over a mile in length. Many more came out to say good-bye, and send messages to friends and relations at Ghrevena and elsewhere.
Beyond Trikkala we set our faces northwards. Here the character of the country changes rapidly ; trees become more common ; the wide, open plain contracts, and beyond Kalabaka gives place to a wooded valley through which the Peneus comes down from Malakasi. Up this valley is the famous route that leads over the Zighos to Metsovo and Yannina and throughout history has been the main road into Thessaly from the west. In the last thirty years since the cession of Thessaly it has fallen into disuse. The creation of a frontier across this route and the high Greek customs tariff have strangled the once flourishing trade, and the villages on it, which are nearly all Vlach, have dwindled in size.
At 10.30 a.m. a halt was made on the banks of the river of Trikkala at the foot of the hill on which stands the monastery of St Theodore. Two views of this encampment showing the rocks of the Metéora in the distance are given on Plate III.
At 4 p.m. we started again, and reaching Kalabaka just before sunset followed the valley northwards. We skirt the foot of the Meteora rocks, pass the village of Kastraki, and going slowly over a rough track that had once been a paved road pass a khan, and then camp for the night at 8.30 p.m. in a field about an hour from Kastraki.
Sunday, May 29th.—There was a long delay in starting. Two mules during the night had strayed into a field of maize, and had been impounded by the watchmen. By the time they had been ransomed and all was ready it was 6 a.m. This late start had its advantages as we had a glimpse up the Peneus valley towards Malakasi and saw the isolated monastery-crowned crags of the Meteora by daylight. From time to time on our way up from Kalabaka we passed under rocks of the same weird formation and saw others standing by the edges of the valleys like grim sentinels. Then we turned off up the bed of the Liurghani river where the plane trees on either side prevented any distant view. At about nine o’clock w'e leave the river bed, and at 10 a.m.
