Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, June 20, 1993 TAG: 9306210313
SECTION: HORIZON PAGE: F-6 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: ALAN LITTELL
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
In the west beyond a rim of rocks, under a fierce sun, glared the Messenian Gulf. To the east through a plain of olives loomed dun-colored ridges: arching backbone of the Mani, the barren peninsula that plunges like an arthritic finger 40 miles to Cape Matapan - southernmost point of mainland Greece - and the Mediterranean Sea.
The waiter nodded toward the shore. He had been talking about an occasional guest, the British war hero and Grecophile Patrick Leigh Fermor, who lives in a cove below the village.
What little tourism that exists in this boulder-strewn wilderness can be traced to Fermor's 1958 classic of travel literature, "Mani."
Fermor rambled on foot or on muleback across the Maniot peaks. He discovered a harshly beautiful country peopled by dark-visaged descendants of the ancient Spartans and scattered with pepperpot -domed Byzantine chapels and the crumbling shells of bizarre tower fortresses.
It was, he wrote, "a vision as bewildering as the distant skyline of Manhattan or that first apparition of gaunt medieval skyscrapers that meets the eye of the traveler approaching San Giminiano across the Tuscan plain."
Today paved roads have replaced Fermor's stony mule tracks. Yet relics of the past abound.
The old limestone bastions jut from the slopes like shattered teeth. They evoke an age - almost within living memory - when vengeance was a duty, when blood feuds over land or wounded pride were the touchstones of family honor.
Warring clans would take to their towers, blasting away at each other with any weapons that came to hand until one side gave in or a truce was declared to bury the dead. Over the centuries, Maniots never conquered by Turkish invaders of Greece reduced themselves to anarchy.
From Kardamyli my route led south across foothills of the southern spur of the Taygetus Mountains, the peninsula's great central ridge.
The early morning sun flooded the passes. The air was heavy with the scent of sage and oregano. To my right, heat haze covered the sea.
At the fishing port of Limeni the road circled a deep clean bay, then rose to the narrow streets of Areopolis, seat of the region's 19th-century feudal overlords. South of the town I emerged onto a bare brown coastal plain.
The Mani's chief appeal to visitors is its archaic landscape of tower villages. These lie for the most part on the western flank of the Taygetus along a 15-mile stretch between Areopolis and Vathia, just north of Cape Matapan.
The villages now are largely deserted. At Vamvata I wandered up a farm track past a cluster of three- and four-story towers to the 11th-century Church of Saint Theodore, its walls decaying into rubble but with an elaborately carved marble door lintel and a lovely fresco above the altar.
A few miles beyond, at Kitta, empty lanes petered out in a barricade of prickly pear. In neighboring Nomia, wind blowing through the abandoned towers was the only sound; a spray of bougainvillea the only color.
Climbing west on unmarked roads to a high plateau I stumbled onto some of the most isolated of the fortified villages: Stavri and Kippoula, possible site of the ancient temple city of Hippola; Pakkia; Trochalakis; and Kounos.
At Ochia, with its 12th-century Church of Saint Nicholas, I turned down a switchback ledge to Gerolimenas, a fishing harbor and promenade of taverns enclosed by vertical cliffs.
Old women in widows' black, their faces dark as walnuts, huddled in doorways like flocks of crows. Above the town the crags of the Taygetus folded one behind the other in shadowy pleats.
Four miles south of Gerolimenas the "brooding castellations" of Vathia - Fermor's description - hove into view.
Atop a conical peak, crooked lanes no wider than a pack mule angled among ruined arches, broken walls, the rounded apse of a deserted church.
A dirt path ringed the village, providing immense prospects of the inletted coast. A ribbon of road wound toylike to the north, to Alika and Gerolimenas. In the south it dipped to a tiny settlement, Porto Kayio, and a magnificent bay hemmed in by hills.
Beyond Porto Kayio the peninsula tapered to an isthmus ending in a rocky spit. The foundation stones of a temple and a cave on the shore above a tumbledown chapel were my sole reminders that today's Cape Matapan was known to the ancients as Taenarus, the entrance to Hades.
In this farthest outpost of Balkan Europe the sea-god Poseidon once was worshipped. And it was here also, according to legend, that a bereaved Orpheus descended to the underworld in search of his lost bride, Eurydice.
From Matapan I made my way back past Vathia, veering east at Alika across the main watershed of the southern Mani.
It was a splendid mountain drive. The road uncoiled in hairpin bends between escarpments that soared to stupendous heights. At the tower village of Layia I rounded a bend 1,000 feet above the sea. To the north stretched the bays and wild crags of the peninsula's east coast.
Below Layia the road dropped to pebbly coves. It skirted the great cliff towers of Driali and the even loftier fortresses of Flamahori.
Leaving Flamahori's shady plateia - village square - I followed the mountain valleys west to the edge of Areopolis. Here I turned sharply right, recrossing the peninsula through the longest of the Taygetus passes 16 miles to the harbor at Gythion, the Mani's chief town and gateway to Athens.
I had come full circle. Gythion was the essence of Greece. Fishing caiques tugged at their mooring lines. Beige and ochre houses with sun-faded tile roofs climbed from the port to a high ridge.
At dusk the people of the town sauntered along the quays in a traditional volta, or evening promenade. On tavern terraces men with open shirts and heavy gold crosses hanging from their necks sipped ouzo and nibbled olives and squid.
In the east across the Laconian Gulf the lights of a mountain village spilled down ghostly slopes in a shower of sparks.
Alan and Caroline Littell are a free-lance travel writer and photographer team based in Alfred, N.Y.
\ If you go . . .\
A car is essential. The major rental agencies have offices in Athens. They charge about $35 a day for a subcompact with unlimited mileage; advance bookings should be made in the United States.
\ Where to stay: Best bets are three clusters of tower houses restored as hotels: the Kapetanakos Tower Hotel, Areopolis (tel. 0733-51233), the Vathia Guest House, Vathia (0733-54244) and the Tsitsiris Castle Hotel, Stavri (0733-56297). Rates range from about $60 to $85 for a double with breakfast and private bath. Guaranteed reservations can be made in the United States through the Greek Hotel Reservation Center, Fountain Valley, Calif. 92708 (800-736-5717).
\ Where to Eat: Taverna meals are cheap, ample and appetizing. Expect to pay about $20 for dinner for two, with wine. Standouts include Lela's tavern in Kardamyli, Taki's in Limeni, the Akrotainaritis in Gerolimenas and the Akrotiri in Porto Kayio.
\ Travel tips: Read and carry with you Berlitz's pocket-sized "Greek for Travelers" and Patrick Leigh Fermor's "Mani" (Penguin Books). Obtain a route map of the Mani (in Greek) at the newspaper shop next to the Hotel Pantheon in Gythion. Carry cash (credit cards are rarely accepted) and bring a flashlight (power outages occur nightly). To see the church at Vamvata, ask for Kyria Metaxa (a small donation is appreciated). To find your way from Vathia to unmarked Taenarus (Cape Matapan), follow the readings of your car's odometer exactly 3.4 kilometers to a right fork, 0.6 to a left fork, one kilometer to a hairpin right turn and another 2.5 to the historic site.
\ Information: For additional details about travel to the Mani, contact the Greek National Tourist Organization, 645 Fith Ave., New York, N.Y. 10022 (212-421-5777).
by CNB