A week or so ago, I went on an exploration walk with Harry. He’d told me of some ruins above the Pontikokastro, the ‘Mouse Castle’ up at the windmills, and I told him of a grey pipe I’d seen sticking out of some rocks, so we went up for a closer look. (You may have read this story on Facebook.) We had a look at a couple of ‘caves’ up there, and scrambled onto the top rocks for a closer look at the plastic chimney pipe. It turned out not to be a chimney but, I am guessing, some kind of trig point which, according to my translation of the writing on the plate, belonged to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.
While up there, we also looked at a WWII gun emplacement, after which I suggested we field walk the flattened ground nearby. This was merely an excuse to engage in a discussion about archaeology, and to plant the idea that history had happened beneath our feet. We wandered this probably well-trodden piece of ground for a few minutes when he came across a riffle shell, not a plastic, modern one, but a metal one with 1942 and some indiscernible Greek lettering stamped on the flat end. The shell had been fired, so was quite safe, but how long had it lain there, on top of the uncultivated soil? Why hadn’t it been found before? How had it survived the wind, rain, storms, heat, trampling feet…? Eighty-two years it had sat there waiting for H to discover it, and I think that’s pretty amazing.
Almost as amazing as the view from up there. Here are a few photos, there are more which I’ll share at some point. They are mainly of grey rocks, but whatever. They help me fill the pages.