Day 5 - Sidyma to Bel

In the end it didn't rain during the night, but at one stage I did get woken by Fiona prodding me in the face. There was a large animal moving around outside the tent. As I rolled over to find a more comfortable position to go back to sleep in, the rustle of my sleeping bag disturbed it, and it crashed off through the trees. Chalk one up to man the protector.

Had two cups of coffee and an after dinner mint for breakfast. We had been given the mints on the flight from Australia to Turkey, and Fiona had kept them on account of her Scottish heritage. Now I'm very grateful for it. The all coffee breakfast should be the sole domain of movie journalists.



We locate the track once more, explore the nearby ruins, then head off toward Sidyma. The track immediately gets messy again. The main problem with this section is that there are actually two marked tracks running side-by-side, mostly about 50m apart, but occasionally crossing. We reach Sidyma about 10am and explore more ruins. By this time my after dinner mint has worn off, and my body is starting to eat into reserves of brain fat. Fiona drags me onto the next village, where we find a humble roadside cafe. I order two servings of savory pancakes, a rice-something-or-other, and a coke. Fiona gets something also.



After a long brunch we head off up another poorly defined track, through a forest, up a road, and down past some fields; eventually arriving at Bel, a mountain village that in theory we should have reached yesterday. It has taken us two days to cover what the guide book describes as a seven hour journey. Bel is cute. About 15 houses nestled on a heavily terraced hillside. According to the guidebook the mainstay of the local economy is goats. No real surprises there.



Bel




Bel's economy

One team member now has three blisters. Shares in Johnson and Johnson, the makers of Comped, soar eight percent.

As evening comes on, thunder and lightening forms in the hills, and it starts to rain. Fortunately tonight we are staying in a local Pension (guest house). At dusk a lone shepherd moves a flock of 50 sheep down the road. No quad bikes or dogs. The sheep seem to know where they are going. But where? Eventually they all turn into the house we are staying in. The sheep are on the ground floor, the family on the first floor, and guests on the 2nd floor.

No WIFI or telecoms coverage. The blog will be delayed another day.

Today's tortoise count : 4