This jewel town is located on a small island off the east coast of the Peloponnese, separated from the mainland by an earthquake in 375AD and now linked to the mainland by a short causeway. Founded in 583 by people seeking refuge from the Slavic and Avaric invasion of Greece, the site had a powerful medieval fortress. The town walls and many Byzantine churches remain from that period.

Nicknamed the “Gibraltar of the East” or “The Rock”, its area consists mostly of a large plateau some 100 meters, (328 ft), above sea level. We parked at the foot of “The Rock” and walked up to the single entrance gate to the lower part of the town with its narrow cobbled streets, its cute boutique hotels, restaurants and souvenir shops. Most of the streets are narrow and fit only for pedestrians. The Lower Town was the commercial center with the workshops and dwellings of seamen and tradesmen.

Winding our way through a maze of narrow alleys in the lower town, the cobblestone trail climbed to the second single entrance, literally carved into and through the mountain. This brought us to the upper town where the nobles’ houses were located. The grand church of Hagia Sophia still stands. Three other churches, a Turkish bathhouse, a Turkish mausoleum and a number of cisterns were all in ruins. Excavations are still going on.

As we continued upward on rocky footpaths, it was clear that tourists seldom visited this area. The top was still not visible, but it was one of those trails that demanded to be climbed. Having hiked this far, turning back was not an option. Finally, we came to the last wall of fortification overlooking the  new town below and the causeway we had driven across. The expansive view of the harbor and surrounding mountains was worth the climb. An icy wind whipped our parkas as we followed a network of little trail down to the tunnel and the only exit from the plateau.

It was a short drive from Mystras to (new) Sparta, founded in the 1830s when Mystras was basically abandoned. Sparta became a prominent city-state in ancient Greece and was unique for its social system and constitution, which completely focused on military training and excellence. Around 650 BC, it rose to become the dominant military land-power in ancient Greece. Spartan women enjoyed considerably more rights and equality to men than elsewhere in the classical world. The word “Spartan” has been immortalized describing strict self-discipline & self-denial or avoidance of luxury or even undaunted by pain or danger.

There’s much more interesting history about Sparta, more than we want to relate here. Actually, we had olives on our minds. The earliest written testimony on the name of the olive tree, its fruit and its oil in the Greek language was found on clay tablets in the archives of Bronze Age houses, principally in Knossos on Crete, (14^th c. BC) and not too distant Pylos, (13^th c. BC). The tablets contained information on the production and circulation of olive oil. Olive oil was part of the so-called “Mediterranean triad” along with wheat and wine. It dominated all aspects of ancient Greek culture including economy, diet, hygiene, religious rituals and folk customs.

Olive oil of good quality was often perfumed with aromatic herbs and used for cleansing and beautifying the body. Ancient Greeks actually considered the oil more essential for personal care than food. They smeared the body with oil after bathing, before sexual intercourse, before exercising and even before going into battle. Olive oil is also a basic ingredient of soap, the use of which in hygiene was known but limited. As soap became more popular, it slowly replaced oil for cleaning the body.

Jumping to the present time, we are all certainly aware of the benefits of the “Mediterranean Diet”, of which olive oil plays an important part. It just so happens that Greece is the third-largest producer of olive oil in the world. In the process of researching a story for a magazine on California olives, which, by the way, are becoming quite famous, we had visited a couple of olive ranches and olive presses. There was much more to learn, and that brought us to the fascinating Museum of the Olive and Greek Olive Oil in Sparta where Director, Dimitris Viris, patiently answered all our hundreds of questions.

The museum is one of several designed and operated by the Piraeus Bank Group Cultural Foundation, the same organization that had developed the Water Power Museum we had previously visited. It was a world-class job of displaying both modern and historical artifacts. There were amazing old olive presses and modern examples of how it’s done today. While we all have the idea that the best olive oil is “1st cold press Extra-Virgin”, in fact, most olive oil is “1st cold press” and “Extra-Virgin” refers to its acidity. A low acidity, 0.1- 0.5%, allows the oil to be categorized as “Extra-Virgin”. This low acidity is a result of proper handling. Just sitting in the truck for a day or two before the harvested olives are pressed can result in a higher acidity reducing it to just “Virgin”, 0.6-1.0%. There are also insects that can raise the acidity.

At the presses we visited in California, the remains of the seeds, skins and stems are basically discarded, used as fertilizer in the orchards. In Greece and other Mediterranean countries the remains after the first pressing go through any number of elaborate processes with steam, heat and chemical treatment to produce lower quality olive oils and a number of industrial products. Historically olive oil was also used for lamp oil.

Evening was approaching fast and so we invited Dimitris for dinner. He brought us to Chromata, a charming grotto type restaurant in nearby Mystras. The stable of the old house was converted to a cozy restaurant with a wood burning stove and the back wall was the actual rock protruding into the dining area. Candle lit tables gave it a romantic note. We tasted various fabulous appetizers that the owner/chef, Nicos Grivas, created. One was his grandmother’s recipe.

The photos below will give you some idea of this wonderful museum. In Greece alone there are 29 varieties  of olives. The wild olive tree is harvested for firewood but not the olives. They are very bitter. Olive oil, like wine, as many varietals and preference mostly depends on the individual tastes. One of our own favorites in California is the spicy Mission variety brought over by the Jesuits and now extinct in Europe, but there are many others available. Grab some bread and dip into a few varieties to find which one you like.

Leaving Olympia we were headed south to Sparta via Mystras. It was raining. Coming down a long hill overlooking the large perfectly shaped bay towards Pylos, we passed a sign: “Nestor’s Palace”. It suddenly dawned on us that this was “THE King NESTOR” who is mentioned in Homer’s Odyssey. Gary had just finished reading about it. Odysseus’ son Telemachus was searching for his father and had sailed to Pylos. Nestor loaned Telemachus a chariot and insisted that his son accompany him to Sparta. We were traveling along this same road!

We bought fresh oranges and other produce at one of the roadside stands before heading up an absolutely beautiful mountain pass with amazing vistas. If it’s not already, it should be listed among the “to drive once in your lifetime” roads. If it had been a little narrower, it could be compared to Bolivia’s “Road of Death”. Few guard rails, sheer walls on one side and hundreds of feet straight drop to the bottom of the Laghadas gorge below. We stopped for lunch at the pass and it started to snow! Not wanting to dig out our Pewag chains, we locked the hubs and headed down, still in awe of the amazing road we had just driven.

After many S-curves, (some lock-to-lock), we arrived at the upper entrance of Mystras, a very important fortified town during the Byzantine era (14^th/15^th century), also occupied during the Ottoman era. A few families still lived in Mystras until 1952. Today, there are only seven nuns and their many cats left in one of the monasteries.

Mystras was the last center of Byzantine School of Frescos. Neo-Platonist philosopher George Gemistos Plethon lived here until his death in 1452. Interestingly enough, he and other scholars based in Mystras influenced the Italian Renaissance after he accompanied the emperor John VIII Palaiologos to Florence in 1439.

Arriving at the historic town of Olympia, the original home of the Olympic Games, Spring was clearly in the air. Flowers were blooming and lemon and orange trees were overloaded and dropping fruit on the ground. Tourist season had not yet begun so we had the place pretty much to ourselves. We found a comfortable campsite (Camping Diana) just a few blocks from the entrance to the site of the ruins.

The actual site of Olympia at first glance looked like Hiroshima after the atomic bomb. Buried under up to 24 feet of alluvial deposits over the centuries it was rediscovered in 1766 and excavations began in 1829.

The first Olympic festival was organized by a King of Elis in the 8^th century BC – with tradition dating it at 776 BC. (The Classical Period between the 5^th and 4^th centuries BC was the Golden Age of the site at Olympia.) From that time on the Olympic games were held every 4 years and acquired a panhellenic character which means that athletes from all Greek City-States participated.

Competing athletes had to be true-born free Greek men. They were required to travel to Elis, the organizing city, one month prior to the games. Here they were carefully screened for their physical ability, health, heritage, and character. They also went through extensive training to make sure they were fit and ready for the fierce competition. Interestingly, they trained and perhaps competed totally nude. The word “gymnasium” derives from the Greek word “gymnos”, which means “naked”.

During training and the events, men would anoint themselves with olive oil, sometimes slightly perfumed, and you can imagine as the dust collected what they might have looked like. Fortunately, the Greeks had invented strigils that were used to scrape off the dust, dirt, sweat and olive oil. There were different shapes of these strigils for different parts of the body and apparently they were used extensively until appropriate soaps were invented.

Women were not allowed to compete nor could they even watch the games. If they broke this prohibition, they were cast down from Mount Typaion. Apparently the Greeks had no idea what they were missing not being able to watch the women’s beach volleyball.

While wandering through the ruins, few buildings could even be identified except by placards. We did stop at Hera’s alter where the Olympic flame is lit ceremoniously every 4th year and there were still a few columns standing here and there. In a tribute to the Classic Olympics, the stadium was the location for the men’s and women’s shot put competition during the 2004 Athens Olympics.

Most of the true relics and art that had been found through extensive excavations were now housed in a nearby museum or had been carted off to the Archaeological Museum in Athens and other cities. Many beautiful marble statues were displayed in the on-site Olympic Archaeological Museum, along with an amazing collection of other artifacts including interesting pottery and Olympic game components that had survived. The photos below may give you a glimpse.

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On our way to famous Olympia, we detoured briefly to spend the night near a village called Dimitsana. We had heard of a unique open-air Water Power Museum. Always interested in learning about how people lived and worked in the old days, we were eager to find out what the Piraeus Bank Group Cultural Foundation had to offer here. It is one of several museums they have created throughout Greece.

The museum highlights the importance of waterpower in a traditional society, presenting the basic pre-industrial techniques that used water as the main source of energy for the production of various goods. On a mountain hillside with abundant running water, traditional workshop buildings housed permanent installations of restored water-powered equipment. There was a water-powered flour mill that we could actually feed some corn into. A tannery displayed all the different stages of processing hides and a “fulling-tub” showed how wool cloth was treated to make waterproof felt. We also spotted a small distillery for the production of Tsipouro (Greek grape brandy) produced from the “grape marc” which is also called pomace, the skin, pulp, seeds and stems left after making grape juice.

A miller’s & a tanner’s home showed the old way of life and featured lengthy documentaries from local oldtimers. Of course, there was a huge water wheel making its perpetual rounds. Since Monika’s maiden name is Mühlebach meaning “Mill’s Creek” in German, she has always been fascinated with millstones and water wheels….

To our surprise, we found a functioning gunpowder mill that we had never seen before. Quite ingenious indeed! Dimitsana was one of the many villages that knew how crude saltpeter was extracted as an important ingredient in the making of gunpowder. The area was a very important supplier of gunpowder for the War of Independence (1821-1832) and continued into the early 20^th century. This type of production had apparently become extinct in Western Europe in the 18^th century. Gary had to laugh because he and his cousins made crude gunpowder for 4^th of July one year resulting in some exciting volcanoes and pin wheels.

Did you know that saltpeter was extracted from sheep poop? YUP!! Plenty of that around here….

(FYI: No, Gary and his cousins did not make saltpeter. They bought it at a local pharmacy.)

Returning from Delphi we again crossed the beautiful Carilaos-Trikoupis Bridge over the Gulf of Corinth and headed more or less south into the Peloponnese peninsula. It was then that we noticed a page in one of our guidebooks about the old narrow gauge Kalávrita railway.

Trains are an interesting way of overland travel. You always know where you are but you never get to choose. Nevertheless, trains have held a fascination for us and over the years we have ridden some of the more interesting lines: Lima, Peru to Huancayo (the second highest railway in the world crossing the Andes at 15,681 ft.), the Chihuahua Pacific railway through the Copper Canyon, the Orient Express to Istanbul, the steepest cog rail train in the world up the Pilatus mountain on Lake Lucerne and the Jungfrau railway to the highest train station in Europe (11,332 ft.), both in Switzerland, not to leave out the Heber Valley historic railroad in Utah, the Skunk train in California, and many others.

How could we pass up the old cog railway from Dhiakoftó to Kalávrita built by Italian engineers in 1889 to 1896 to bring minerals from the mountains to the Gulf of Corinth. The 1896 steam locomotive was replaced with a more modern engine in 1962 but the spectacular track itself still passes through tunnels and across narrow bridges zigzagging over the Vouraikós River. Tunnels, seven of them, seem to have been carved with only inches to spare. As the track drops down an 18% grade, you can hear the clack-clack of the cogwheel engaging — you hope. We could only trust the experience of the 35-year veteran engineer, Tassos. He seemed to know what he was doing as we snaked through the beautiful Vouraikós gorge where in places we could see the rushing water of the river directly below the window of the car. Had we spoken Greek, he would have been a wealth of information but even so, we managed to learn quite a bit, in part with the help of another passenger who spoke very broken English. Tassos made us sit up front with him where he pointed out every photo opportunity. At one point he stopped the train and filled his water jug from a small pipe that was stuck straight through a tree to deliver a constant flow of fresh spring water.

Kalávrita has a pretty sad World War II history and it is not the only town in Greece having suffered heavily by the Nazis. On December 13, 1943 the German occupiers carried out one of their most brutal reprisal massacres because of partisan activity in the area, killing the entire male population, 1,436 men and boys, and leaving the town in flames. The left clock tower on the central church stands fixed at 2:34 PM – the hour of the massacre. A mural opposite the train station reads: “Kalávrita, founding member of the Union of Martyred Towns, appeals to all to fight for World Peace.” We were told that the German government officially apologized for this atrocity.

We had found great parking next to the railroad tracks, just across from the old train station and a grocery store. The town pretty much goes to sleep after 8:00 pm, so we did too.

This is an introduction to Greek Mythology. There will be a short quiz when we leave Greece and Zeus will be watching you!

Leaving our peaceful overnight camp at the small fishing village of Monastiraki, we drove to Delphi, the most important Ancient Greek site of Oracles. If you glance at a map of Greece, there are hundreds of ruins and major archeological sites, most of whose dates end in “BC”. Occupation of the site at Delphi can be traced back to the Neolithic ( New Stone Age) period with extensive occupation and use beginning in the Mycenaean period  (1600–1100 BC). Many of the ruins surviving today date from the most intense period of activity in the 6th century BC.

In mythology going back to the Classic Period of Ancient Greece (510-323 BC), the site of Delphi was believed to have been chosen by Zeus. For thousands of years in what we now call “Western Civilization”, Zeus was the head “God”. There were other Gods and Goddesses beneath him, (He loved to delegate.), but he had the final word and he was worshiped by learned philosophers like Aristotle and Socrates and a major part of the world before they discovered it was not flat.

Of course Zeus must have known that, so when he sought to find the centre of his Grandmother Earth “Gaia”, he sent two eagles flying from the eastern and western extremities. The path of the eagles crossed over Delphi where a stone was placed called the omphalos to mark the navel of Gaia.

Apollo, one of Zeus’s sons, had his sacred precinct in Delphi. It was also a Pan-Hellenic sanctuary, where every four years, starting in 586 BC, athletes from all over the Greek world competed in the Python Games, one of the four Pan-Hellenic games, precursors of the Modern Olympics.

Delphi would have been a renowned city whether or not it hosted these games. It had other attractions that led to it being labeled the “omphalos” (navel) of the earth, in other words, the center of the world. (Later that was changed to France.)

According to Greek Mythology a serpent or dragon called Python had attempted to rape Leto, one of Zeus’s lovers while she was pregnant with the twins Apollo and Artemis. (Zeus was quite a playboy.) Apollo killed Python but had to be punished for it, since Python was a child of Gaia. That’s a long story.

There was a spring that flowed toward the temple of Athena but disappeared beneath the rocks creating a cleft. When Apollo slew Python, it fell into this fissure.

Apollo spoke through an Oracle. The sibyl or priestess of this Oracle at Delphi was known as the Pythia. She had to be an older woman of blameless life chosen from among the peasants of the area. She sat on a tripod seat over an opening in the earth. Intoxicated by the vapors from the decomposing body of Python, the sibyl would fall into a trance, allowing Apollo to possess her spirit. In this state she prophesied the future. (It has been speculated that a gas high in ethylene, known to produce violent trances, came out of this opening, though this theory remains debatable.)

Many votive statues, and numerous  “treasuries” were built by the various Greek city-states — those overseas as well as those on the mainland — to commemorate victories and to thank the oracle for Pythia’s (Apollo’s) advice, which was thought to have contributed to those victories. They were called “treasuries” because they held the offerings made to Apollo; these were frequently a “tithe” or tenth of the spoils of a battle. Sort of like an early version of the Vatican Museum?

We could not offer any significant sacrifices to learn the future of our adventure along the Silk Road, so we were content to wander the grounds and could only imagine what it might have looked like thousands of years ago.

Our overnight passage from Ancona, Italy to Patras, Greece in our little mini cabin, listening to the drone of the ship’s engine all night, reminded us why we have never taken an ocean cruise. Returning to our truck, while we waited for a few semi tractor-trailers to move out, we brewed a fresh pot of coffee. That reminded us why we travel in a self-contained camper.

We were running on fumes. With diesel fuel it Italy going for about €1.675 a liter, ($8.78/gallon), we were looking forward to filling up in Greece. Rob and Nina had told us that they had seen it for as low as €1.28. We found a little mom and pops station that had it for €1.23, ($6.44/gallon), and we filled up everything including our spare cans on the back. The bill was over €500, (about $700), which made the owner smile. Must have been his biggest sale all week.

Getting out of town without going through town was the next challenge and for a change, our Garmin did a pretty good job of leading us to the beautiful new Carilaos Trikoupis bridge that spans the Gulf of Corinth. This is the longest multi-span cable-stayed bridge in the World. Getting to the on-ramp was quite an exciting adventure of side roads and rows of orange pylons going every which way.

It was late afternoon so our goal was simply to find a safe parking place for the night and take a deep breath of Mediterranean air. Spotting the small fishing village Monastiraki from the highway, we took a chance and wound our way down to the shore where we found the perfect, flat, quiet parking spot right next to the fishing docks. It was a secret we had learned many years ago. Little harbors always have flat places for fishermen to park their trucks and trailers. There is often fresh water nearby and a beautiful view in the morning.

Not really feeling like cooking this night we spotted the cute Full Moon Taverna (www.panseloinos.gr)  half a block from the harbor where we were made very welcome by the owner, Chrisoula Farmaki, who happened to speak English. Soon we were sipping Ouzo and enjoying fresh feta cheese and wonderfully plump Kalamata olives. Already we knew we were going to like this country.

We had been playing Blog Tag with Rob and Nina Blackwell for months as we made our way across the US, shipped to Belgium, and proceeded to drive through Germany, Switzerland, France, Spain, Portugal and Italy. Meanwhile, Rob & Nina had started in Vladivostok, Russia and had come over many of the roads we would drive, including the beautiful Wakhan Corridor along the Afghan border in Tajikistan.

Now we were headed to Greece, and a slight change in our port of departure brought us to Ancona. With a time schedule looking over our shoulder and the weather in Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Montenegro and Albania still under the threat of winter storms, we decided to ship across the Adriatic Sea directly to Patras, Greece and head down onto the Peloponnese peninsula. Having watched Rob and Nina’s blogs, we knew they were arriving the evening before we were leaving. What timing! Looking at the ferry schedules we figured out which line they were coming on and we were standing at the exit when their big yellow GXV Unimog rumbled towards us.

It seemed like a reunion of old friends. We parked in the staging area and spent the next several hours eating, drinking wine, and catching up on all the news we had to share about where we had been and where they had come from.

In the morning they were off towards Germany to get their ailing Unimog repaired at the factory and we were staged for loading on the huge ferry that would take us to Patras. It was quite amazing to watch the number of big semi-tractor trailers pour out of the ship’s hold even as they were boarding us. With The Turtle V safely tucked in a corner next to a big tractor-trailer, we grabbed our daypacks and headed up to our little cabin on the 8^th level. This was not a luxury cruise, but there were a couple of restaurants, a little casino, a store, a bar, a discotheque, an Internet station and plenty of outdoor decks to walk around.

As we sailed out of the Ancona port we said farewell to Italy. It had been an amazing country but we were looking forward to a new adventure in Greece.

Having spent a couple of days exploring the excavated ruins uncovered after the Vesuvio volcano wreaked its wrath on Pompeii and Herculaneum in 79 AD, we felt obliged to see what this monster looked like up close. We made the fortunate choice to NOT drive The Turtle V to the trailhead on the mountain. Hopping into a collective van, we headed up through countless hairpin corners while our very Italian driver named Salvatore entertained us with his Karaoke versions of popular hits playing on his dash-mounted iPhone.

From the parking area, the climb to the volcano rim was steep but not too difficult. The view over the cities and bay below was impressive, especially considering the future devastation that awaits them from the very alive Mount Vesuvio. As the sulfur fumes wafted over us, we hurried back down to our talented taxi driver.

(Salvatore is happy to pick you up at the train station or hotel in Herculaneum. Just give him a call. He speaks English, and is fair & honest. Cell: 346 53 61 278)