Today I went up to the highest village on the other side of the gorge and looked down at some of the other places I have cycled to on this holiday. Ayia Sophia, in particular, at the end of a spur looked very far below me. The bus took me most of the way and the Brompton the rest. Getting back was 40 minutes of freewheeling.
The village has several permanent residents (and two buses a week), but most of the people are elderly so it may not be a long-term state of affairs. I did read something a few years ago at the start of Greece’s economic crisis implying that several young Greeks were moving to depopulated villages to make a different kind of life for themselves, but I haven’t seen much evidence around here. I did encounter a thin dog who looked at me pleadingly and followed me to the end of the village. I yielded and gave her – probably to her disappointment – my emergency pastelli bar, the only food I had. (The village dog on Friday did better – half of my tiropita.) I also heard the come-on calls of the travelling chick salesman as his cheeping van toured the villages on the other side of the gorge.