Читать книгу Looking for Aphrodite - David Price Williams - Страница 43

“The only problem with that, on a summer day like today, is that there is no wind and the heat can be extremely enervating until the breeze comes up around eight. Still, we’ll go.”

Next morning the expedition assembles, dressed in heavy climbing boots, woollen socks, drill trousers, safari jackets, large hats and huge back-packs full of juice, sun cream, medications, camera gear, compasses, walking poles and enough rations for a week. I appear in sandals and T shirt, carry a small bottle of water.

“We need to hike! hike! hike!” says their leader, making alternate motions upwards with her index fingers. Looking at me, dressed simply as I was, she asked:

“Are you not coming with us, David?”

Ignoring this jibe, I set off. We climb slowly up the well-known paths, past the lower theatre, the Corinthian temple and the Byzantine houses. Skirting the upper terrace walls the snake of people reaches the upper theatre, its huge ashlar blocks of the auditorium wings, the only ones left, dwarfing the party. Everyone looks keenly upwards at the great backbone of the ridge leading onwards and upwards to the Acropolis. So far so good!

I mention the loose rocks and sharp tree branches to come and we set off again. In Classical times there used to be a zigzag pack-way to the fort at the top, up which donkeys would no doubt take supplies. The roadway has long since been washed away, but the massive retaining blocks point the way to the summit and this ascent skirts around the dangerous cliffs lower down.

We get into the harder pathways, where balance and stamina are needed to negotiate the boulders, the thickets of pistachio bushes and the spiny broom which make the going tough. We get to the second turn, higher up the mountain.

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