for a minute; our motorhomes have found their first Greek Isle, and it won’t be the only one!
PS We also found yet another hardly wide enough street (as usual).
Tags: 2008/09, food, postcard: Greece
rayres
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