At the northern side of the entrance to Kilada Bay lies an awe inspiring cave that bears quite some archeological significance. Fascinating as the thought of people living here as far back as 38.000 years is, I still found the shapes and forms even more intriguing.
Granted, on entering the first, cathedral-like section of the cave I couldn’t help but try to conjure up a picture of what live in the Paleolithic must have been like. Here one can marvel at the well documented excavation sites and let one’s imagination wander back to when we still used pieces of obsidian to hunt our dinner: Did our stone-age ancestors feel romantic about sunsets? Did they know boredom? Did they fall in love? I wonder.
A short climb up the back exit of the cave there follows the entrance to a second part that I found most appealing to photograph. Here the roof of the cave shelters its own landscape of narrow and deep clefts, wonderous Gigerian shapes created by thousands of years of trickling water and even a small lake at the bottom. At its very end the cave opens up to the sky again, albeit this being a dead end – unless you are of the rock-climbing inclination as there seems to be a route installed with hooks and such. Fascinating to me how some plants, such as the little fig tree in the image, can use even the smallest crevice to make a living, talk about niche markets. Acoustically the whole scenery was accompanied by all sorts of birds having found ideal breeding conditions in the roof’s crevices. There was a lot of uncomfortable proof of that about wherever you set your foot or grab a hold.
Outside the cave mediterranean spring was happening, and I took some enjoyable time to squat and lie down for some close encounters with the blossoming flora, experimenting with my newly acquired Nikkor 105 Micro lens.
I could have well spent a few more days photographing the place, but soon enough the weather reports told me it was time to move on southbound towards Cape Maleas. Located at the south-eastern tip of the Peloponnese it has quite a bad reputation reaching as far back as Odysseus‘ journeys, so I was hoping for favourable conditions to round it.
Leaving friendly Kilada and the people I met behind was a high price to pay for venturing to new places, but I am confident it will be well worth it. Yassas!