Detour #216: A switchback in time in the Taygetos mountains, Greece
Photo Shutterstock
This remote mountain road across the Mani peninsula is a Greek odyssey with plenty of twists, says Indi Bains.
Sometimes, inclement weather provides the perfect excuse for a road trip, and this is the reason I’m looking at a rental Seat Ibiza – rather than a sparkling sea – at three o’clock on a Greek spring afternoon. The looming world of the Taygetos mountains, the spine of the Mani peninsula, will be my oyster. A 38km loop awaits, from Kardamyli through the remote villages of Neochori, Pyrgos, Kastania and Eksochori, clinging to the west side of the mountains, and – according to locals – untouched by time.
Leaving Kardamyli – the Messenian Gulf jewel that Homer described Agamemnon offering Achilles – I head south on the Kalamata-Areopoli road. Below, coves that usually shimmer turquoise are leaden; above, mountaintops demurely wrap themselves in clouds. The traffic, like the rain, is a steady dribble. Not long after passing the sign for Stoupa – where Nikos Kazantzakis wrote Zorba the Greek – another announces the turn for Neochori.
It’s a gradual uphill; straight at first, surrounded by scrubby olive groves aplenty. A kilometre shy of Neochori, I encounter the first series of switchbacks. The Taygetos’ lower slopes are like a set of widely-spaced steps, each one navigated by such a series, so I better get used to them.
The ascent from Neochori takes me through further hairpins, one a truly tight 180⁰ beneath Pyrgos, the next village. I leave the Ibiza in search of a view, finding it beside the church of St George. Verdant slopes stretch lazily to the coastline; birdsong and the hum of insects are the only sounds.
Passing the Mani Blauel Factory – the first organic olive oil producers in Greece – the road straightens, gaining elevation gradually. Here are stone walls that would remind me of the Peak District if it weren’t for the incongruity of nearby towering cacti.
The mountains close in, and I reach another tight turn. Instead of curving fully around I turn right, passing the tiny roadside church of Agios Ioannis. This is Kastania, hidden in the folds of three Taygetos. At 560m high it’s significantly cooler and seems a million miles from Kardamyli, but really it’s just 15km.
I leave the Ibiza near the ancient Byzantine church. This is the first of eight – all intricately-frescoed – I explore on a steep walk. When I’ve finished, I really do feel like I’ve stepped back in time.
I leave as the mist descends, closing the portal on that past world; a Greek Brigadoon. I resume the drive as a howl echoes across the valley, and moments later the beast appears, ambling across the road: a fine-looking jackal.
The tarmac, narrow and replete with potholes, hugs a contour for a while. Taking a right-hand fork, I bypass Saidona and sweep inland. The drama increases, the road cutting a gash across undulating tree-clad slopes, almost wrapping back on itself. Evidence of rockfalls is scattered generously; at least now with two lanes I’ve got room to dodge the interlopers. Before me is a glimpse of the highest peak in the Peloponnese: snow-covered Profitis Ilias.
The occasional switchback now seems passé. Weaving towards Kitriniaris Tower, the silence is broken only by bleating sheep and tinkling bells. The road abruptly narrows approaching Eksochori, with abundant sea views and the next series of switchbacks. Time for a quick stop to watch the sunset from the village.
I’ve barely passed anyone since leaving the main road and it doesn’t look like I will. A gradual descent and another group of switchbacks leads to Praostio, but the light is fading; no time to stop. From here it’s a graceful finish before re-joining the Kalamata-Areopoli road. I’m back in Kardamyli, in time for dinner in Dioskouri Taverna’s cypress-filled courtyard. The sky has cleared, the moon is out, and a twinkling harbour lies below.
Words & Photography Indi Bains