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This is obviously the third part of the second part and the first part. But in this post there is a big [[➕]]! Because as I was browsing through Instagram to choose some last pictures from Ikaria to show you, I looked again at a picture I had added in PART 1 and I realised that it wasn’t just one random holiday snaphot. More pictures followed and all of them belonged to a story – a story written in a blog!
But first things first. Take a look at my last 31 selected grams from Ikaria and then scroll down to read my English translation of Virginia’s «Sobre una mujer sola en una playa». As you will see in the end, I have reasons to cherish very strong personal feelings about it. But far besides that, what matters more is that I find her adventure and more importantly the way she describes her adventure the best to this moment, most edgy and wonderfully dramatic example of the attitude I’ve spoken about in Part 2:
«Enjoy and respect. This is the new DIY generation who are not looking for ready-made things but for the true experience, for whatever that takes.»
……………………..⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐
Note: I have displayed the pictures randomly and democratically all same size. None of them (including the ones inside the Virginia’s story) have been downloaded but embedded into this post directly from the source. All rights reserved by the respective owners © 2012-2017
«Sobre una mujer sola en una playa»
(About a woman alone on a beach)
«Later that evening, we were sitting there and I could hear a church bell from the Orthodox church around the corner. My ear followed the sound there and back, there and back, my eye trailing the distance to the church in the dark. I asked my aunt if she was awake. She stirred in her chair and said yes, she was. I said, how did you make it so long. She asked what I meant. I said, there are so many years. How can you be alone so long. She said she didn’t know.»
[Jesse Ball, How to Make a Fire and Why]
«Last year with Adrián we decided to take a trip. He asked me where I wanted to go, and I told him that for some time I had in my thoughts the island of Ikaría. He wondered why. I do not know, I told him. He asked me again: what is there? Nothing, I said. It is an island where there is nothing. He told me, that’s an answer.»
«He asked me again: what is there? Nothing, I said. It is an island where there is nothing. He told me, that’s an answer.»
«There was a turning point in the trip and it was the day of the monopati. By then I already had severely infected soles of the feet. I think about the precise moment, a few days before, in which the blisters that almost completely covered the metatarsals broke and I still get goosebumps. I remember it with my head but I also remember it more with my body, it was a burning like I had never felt before, I felt it break, tear. And if walking most of the day with a heavy backpack on my back, sleeping little and feeding mainly on the figs and grapes that we found on the way, it was already difficult, every step I took with the blisters open and beginning to become infected was a torture.»
«There was a turning point in the trip and it was the day of the monopati.»
«We spent the night in a forest on the outskirts of Raches and the next morning we started walking very early. In the course of the day we had to descend an altitude of nine hundred meters extended along twenty kilometers by mountain road and reach the coastal town of Karkinagri, at the south-western end of the island. We had no choice. Between Raches and Karkinagri there was absolutely nothing, no food, no water, no shelter, no firm terrain to camp, only a narrow monopati that descended sinuously and abruptly down the mountain.»
«The first challenge was to find the mentioned monopati. The map of Ikaría that we had pointed out as villages what we, upon arriving, discovered that they were only scattered houses, many of them abandoned (one night we camped inside one, it was the night that I really thought I was going to die, that until then everything had arrived, but that is another story).»
«After walking for a few hours we arrived at what we hoped would be a town, where we expected to replenish our water and ask for directions for the rest of the way, but all we found was a half-demolished farm in which a very old man milked a goat. He approached us with the wooden bucket full of warm, steaming, perfumed milk. The milk had a pregnant smell, cloying, a bit repulsive. I was dying to try it, I felt that my body was asking for it while the man told us that in his youth he had been a sailor and had been in Buenos Aires. French fries, he said in Spanish. His dogs barked at us with fury. We asked him about the monopati and he indicated where to go.»
«Later we heard voices and followed them and in the middle of the forest we found a neat land with an orchard and a house made of a container. Under a tree a group of men and women talked and worked. We asked them about the monopati and as Greeks as they were, they invited to come in, unconditional hospitality is practiced even in the depths of the forest, especially there (if a Greek refuses philoxenia to a stranger in the middle of the forest and there is no one to witness it, do the Erynias overwhelm him?). They served us a strong and delicious coffee (we had not had coffee for days, we had not done many things for days, like bathing) and they invited us with figs from their garden dried in the sun.»
«The owner of the house, about forty or forty-five years old, had grown tired of life in Athens and had exchanged it for that rectangle of land on which he lived most of the year, growing his own food and reading the classics, receiving friends during the summer. He was a serious man, serene, a man who spoke slowly, beautifully. The beautiful Greeks are truly beautiful, slender and proud, with marked features and deep wrinkles of expression. Beside him, Adrian, with his blond curls and his upturned nose and his reckless speech, looked like a teenager.»
«We continue advancing and at the highest point of the mountain, in the middle of a thorny forest, an enchanted forest, the most beautiful I saw, we found a tiny church and sitting at the door a shaggy man, the caretaker. Hour after hour and day after day he would sit there, alone, in silence. We asked him about the monopati. He showed us the way. He himself is walking up and down on it every several weeks to get provisions from the town. We were reassured by this concrete reference that the monopati existed and it was not far away.»
«Finally we found it and the descent was slow and difficult. My feet were in deplorable condition, I felt the stockings alternately wet and stiff, as blood and pus sprouted and dried. We walked slower and slower, and Adrian became impatient. He advanced alone and he waited for me later, feeling solicitous and confused. We got lost several times. The monopati at times became so narrow that it was easy to mistake it with openings that appeared naturally among the vegetation. Several times we took the wrong direction. We opened and closed gates. We climbed trees and stones. We crossed a dry river in a valley.»
«It had been a difficult day for two people who knew little of each other, who began to glimpse with a mixture of rejection and compassion into the miseries of the other and to remember their own miseries, those that one tends to forget when there is no witness around, when conveniences and routines camouflage them a bit.»
«Around four in the afternoon we arrived at the town. We hated it immediately. Ikaría does not receive too many tourists, but the few that were there were there. We ate something quickly and decided to continue on our way and spend the night in [Manganitis], a nearby town. We resumed the march in silence. It had been a difficult day for two people who knew little of each other, who began to glimpse with a mixture of rejection and compassion into the miseries of the other and to remember their own miseries, those that one tends to forget when there is no witness around, when conveniences and routines camouflage them a bit.»
«We arrived at [Manganitis] at sunset, and the place was a dream. A tiny village, quiet, no more than fifteen houses. A warm tavern in the shade of a vine. A bay of white stones, turquoise waters. A small church and a cemetery near the edge of the sea (where we would spend the night, sleeping in one of the mausoleums between candles and coffins, but that’s another story). A group of men and women swam naked. Adrian also undressed and got into the water. I sat on the still warm stones of the shore and soaked my feet. The salt water washed my blood and the pain worsened first and then it started to ease up a bit. The group of bathers left and the beach was deserted.»
«It was almost dark when a woman in her fifties appeared. Adrian had swum away, and we seemed to be alone on that silent beach at the end of the world. She took off her clothes and got into the water. She swam for a long time and then came back to the shore and wrapped herself in a towel and stayed there, looking at the water until it was completely dark. Then she got dressed, took her things and left.»
«All this preamble is to say that last night I thought about that woman. Many times, I think about that woman, and last night was one of those times. I was in bed and was cold (because the days are warm and sunny, but still cool at night) and I began to rub my arms and legs with my hands to warm me up. And I do not know why that gesture made me suddenly feel very aware that I am alone. That I brought myself to this bed in the house of strangers in a city in another hemisphere and I am responsible for giving me heat, I am both the injured foot and the salty sea that heals, the woman alone and the woman alone who looks at the woman alone.»
** «Monopati» («μονοπάτι» in Greek) = footpath, a more or less narrow trail usually across nature or rural land.
*** There is a slight confusion with placenames. To all evidence the final scene of the story takes place in «Trapalou» instead of «Manganitis» which is a relatively large village located much further to the east.
Was it I the other woman alone? The woman alone who was looked at by another woman alone in that cut-off place and moment? Yes, perhaps it was I. I turned fifty last year. And as often as always I like to swim in remote, quiet places at dusk. Thank you Virginia. All Virginias of this world, thank you!!!
So long and take care
………⭐ ⭐ ⭐
On the wuthering heights of mount Atheraς in the center of a sandy plateau surrounded by windswept round boulders lies a tiny cube-like building with a chimney on its flat roof. This is «To Spitaki tis Mamis» (the little house of the midwife), or «Saint Panteleimon Mountain Refuge», as the marble plate in the wall next to the door says. Built by a kind woman in 1960 for the benefit of all mountain walkers, Spitaki tis Mamis, despite its miniature size, is a mountain shelter properly speaking, not associated to a church or mountain chapel, as it is usual in Greece, but built hiking-wise at important crossroads in a location where a hiker cannot possibly miss. This makes Spitaki tis Mamis, if not the oldest, undoubtedly one of the oldest mountain shelters in the Aegean islands. With my own ears I have heard about the lives it has saved through the years. On the chimney there was a fog bell to guide lost souls in the mountain and inside, as if by a magic hand, it was always provided with firewood, cooking pots, lamps and lamp oil, coffee, sugar, rice etc.
It was a place that wrote history.
However and in spite of all that, in the course of events and new road building in the 1990s Spitaki tis Mamis was forgotten and fell in oblivion. As a result, today -57 years after it was built- it’s in very bad shape: cracked walls, no door and window and a roof almost ready to fall in.
………⭐ ⭐ ⭐
Last month, answering to a request made by several local associations, Spitaki tis Mamis was declared by the Town Council as a cultural monument – standing reminder of the times when there were no roads and cars in Ikaria and the only way to travel from one part of the island to another was by walking long hours across uninhabited, mountainous landscapes in rain, snow or fog. Following this desicion, the Town Council granted permission to the interested parts to repair the old shelter and adapt it to modern needs. As they said, that would be done on the own expences and voluntary work without help from either central or local government…
Volunteers going to work in the wilderness on dream project…?
Oops! I know that! I must help!
………⭐ ⭐ ⭐
Dear readers, the purpose of this article is to advertise the aforementioned project and call for funding and support. To do so I can’t find a better way than to show you a set of 16 photos taken many years ago on a hike along half the length of the mountain ridge. That great, mind and soul filling, two-day trip would not have been possible if Spitaki tis Mamis didn’t exist.
In the middle of that desert of rocks, sands, ferns and srubs, although abandonned and broken, it was still there marking the way, connecting the present with the past. It still said «Hello, I am here for you». I want it to be repaired. If not for any other reason, because of an experience I will never forget. Many years ago when I was single and young, while lying in my sleeping bag on its old cracked concrete roof, still warm from the sun, I gazed at the biggest and brightest summer night sky I’ve seen in my life!
……… The pictures
………⭐ ⭐ ⭐
That was all from me for now. You can read the official account of the project at this link. For donations, as well as for extra hands, you may write to email@example.com and/or firstname.lastname@example.org. I will keep you up to date for further developments.
Follow me up!
Eleni Ik ❤
Saturday, June 6, 2017
Heroica, outdoors, Walden Pond, to the limit, border line, risque, manual labor, white trash, love, underdevelopment, exodus, yokel, immigration, resettlement, crisis, herbs, loneliness, roots, land, doom, grunge, economic warfare, Yasnaya Polyana, recession, countryside, burst bubble, low profile, wasted, frugal, hillbilly, community, stranger, mellow, lost, hardships, diexodus, booze, urban, rural, pick-up van, person, stake, hippy, individualism, gossip, solidarity, reset, farm, panic management, armpits, bet, freedom, jobs, insecurity, fiction, soul, experiment, partnership, danger, Leo Tolstoy, garden, myths, nature, exile, mice, culture, backyard, junk, dreams, adventure, wastes, bicycle, stubborn, hands, limited ressources, tradition, macchia, man, pay, nakedness, crops, untidy, tourism, happiness, eyes, self-relience, legend, investments, woman, new life, idea, spirit of discovery, firewood, Ithaca, break up, boots, valley, Robinson, degraded, discipline, generation, dirty, festivals, futilism, hair, economic rebel, expression, wrong, hope, unattachement, D.H. Lawrence, tribal, work, debate, cigarettes, machinery, winter, night swims, strong legs, all year long, Henry David Thoreau, cistern, hi-tec proletariat, sex, destiny, ecological, beard, fringe, new model, escape, Robert Lewis Stevenson, utopia, fortune, heartbreak.
I am very interested in reading personal accounts about my island… blah blah blah… STOP! What am I talking about? This time I don’t need to keep in touch with the place from far away because I have moved to Ikaria for my usual winter holidays at last! Still in the course of time I have grown an interest and a curiosity about people’s stories and photos from Ikaria shared in a blog or similar personal page.
To be honest with you, it was difficult to choose entries that satisfied the term «personal». The business of longevity and the noise in the media got on top of everything last year, so I assume several writers felt obliged to add their own ideas about the matter, a matter which is as big and fleeting as life itself, therefore we may have had important contributions towards a better understanding of our existence, maybe also towards a new, better and more sustainable model of economic development for the world but allow me, I am unable to follow this track. I have missed entries like, just to sample, the one by Australian photographer Adam Monk, Theo, the German writer about Greece and Jim Lesses, the Ikarian Australian traveller of the globe.
But don’t get dissappointed because there still has been material to present.
As I said in the forenote of the first part, my ambition was to review, not just blogroll, so I wrote a few words about each blog entry and I picked out pictures and quotes. These quotes I sometimes hid “behind the pictures”. Move your mouse over to read them.
The first selected entry is by Paul Zamenopoulos, a Greek photo blogger
and I like it very much because with his photos he is offering evidence about how wild and dangerous our peaceful island can be from one moment to the other. So, behold the arrival of high speed F/B NISSOS MYKONOS in Agios Kirikos port on August 11, 2011. Thanks God, nobody was hurt and the brave ship wasn’t damaged.
It’s worth to click and open these photos to see them large, LARGE!
But Paul is not all for sea drama. By clicking on the pebbles you can look at the usual peaceful side of Ikaria in his archives of that August of 2011.
Thank you very much, Paul! To the next time!
And now forward to one of my favorites…
and there I wish you could read Greek, or Cypriot Greek to be presice. Evlampia who is a young doctor assigned at the hospital of Agios Kirikos, the capital of the island pays honor to the blog-o-sphere because her blog is a diary of her life and work in Ikaria, like mine had been years ago, hurray!
Such enjoyable, spontaneously written entries, I so much love her when she often switches into dialect and on top of it, sometimes typed in Greeklish! Overall, Evlampia’s blog proves a diamond (for those who can access it, that is), moreover because she holds an important position as a physician in the health care system so she has seen and experienced a lot!
As to whether she has liked and understood Ikaria or not, I am just letting a few of her photos scattered as they are among her blog entries to speak. See and judge for yourselves. Read translated quotes from the relevant pages hidden behind the photos.
This is the kind of doctors we need in the island! Out of my heart I wish her the best!
And now welcoming …
the writer of Yiasou Ikaria! (eng. «Cheers Ikaria«!), a blog in English in the same line as the previous one, that is, like a diary, which promises «True stories from this remote and exotic Aegean island (Ikaria), full of charming and eccentric characters will be updated every week.» and as a matter of fact the anonymous blogger has kept his promise. He has been posting various humorous and truthful entries about life on the island at least twice a month since October 2011. He is indeed Your Greek Guide, or rather Your Ikarian Guide! Because many visitors, even the travelled ones, once they land in Ikaria so often feel as they have fallen from the sky, this is the blog for them to read and learn how to let things come as they come. 🙂
All posts are… well… informative 🙂 so I can’t but list them all with as best descriptions as I can. There are very few photos in this blog but as I hope you will found out, they are completely uncessary.
Here it goes. A few lines out of the entries are hidden behind the links and/or the pictures.
and several more… 🙂 from Your Greek Guide – so well written and by all means, well meant. The most striking is that, if I am not mistaken, there is not a single word about Longevity!!!
«Αν και η Ικαρία δεν είναι μικρό νησί, ο ρόλος της στην ιστορία του Αιγαίου ποτέ δεν ήταν ανάλογος του μεγέθους της. Η ορεινή μορφολογία του εδάφους, η έλλειψη φυσικών λιμένων και το συχνά τρικυμισμένο Ικάριο πέλαγος ήταν οι τρεις βασικοί παράγοντες που συντέλεσαν στην απομόνωση του νησιού από τον γεωγραφικό περίγυρό του. Παρόλα αυτά δεν έλειψαν περίοδοι που βρέθηκε στην περιφέρεια ή ακόμα και στο κέντρο σημαντικών ιστορικών εξελίξεων.»
Έτσι αρχίζει η «Αρχαία Ικαρία», ένα θαυμάσιο βιβλίο για την ιστορία της Ικαρίας από τους προϊστορικούς έως τους μεσαιωνικούς χρόνους που έπεσε πρόσφατα στα χέρια μου. Συγγραφέας είναι ο Ικαριακής καταγωγής Αντώνης Παπαλάς, καθηγητής της Αρχαίας Ρωμαϊκής και Ελληνικής Ιστορίας στο East Carolina University των Ηνωμένων Πολιτειών. Το έργο γράφτηκε στην αγγλική γλώσσα και κυκλοφόρησε στην Αμερική το 1992. Δέκα χρόνια αργότερα μεταφράστηκε και κυκλοφόρησε στην Ελλάδα από τις Εκδόσεις Α.Κ.Καλοκαιρινός. Πρόκειται για μια εξαιρετικά επιμελημένη έκδοση 288 σελίδων με άφθονες κατατοπιστικές φωτογραφίες και παραρτήματα.
Εμπλουτισμένη με πληθώρα ιστορικών πηγών και συσχετισμών η «Αρχαία Ικαρία» είναι πάρα ταύτα γραμμένη σε γλώσσα που διαβάζεται εύκολα και ευχάριστα από το μέσο αναγνώστη. Για τους Σαμιώτες αναγνώστες ιδιαίτερο ενδιαφέρον έχει η περιγραφή των άρρηκτων, διαχρονικών σχέσεων της Ικαρίας με τη Σάμο. Ακόμη, στη σύγχρονη εποχή μας, που κυριαρχεί η ανάγκη για αειφόρο ανάπτυξη και βιωσιμότητα παγκοσμίως αλλά και στο Αιγιακό χώρο ειδικότερα, τα συμπεράσματα που μπορεί να αντλήσει κάνεις μέσα από αυτή τη συγκροτημένη ιστορική διαδρομή της Ικαρίας είναι ιδιαίτερα χρήσιμα και επίκαιρα – θα έλεγα μάλλον πως αποτελούν ένα απροσδόκητα διαφωτιστικό στοιχείο αυτού του βιβλίου.
Το 2005 εκδόθηκε στην Αμερική «η συνέχεια» της Αρχαίας Ικαρίας. Το νέο βιβλίο του Α. Παπαλά που φέρει τον εντυπωσιακό τίτλο “Rebels and Radicals”, πραγματεύεται την ιστορία του νησιού από τη μεταβυζαντινή έως τη σύγχρονη εποχή με ιδιαίτερη έμφαση στα γεγονότα του 1912 (Ικαριακή Επανάσταση), στο «έπος» των Ικαριωτών μεταναστών στην Αμερική και τις περιπέτειες της δραματικής δεκαετίας του 1940 (Αντίσταση, Εμφύλιος, Εξόριστοι).
Όπως και το «Αρχαία Ικαρία», έτσι και το “Rebels and Radicals” σύντομα ελπίζουμε θα μεταφραστεί και θα κυκλοφορήσει και στην Ελλάδα. Οι πρωτότυπες Αγγλικές εκδόσεις τόσο του “Ancient Icaria” όσο και του “Rebels and Radicals” διατίθενται από τον εκδοτικό οίκο Bolchazy-Carducci Publishers, Wauconda Illinois και παραγγελίες μπορούν να γίνουν από τις σχετικές ιστοσελίδες. Το «Αρχαία Ικαρία» διατίθεται από τις Εκδόσεις Α.Κ.Καλοκαιρινός, Ράχες Ικαρίας, τηλ. 2275-0-41371 και την ηλεκτρονική διεύθυνση email@example.com, καθώς και από το ηλεκτρονικό βιβλιοπωλείο του περιοδικού ikariamag.
Αντιγραφη απο το μπλογκ των Ενεργων Πολιτων Σάμου : ΑΡΧΑΙΑ ΙΚΑΡΙΑ
«Καλύπτει ένα κενό στη βιβλιογραφία». Συχνά χρησιμοποιούμε καταχρηστικά αυτή την έκφραση. Όμως για την «Αρχαία Ικαρία» των Εκδόσεων Α.Κ. Καλοκαιρινός – μια ιστορία της από την Εποχή του Χαλκού ώς τα τέλη του 16ου αιώνα – τα λόγια αυτά ηχούν τσιγγούνικα. Αρκεί να συνειδητοποιήσει κανείς ότι γι’ αυτό το άγριο και ιδιότυπο νησί, που μέχρι να αποκτήσει λιμάνια το ‘80, ήταν φοβερά απομονωμένο, σχεδόν δεν υπάρχουν επιστημονικές μελέτες, ούτε έχουν γίνει ποτέ συστηματικές αρχαιολογικές ανασκαφές, παρά μόνο το 1938, ούτε έχει ποτέ προβληθεί η χαρακτηριστική αρχιτεκτονική του. Όλοι τη γνώριζαν ως τόπο εξορίας και ιαματικών λουτρών, όλοι πια ξέρουν για τα εμπορικά καταστήματά της που ανοίγουν τα μεσάνυχτα, αλλά όποτε έψαχνε κανείς για κάτι περισσότερο έπεφτε σε μαύρη τρύπα. Ε! λοιπόν με αυτό το βιβλίο, η τρύπα του… Αιγαίου φωτίζεται. Συγγραφέας του είναι ο Ελληνοαμερικανός καθηγητής Αρχαιοελληνικής Ιστορίας στο Πανεπιστήμιο της Α. Καρολίνας, ο ικαριακής καταγωγής Αντώνης Παπαλάς, ο οποίος δούλεψε με αυστηρή επιστημονική μέθοδο και συνέθεσε το υλικό έτσι ώστε να διαβάζεται άνετα τόσο από τον επιστήμονα όσο και από το ευρύ κοινό. Απολαυστική η περιγραφή της Ικαρίας του 17ου αιώνα από τον τότε Επίσκοπο Ιωσήφ Γεωργειρήνη, που την παρουσιάζει ως το πιο φτωχό αλλά και το πιο ευτυχισμένο νησί του Αιγαίου»
(Μικέλα Χαρτουλάρη, εφημ. ΤΑ ΝΕΑ , 06-07-2002)
Αν θελετε, διαβασετε και το «Ξεναγηση στο Να» στο μπλογκ της Νανας,
που ειναι μια ιστορια που βασιζεται σε αυτο το βιβλιο.
Θεωρώ πολύ επιτυχημένο τον τίτλο. Απ’ ότι έχω καταλάβει, θεωρώ ότι η Ικαρία ήταν «αρχαία» ως τον 20ο αιώνα! 🙂
Sunday August 18, 2009 – 08:46am (EEST)
Το Αγγλικό πρωτότυπο είναι κάπως ξερό αλλά η μετάφραση και η επιμέλεια έχει βελτιώσει πάρα πολύ το ύφος, ενώ οι φωτογραφίες προσθέτουν γλαφυρότητα και επιπλέον στοιχεία. Πολλή ουσία επίσης βρίσκεται και στις παραπομπές και υποσημειώσεις. Η Ικαρία άργησε όμως έβγαλε τελικά ένα πολύ καλό ιστορικό βιβλίο!
Sunday August 24, 2009 – 04:55pm (EST)
Το ίδιο σκεφτόμουν κι εγώ Νανα!
Ευχαριστούμε πολύ, Μαρία!
Monday August 26, 2006 – 10:56pm (EET)
Ξέχασα να πω ότι μου άρεσε πολύ και η μετάφραση της Περιγραφής της Νήσου από τον επίσκοπο Γεωργειρήνη που βρίσκεται στο Παράρτημα. Εξαιρετική δουλειά, καθώς και ο σχολιασμός του μεταφραστή!
Tuesday August 28, 2006 – 12:18pm (EST)
Καποια στιγμη θα γραφω ενα αρθρο στο μπλογκ μου για το συντομο περασμα του Charles Perry απο την Ικαρια το 1738 με αφρρμή την παραγραφο που διαβασα στην εισαγωγη του βιβλιου.
Wednesday September 3, 2009 – 01:09pm (PST)
This looks like an enormous achievement, angeloska! It looks like there has been a lot of chopping! (At least you had elves to help you!)
@ ‘simonsterg’ : if you enlarge the image, you see on the footer it reads «Lothlorien College Graduates» !!!
@ ‘angeloska’ : x x x x x x x x
You are giving me new strength!
In return here is a small part of the story. This trail was almost an imaginary one, featuring only in an old Italian map of 1943 and in Elenis imagination and *unusual sources* (her old neigbours’ tales). The distance was about 2,5 km cutting through deep tall makia. We started cittung from both sides, one day from the east and the other from the west, with no more sense of direction but the zig-zag flow of a rivulet running next to the alleged path. The hard evidence whether the path existed, as well as my extreme worry was if the two tunnels would eventually meet someplace. They DID! I felt like opening a champaigne bottle.
Posted 6 months ago. ( permalink )
That bit about the 1943 italian map sounds sort of romantic § – a hint from an odd old source – ideally you should have lost the map – kind of like a Borges tale, you know the sort of thing…
And you have made this perhaps imaginary path into… a REAL ONE – a Second Eupalinos! ¤ Champagne corks ought to be flying!
§ not that Eleni’s imagination isn’t also, of course, romantic – and the *unusual sources* very likely accurate…
¤ if that’s hyperbole it’s just in a celebratory way – not an attempt at irony (which I dislike)
I lost the map! As soon as I found it I lost it! I had only one glimpse of it. Then a veil of secrecy came and covered …
Eupalinos? I had thought of him. He used stereometry and trigonometry. He was given an awful amount of money too. But Eleni’s way is the low-budget one: trust your senses.
(Nana says:) Maybe this is a stupid question, but why did you start cutting one day from the east, one day from the west? Why haven’t you done it one way only? And avoid the risk of the two tunnels not meeting?
(love to talk technicalities with you, *thorn-walker*)
I have many reasons to cut from both sides :
1st) I usually hit the paths from as many sides as I can. Although people know more or less about my business, they still may get suspicious if they see me driving too often and stopping long in a desert place. So I sometimes take a path from one end and sometimes from another. It looks more normal if I am seen going someplace once or twice a fortnight instead of once a week.
2nd) This particular path was looong! When we got into the thick, deep and dark, at a certain point I lost my self-confidence. (That’s about when Eleni wrote in that last message of hers in the hiking group that I should not give up the chainsaw.) So we drove a long way round and started cutting from another place: a glade with a stony ground where the path was easy to see. Conveniently, this place was not far from a road, so we didn’t have to walk long to get back from work.
3rd) Regardless of the above, it really had to be done from both sides. With the Komatsu (*good machine* -lol:) I could have butchered through the maquis on a straight line and created a way through. But I don’t make way-throughs; I make paths. And I’m always tryng to find the original ones. Because my walks are inside nature and history as well. When the two ends connected (so to say, automatically), I was sure that I hadn’t just made an opening through. That was an ancient path used by the elvish old inhabitants of Ikaria.
§ § § §
And because I have explained so thoroughly, here is question for you:
I have a permission from the Forest Service to open the paths. In fact, more than permission, it is an encouragement based on the general principle that there should be paths in the forests. They serve as fire zones, they say, and this is correct. Yet for most people this means that firemen are able to unreel their hoses and put out a fire in the heart of the forest. But there is also another reason why a path like this is a fire-zone.It prevents fires. Why, Nan? You are still a good mechanic, aren’t you?
Congratulations! It looks wonderful and I can imagine how hard it must have been. Warmest regards from Tilos island, Konstantinos
Here I go…
(We are between friends, are not we? Nobody is bothered. Hope so.)
(Γειά σου Κωνσταντίνε!)
______________________________________________________________An archaic forest as this, is an alive organic and very complicated system : : a *good machine* which (to work well) needs a temperature control system. In spring when temperatures rise considerably in Greece, there is still water, the system is watercooled. Afterwards in summer, when there is little water but there are cool winds from the sea, the system shifts to air-cooled (like some car engines fit for both normal and desert conditions).
So, your tunnel *αγγελούκο* helps in the air-cooling, lowers the temperature of the organism and therefore prevents fires. Your tunnel is an air-duct; functions like the pipe of a ventillator. Είναι ένας αεραγωγός. Brings from the sea and spreads through the cool breeze inside the forest and (w/o entering into a lot of technical details) this makes a big difference.
Because I have a feeling that you are kinda sorry for the chopping off all these tree branches, just think that what you did with the mini-Komatsu, was being done in the past by the ancient animals, like the deer (dama-dama), the wild goat (capra aegagrus) and the wild pig (sus scrofa). They made scars in the forest for the good of the forest. Now, unlike the animal’s, your scar is straight; ok, never mind; let’s put the blame on gaddem Euclides!
What’s the orientation of the tunnel? N to S? NE to SW?
Wow!! It’s so sexy when it gets technical!
How ’bout a graph to spice it up even more… (never mind that it’s from across the sea on Kerkis.) Do you see? «overheating in the cushion» – HOT STUFF! – someone should make a (straight line) path through that thing!
(incidentally, I see Tilos has it’s very own Astragalus on flickr – but I can’t locate any photo with the tags astragalus and ikaria. – it must be just that I’m not searching properly…) 😉
zzdoing!!! I am dazed -:)) Aχ Nana when you want…
(Just wait… I will edit this tomorrow morning)l
Even more dazed u should be at my friend Nana when u know that this analysis comes right out of a smoked turnery in Petrou Rali str, Athens.
I lost MY map somewhere in there last year! In fact three maps I had specially copied and enlarged in Manchester; such was my struggle to hack a way through to PIGI, they fell from my pack.
Here’s another reason for the path to be cut from both ends – so that the people living at either end both feel they have a new path that TAKES them somewhere and don’t see it as an invasion from the outside world.
For years hikers who stayed in Evdilos and Kampos on the coast (point A) and saw the mountains of Rahes (point C) on the west, were asking for a direct way to make it up there without having to walk on the coastal road as far as Armenistis (point B) and from there climb to Rahes (point C). At a certain point I realized that what they were asking to follow was a cut-trough on the ypotenuse of the right triangle (A-C). I like ypotenuses. They are good options to a square static world. And indeed these are the ways invaders follow.
(But of course to make a succesfull invasion, I needed an invitation and a promise for an orgy on plenty of fried good Ikarian potatoes from Perameria.)
Nothing to add except that «the orgy with plenty of good Ikarian potatoes from Perameria -panfried a la Belge» took place at last!
Monday September 3, 2007 – 08:34am (PDT)
Tuesday September 4, 2007 – 03:39pm (EEST)
«from an…» : «Βeautiful to the point of causing pain». That’s a perfect definition of a chimera -:)) I’m noting this down.p.s. «nude hiking trail»? whatever, but don’t shout it over the roofs. I don’t like «bears» -:lol:- and neither does Nana.
Wednesday September 5, 2007 – 10:54am (PDT)