Days 39 & 40 – Just like Hale-Bopp was, we’re hopelessly drawn towards the sun . . .

We have no guarantee warmth will come. Unlike Hale-Bopp. Its more direct route guaranteed that. But now it’s going to have to wait another 2,500 years to get warm again. We however, can’t wait that long.

With no sign of Korinth or Athens on the horizon we lie low. Our tails not yet to be seen hurtling their way back from the far side of the sun. We forget about the ancient ones. Their time will come. With eyes cast heavenwards we become unpredictable. Just like the weather. It becomes our master. We, its slave.

By the time we’ve walked to and from Gytheio, Mary-Ann’s fit-bit has clocked twenty thousand steps.

A pretty port. Caters for those who like to eat, drink and take photos. Nothing else. Emulates many that lie scattered around these Peleponnese Peninsulars. Locals rely on the likes of us. Just as well we likes. We rest our shortening legs over lunch. Do an about turn. Cut a corner or two off. Hope it will stave off the first signs of dwarfism.

Friday’s rain drives us further west and north. But not too far. A 60K jaunt. Could have walked – almost. The resort of Stoupa the only MOHO stop on the western side of this middle finger. Again it’s pretty. Dry and sunny surprising.

More organised than most. Really geared up for the tourist. Overflowing with empty hotels and apartments. A few cars parked along the short narrow section of sea front draw attention. Two police officers are blowing whistles. Causing a din. Owners within earshot summoned. Move their cars or face an immediate fine. It’s heart warming. We can sleep easy tonight.