Our Greek saga has reached the tetralogy stage. We awake to the driest streets in days, cloudy but I can see forests and rocks.
I see what resembles blue in the dawn sky. Puddles have diminished and sheets of water no longer run through our streets.
At least for now.
Severe Storm Byron
Lord Byron continues to leave his mark on Greece 200 years after his death. Here, Byron stormed into Greece on Thursday upon anything but little cat feet. He continued to wreck havoc, evidently with Zeus’ full support, over the weekend.
DATELINE: Total ban on vehicle circulation in the mountainous areas of Kalabaka: It is noted that on the road network (provincial road Kalabaka–Aspropotamos) in the Aspropotamos area of the Municipality of Meteora, Trikala Prefecture, a total ban on vehicle traffic is in force due to intense weather phenomena.
Roads closed and impassable in several regions, including Arta and Preveza, due to water, debris, and landslides, with municipal and fire services working to clear routes.
### END OF RELEASE
Goddess Hesychia – Hear Swiftie’s Plea
Could Hesychia have influenced Zeus to give us and our little blue Suzuki Swiftie a break?
While Hesychia (Goddess of Quiet) didn’t directly influence Zeus, as a daughter of Dike (Justice), she represented the essential virtues of peace and stillness that even Olympians respected. Her kind presence provided balance, and Zeus respected justice and order. Certainly, Zeus is being a little quieter today.
So, perhaps Hesychia has pleaded with the gods of Olympus to straighten up and fly right for a few hours. At least the foul weather has paused and for now skies rest quiet, showing a stillness and tranquility heretofore not seen.
Buses mysteriously arrived with hoards of tourist last night. Our executive privileges at the hotel have ended; we now share the scene with scores of others. But this bodes well: Hermes jumped into action as a protector of our onward journey? Tractors and rain, road blocks and flooding are held in abeyance?
Swiftie Bravely Motors South
A planned Western route has been scrapped. Severe weather system Adele caused extensive flooding and landslides in the mountains of Epirus. Alerts were issued in Ioannina, Arta, Aspropotamos and along that route.
Severe Storm Byron only added more rain and mud to an already bad situation. This leaves one route: south on E65 and E92 into the mouth of the John Deere tractor protest.
Our Swiftie locked her tires and refused to move in a direction where roads turned into rivers. She had had enough of potholes and farmer’ fields while motoring to Meteora. She would rather face the huge tractors again.
So, we turned south, hoping for a clear route into the Peloponnese.
Ode to Gabrielle, Goddess of the GPS
O Muse, lift your voice to the heavens,
And sing of Gabrielle, bright-eyed goddess of the road,
She who dwells not on Olympus alone,
But in the glowing glass of our little blue chariot,
Swiftie of the Suzuki ways.
Hail Gabrielle!
She who guides our little blue Swiftie
Through Greece’s zigzag roads and tractor-blockades.
She who whispers the sacred words:
“In 300 meters, turn left.”
And even Zeus himself, hurling rain by the bucketful,
Cannot drown her steady counsel.
Past plowed fields laid barren by winter,
Through hills rolling like the backs of ancient titans,
Over potholes and paths slick with mud —
Still Gabrielle fearlessly guided us,
Her divine recalculations somehow miraculously
Back onto an actual road.
For when Zeus roared and tempests rose,
When our little blue Swiftie trembled beneath Olympian fury,
It was she - O Gabrielle, wise navigator!
Who led us unscathed to every destined haven.
No shrine could honor her enough;
No votive candle burn as long as her mercy.
So let Lord Byron carve her name in marble,
Let shepherds sing her praises from Mount Meteora,
Protector of journeys, whisperer of left turns,
May your satellites forever shine strong,
And may even Zeus admit (grudgingly)
That your sense of direction was better than his aim.
No Gods, Just Google Maps: Our Drive Meteora to Olympia
A Tale of Mountains, Blockades, and Mild Dread
Gabrielle checked, rechecked our route. Google Maps appears to have begun registering road closures and detours. We will retrace E65 back toward Delphi. This seems the most reasonable route. Our drive should be dry and passable but require a long day. Distance of about 263 miles doesn’t sound a lot to a California driver, but these are slower mountain roads reflecting few direct point-to-point routes.
Leaving Meteora behind, we set off toward Olympia hoping for smooth highways, a few bumps and tunnels, and good scenery. What we got instead was a full-day odyssey featuring ghostly toll roads, rogue tractors, the occasional death-defying Greek driver, and a geography lesson.
We began on the E92 toward the E65, cruising through Thessaly’s gentle plains. These quickly gave way to rising hills, forests, and mountain passes that twisted the car around like a corkscrew.
The sun was present, the road empty—eerily empty. Not a single car in sight. The kind of emptiness that makes you wonder if you missed an evacuation order. It was Sunday, but still we were quite alone.
Even some toll booths were closed, which, frankly, felt appropriate considering the detours we were navigating to avoid tractor blockades. Between Trikala and Karditsa we detoured around the tractor blockade, thankfully avoiding Thursday’s potholes and farm roads, before rejoining E65.
Surely the gods were finally granting us an easier day.
Driving in Greece represents its own sport. I’ve driven Italy, France, Spain, Australia—even Texas—but Greek drivers? A different breed entirely. Fast. Fearless. Impatient. Existentially opposed to keeping a safe distance. Roundabout stop signs? Merely suggestions. Railroad crossing warnings? Decorative. You simply grip the wheel and hope no one removes your side mirror with a passing maneuver. I’m sure they are trying to make their point when passing.
Gabrielle took over the driving as we wound our way across the mountains, the fall colors softened all the chaos. Reds, golds, dark greens—a distraction so beautiful it almost made us forget we were still dodging imaginary tractors. The skies stayed mostly dry, the sun blinking out shyly.
And the tolls—always the tolls. Each booth required contortionist-level reach to drop coins into pockets designed by a tall Greek with very long arms. Google Maps cheerfully reminded us of every traffic camera along the route, no doubt tracking our slow progress. We noted Greek drivers slow for them – but only by a little.
Eventually, we reached the coastline along the Gulf of Corinth—a stunning, glittering blue stretch that added hours to the drive but soothed our spirits. We stopped for lunch in Galaxidi, a picturesque village overlooking the Bay of Iteas. Grilled octopus, calamari, peaceful port—pure bliss. And the cats. Dozens of salty-looking, sea-dog cats. Hard-luck felines living out their days like retired sailors.
Back on the road, we turned west onto the Ep Livadias–Lamias to cross more mountains—just in time to meet them.
The tractors.
Lined up along E75, the route to Athens, like an agricultural army preparing for battle. Tractor blockades: round two.
We pressed on in another direction, over more mountain passes and up and down switchbacks before crossing the grand Rio–Antirrio Bridge over the Gulf of Corinth – a gorgeous sight tempered slightly by the €15 toll that accompanied it.
Near Patras we encountered construction chaos so confusing the car spun around like an Exorcist child, but we eventually followed a gravel path (because why not?) to find the elusive reentry to the E55–5.
More tractors, more police, more near-closures. We squeaked through by what felt like divine intervention and sped into a magnificent sunset, the final miles unspooling like a reward for surviving the rest.
By the time we reached Olympia at 6 p.m., we felt like victors returning from the Spartan wars. We checked into Hotel Kronio, dropped our bags, and headed out—on foot, joyfully car-less—to find dinner in the quiet off-season streets.
Over a Greek salad, grilled honey feta, and a chilled bottle of retsina, we toasted to surviving our most chaotic driving day. Car parked. Keys down. Constant electronic lights and beeps no longer a concern.
It felt very, very good to be carless.
