04/09/2011 Greece VII: Blueschists, or Hairpins at 70

When we woke up this morning, we had no idea what we were going to do. Babi had to work, so Dina's car was out of action. Annie wanted a day off. So it came as a surprise to me to wake up to Mike calling to me through my door, telling me that we were going to 'the village'. Which village? Paliouria (Παλιουριά), where we were based doing our mapping project? Fotino (Φωτεινό), the site of the oldest rocks in Greece, and the focus of our fieldwork two years ago? Spileo (Σπήλαιο) in the Pindos, with the nearby Eagle's Nest restaurant (Αετοφωλιά; 40°0'54"N 21°13'17"E) and its delectable meat? Distrato (Δίστρατο) also with wonderful food, especially the mountain trout?

It turns out that it was none of these. These village was Ambelakia, a pretty village not far from Olympos (Όλυμπος). Also known as the 'type-section' for blueschists. Adamos had offered to drive.

The blueschists at Ambelakia (Αμπελάκια) represent a sequence of sedimentary sequences and minor volcanics. The sediments are a mixture of muds and limestones, mylonitised and faulted such that they look as if they're flowing down the mountainside. White quartz veins separate layers of fine grained blue-green schist. The colour appears to derive primarily from the mica-chlorite sheets, which weather to a perfect shine. Epidotes, glaucophane and actinolite add to the range of greens and blues.

Blueschists at Ambelakia

Ambelakia village sits above the section, nestled comfortably against the hillside. The walls, pavements and roads are all lined with blueschists, and bustle with people. Strains of the liturgy can be heard drifting down from the village church, and are tactfully ignored by those sitting in the restaurant enjoying their early afternoon lunch.

We continue our excursion by visiting the Ossa (Όσσα) section, driving through many more schists to a katafigio (καταφύγιο) high up on the peak. Names scratched on rocks scattered over the hillside attested to the justified popularity of the site with hillwalkers. Even in early September, tiny mountain flowers and purple thistles poke their way out of the scorched earth, adding colour to the dry yellow grasses lining the slopes. A couple who work for the forestry commission ask about the history of the area, and direct me up to a bunch of blue rocks about 10-15 minutes up the marked path. My subsequent run to the site they described reveals a contact between brown-green schists and blue-tinted carbonates, but detailed observations are precluded by the long journey home.

Thistles on Ossa

The katafigio below Ossa

We descend Ossa through dense forests on a road lined with blackberries and redcurrants. Rather than returning to Grevena directly, we stop for a short time at Leptocaria (Λεπτοκαρυά), a tourist resort popular with Eastern Europeans and the location of a hotel owned by an old friend of Adamos. Beautifully worked wood is joined incongruously by huge golden buddha masks, tourist nik-naks and huge broken pottery urns filled with flowers. The table mats advertised Cutty Sark. After the customary greetings, the hotel owner asks me how Margaret Thatcher is doing. He tells me she'd spent a month at his hotel before she was Prime Minister, and that they were good friends. Dry Greek humour always throws me.

We drive back via Olympos and Chromio (Χρώμιο) roads. Adamos either really wants to get back before dark (it was past 1900 by the time we left the Aegean), or he really dislikes the five versions of 'Volare' pumped out by the apparently braindead DJ on the radio. Whatever the reason, both Dina and I are soon clinging on to the sides of the car. In case anyone should think I'm exaggerating, I check our speed a few times (read: near continuously) on the way back. Adamos feels that country roads are best taken at 140 kph. Blind bends warrant more care; he navigates these at more sensible speed of between 100 and 120 kph. Hairpins are cornered at 70 kph.

We stop for dinner in the village of Poros (Πόρος), just as the petrol warning light flickers on. Souvlakia and strong soft cheese join the salad and bread at the table, inside the community hall loaned out to the man who apparently both cooks and serves the food. Sesame seed halva, and grapes follow. The locals insist on paying for Dina and Annie's wine and all four bottles of Mythos for Adamos and I.

The rest of the journey back to Grevena is much smoother. Perhaps the music has become more soothing, or the beer has lessened the urgency to get back. It is perhaps an indicator of how pleasant the evening is that as a shadow passes across the orange-tinted moon, it takes me a minute to identify the smudge as a cloud.