Sunday, September 22, 2019

Cyprus E4: Airport to Pafos: Day 1

Leaving for a trip is a stressful experience.  Firstly because it means leaving my wife for a few weeks. We say our goodbyes, I promise to be safe, look out for traffic on roads and not fall off any cliffs, I tell the dog to look after her, the dog looks at me with big brown eyes but I don't think she takes it in.
Secondly, one worries if all the travel arrangements will work out. Will the coach to the airport get stuck on the M25 due to some traffic accident? Will the airline loose my rucksack or will it be destroyed, mangled between conveyor belts? Sometimes I am told to send the rucksack through the normal system, at other times I am told to take it to the oversized luggage portal, which is correct? Will my sister think I am destroying the planet with the carbon dioxide released by my flying?
Then there are all the people crowding around me, filling the coach and plane, or waiting for flights in the departure area within a mall of shops selling very expensive watches and sunglasses no-one seems to buy (they must rely on an enormous mark up on those rare items they do sell). Having followed orders at security, I walk along the narrow winding path between towers of duty free perfumes, politely shuffling behind slow elderly couples, trying to avoid people offering samples of perfume (which I don't use), while in search for a coffee at somewhere without a long queue.
Finally there is the worry that I have forgotten something, or left it behind on some seat, so regular checks on my passport persist for a few days into my trip until I neglect to obsess about it.
In reality it all happened more or less as planned. The coach arrived a tolerable 10 minutes late at Gatwick, and thankfully my rucksack arrived on the baggage reclaim belt in Pafos (also spelt Paphos), undamaged, although among the last bags to come through so that I was starting to fret about where I put the baggage receipt, no doubt needed if my baggage was lost.
As I flew into Pafos airport, the land looked dry and dusty. Steep sided valleys and ravines had cut into the soft, poorly vegetated soils. On flatter ground there were squares of stubble and orchards of some kind. Lines of villas followed, each with a bright blue swimming pool filling its backyard.
Once on the ground I walked out of the airport and prepared for my walk into Pafos, putting on sunscreen, my sun hat, and switching on my GPS in front of a couple of policeman with machine guns. Then a walk out of the airport on the road and a right hand turn into a forestry area. People were barbecuing food at a picnic area among eucalyptus trees with dry brown leaves. As I walked along the shoreline, doubling back in the direction of the airport all the vegetation looked crisp and burnt by the summer sun. No doubt in spring it would have been full of flowers. In the afternoon heat I walked along the narrow strip between the sea and airport perimeter fence, sometimes on a vehicle track, sometimes on the sand and shingle of the beach, my feet sinking in at every step, sometimes pushing through thorny undergrowth near the fence. I only took this route after finding someone on wikiloc.com who had walked it. Leaving the airport behind the path was indistinct in places and being eroded by the sea in others.
Close to the outer perimeter of tourist developments around Pafos, I left the E4 and walked past people sunbathing on the beach, and later on well watered, green grass lawns in front of hotels and resorts, the bright green sharply contrasting with the brown of the natural vegetation. Those enjoying the sun were maybe showing more naked flesh than was wise in the sun or attractive.
Reaching the Pandream hotel, hot and sweating I ordered a cold beer. I guess as a result of British influence a pint was the main offering. Probably more than I should have drunk as my subsequent attempt at swimming in the hotel pool resulted me in veering to one side or another.
The restaurant suggested by the hotel offered such British staples as cod and chips. As I had just flown many miles to leave Britain I climbed up to a restaurant claiming to be French and enjoyed a pretty decent meal, even the cabbage tasting good! Although the waiters said "thank you very much" far more often than any French waiter would...

A gps file of my route can be found on wikiloc.com, and on myViewRanger under short code johnpon0044.



The coast near the airport

4 comments:

  1. Hey John

    Thanks for sharing your journey on this one.

    I am planning on hiking the trail this year if everything goes well.

    I would love to get in touch via email with you regarding possible tips and other information on the E4 Cyprus sections. Where can I send a few questions?

    Thanks for your time.

    Chris

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    Replies
    1. Hello Chris
      I am high in the Penines at the moment but will get back to you when I can.
      John

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