Azure blue skies, islands, grilled octopus on the plate and flip-flops on my feet - that's Greece for me. Unfortunately, George picks us up from the airport in a thick down jacket.
Thessaloniki, end of November. Okay, at this time of year you don't wear flip-flops in Greece either. But we are particularly unlucky. A few days ago, a massive depression poured over the Greek mainland. It sucked out the last of the balmy summer air and travelled further east yesterday. "Unfortunately, we have to cancel the trails up on Mount Olympus," George tells us as we sit in the back of his pickup and merge into the city traffic. "The peaks are covered in thick snow." A small fruit lorry pulls out of the roundabout just ahead of us. George gesticulates after the driver, but his hand and words bounce off the closed side window unheard. The young Greek grins. You have to get used to closed windows in winter, he says. We tailback through the heavy traffic into the city centre and stop in front of George's three-storey shop. It's a mixture of bike workshop, trail planning office and tour agency. Business partner Tasos greets us at the door and we march through the shop after him. First we pass polished shovels, spades and hoes for trail building, then the tools on the wall become more intricate. "You can assemble your bikes right here in the workshop," explains Tasos, pointing to a well-stocked arsenal of spanners and pliers. "But now," Tasos looks at his watch, "let's have lunch first."
We met George and Tasos at the Eurobike. Their plywood stand was decorated with two posters, there was a flyer to take away and no olives on a flag spike. Instead, you could see the two bearded Greeks' passion for biking from afar. Their speciality: the Greek mainland - and not the tourist islands in the Aegean. After just a few sentences, it was clear that we were coming to see the trails that they have been maintaining in their forests for a year. But by the time Holger, Mario, Stefan and I had found a date, it was unfortunately the end of November.
The path to our two guides' favourite tavern leads through the market halls with fish and meat traders. We stroll through archways and past small shops selling sacks of spices and herbs. You can smell that the oriental countries are not far away. In the middle of this hustle and bustle, Tasos pushes open the door to a nondescript taverna and beckons us in. Inside, he pushes a few tables together and orders goat's cheese, stuffed vine leaves, fish and meat in all variations. He also serves raki, the national drink of our Turkish neighbours. "It tastes better than ouzo," grins George, then he gets serious: "It's not just Mount Olympus that's covered in snow. Half the trail network we've been working on over the summer has been washed away by the torrential rain." Never mind, we've experienced that at home too. You just have to get through it now. Jamas!
The journey towards the Olympus massif takes three hours the next morning. You can recognise the 2918-metre-high throne of the gods from afar by its white snow caps. Tasos therefore heads for the lower peaks of the national park and finally stops at Lake Katis. An almost ten-kilometre trail starts on the shore of this small mountain lake and winds its way up and down a mountain flank. We cross autumnal pine and deciduous forests and bright green clearings, which occasionally offer a view of the countryside and the Aegean Sea. The sea blows a fresh wind up to us, but it feels surprisingly mild. The sun and the small climbs provide additional warmth, as do the tight bends and kickers.
We let the leaves fly. I learn that there are also a few roots hiding under the carpet of leaves when I pedal up a small climb at full throttle. My left pedal catches on an unseen root, I spin through the air - and just manage to grab a branch at the edge of the trail. It's always refreshing to have a wake-up moment like that. We haven't seen any traces of the storm yet. Only shortly before the village of Panteleimonas do we have to descend for about 100 metres. Here, the rain has washed furrows into the trail, piled up rolls of mud and rolled chunks of stone into the path. We take a short break at the bottom of the beach and then take the shuttle straight back up. Once again to an altitude of 1650 metres. "In summer, we would take the upper trail entrance. It's at an altitude of over 2,000 metres," Georg tells us and hands us a Tupperware with spinach patties. "My mum baked them for you."
On the following Trohalo singletrail, the guys have noticeably put the shovel to work. There are no such perfect curve radii in nature. Time and again, however, we have to climb a ramp and concentrate on the steps downhill. Then the path follows a crystal-clear river to Litochoro, where our accommodation for the next two days awaits. The small boutique hotel has five newly renovated rooms. Landlady Marouda and her husband spent five years designing every detail themselves. Just like the four-course menu that we are served at the large oak table. The bread is still steaming from the oven and Marouda has prepared the dips according to an old recipe. This is followed by stifado and meatballs with salad, and homemade cake for dessert.
Mount Kissavos stands there as if painted. Its rock pyramid, which is not quite 2000 metres high, rests on a wooded foundation and turns all the other mountains around it into nameless extras. According to Greek mythology, its summit region is home to the nymphs. But instead of a fairy-like creature, a biker in a full-face helmet and protectors awaits us at the top: Dimitris, one of the best downhillers in Greece. When he's not racing, he takes care of the trail maintenance at Kissavos. Yesterday, he even got out the leaf blower to clear his latest downhill course for us. We roll along a paved path for twenty minutes to warm up, then the downhill branches off to the left. And it's steep. Very steep in fact. Dimitris and Mario are long gone by the time I brake down to the first built jump. My brake discs are glowing when I meet them again halfway up. And I'm glad that Dimitris has taken some nice bends in the forest for the rest of the descent.
Back in Thessaloniki, George takes us up Chortiatis, the city's 1000 metre high local mountain. A trail through backyards leads us out of the city centre, soon past villas with large balconies, then up the mountain flanks on a good trail. Small plateaus repeatedly offer a view over Thessaloniki. Only the wind blows icy cold from the north. But the highlight is the countless forest trails with good grip that wrap around the mountain - and of course the souflaki grill waiting for us at the bottom.
INFO THESSALONIKI
The precinct
The second largest city in Greece has slightly more inhabitants than Karlsruhe and is located directly on the Aegean Sea, on the Thermaic Gulf. In the forest belt around the city, but also through graffiti-sprayed backyards, the locals have put together a few worthwhile trails for their after-work rides, which are very popular. About half an hour's cycle away is the 1000 metre high Chortiatis, also known as "the roof of Thessaloniki". The climb is steep and challenging in places, but the views and the variety of trails, which can be combined in different ways, are unbeatable. Some of these trails are built, while other sections are natural and a little more challenging with loose scree. Otherwise, you just have to be careful not to brake on the pine needle carpet.
For longer bike excursions over the weekend, the locals head for the 2918 metre high Olympus Mountains, three hours' drive southwest of the city. Here, too, there are plenty of hiking trails that mountain bikers are allowed to ride. Some of the trails have been made to flow with a shovel, while other trails - such as the one on Kissavos - have been torn into an adrenaline-fuelled direttissima. Ambitious downhillers in particular will have a lot of fun here.
Arrival
Thessaloniki (SKG) is served by several daily flights from major German airports. From smaller airports such as Memmingen not so often, but even cheaper (Ryan Air). Return fare approx. 100 euros, plus bike transport.
Best time to travel
May to October, although it is too hot for biking in midsummer. From November to April, there is usually snow on the highest peaks. Biking is possible below this, but there is often a cool wind.
Guided tours & shuttle
Outline Adventures has been based in the centre of the city since May 2016. From here, George and Tasos organise day and multi-day tours on the Greek mainland, with a shuttle service if required. Bike & boat trips to the islands in the Aegean are also being planned. They also run a bike workshop and trail-building business.
Info: Tel. 0030/2310/270040, www.outlineadventures.com
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