Day 89 - August 9th: Bounce Back

Sikia to Eftheroupoli: 31.5 miles / 2,559 total

Yesterday’s physically damaging day was about to get emotionally challenging as well. Christina and I arrived in the mountain village at a unit owned by Luiz, a Greek American who rents out part of his family home.

Sitting on the porch unlacing my shoes, I met Luna—a gangly white-and-ginger puppy with big paws and ears. Luiz had found her on the roadside weeks ago as a new born dangerously close to being hit. He brought her home and when no one answered his posts for adoption, she was his. Luna and Jax became fast friends as he tried to nudge her into playing and she alternated between being scared to wanting more.

While I showered, I heard Christina shouting. Luna had slipped out to follow Luiz to the market across the street, crossed and been hit by a car. She yelped and crawled under a truck, then under the porch. For hours she stayed hidden, and we all feared she was retreating to die. A few hours later she emerged, and Luiz took her to the vet—bruising, maybe a broken leg, but nothing fatal. It was a roller coaster, but with Luna alive and Christina extracting yesterday’s splinter from my heel, we ended the day feeling like we were on an upswing.

At 5:50 this morning, I slid the screen door open and Luna was there to greet me, limping but tail wagging. I said goodbye, knowing today’s 50K would take me from the Aegean coast into the Macedonian mountains, finishing in Eftheroupoli. This would be my last “in-and-out” hotel night before the final push toward Turkey.

We found a café open at 6:00—eggs, bread, coffee—and I launched at 6:45 feeling ready. The quiet of E86 at that hour was striking. First choice was to stay on the old E86 and go around a mountain adding 4k or go onto the new E86 that became a divided highway with a new bridge. No brainer since there wasn’t much traffic - I took the short route before rejoining the older one a few kilometers further on.

At 8K, I turned onto a fire road climbing into the hills—rolling olive groves, fruit trees, and hay fields. I ran up to a shack with a goat corral and tree that provided shade to two men sitting at a table outdoors with coffee or tea. I said good morning in Greek and they spoke to me in raised voices and hand gestures that were not welcoming. I took it as a “don’t come through here” warning so I started jogging until a few large menacing dogs forced me to slow and pass carefully.

The dirt road rose into a broad agricultural valley, flanked by the rugged Pangaion Hills to my left and the lower Lekani Mountains to my right. Pangaion’s highest peak towers at nearly 2,000 meters, and in the morning light the ridge looked massive—its upper slopes bare rock, its foothills dense with vineyards and chestnut groves.

These mountains are famous for their ancient gold and silver mines, worked by Thracian tribes, coveted by Athenians, and later seized by Philip II of Macedon to finance the army that would carry Alexander the Great across the known world. The pale scars still visible on the slopes are the remains of centuries of mining.

Below the peaks sat Mesoropi, a small village of red roofs and stone houses that still carries the feel of old Macedonia, complete with stone fountains and narrow lanes. It looked peaceful now, but its history is tied to the wealth—and conflict—that Pangaion’s resources drew here.

By mid-morning, the heat was brutal—90°F with no wind. The village of Kokkinochori looked deserted, but at the edge of town I spotted a food truck and a man watching TV inside a small warehouse.

He sprang up, brought me espresso, Coke, and water, then sat across from me, neither of us sharing a language. I think his name was Panagiotis and that he was married with 3 children. He understood that I was running through so after I finished my coffee, he came back with a frozen 2 liter bottle of ice and a chilled watermelon. He wouldn’t take money. We shook hands warmly as I thanked him - such incredible kindness and generosity.

Up on a ridge above Chrysokastro, I caught sight of the Monastery of Saint Panteleimonos, its red domes framed by cypress trees and a tall white cross standing apart on the hillside. The building began life as a mosque in the former Turkish village of Eletzik, but after the population exchange of 1922, Greek refugees transformed it into an Orthodox monastery.

The valley farm roads carried me to 37K, a reprieve before the climb into Pyrgochori. I stopped at Oniron Gefseis for a Greek salad and Pepsi, then took the final pass into Eftheroupoli, running into town to meet Christina and Jax.

Five nights left in Greece and then Tina heads to Istanbul. Ten days for me to Istanbul. No slip-ups now.

Thanks for following along and the support.

Cheers,

David.