Tripiti on Sunday.

A plan isn’t a plan unless it’s completely changed at the last moment. So instead of picking Horta in the mountains we found ourselves on a dirt-track road heading to a remote bay to meet Harry, Florian and Sophie. We’d expected to eat in a taverna, and were getting worried our 2 oranges and small bottle of water might not be enough in the wilderness.

Thankfully there was a tiny hamlet, not even on the map and without electricity.  With amazing hospitality a family were already feeding the guys when we arrived, and it wasn’t till I’d finished two platefuls that I was told that we were going elsewhere for lunch!? And so we went to Giannis’ caravan, isolated on a cliff, to bbq steaks and finish another weekend of continuous eating.

Last weekend another family had been similarly generous. Obviously hunters, they invited us to join their feast, where I ate grouse, rabbit and steak. My appetite always pleases our hosts and after I polished off the walnut cake as well, the big mama went outside to fire off a round on her shotgun in joy.