Messinian 'Round Trip'

It didn’t seem right to be staying at a hotel that was situated on the South Peloponnese’s Messinia Peninsula without exploring the actual area itself….. After all, Messinia laid claim to a number of interesting sites, including Pilos, Methoni and Koroni.



Even the peninsula’s inland area was purported to be particularly beautiful, being fertile terrain featuring sub tropical vistas such as fields of fig trees, cypresses and olive covered slopes. Yet it was so difficult to forego the pleasurable option of languishing in the sunshine within the confines of my scenically situated hotel which overlooked such a stunningly spectacular ocean vista………

Could anywhere else on the Messina Peninsula possibly compete with such a view? Then, one day Messina’s ‘so-called’ sub tropical climate delved into a ‘fertile’ mode and replaced sunshine with rain! And languishing on the beach was simply not a viable prospect! However, by afternoon the earlier downpour and deluge had ceased, but the skies were still cloudy, and the sea likewise still represented and ocean expanse that was grey in hue.

This would seem to be the ideal moment to go ‘a-wandering’, and view some of the other sights that the Messina Peninsula had on offer. I could hire a car, or I could hire a taxi – or I could even try and locale some ‘local bus’ that would take me around the peninsula…………. Finally I decided to pursue the ‘taxi’ option – a ‘chauffeur driven car’ as the service was euphemistically described by the hotel member of staff who arranged the booking for me!

My ‘chauffeur’ turned out to be a tall, handsome middle-aged Greek man. As well as being my driver, he seemed to assume that his role also entailed having to entertain me for the duration of the trip! Obviously of a gregarious disposition, he was inclined to be talkative. And, alas, here we encountered our first serious ‘stumbling block’! For, while fluent in German, he spoke little or no English!

Reverting to my ‘schoolgirl knowledge’ of German, I haltingly expressed a desire to see Pilos – and as much of the Messinian peninsula as was feasible in the space of an afternoon. He seemed to comprehend my request, and in the time honoured English phrase favoured by so many present day Greeks, declared: “No problem!”

I was accorded the front passenger seat, and silence reigned temporarily as the car gathered speed in the style of one competing for supremacy in the ‘Grand Prix’! We seemed to be heading in the direction of Kalamata, then, without warning or any undue slackening of speed, we took a sudden left turn into a narrow lane-like road, and immediately plunged into a world that was a vista of orchards, green groves and plantations. The road appeared to plough a path through the greenery and curved and undulated into the distant horizon – which appeared to be a vast panorama of green.

Although it wasn’t raining at that particular point in time, there was a dampness in the air, and the scene that confronted us was reminiscent of a tropical rain forest As the vehicle swirled in solitary style along the highway, I began to believe that our journey would never end! And then when I saw a sign with the name ‘Pilos’ carved on it, it was a moment of sheer joy!

At first I feared it was a hallucination – induced by the unbroken expanse of green groves! But when the sea suddenly sprang into sight – albeit grey and uninviting, I knew that we were near journey’s end! And the high promontory that served as our final destination did indeed offer a spectacular view!

The Bay of Navarino lay still and grey beneath our gaze. White cliffs rose skywards from the sea. Several ships were moored in the harbour. From above, the quayside was clearly visible – no doubt a colourful sight on a sunny day!

I took a number of photographs of the scene that lay beneath us. I also took a photograph of the taxi driver himself, who stood to attention beside his car. In addition, he too took a photograph of me – framed against the Bay of Navarino. “We now have café!” my driver informed me as we re-entered the car. “Café in taverna by sea!”

I would have been quite content to return to the hotel forthwith before the weather deteriorated further. But it seemed hat my role as a ‘paying passenger’ was to accommodate my ‘chauffeur’s whims’ rather than pursue my own preferences! However, the waterfront taverna where we stopped for my driver to have his ‘café’ certainly commanded the best view of the bay. It also appeared to be particularly popular for most of the tables were occupied.

I ordered coffee for my driver and a glass of wine for myself, and by the time the beverages arrived at our table, both the sea and the sky had grown considerably darker. And the canopy that covered the taverna veranda began to be buffeted by a sudden gust of wind. The scene darkened even further and I ‘downed’ my wine in hasty gulps. But my driver sipped his coffee with studied slowness.

But my glass stayed empty for but a short time , for the deluge, when it came, fell in torrents. The canopy proved totally inadequate, and the rain drops filled my glass to overflowing! The rain was descending in such torrents that when we finally entered the car, all the windows had to be shut, and as the suffocating heat and humidity intensified, the vehicle’s interior soon began to assume the vaporous atmosphere of a sauna!

Outside, visibility was virtually nil as the rain drops pelted against the window panes. And the ‘return journey’ appeared to be no improvement on the outward one, for once again we plunged into a world of plantations, with dripping orchards and groves providing a sodden scene on either side of us.

No doubt in a bid to enliven the proceedings, my driver turned on the car radio, and Greek music resounded through the confines of the car! With Greek music blaring we continued on our tortuous trip. Then, suddenly, to our right the sea re-appeared on the horizon, and signs of civilization manifested themselves in the shape of a coastal town. “We go Methoni!” my driver shouted, above the musical cacophony.

Methoni, when we entered its precincts, seemed like a ‘ghost town’. Houses, shops, and even tavernas, looked shuttered and closed. The streets too appeared deserted, with neither pedestrian nor vehicle in sight. “We go castle!” my driver informed me, driving down the deserted streets at breakneck speed. Just for the moment the rain-storm’s ferocity had abated and only a light drizzle fell.

I noticed that we were travelling across what seemed like a wide moat. Suddenly the sea was swirling on either side of us, and ahead of us loomed the walled ramparts of Methoni Castle itself. The castle seemed to straddle the sea, as if rising out of the ocean bed. It was an impressive sight, and I felt myself being transported back in time to another age – to another era.

The car now screeched to a sudden halt beneath a particularly precipitous paved promontory. To my left lay the swirling grey sea, while ahead of me a flight of steep stone steps stretched upwards towards the castle portals. It was still raining lightly. The stone steps looked slippery, and the castle confines were totally deserted. No other visitor was exploring the site!

I’d come! I’d seen! But I had no particular wish to conquer! I informed the driver that I was ready to return to the hotel. He shrugged, then with remarkable dexterity spun the car into a ‘three point turn’ on the precipitous paving stones, before heading back across the long moat.

Green groves and orchards again beckoned as the route headed eastwards. Once more the road undulated through the myriad plantations that seemed to stretch in a sea of green as far as the eye could see. We now headed towards the coast again but no further stops were suggested.

I caught a glimpse of Koroni, abutting into the sea at Messinia’s easternmost point. Like Methoni on the peninsula’s westernmost point, it too boasted a Venetian citadel, and even from a distance I could see the castle’s grey distinctive ramparts.

Then we were on the coast road again. The sea was now on our right and the green plantations on our left, and despite the sudden increased torrent of rain, the air was fresher here. Journey’s end was close at hand!

When we finally reached the hotel, the rain was so heavy that it was difficult to identify the dimly discernible hotel entrance! The car windows being awash with water, only the ever rotating windscreen wipers were clearly visible! And now came the moment of truth!

The cost of my trip totalled about £32! However, my chauffeur driven ‘round trip’ excursion had been a memorable experience – and one that I would not have missed at any price

Roberta Crookes has worked as a newspaper journalist throughout most of her life, writing news stories, editorial features, advertisement supplements, and reviews. And in the course of her work she has interviewed many famous people from all walks of life. She has also managed to combine parallel careers in both journalism and acting, and, being Welsh speaking from North Wales, her main television featured parts have been Welsh language roles with BBC Wales.