Day 31 - Thessaloniki to Amygdaleonas

My hostess at the village of Amygdaleonas, a village just to the north of Kavala, had confirmed that she was not available until after 7 pm, so I took a little time in the morning to buy sweet pastries from the bakers and enjoy a farewell breakfast with Igor.

Leaving around nine, my first task was to climb out of Thessaloniki, over the mountain to the north east. Just as in Dubrovnik a week before, the first hour’s work was hard. I sweated through the suburbs to the outskirts and arrived at the crest of the mountain soaked. My pannier rack had come loose so I had to take 15 minutes to repair it. The sun had not yet come through the morning clouds and there was a stiff breeze so I quickly became very cold. Tired and freezing after just an hour, I reminded myself that this last week was not going to be easy. With my bike fixed I made my way down the slope to the village of Agios Vasileos, where I turned onto the road which would take me all the way through to Kavala. The wind from the east was strong and I made slow progress through the miserable cloudy valley which held two lazy puddles of lakes.

I needed inspiration and this came at length as the valley bottle necked to a little ravine whose shady groves and clear streams recalled the mystical backdrops of classical poets from my university studies. A little decline helped and I made quick progress for a few miles before joining the coastal road.

For twenty or thirty miles I made my way through empty third rate resort wastelands before passing the enormous stone lion of Amphipolis at the bank of the river Strymon. Crossing the river, the scenery became much more agreeable, dry rock and bush to my left and soft waves to my right. The wind dropped completely in the afternoon and I made good progress along the coastal road and was due to arrive in Amygadaleonas on time at half past seven.

Over the weekend in Thessaloniki I had reflected on how lucky I had been with the durability of my bike and convinced myself that I was due a few more technical maladies. Superstitions aside, my front tyre had been bald since I swapped it from the back in Italy and week by week more of the yellow underlayer became visible through the worn black rubber. The downhill from Thessaloniki had also rung the final knell for the rubber on my rear tyre so I was now riding like Lewis Hamilton at China in 2007. Provided there was no serious rain, I knew that grip was not an issue but I could not tell whether the yellow underlayer was strong enough to withstand the final few hundred miles. On the evidence of my front tyre having survived the Balkans, I declined to fit new tyres at Thessaloniki and determined to finish on those that I had started. I was not surprised, then, when I saw my front tyre flat around 15 miles short of Kavala.

Changing it quickly, I used the first of my spare inner tubes which I had packed away in London. It was bizarre to be using these for the first time so close to my final destination. It seemed my repair was good and I made it through to Kavala without further trouble. I finished the day with a brutal climb out of the city over to Amygdaleonas. The backstreets were set at unreal inclines and my muscles strained through the hundredth mile. Arriving just as dark fell, I well needed the kind smile of my host Anna and the warm reception at her family home.

Distance covered 105 miles