Day 16
Day 16 Thursday 29th November Rizokarpasso to Apostolos Andreas
Our 16th and last day of walking.
It begins with another homemade breakfast from the fire. Before setting off I pay a visit to the Eleousa church – its simplicity inside is both calming and poignant.
The first course of action once at the crossroads in Rizokarpasso is to enjoy another coffee at the Greek kaffeneion. With a full caffeine charge we break camp at 9:10am, aiming for the summit. Michalis’ restaurant is locked up this morning - Michalis is probably recuperating still from his performance last night.
As we come out of the town the Besparmak trail carries on through fields on the ridge. Instead, we turn south on the main highway to reach the coast which we will follow to Apostolos Andreas. The road down to the coast is broad and steep and brings back the thrill I had 5 years ago tearing down it on my hybrid bike on a charge to the monastery.
Once on the coast we come to the Blue Sea hotel. It was here that my eldest Alex first started to feel the effects of dehydration and sun stroke as we were returning from the monastery on our bicycle circumnavigation. At the end of that day we had to arrange to have him picked up in Bogaz and taken to the south for medical treatment. Thankfully it is November and we are all well-watered so I do not fear a repeat today.
Just past the hotel with its little fishing harbour we turn off the toad to walk along the sea front. This is the first time that we have been by the sea since we left Paphos castle over two weeks ago, proving that you can have an extraordinary time on the island without going to the beach.
At the end of this stretch of beach we are forced back onto the road. We keep a look out for wild donkeys who are the real rightful owners of this extremity of the island. The occasional one is spotted on a far ridge, but they are keeping their distance from the farmers, and from the odd tourist or hiker making their way to the island’s tip. We pass some interesting outbuildings including a very public toilet.
A spot overlooking the sea set out for picnickers invites us to take a break and examine what the ladies at the Eleousa restaurant and hotel have packed for our lunch. Carrots must be in season as they dominate the fillings of our sandwiches. We decide to save these for later if we are desperate.
As the road heads a little inland Tugberk suddenly turns off and takes a trail back to the coast that is now out of sight behind a ridge. I know this part of the panhandle well but must admit I was wandering why Tugberk was taking us off-piste and adding miles. Trust him he says – after a week with Tugberk our loyalty is not in question.
Our faith is handsomely rewarded when, on reaching the coastline we find not a beach but a solid rock formation that offers a walking platform between ridge and sea. But it is what is carved into the rock floor that bowls us over. A scene from some prehistoric burial ground unveils. What looks like deep sea creatures seem to have found their last resting place on some sandy floor, leaving the imprint of their bodies in what has now turned into rock. We imagine fantastical life forms as we trespass through this primeval cemetery.
The rock platform comes to a small cove and there we find Nikos’ café perched between road and sea. We stop for a booster of local coffee. Despite its name, Nicos café is run by a Turkish Cypriot. In conversation I discover that he lives in Trikomo, my father’s village, on land close to ours near the beach. I wander whether he is in fact living on our land but it seems pointless to investigate further – causing a scene would be inappropriate given the circumstances of our visit.
We leave the coastal rock platform and now take the road once again on which we stay the rest of the day. The Besparmak has veered north to take an alternative route the other side of the central ridge – we will not meet up again until the very end.
The land on our side of the ridge opens out into farmland – there is no village out here but there is the occasional passing farm vehicle and buildings scattered across the plain. We enter into a ruined one of these by the road to take our lunch break. The carrot sandwiches survive our hunger.
Ahead of us is a long stretch of open flat land before we take the last climb of the entire walk above the golden beach and into the donkey sanctuary behind which is our objective. This final section should be a breeze for our hardened, seasoned mountain trekkers I tell my colleagues.
Zeus, having missed his opportunity to derail our Odyssey up on the Karpass mountains, now gives way to the Anemoi – the gods of the 4 winds. No sooner had we finished our repast when a vicious wind sets upon us. Of course it is not from behind us – the gods have been no help on our mission. Instead we walk straight into it as it seemingly is determined to literally stop us in our tracks. It reminds me of the gale that blew up out of nowhere on the stretch from Kiti to the seaside village of Zygi on my bike tour. On a perfectly flat seaside road going at full pelt, it still took 3 hours to cycle the 16 miles. It was where I had my only moment of doubt on that particular challenge.
But not today – too close to the end to condone any thoughts of failure. Head into the wind, increasingly separated, we took one step at a time holding tight our belongings and clothes so they are not ripped from us by the children of the keeper of the winds.
Just before the steep final climb into the donkey sanctuary we find refuge in a small wood and wait for the wind to die down. Seeing that this particular group of Argonauts are made of the right stuff, the wind gods admit defeat and soon go elsewhere for their fun.
Now for the last climb on our entire route – Len is particularly pleased to hear this, he is no friend of inclines. This is no ordinary climb though. For one it looks back on the Big Sandy beach – a long stretch of unspoilt wide golden beach as far as the eye can see. In a region of Cyprus renowned for its remoteness and serenity, this is the jewel. The views are seductive and it is hard to turn your back on such a utopian sight.
For another, at the top of the short climb is found the gate to the wild donkey sanctuary where hundreds of donkeys are free to roam. The origin of this reserve lies in the large numbers of donkeys abandoned following the partition of the island. They were gathered and released into the wild in this, the remotest part of the island. However, being donkeys, they stubbornly refused to refrain from dining on the crops of local farmers. Whether it was to protect the donkeys from the farmers or vice versa, an enclosed sanctuary was created at the very tip that is well-endowed with evergreen shrubs that thrive in soil not so suitable for farming. Not all the wild donkeys have been enclosed in the sanctuary, however, as we ourselves have witnessed on our walk.
Once inside the park the donkeys are not so shy as outside the park. They are familiar with the steady flow of pilgrims and tourists to the attraction of the monastery which lies inside their realm. They mix easily with bipeds, looking for treats and scraps of food. A group of walkers like us are an easy mark and soon they surround us on the trail. Finally we find a home for our carrot sandwiches and in return get an escort for the remaining stretch into the monastery.
Originally my idea was to stop a mile or so short of the monastery and finish the final mile the following morning, the Apostles name day. We would stroll in our hiking gear as the pilgrims from the south flooded in wearing their Sunday best. Standing out like that I imagined a fuss would be made over us, invited to tell our story and welcomed as heroes, fearless adventurous on a par with Shackleton and Amundsen and Hillary and Livingstone.
Having walked so far and for so long the presence of the monastery was so seductive we knew we just had to finish our adventure today. The first sight of buildings on the horizon is in fact a hotel. Behind it the first glimpse of the monastery is the top of its bell tower. It teases us by revealing itself slowly - it is on lower ground right by the rocky coast. As we get very close it is clear that there are already a lot of cars and people at the monastery – maybe we will get our moment of fame after all.
What can I say about the monastery of the Apostle Andrew? It has its inception in a legend and a miracle performed by the saint on that spot. Such legends and miracles are not unique in Cyprus or to Cyprus. Yet it has a special place in the hearts of Greek Cypriots. Its isolation on the furthest tip of the island since partition has only added to its status among the Greek population. The romanticism around it is enhanced by the fact that the monastery has been kept functioning by one sole priest who refused to leave and has spent now nearly 50 years holding services and taking care of the church.
He has been helped by Greek women from the local community that stayed behind in the Rizokarpasso area. I met the priest and some of his ladies on a previous visit. They have done a remarkable job in keeping the church alive. For most of these years, however, they could only watch the structure of the church and monastery steadily decay. On my last visit it looked like it was ready to collapse. Today the church has been rescued by work funded by the EU and the Greek community – the rest of the structures however remain in severe disrepair.
For me this place is special. As someone form the Famagusta area, it is a key connection to my family roots and history in the now occupied north. It is to me the most fitting place to end our journey and my personal pilgrimage.
On arrival we are far from being alone, joining the surprisingly large number of pilgrims here a day early who in turn have attracted a large number of not so wild donkeys who have gathered to benefit from the goodwill of the pious.
I have no words to describe how I feel as we terminate our passage of the entire island at the packed front door of the monastery’s church. Relief, pride, surprise, an overwhelming sense of achievement. My blisters are just pleased that IT’S OVER – at 15:20pm on November 29th after walking 209 miles over high mountains. I am so proud of my moufflon buddies – all over 60, without them I would not have even considered this mad undertaking let alone complete it at the tender age of 65.
As I say about the challenges I have undertaken over the years, the best ones are those you thoroughly enjoy but would never dare do again – our trek linking the legends of two apostles that traverses the full length of this truly amazing island is right up there.
We high five and engage in manly embraces – the pilgrims must have been wandering what our celebrations, in our weird clothing, were all about. We are too tired to explain – maybe tomorrow when we come back for the name day services and meet our lift back home to Aphrodite Hills.
The services inside are in full flow and the church is packed. I squeeze in to participate for a few moments and give my thanks to the Apostle that inspired our madness. There I see why there is so much activity going on outside – seated near the iconostasis with a perfect view of the proceedings is the first lady of the Republic. Has she heard we were arriving and wanted to be the first to congratulate us and offer us the keys to the state? Maybe another day - today she is here to commemorate her name day and has come a day early to avoid the crush that tomorrow will bring. The service over, the first lady is conducted to her limousine with her mother and her protective cavalcade and sets off back to the south.
As people file out of the church the donkeys, whose numbers have increased, come forward and mix with the devout. A soup of monastery, wild donkeys, pilgrims, street hawkers, Presidential bodyguards all mixing together in a setting-sun backdrop makes this one of the most extraordinary and captivating scenes that you can witness on the island.
We take pictures, rest, contemplate, and smile a lot with that smile which reflects an inner sense of pride and achievement, with a bit of ‘thank God its over’ for good measure. We take our lift back to the Eleousa restaurant and hotel. There we extend our last dinner together by enjoying whatever we can find in the kitchen’s drink cabinet and sleep the sleep of kings.
Day 16 stats: Distance 15.0 miles (24.1 Km), total miles 208.9 (346.3 Km)