Sometimes they are exposed, standing so clear to remain unnoticed, obvious, and sometimes remain veiled and ask for a second look, and a second tought. In this angle of the Mediterranean, where hands have shaped, reshaped, covered and unearthed many layers, the shifts to city life of the past decades has allowed the nature to regain control of landscapes long held by man. I'd like to take you to such a place.
On our usual summer sailing route there's a well protected bay we like to stay - clear water, not much crowded, with a nice restaurant a short walk through the woods.
There's an almost hidden path that takes you from a small pier at the end of the bay to the restaurant - at first glance one does not take notice of it, as the eyes get slowly accustomed to the dim light filtering down the pine tree woods.
Walking through the quite thick undergrowth, something familiar but not easily definable starts to intrigue me - there's something in this forest that does not fit. Step after step, it suddently becomes clear: we're walking through an olive orchard! In between the slender pines and cypresses, the contorted grey olive logs now show themselves to my eyes, concious of the double nature of their surroundings.
The walk now takes a completely new dimension, and becomes a walk through time - what is now a thick pine forest, in days gone by used to glow of the silvery green nuances of the olive leave.
Grey, fossilized like old bones, the reminders of a different landscape and of the people that created it, the olives accompany you on a summer's eve walk, like roman milestones indifferent to their forgotten purpose.
Then, if you did not wonder off the beaten path, you may see this signal
which quickly reminds you of the reason you took that walk altogether - and believe me, it won't disappoint you - if you're into grilled fish or lamb. It's a bit rustic and unrefined, but with a lot of soul.
