"Today we'll head south, crossing over to the Peloponnese Peninsula." We started day four rather early by my standards, because of the schedule for the train we would ride up the Vouraikos Gorge. Since this was a Rick Steves' tour, and we all knew we risked being left behind if we showed up late, everyone was on the bus and ready to leave at 7:30, as scheduled. We stopped for a welcome morning cup of coffee just before crossing the impressive new bridge over the Gulf of Corinth, the site of two major defeats for Turkish fleets. Seemed the cable-stayed bridge was as expensive (in tolls) as it was impressive, and many people still took the ferry.
Spiros dropped us off in Diakofto. He would collect us at Kalavryta, after our train ride. The narrow-gauge tracks, running for nearly 14 miles up the steep gorge carved by the Vouraikos River, took five years to build, back in the 1890s. The train is still needed by locals when snow closes the road, but the diesel engines also haul a lot of tourists during the season.
David shuffled and dealt the tickets, which split us between first and second classes. I drew first class, which put me in the rearmost car, with an excellent view of the tracks, the trees and the rushing river. Halfway up, though, we suffered engine trouble. No-one complained, as we were able to wait out the repairs at the Zachlorou station, with drinks and chat.
Some of us were talking about walking up the tracks, figuring we could admire the scenery even better on foot, when word came that the engine had been fixed, and we finished the trip to Kalavryta by train. We didn't have time to check out the village, near where the Bishop of Patras had kicked off the revolt against the Turks in 1821, as we were running late for lunch, still a fair drive away in the mountains, at a little place David had found (Planitero, I think).
We had been promised trout for lunch, and trout there was, complete with head and bones. The squeamish could opt for pork chop, but the trout, taken from the stream that ran close by, was delicious. We also gorged on horta (wild greens), fried cheese (so good), fried potatoes and Greek salad. Several restaurants competed for customers beside, or even over, the trout stream, and the owner of one stood in his doorway scowling at us as we set out on an after-lunch stroll. Hardly the best way to win customers! The elderly man selling herbs and honey nearby was much friendlier.
"We'll drive further into the valleys of the Menalon Mountains to Dimitsana." Spiros got to display his driving skills on the last, winding, leg of our journey up to Dimitsana, where we would spend the night. The sun was already dropping behind the mountains when we arrived, but I found warmth and light in the town's two tavernas. I drank coffee with one group of tour members at the first, alongside locals playing backgammon and watching soccer on the wide-screen TV, before joining another group across the street for pizza and the ubiquitous (but good) Greek salad of feta, tomato, cucumber and deep yellow Greek olive oil.
"Sleep in or near Dimitsana." Sadly, we only spent one night in Dimitsana, snuggled under duvets in comfortable beds - although we were enjoying warm sunshine during the day, at night we were reminded that we were traveling in April. I would have loved to spend at least a day hiking the mountains, and maybe another exploring the other villages, and visiting the Open-air Water Power Museum, closed by the time we arrived. Our hotel, unimaginatively named the Dimitsana, was otherwise above reproach. The big lounge with its comfortable sofas, and wide windows overlooking the Lussius Gorge, invited me to settle in for a long stay, but we had a date with Olympia.
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