So the plan was to visit as many of the 10 UNESCO World Heritage painted monasteries as we could get to in one single ride through the mountains. But in the end we visit only the church of St Nicolas of the Roof just south of Kakopetria. The Greek Orthodoz monks retreated into these mountains when Roman Catholicism was in the ascendancy in Nicosia. The church was built around the 11th century and features an untypical roof and frescoes on the inner walls. The setting and the small, unprepossessing church are pleasant but not breathtaking. On the other side of the road is a large and modern monastery complex.
The steep rugged valleys make progress slow. After a lunch in Kakopetria we head eastwards up a valley full of shaded restaurants. It's a Sunday afternoon and there's a lot of daytrippers out on the roads. After a very long haul we turn off onto a small road and continue to climb. It's wearying. We're still not fit. Finally we reach a ridge and look back over the valley we have climbed out of. Pause. Deep breaths. Sit down on a bench. Then carry on. Down to Spilia. The road is closed for a mushroom fair, which has all but finished. We wind through the narrow streets and are climbing again, past the large guerilla monument to the Cypriot fighters who hid in these mountains while fighting the British. Another lung-busting climb. We're finished. The sun is setting. We're on another ridge but can't find a hidden camp spot and continue along a traversing road which hugs the steep and forrested mountainside. How will we ever find a hidden camping place in this kind of landscape? I start to point this out to Gayle as a preliminary to suggesting we turn back (Gayle's motto is: Never Turn Back) but then she spots a tiny place in the trees. It's almost dark and only two pickups (hunters) have driven past us. We're unlikely to be disturbed here. And so it is.
We like a good traverse. The road is relatively flat, not too many big descents or climbs, and so our plan the next day is to keep traversing as we head east. It's sunny and perfect weather for it. Emerging from the pine forest we take a dirt road that wends through acres of vineyards above several villages. The views northwards are stunning - we can see the mountain range that looms over the north coast. In between lies Lefkosa and the great open plain. At some point in the afternoon, after riding through numerous tiny villages, we have to take a road down into one of the valleys. And then faced with a choice - turn off and climb again or continue downhill - we take the easy option. Camp on a ledge - a terrace of neglected olive trees - next door to a large house perched high up above the road.
Before we reach Lefkosa we detour to the pretty village of Pera, after passing one of the stranger church buildings we've seen here - a fabulous wooden church which reminded us of those in Romania. It is built next door to a hideously kitsch concrete orthodox church with a blingy goldleaf onion dome. On closer inspection the wooden church is Romanian. There's no explanation of why it is here, but the immense craft and skill of the ornate woodwork contrasts sharply with its loud and crass neighbour.
Pera has a good collection of old stone houses and a very good selection of olive groves to camp in. We hum and haw about whether to cycle over to the village of Politico, great name, and the archaeological site of Tamassos. Tamassos is mentioned in Homer's Odyssey and was renowned for its copper mines from which the island gets its name. But it's uphill. Wild horses couldn't drag us up..... oh, well, if there's a chance of a tow then we'd probably go. But nothing's doing. We are tired after our ride across the mountains. Now all we want to do is coast into Lefkosa and have a rest.
The steep rugged valleys make progress slow. After a lunch in Kakopetria we head eastwards up a valley full of shaded restaurants. It's a Sunday afternoon and there's a lot of daytrippers out on the roads. After a very long haul we turn off onto a small road and continue to climb. It's wearying. We're still not fit. Finally we reach a ridge and look back over the valley we have climbed out of. Pause. Deep breaths. Sit down on a bench. Then carry on. Down to Spilia. The road is closed for a mushroom fair, which has all but finished. We wind through the narrow streets and are climbing again, past the large guerilla monument to the Cypriot fighters who hid in these mountains while fighting the British. Another lung-busting climb. We're finished. The sun is setting. We're on another ridge but can't find a hidden camp spot and continue along a traversing road which hugs the steep and forrested mountainside. How will we ever find a hidden camping place in this kind of landscape? I start to point this out to Gayle as a preliminary to suggesting we turn back (Gayle's motto is: Never Turn Back) but then she spots a tiny place in the trees. It's almost dark and only two pickups (hunters) have driven past us. We're unlikely to be disturbed here. And so it is.
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| Kakopetria old town |
We like a good traverse. The road is relatively flat, not too many big descents or climbs, and so our plan the next day is to keep traversing as we head east. It's sunny and perfect weather for it. Emerging from the pine forest we take a dirt road that wends through acres of vineyards above several villages. The views northwards are stunning - we can see the mountain range that looms over the north coast. In between lies Lefkosa and the great open plain. At some point in the afternoon, after riding through numerous tiny villages, we have to take a road down into one of the valleys. And then faced with a choice - turn off and climb again or continue downhill - we take the easy option. Camp on a ledge - a terrace of neglected olive trees - next door to a large house perched high up above the road. 
Before we reach Lefkosa we detour to the pretty village of Pera, after passing one of the stranger church buildings we've seen here - a fabulous wooden church which reminded us of those in Romania. It is built next door to a hideously kitsch concrete orthodox church with a blingy goldleaf onion dome. On closer inspection the wooden church is Romanian. There's no explanation of why it is here, but the immense craft and skill of the ornate woodwork contrasts sharply with its loud and crass neighbour.
Pera has a good collection of old stone houses and a very good selection of olive groves to camp in. We hum and haw about whether to cycle over to the village of Politico, great name, and the archaeological site of Tamassos. Tamassos is mentioned in Homer's Odyssey and was renowned for its copper mines from which the island gets its name. But it's uphill. Wild horses couldn't drag us up..... oh, well, if there's a chance of a tow then we'd probably go. But nothing's doing. We are tired after our ride across the mountains. Now all we want to do is coast into Lefkosa and have a rest.
