Olive Groves, Hills & Hidden Places

A spontaneous stop in the Peloponnese mountains reveals crumbling cottages, new hillside homes, a pristine church, a one-table tavern, and a mayor’s cat. Greece, off-script.

Off I go again, cruising the winding ribbons of the Peloponnese—smooth roads, soft hills, olive groves stretching into the haze, and the sea shimmering in the background like it’s watching. This region has a way of shifting gears on you: one moment you’re rolling through lush mountain curves, the next you’re face to face with a forgotten hamlet halfway between past and present.

A cluster of houses, some still proud, others quietly collapsing—sunburnt stone walls, tiled roofs sliding into disrepair. But right beside them: freshly built stone homes, perched for maximum panorama, balconies aimed straight at the blue. And then, centre stage, a church so intact and ornate it feels ceremonial just to stand near it. Tower, dome, clock—everything symmetrical, peaceful, and immovable.

There’s a tavern. It has one table outside, two inside, and that’s all it needs. No frills, just a quiet place to sit. The “mayor’s office” next door seems closed, unless you count the black-and-white cat curled up on the window ledge, blinking like it owns the town. It probably does.

No need for a big detour. This is the kind of place that happens while you’re on your way. A short stop. A breath. A contrast. The kind you only get when you’re not in a rush.

 

Out There > Motorhome Trip Spring 2025 Western Balkans and Greece > Pigadi, Greece