D-3 Crisokelleria to Ionian Sea

The lazy tone of my alarm goes off at 4.15, reminding me of having to wake Simon on those pennine way mornings. Heat up the potato-less moussaka, leftovers from Saturday evening, for breakfast followed by prunes and yogurt.
Do the last of my packing, the rucksack is looking rather full, and heavy. A final look round the flat and I lock up, hiding the keys behind the geraniums, and plod to the car. A dark journey along mostly deserted roads to Kalamata.
I am playing through various problem scenarios in my mind and how I would deal with them. Theodore not turning up at the airport for the car handover: track him down by phone and work out alternative arrangement. Leave the car at airport and keys with another hire company. Patra bus not running or full or I somehow miss it: try and get to Patra via Athens. I arrive at the airport at 06.00. The sky is lightening and dawn will soon arrive. The airport is deserted, I am the only person there. I change into my walking boots – they will not fit in the rucksack.
06.15, nothing has moved
06.20, Theodore arrives and we do the car documentation, have a brief chat and I amble over to the bus stop.
06.40 No bus. But the service frequency is 30 minutes so quite a few can not show up and I will be OK. I am also wanting a shit. The generous quantities of olive oil ensure regular throughput. I eye up potential options in the scrubby undergrowth, but have to balance this with the possibility of the bus arriving. I spy a bus in the distance, it must be mine. It has something beginning with K on the front, so I hopefully stick out my hand and the bus sails past. But then stops. 1.80 fare to Kalamata paid, and we are on our way. All looking good.
Arrive at the bus station and buy my ticket to Patra. Use the toilets at the station cafe. Now starting to relax. I have over an hour to kill, so walk off to see what delights I can find. Kalamata castle is sitting on its small hill looking inviting. I wander up, passing church after church.

One is simply a small chamber carved into a rock beneath the castle walls. Eventually find the castle entrance and read the information board. Usual story of occupation and destruction by Venetians, Slavs, Turks, etc. Doesn't open to 08.00 so will save for a future visit.

Pass another big church, with a very richly decorated interior.

A row statues of heavily bearded bishops outside reminded me of the cheating athletes of Olympia. The bishops were looking very stern and serious.
The number 20 to Patras rolled into the bus station at 08.10, very reassuring. Journey took 3½ hours, calling in at various towns to pick people up and drop them off. Patras is very busy. Every road is one-way and full of traffic. Picked up a pizza for now and spinach and ricotta pie for later, plus a bottle of water. Sat on a patch of grass, in the shade of a tree to eat the pizza.

It was a real treat to get my boots off, and quite pleasant looking out over the sea and the mountains beyond.
Walk along the sea front to the ferry port. I can see my boat waiting. Pick up ticket and then hang around for boarding. When I get on, the ship is quite empty, very few people are around and I set myself up in the passenger lounge. The Giro d’Italia is showing on the TV and I watch the last 40km of that day's race. The boat is an hour late leaving, I suspect the captain was also watching the cycling. I read a bit, but find I'm quite tired. This will be the first alcohol free day for ages. And probably the last for ages. I inflate my mattress and settle in for the night.

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