That weird buzz in the bakside got us up and going again. Walking and climbing, to be exact. Or, even, throwing ourselves into the horribly dangerous adventure, should you choose to believe my wife.
In a moment of misguided trust in my naive cyberhelper Komoot, I let it plot the trail for us over whatever it had stored in its maps as paths. Not sure who decided where the trail was supposed to be on the map, as nothing, like, not even a sheep path, indicated any difference between that and the rest of the rugged landscape. Add to that somewhat cavalier attitude, and here we were, sitting in the middle of a mountain face with loose limestone rock all around us. Two sheep were the only other beings beside ourselves who constituted “life on Mars” that day. Those two were much more sure of themselves than we were, so they peeled off rather quickly.
After finally making it to the ridge and not finding any discernable path there, either, we pressed on along whatever line the map was showing, only to soon see that it went up and down crevasses and peaks in a completely mad manner. So, well, crap, at that moment I didn’t feel very good, as water hadn’t been abundant before, either, and there we had to choose to add some kilometers to the hike, to go around a top, instead of up and down. Spoiler alert: we made it back.
After a while we descended to one of those tiny beaches that boat excursion operators tell you is only accessible by their boat and saw one of these groups in the middle of the fun they were having. Joined in, even – had a cool-down swim in our own corner, and watched them depart after a while. From there on – a short cross over to the other side of the island (it’s tiny narrow in that spot), to where the remains of a WW2 concentration camp are still visible. A definition of an awkward social situation for you? Me, sporting an average sized Mogein Dovid on my hairy chest, discussing local historical sites with a couple of German girls. “Oh, you’ve heard about it…” Yes. Well, for the record, I don’t agree with those saying “please don’t go swimming here, it’s disrespectful”, but I do think the memorial plaque should have stayed (apparently, it was lost to vandalism?) Anyway.
From here on it’s 3km back to the car and the last 1.5 are harder than the first. The coastline here is spectacular, but I’m not sure I had energy to look around all that much.
The “beach bar” can offer a small bottle of water for 3€, and that’s all I have to say about that…
