better to walk than ride an unwilling horse text

So I spent a wonderful evening with Giona. The nightingales sang, the water rushed, and…just like in some depictions of the zodiac.. a crab emerged from the waters and invaded the land. My campsite to be precise. There I was, drinking my disgusting tomato instant soup and eating feta and bread, when what should I see in the dim light of my torch but some unpleasant creature from one`s worst nightmares trying to climb into the bowl where the cheese was. It gave me quite a start. It moved a bit like a robot, stiffly and as if programmed from elsewhere. It wasn`t soft and flabby like a toad, yet it was about that size. It suddenly extended a large claw..and seized a bit of cheese. I shone my torch, with a certain amount of dread, certainly, upon this strange unnatural thing. Then I saw what is was. It had a surprisingly friendly little face, with a smiley mouth and everything. Apparently these denizens of the deep are powerless to resist the magnetic pull of the moon. Certainly no self respecting tarot card of `The Moon` lacks some kind of aquatic crustacean leaving the shimmering water for the moonlit land. I suppose tarot cards will need to be updated, as it seems that led torchlight has the same effect. The crab, now that he had joined me, was determined to stay. He helped himself to more cheese, threatened me with his claws when I tried to "help" him back to the water, and sidled, in what was actually rather an adorably confiding way, to be close to me. I liked him, but I worried about him getting predated, out in the open as he was. I didn`t like him enough to protect him by keeping in my tent, though. So I cruelly turned my torch off. He remained still for a while. How to navigate without light? Then by starlight I saw some shiny parts of his armour glinting as he moved, drawn back to the river by who knows what kind of inborn GPS system. The next morning I left it to George to decide where we were going. He plumped for back the way we had come, and from where we had crossed the Mornos the day before we turned along towards Kallio. From there we went up a track towards a place called Klima. It was lovely. But George thought we should stop. In "I Claudius" Robert Graves has characters using what I presume is a Roman aphorism. "Better to walk" they say "Than to ride an unwilling horse" Quite. But tell me, Romans, what do you do if you are already walking and the horse is STILL unwilling? Carry him? Between Klima and Diakopi there are some very splendid geological outcrops. The last time I was on Vardousi (we`re on the flanks of Vardousi now) I didn`t see any outcrops. I scarcely saw anything as the weather was so grim, and the cloud so low that I could have been anywhere. But now, in this excellent weather, I kept seeing things that made me very interested in Vardousi. For example, just near Diakopi was this Mandri. (see photo)All handmade and of quite exceptional stonework. Brilliant. In England people would come from all over to see such artisan craftsmanship. The last time that I had been in this area I had reached Diakopi from somewhere else, and they hadn`t been friendly. Luckily, outside the village there was a Mandri, and Simoula and Andrea had been so kind and wonderful, given me cheese and bread, would take no money..that I intended to visit them the next day. But as I was in Diakopi I asked if the taverna would open later. A guy, told me that it would. He told me that his mum would come and cook as soon as she`d finished milking the goats. Yes.. his Mum was Simoula. So Simoula and Andrea came and we had a lovely evening. They told me about the problems farmers have at the moment. Simoula also massaged her hands a lot. Repeated stress injury happens to all who milk sheep and goats by hand. Simoula is only 52, but her hands hurt all the time. If you go to any café in a village that has flocks you will be able to tell who milks them. They`ll be the ones rubbing their hands and massaging their fingers, without even realising they are doing it. Most industries have a system for compensating those who are damaged by the work they do. Farmers have OGA but you can`t be a disabled shepherd. No- you have to keep milking all your life. I have met old ladies who have to lie down early in the evening because they hands ache so much that they really can`t do anything else. All that for a product that sells at less than it costs to produce. All that to keep supermarkets and the dairy industry making massive profits. Perhaps now, the crisis, will mean that people will pay proper prices for proper food, and the subsidies that keep these small farmers under the control of agribusiness, will stop making the rich richer and keeping the poor poor. PLEASE let it be so. The reason I was on Vardousia at all was because there is a special breed of cattle here. ^ years ago I met someone called Apostolos who knew a lot about these and was farming them and more developed breeds (the limousins )in a very intelligent way. Then there were about 500 of these animals. But alas, the cow fairy, who used to love and protect all the unique cattle breeds in Greece has become infected with Mad Cow disease. This happened when there was a small outbreak in Northern Greece in a couple of herds up near the border with Skopje. This was covered up,(I seem to be the only person who has seen the eu reports about this) but the fairy had eaten beef from an infected animal, and now she is quite insane. Proof of this is that she works with people from the agricultural department of the university of Thessaloniki and is interested only in Holsteins and limousin cattle. Sometimes she shows a slight interest in Belgian Blues or Charolais. But for the Greek breeds she cares nothing. If she sees, for example, one of the lovely black cattle on Vardousi she points her wand at it, there is a flash, a shower of stars and POF! The cow disappears. In 6 years she has brought the numbers down to 200. And she still points her wand at them when she feels up to it. Or any other Greek breed, for that matter. Readers will have noticed that I keep revisiting places where good things were happening, in the hope that they are still happening. Well Apostolos, at Pendagi, was almost the only hope for the cattle on Vardousi and he has sold out of cattle and runs a hotel. The new guy who is responsible for those 200 cattle the fairy has left alive is really no match for her. So I left Pendagi a sadder, though not a wiser, person. Stupidly I continue to hope that somehow those lovely useful cattle can be saved. We can`t just let them go, can we? But if the people who live there don`t recognise their worth, and if outsiders don`t know they exist..what can be done? Last time I was on Vardousia I saw loads of these cattle. This time I only saw one, and he was too far away to photograph, so I can`t even post a photo. Waaaaaaaaagh.