Campsite life meanders on. We are now on “guten morgen” terms with some of our German neighbours and Sarah has had a few conversations with a Swiss woman who is travelling on her own with her dog. Their initial connection was her and our dogs’ mutual antipathy, but she now keeps bumping into her when they are both dog walking on the beach.

Camping Iria Beach has a bakers van that comes round every morning at an indeterminate time. This morning it arrived just as we were about to have breakfast. As I was dashing to the van I asked Sarah whether I should just get one loaf today, when she replied “or perhaps we could have a treat for breakfast”. Croissants it was for breakfast then. I don’t need a second invitation!

The croissants weren’t bad. They had a distinctly, ill defined, Greek flavour to them, but not bad at all. Mine was improved by the first of the kilo of honey I bought from a local bee keeper. I was perhaps ill advised to buy such a big pot, but like Pooh (but not Tigger) I do like good honey.

I had decided today not to stay, immovable as a beached whale, on site, but to venture out on foot. But first the laundry needed attending to, which again proved slightly problematic. Sarah had assumed that it would take about an hour. Some campsite washes miraculously are complete in 20 minutes! However today, two hours twenty minutes later, the washing emerged, not noticeable cleaner than the 20 minute version.

The dogs before Melek got tired!

A fallen down house

Once the washing was all hung up, we set off to the nearest village of Iria. It’s about two miles from the campsite and seemed easy to find since it is where the road runs out! Our progress was slow. Melek, despite having his fur cut historically short, does not like this heat. It was again about 27 degrees today, not a cloud in the sky and very little breeze. Melek kept stopping and finding excuses to snuffle about in every shady spot he could find. Luckily we had packed water for him, which gave him extra pep when needed.

As with every walk in Greece we were greeted with loud acclaim from every third house by a barking dog. Sarah warned me that when she had been this way on a morning walk their had been a large and aggressive dog. So I armed myself from the beach with what we now term a “dog stick”. In addition, for those of you familiar with Vic Reeves’ Big Night Out, I also term myself “the man with the stick”.

Sure enough, at about the half way point, a large brindle dog appeared in the road, it’s ruff up and of course barking. It approached much closer than is usual for the dogs in Greece, but was wary enough of the man with the stick, that he did not follow us very far.

On our walk we also came across the crop the local area is famous for – artichokes. There was a large lorry with a pickup truck full of artichokes alongside with the crop being unloaded from the smaller vehicle into the larger. I’m no expert on artichokes but the local tourist magazine makes a big thing about the reputation of the vegetable from this area.

The local crop of artichokes

The road ran out and there was a beautiful tiny harbour with two tavernas and not much else. It was a proper little working harbour with small fishing boats and one or two small pleasure craft, but not a billionaire’s superyacht in sight and all the better for that.

Iria Harbour

We sat ourselves down next to the water at the first taverna. The proprietor told us that he had two types of fish fresh from the boats this morning, but I didn’t understand the Greek names. So he invited me into the kitchen to look at the them. It is no wonder I didn’t understand the Greek names because I don’t know the English ones either! The chef explained that the smaller fish, which looked like small red mullet, but without the red skin colouration would be served fried and the larger ones, which resembled a sea bream, but with iridescent pink scales would be grilled. Like a pig I said I would try both. Sarah only wanted a Greek salad.

View from our table

The food arrived with some local white wine and I had the best meal I have had in Greece. The grilled fish was served with beautifully cooked beetroot and beetroot tops. Sarah’s meal could not be described as the best she’s ever had in Greece, because it was just a Greek salad!

Us at the taverna

A slow walk back to Camping Iria, with Melek having to be carried a short distance, despite the increasing afternoon sea breeze, saw us back with Basil for a sleepy afternoon.