Mountain Zigzag #56

The Mercedes bus was so battered and bruised it might just have been abandoned by the Germans - bulging with locals taking their wares to sell in Rethymnon, plus children and livestock, a veritable Noah’s ark on wheels. Our rucksacks hoisted on top with other passengers’ belongings, looking like weird icing on a cake.
Crammed in among the bodies we tackled one of Europe’s most hairy rides over giddy mountain roads and hairpins, vultures gliding alongside awaiting any false move in grisly anticipation. The passengers though couldn’t have been less concerned, chatting merrily as the bus swung round the tortuous bends.