Mountains IV: Kampos to the Green Line

I had already had a fantastic day out and yet, for me, the best was still to come. I eschewed the almost obligatory trip to Kykkos Monastery, home to the late and legendary, Archbishop Makarios III.  This was partly due to time pressures; partly because I preferred the cathedral of the open air and partly because I had made a promise to the waitress at the hotel to see her village of Kampos. 

 

So I followed the winding, wiggly road back to the main road and took the turning for the steeply descending route to Tsakistra and Kampos and at one time, before partition, Morfou Bay. 

Tsakistra in its lovely valley setting at 600-700m.
Tsakistra in its lovely valley setting at 600-700m.

It is amazing how quickly the landscape changes over the short course of a few kilometres.  The houses of Tsakistra were the first I had seen for four hours since leaving Pomos.

 

The village nestles in a suddenly green and broad valley after the harshness of ridge after ridge and steep-sided valley after steep-sided valley of Brutia Pines and arid, dessicated, eroding wilderness.  

Houses in Tsakistra
Houses in Tsakistra

In Kampos I saw cherry orchards and cherry trees laden with cherries. Stupidly I had bought cherries in the supermarket in Polis and had been munching them on my way through the Tillirian wastelands. I hope they had originally come from Kampos. They were small and tasty. 

 

Kampos had a taverna and big Plane trees with their feet in the river bed. In my fantasy I had imagined stopping at the taverna and explaining that I knew Ileda who worked in the hotel and had come to visit her village.  But I drove on aware the day was only so long and that fatigue would set in at some point. 

Trees laden with cherries in Kampos
Trees laden with cherries in Kampos

Kampos is isolated, a long way from anywhere. 

 

If you have time and not a care in the world the road from Kampos that winds its way over the more benign hills of the Troodos - at least for the first part - is a delight. I again saw no car for miles  and miles of spectacular road with stunning views down to the forbidden sea (because of the Green Line) at Morfou Bay.

Looking back to Kampos from the glorious road that once ran to Morfou Bay
Looking back to Kampos from the road that once ran to Morfou Bay
Miles and miles of pristine road to myself in the glorious afternoon light of a late May day in Cyprus
Miles and miles of pristine road to myself in the glorious afternoon light of a late May day in Cyprus
The softer sandier hills of gentler erosion and reafforestation below Kampos
The softer sandier hills of gentler erosion and reafforestation below Kampos
Looking back from further away to Kampos, caught in the crook of the interlocking green hills of Marathasa
Looking back from further away to Kampos, caught in the crook of the interlocking green hills of Marathasa
The sea, the sea, the forbidden sea beyond the Green Line
The sea, the sea, the forbidden sea beyond the Green Line
Ox red rock, ultramarine sky, Marathasa
Ox red rock, ultramarine sky, Marathasa
Looking south east back up to the High Troodos from the ridge above the Xeros valley, Marathasa
Looking south east back up to the High Troodos from the ridge above the Xeros valley, Marathasa
Closing in on the uncrossable Green Line, the bare hills like the spine of a great monster
Closing in on the uncrossable Green Line, the bare hills like the spine of a great monster
Lower and lower the hills go through threadbare crumpled lands
Lower and lower the hills go through threadbare crumpled lands

Lizards and plants

The road from Kampos down towards the sea is a road of such glory and heartbreak, of such beauty in its elemental simplicity, its sparse palette of vibrant deep-sea blues and ultramarines, the ground-down ochres, delicate sandy pinks and glowering ox-blood reds all set against the stately calm, flat greens of the Brutia pines, the sparse almond trees and vines.

 

The sea beckons, welcomes, calls, siren-like after the harshness of the mountains.  The valleys open out, are more generous, grip less and hold more. And yet.  And yet. Beyond the last row of hills stands the ugly scar across the island, the Green Line, the buffer zone, the no-mans land. For so long (38 years now) the end of transit and commerce of communities that lived together with their hopes and fears, their tensions and their understandings. 

 

So the road must turn right angle east and traverse each laborious deep-set angry, empty valley, crossing the great washes of the winter torrents that gush out of the Troodos impatient to bury themselves in the sea, careless and immune from man's divisions and barbed wire, his flags and languages, his watch-towers and his UNFICYP peacekeeping troops. 

The road turns east towards the deep dry river bed in the Xeros valley
The road turns east towards the deep dry river bed in the Xeros valley
The dry Xeros river bed waiting for winter rains
The dry Xeros river bed waiting for winter rains
Momentary water in the dry river bed coiling to the sea
Momentary water in the dry river bed coiling to the sea
The Χeros valley looking back to the west
The Χeros valley looking back to the west
And the gentle sweep of Morfou Bay (forever lost?) comes into view
The gentle sweep of Morfou Bay comes into view
And the distant Skouriotissa Copper Mine, symbol of the island's past - kupros, cyprium aes, copper.
And the distant Skouriotissa Copper Mine, symbol of the island's past - kupros, cyprium aes, copper.
All brought up short, by the brute reality of division and partition: UNFICYP post in the Buffer Zone of the Green Line near Xeros Valley
All brought up short, by the brute reality of division and partition: UNFICYP post in the Buffer Zone of the Green Line near Xeros Valley
Entrance to a UNFICYP post on the Green Line.  The sign reads, 'Welcome to Alfa Co[mpan]y. You are in Area 40.  You need track free in Channel 16 to Oscar 18
Entrance to a UNFICYP post on the Green Line. The sign reads, 'Welcome to Alfa Co[mpan]y. You are in Area 40. You need track free in Channel 16 to Oscar 18
The island divided in the midst of so much beauty. Sign says, 'Warning. To the Turkish Occupied Area'. UNFICYP sign in background.
The island divided in the midst of so much beauty. Sign says, 'Warning. To the Turkish Occupied Area'. UNFICYP sign in background.
And the land itself blushes at the pity of it all: Copper mine waste near UNFICYP Camp Roca
And the land itself blushes at the pity of it all: Copper mine waste near UNFICYP post