It was a beautiful hot day and we were on the beach by 10:30. Linda had a swim then settled down to sunbathe. I decided to go for a walk out around the rocky headland leading away to the right around to Logan’s Beach where the Germans would already be basking in naked droves.
About ⅔ of the way around I came across a couple of farmers washing their sheep in a rock pool. They didn’t seem too pleased that I was watching them but nevertheless, I approached them and offered them a cigarette¹ and we got talking. It took a bit of trial and error but eventually, I was able to explain to them that I was also a shepherd and that I came from New Zealand. I drew a map in my diary to show the location of New Zealand compared to Greece (they were convinced that NZ was in Australia). In exchange for the packet of smokes, they agreed to let me take a few photographs of their sheep – their flock numbered 250 – and the washing operation which was done to clean the sheep’s wool and to eradicate ticks.
Back around at the beach we swam and sunbathed then made our way up to camp at around 4:30. Once again we headed to the Flotilla Club in the evening.
¹We always carried a pack of cigarettes with us in Greece and Turkey as they were a sure way to break the ice with locals.
CurseOfTheTraveller 