Eve didn't feel at ease about it. She knew me well enough to know I prefer the most unlikely places, but this time the prospect of a possibly very primitive and hostile camp site "at the end of the world" filled her with an undefinable aversion. However, I was rejoicing in the idea of spending our holidays in a completely untouched spot, some new Garden of Eden.
We had taken a plane via Athens, took a ship to Volos and kept our fingers crossed. The boat was crammed with Greeks and we noticed few tourists on board, but as far as I was concerned, that didn't matter.
At S., the only town on the island with the same name, we found out that one of the two camp sites had been closed to the public.The other was twenty miles out of town. That much we got from a smelly local, sitting behind the empty desk of the Tourist Bureau.
"Camping P. is very quiet," the clerk assured us... and so was the town, as a little walk showed us.
An almost empty bus with a shaky driver took us to the camp site, situated near a small hamlet. The site, close to the sea, was covered with cypresses and pine trees. It looked like a large forest in which a few tents were slumbering in the sun.
The Camp Site at the End of the World