and breathe,,,,

This memorial on a pass is for 120 males that were all killed on the same day in the Second World War, so we assume they were executed en masse.

Sundays are quiet days in Greece.  Shops are mostly closed so we're happy to come across a little but well-stocked village shop on our road over to Tripoli.  Farmers are busy in their fields on the high plateau we have come to, whilst in the city centre traffic is light.  Our planned route straight back into the mountains is revised after we've seen the actual mountains.  Instead we opt for a gentler way over to Megapolis and then north up the valley before we climb back into the mountains.  The roads remain quiet all afternoon. We crash a wedding reception at a restaurant to ask for water and the waiters hand us bottled water.  It surprises us how everyone buys water in 1.5 litre bottles.  We've seen people fill up their cars with these bottles - such a terrible waste - and rarely have we seen the large 25 litre bottles that everyone uses in Turkey and Viet Nam.  I guess the difference here is that the population is only 11 million but it still seems so unnecessary.  The tap water is safe to drink but just has a lot of limescale.  As we wonder where to chuck our unwanted empty plastic bottles the bishop and his minders exit the restaurant.  Like a mid-ranking politician glad-handing the locals before an election, the bishop greets us and makes brief small talk before getting in to his chauffered black SUV.

most village fountains have taps these days, so these are rare

Monday is a national holiday to celebrate, as the man at our guesthouse in Nafplio explained, "letting go of the turkeys".  It took Gayle a while to understand this explanation.  In 1830 Greek won back its independence from the Ottomans after a nine year struggle.  On Poros island we'd seen a ruin of what is called the Russian Naval Yard - the place where Russians helped build a Greek navy to fight the Turks.  As we arrive in the mis-named Megalopolis (it ain't that big) we witness the youth of the town gathering for a parade along one of the main streets.  All the town have turned out to watch. 

Clearly this is a rite of passage - the annual humiliation of the town's teenagers by getting them to wear traditional dress.

Later in the day and we are climbing once again, neatly avoiding Karytaina, our proposed lunch spot, after we discover the hilltop village has only one way in and one way out.  We don't feel like cycling the extra 2 km uphill.  After lunch we have an endless climb anyway.  The gradient is fairly steady and we call it a day when we reach a good place to camp on a terrace above the road.  

we worked out that we climbed about 6000 metres in our 8 days acroos the Peleponnese

Our way to pretty Andritsaina is scenic.  It's also tough.  We begin with a frustrating downhill to cross a river.  Frustrating because it is followed by yet another steep climb.  Happily this route is light with traffic and we can listen to music while we grind our way up and along the mountainsides.  The village nestles in a cool crook of the mountain.  It reminds us of Steminitsa and Dimitsana, two other mountain villages whose lights we could see last night across the deep valleys below us.  We passed through them on our southerly ride back in 2013.  The houses are old and generally well-preserved.  A policeman stops to chat and express his admiration at our feat.  We just want to find the bakery.  

The landscape up here is dramatic.  The mountainsides are steep and the views change constantly.  We begin descending and then have to climb again.  Another terrace of olive trees provides a campsite for us before one more hot day brings us to the end of the mountain stages in the Peleponnese.
 

if you can't read Greek then at least you can guess from the picture what it is...?

We finally drop into the valley bottom to cross a river.  The landscape is rather dull in comparison to the last few days and there are no views, but we're also knackered after the mountains so we're happy to head out to the coast where it's flat.  Relatively.   We head up to the little port of Kyllini through farmland and find that every other house has an untethered guard dog.  Most are behind fences but it's really a horrible experience.  Some dogs are loose but don't stray from the property.  I really have no affinity for the creatures at the best of times, but today I am frazzled and really unhappy.  I just don't want to be here. 

We camp in a little dip in amongst some olives and orange trees.  There are farms all around and the dogs bark and howl off and on.  We have our first 'rain day' here.  It rains all night and into late afternoon the next day non-stop.  So we spend the day reading and resting.  At some point we hear sheep bleating and a cough.  Then another cough.  I stick my head out to say hello to the old shepherd who has brought his flock into the grove.  He looks bemused by our presence and I have to point to the bikes which are lying down out of sight.  And then he just disappears like some kind of time traveller.

Originally we were also hidden from the road by long grass - but it just fell down in the wind and rain

We have another barky-dog day but the weather is good and the ride is short to Kyllini.  Even better, there's a ferry that will take us to Kefalonia so we don't have to spend another night in this mutt-infested farmland.