Mystras - Southern Peloponnese

Being based at a hotel that was situated on Southern Peloponnese’s Messina Peninsula, I was able to contemplate a wealth of sightseeing excursions. But occupying ‘pride of place’ on my list of possible excursions was the medieval Byzantine city of Mystras, now partially restored to its former glory, which stood perched on a steep hill that was reputed to overlook stunningly fabulous views of the vast plains of Sparta.



And I lost no time at all in booking a place on the ‘Excursion Coach’ that would take me to the ‘dizzy heights’ of medieval Mystras…… On the day prior to my trip I was chatting to a British couple who were also staying at the same hotel – and both shuddered visibly as I told them about my proposed excursion.

Reaching Mystras involved travelling across the ‘Taigetos Mountain Range’, the husband informed me. This, he declared, was a particularly ‘tortuous route’ with sheer drops all the way. And he added that at one juncture the road reached a summit of 13,000 metres. The prospect of being a passenger in a coach that could plunge 13,000 metres into a ravine was not a pleasant thought on which to dwell, prior to a night’s sleep!

And I received the distinct impression that as I bade the couple ‘good-night’ they were mentally bidding me ‘good-bye – it’s been nice knowing you’! Not that there were many hours in which to sleep – for I had been informed that the coach would pick me up outside the hotel on the stroke of 7.30 a.m.

I had also been told that if I was not waiting at the appointed place at the appointed time, the coach would go on without me, and I would have to forfeit the excursion! These, I was informed, were the acceptable ‘ground rules’ on all coach sightseeing excursions!

I had booked a 6.00 a.m. telephone ‘call-time’ and I had also set my own alarm clock for the same time. But, for some obscure reason, I woke up at 4.30 a.m., and perhaps knowing that my various alarm calls were scheduled to start ringing within an hour and a half, I found it impossible to get back to sleep.

However, I spent some of that ‘unsolicited time’ outside on my balcony, observing a glorious sunrise, seeing the sun’s golden orb making its spectacular appearance onto the distant horizon, seemingly rising out of the depths of the still, silent sea. And I was at the breakfast table on the stroke of 7.00 a.m.!

Although, officially, breakfast at the hotel was scheduled to commence at 7.00 a.m., obviously it was considered far too early to serve any hot fare, so I settled for some fresh fruit and a roll and marmalade, and a cup of coffee that I managed to extract from a ‘coffee machine’. Apart from myself, there were five German people breakfasting at this early hour – all of whom seemed to be outraged by the absence of any ‘cooked breakfasts’!

But none of these ‘early birds’ would seem to have been bound for Mystras, for no-one followed me to the specified scheduled ‘excursion coach stop’ outside the hotel’s main entrance. A solitary soul, I stood there alone, waiting for the coach to materialise.

Instead, a taxi drew up, and stopped right beside me, and the driver informed me that he had been instructed to transport me to Kalamata, from where the ‘excursion coach’ would be setting out for the journey to Mystras. The trip to Kalamata was conducted at an alarming speed, with the vehicle seemingly steering itself as if set on a ‘pilot automatic’ since the driver held a mobile phone in one hand and a cigarette in the other……..

However, we reached Kalamata without mishap. The excursion coach was already parked beside a pavement in one of the main streets, and as I climbed aboard I discovered, to my dismay, that it was already almost full of passengers, and I found myself relegated to a seat at the very back of the vehicle!

We now began the steep ascent out of Kalamata and, looking back, I gazed down at the beautiful bay that lay glistening like a tranquil blue lagoon in the sparkling sun. A tall – but somewhat intense looking – Greek woman, who was obviously our official ‘Guide’, now rose to her feet and addressed us all by speaking into an intercom.

She stated that Kalamat had been struck by a ‘big earthquake’ in 1986, and that many people had been killed, but that more people would have been killed had they been at home, but that instead they had been at the harbour front greeting the arrival by ship of a special visitor. She then went on to say that while the homes of these people had been destroyed, the death toll had been less because they had not been inside the buildings.

Her account evoked a grim picture, and also served as a grim reminder of the earthquake that had struck Athens the previous week…… The coach now proceeded to scale the steeper ascents of the Mount Taygetos Range. And pin-drop silence engulfed the confines of the coach as passengers gazed down in awed wonder at the sheer precipices that bordered the route along which we were travelling. I realised we were now traversing the ‘Laganda Pass’ – a route described as ‘the wildest in the whole of the Peleponnese’.

I recalled reading in a travel book: “The road is twisting, precipitous and, in places, highly dangerous, for landslides are highly common. Few roads in Greece offer more spectacular scenery – but it is not for the faint hearted motorist.”………..

And as we climbed higher and higher, the preceding roads that we had ascended began to assume the dwarfed dimensions of a zigzagging trail of cornisches…….

Then we found ourselves beside the gorge, into which, we were told by our Lady Guide, Spartans used to hurl ‘puny infants’, prisoners and criminals. The deeply incised gorge, above which towered some of the loftiest peaks of the Taygetos Range, was a vertical crevice, indented by jagged rock fissures – seemingly a stark, bottomless pit……

Our height had now reached cloud level, and the altitude was affecting the pressure on my ears. I was beginning to wonder how much higher the coach was likely to climb when our Lady Guide announced proudly that we had now reached 13,000 metres, which was the highest point that could be attained on the Taygetos Mountains! And, almost immediately, like a landing plane, we began to make our descent.

We now seemed to entering a world of mountain mist. Visibility had become spasmodic, and when the coach drew to an abrupt halt and became stationary, it was like being perched on a cloud. And our Lady Guide promptly announced that we had reached ‘Mystras’, which we were to enter by the ‘Monemvasia Gate’.

In two hours’ time, she declared, the coach would be awaiting us by the bottom gate, when we would be driven to a taverna at the foot of a mountain, where we would stop for lunch. We all trooped off the coach and stood together for a few moments in a huddled group, staring into the swirling fog. Then, almost miraculously, as if on demand, the mist shifted and seemed to drift away.

And the medieval City of Mystras – seen sprawling along the foothills of The Taygetos – suddenly sprang into view. It seemed as if I was standing on a mountain summit above the ancient remains of Mystras, which extended downwards towards the valley below, beyond which lay the vast plains of Sparta – a stunning vista of untrammelled terrain that seemingly stretched into eternity…..

And the mist having melted, the mellifluent mountain air now suddenly seemed to infiltrate the environment. I felt strangely elated! The combination of stunning scenery and high altitude was as intoxicating as the most potent of champagne cocktails, and for a few moments I felt positively inebriated.

It was a moment of sheer magic – and a memory that I shall always treasure. And as I began making my downward descent, I kept clicking my camera at every juncture. Yet I knew in my heart that no photograph or painting could ever truly recapture the superlative scene that lay spread before me.

But I also knew that the ruined city of Mystras and the spectacular vista that it commanded was a scenic sight that would always remain in my mind for all eternity

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.