Changing scenery today as I climb a last mountain before descending to dry chalky lands.
Packing up this morning after a night's camping I discovered that, inadvertently, I had squashed my tube of sun tan lotion while leaning on my rucksack to eat my tea last night. The white cream was now spread around the inside of one of my rucksack's pockets. After having attempted a clean up I climbed carefully down from the terrace on which I was perched, then walked up the gravel road towards the Stavrovouni monastery. The track was replaced by a footpath that climbed steeply towards the monastery ahead of me. A white box on the hillside, which last night I had thought to be a lorry, turned out to be a house or something similar.
Each monastery has a different character. Whereas the Kykkos monastery was surrounded by stalls and a restaurant, encouraging visitors, Stavrovouni had no such thing. Ladies were denied entry to the main compound, and prohibitions on mobiles etc. were enforced. While I waited for the monastery to open I ate some biscuits for breakfast and admired the view. The monastery is at the top of a mountain that seems the last gasp of the mountain range across which I had been walking for the last ten days. I could clearly see Larnaca and the salt lake beside it that I would walk around at the end of my trip. At 8:30 a.m. I followed a man into the monastery compound and onto the church. The man prayed fervently in front of a silver cross, which I assume had the sliver of the cross on which Jesus Christ was crucified for which the monastery is famous. After contemplating my good fortune in getting so far, praying for my wife's health, joy and safety, and admiring the walls covered with paintings of Jesus, Mother Mary and the saints and apostles, I left the man to his prayers.
From the monastery the footpath dropped away steeply down the mountain, trunks of wood had been placed to create crude steps to make the descent a little easier and safer. At the bottom I joined a road, passed a military camp, and then turned off by a quarry and rock crushing plant. I encountered three such quarries near the mountain of the Stavrovouni monastery. A notice at the monastery protested at a planned asphalt plant nearby. After these quarries I joined the road to Klavdia. The scenery was changing. I walked down a valley where the hard igneous rocks I had encountered in the Troodos mountains were replaced by softer cliffs of white marls. I diverted to see the Panagia Stazousa monastery. Much smaller than Stravrovouni, the walls of the church were of masonry hung with icons, rather than plastered and painted with frescoes. A man was deep in his devotions. I left him in peace. Several cats watched as I walked away down the road.
Klavdia was rather dead, all the cafes closed. I continued to Kalo Chorio. A little after Klavdia a sign warned of a firing range and the risk of death. There was indeed firing in the far distance but domestic cars were using the road, there were no barriers or red flags. A tractor ploughed in the middle distance. As I knew a previous blogger had walked this way I continued on my way on a road between fields of ploughed stubble, and reached Kalo Chorio unharmed.
At Kalo Chorio I saw my first mosque, albeit rather a modest one, although the minaret was distinctive. I drank a coke at a rare open shop (most places seemed closed for an afternoon siesta), and contemplated the pattern of salt rings on my tee shirt, a ring for each day I had been sweating in it. My skin seemed permanently sticky with concentrated sweat. Although I could have camped, instead I decided to head for the nearest accommodation for a shower and a chance to wash some clothes.
Villa Thermopilon in Aradippou, a northern suburb of Larnaca was the nearest. I booked online and started to walk. The owner could not get there and prepare my room (the effect of booking late) until 6:00 pm, so enjoyed a very pleasant, cold beer while a waited at a nearby cafe. Diner later, all clean after my shower, was at the nearby Kazani restaurant which was a delight. I sampled the sweet Commandaria wine, beloved by the knights of old, maybe the world's oldest named type of wine.
32 kilometres to reach my accomodation, but only 23 kilometres on the E4 with a modest 370 kilometre ascent. A GPS track of my route can be found on wikiloc.com and on ViewRanger short code johnpon0047.
Packing up this morning after a night's camping I discovered that, inadvertently, I had squashed my tube of sun tan lotion while leaning on my rucksack to eat my tea last night. The white cream was now spread around the inside of one of my rucksack's pockets. After having attempted a clean up I climbed carefully down from the terrace on which I was perched, then walked up the gravel road towards the Stavrovouni monastery. The track was replaced by a footpath that climbed steeply towards the monastery ahead of me. A white box on the hillside, which last night I had thought to be a lorry, turned out to be a house or something similar.
Each monastery has a different character. Whereas the Kykkos monastery was surrounded by stalls and a restaurant, encouraging visitors, Stavrovouni had no such thing. Ladies were denied entry to the main compound, and prohibitions on mobiles etc. were enforced. While I waited for the monastery to open I ate some biscuits for breakfast and admired the view. The monastery is at the top of a mountain that seems the last gasp of the mountain range across which I had been walking for the last ten days. I could clearly see Larnaca and the salt lake beside it that I would walk around at the end of my trip. At 8:30 a.m. I followed a man into the monastery compound and onto the church. The man prayed fervently in front of a silver cross, which I assume had the sliver of the cross on which Jesus Christ was crucified for which the monastery is famous. After contemplating my good fortune in getting so far, praying for my wife's health, joy and safety, and admiring the walls covered with paintings of Jesus, Mother Mary and the saints and apostles, I left the man to his prayers.
From the monastery the footpath dropped away steeply down the mountain, trunks of wood had been placed to create crude steps to make the descent a little easier and safer. At the bottom I joined a road, passed a military camp, and then turned off by a quarry and rock crushing plant. I encountered three such quarries near the mountain of the Stavrovouni monastery. A notice at the monastery protested at a planned asphalt plant nearby. After these quarries I joined the road to Klavdia. The scenery was changing. I walked down a valley where the hard igneous rocks I had encountered in the Troodos mountains were replaced by softer cliffs of white marls. I diverted to see the Panagia Stazousa monastery. Much smaller than Stravrovouni, the walls of the church were of masonry hung with icons, rather than plastered and painted with frescoes. A man was deep in his devotions. I left him in peace. Several cats watched as I walked away down the road.
Klavdia was rather dead, all the cafes closed. I continued to Kalo Chorio. A little after Klavdia a sign warned of a firing range and the risk of death. There was indeed firing in the far distance but domestic cars were using the road, there were no barriers or red flags. A tractor ploughed in the middle distance. As I knew a previous blogger had walked this way I continued on my way on a road between fields of ploughed stubble, and reached Kalo Chorio unharmed.
At Kalo Chorio I saw my first mosque, albeit rather a modest one, although the minaret was distinctive. I drank a coke at a rare open shop (most places seemed closed for an afternoon siesta), and contemplated the pattern of salt rings on my tee shirt, a ring for each day I had been sweating in it. My skin seemed permanently sticky with concentrated sweat. Although I could have camped, instead I decided to head for the nearest accommodation for a shower and a chance to wash some clothes.
Villa Thermopilon in Aradippou, a northern suburb of Larnaca was the nearest. I booked online and started to walk. The owner could not get there and prepare my room (the effect of booking late) until 6:00 pm, so enjoyed a very pleasant, cold beer while a waited at a nearby cafe. Diner later, all clean after my shower, was at the nearby Kazani restaurant which was a delight. I sampled the sweet Commandaria wine, beloved by the knights of old, maybe the world's oldest named type of wine.
32 kilometres to reach my accomodation, but only 23 kilometres on the E4 with a modest 370 kilometre ascent. A GPS track of my route can be found on wikiloc.com and on ViewRanger short code johnpon0047.
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| Stavrovouni Monastery |
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| The isolated mountain on which the Stavrovouni monastery is located |
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| Ancient olive tree |
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| Road down the valley towards Klavdia |
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