There are obviously many things to see in Greece, but also a limit on how much broken, headless, collapsed or reconstructed stone stuff I can maintain an interest in. Ergo I suggest a trip out to the Lepida waterfall as a bit of a change.
I excitedly pack a very nice picnic and off we tootle. All the options she offers looked pretty dodgy, so we try to find another route, and our drive gets longer and longer. Our ears pop on the way up, and again on the way down again. Eventually we submit to the will of Deirdre and let her take us down a track — until it becomes a lot more rut than road. A sign says the waterfall is a mere 2km further on, so we park up and start to walk. We pass tracks in the dried mud that I think might be deer, mainly because I always want to see deer.
But Steve says, no, those are goat tracks. We argue about it a bit and then I stop bothering, because I know we are going to see deer. Not a drop.
On the way back we hear bells. They all flood across the road in front of us and eye us with deep suspicion. To start with I mistake it for an odd bird call — some kind of magpie, prehai? We start the long drive home and immediately hear clonking noises from under the car. Steve checks all around and under the car, but can find nothing. They pump up the tyre so we can get to the new place, and it lasts all the way. God knows how, though, because when the flat is removed, they find a hole the size of a fifty pence piece and the inside has completely shredded.
So even though they have to go and find a new tyre for us, it is all sorted within half an hour. So then it is back down the ten hairpins to a road that is merely very bendy, and has a sheer drop to one side.
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