PROLOGUE OR EPILOGUE...
Zagori – Tsepelovo, March 29, 2015, 9:16 PM.
"I have just passed the sign for 'Tsepelovo.' Coming upon a wide left-hand curve, I bring my motorcycle to a halt. I kill the engine, pull off my helmet, and turn my head to look back over my left shoulder.
My gaze hungrily begins to swallow the first few meters, the first few turns behind me, until it disappears along the road on the mountain’s spine.
For several kilometers, my eyes travel along the ribbon of yellow and white light formed by dozens of motorcycles. All the way to the very last bend, I can see the dance of these two-wheeled beauties upon the stage of the Epirus mountains. A dance that is slow, languid, almost erotic...
The most beautiful tango of a magical night, belonging exclusively to these iron beauties and their riders.
This is the image I will hold inside me forever. This is the 'click' that no camera can ever capture better than the one inside the mind. A black frame, a beam of light, and two wide eyes drinking in the image, instantly translating it into raw emotion. Anxiety, stress, anticipation, fulfillment, excitement, joy...
The small opening of my helmet’s visor is enough to let the images, the sounds, and the scents rush in with force, embracing my soul and mind—sweeping away all the 'musts' and the 'pretenses' of a miserable daily reality.
I feel blessed to have lived, with every sense pushed to the 'redline,' the greatness of this gathering of friends from every corner of Greece. I managed to feel one of the most complete moments of motorcycling bliss.
Thank you all."
Why We Ride
I chose to open this travelogue with its epilogue. The reason is simple: that specific moment is etched so deeply in my memory that I didn't want it to get lost among the descriptions and thank-yous that follow. Please forgive the detour; now, let’s unroll our little adventure from the very beginning.
I feel an obligation to look back, and the following lines are dedicated to that retrospection. They are dedicated to certain people, to friends, to distinct individuals... to our 'parea.' We are a group from Trikala with a shared love for the motorcycle, the open road, the journey, photography, the unknown, and exploration.
All of these have a common denominator: Friendship.
A friendship built and fortified through journeys long and short. It was forged through inside jokes—like our infamous 'we’ll be back by 5:00 PM' rule, which we have never once managed to keep, usually returning to base several hours late. It was strengthened through the adversities we face on our rides and through the mutual support we offer one another, even in matters far beyond motorcycles—in the grit of our demanding daily lives.
Our core consists of seven people; I’ve known most of them for many years. By now, we know each other's characters, habits, and quirks inside out."
Zaharopoulos Sotiris
A friend for over 30 years. He is the kind of man who will go to the ends of the earth to help a brother out. With a sharp, analytical mind, a heart of gold, and a talent for invention, he is the backbone of our planning.Lately, however, his luck has been... tested.
He recently acquired a KTM. Despite the mechanical drama, his organizational skills and endless stream of ideas remain his greatest strengths.
Goulas Thanos
A man of constant smiles and high spirits, armed with a brand of 'cold' humor we’re forced to endure just to keep the peace. He’s the strategist of the group, capable of discussing the fine details of our next ride for hours on end. He has a strict 'no-borders' policy, divides his loyalty between KTM and BMW, and possesses a terrifying power of persuasion.
To give you an idea: you go shopping with him for a humble Honda XR 250, and you walk out turning the ignition key on a BMW 1200 LC. He doesn't just suggest a bike; he recruits you.
Theodorou Vasilis
One of the newest additions to our crew, he was thrown straight into the deep end from his very first ride—and he handled it like a pro. Kind-hearted and always ready to help, he has two main enemies in this world: stray dogs and Italian mobsters (long story short, they nearly 'liberated' his luggage in Croatia).
His superpower? His razor-sharp wit and those killer one-liners that always get the final word in our group chats. He’s the man who closes the conversation with a bang.
Karananas Agelos
The newest member of our crew. Though we’ve only known him for a year, it feels like he’s been riding with us for a lifetime. He is the definition of a gentleman—kind, generous, and always ready to lend a hand.But let’s be honest: his true calling isn't just on two wheels, but over two burning coals. His talent for grilling is legendary, making him the most valuable player at every stop. His specialty? Anything that sizzles. :P
Babouris Apostolis
If I had to describe this man in two words, they would be 'Good Soul.' Always smiling, selfless, and the first to offer help before you even ask. However, he has one minor 'glitch': a total lack of understanding when it comes to distances. 960 kilometers in a single day? To him, that’s just a quick warm-up. His weapon of choice is a Caponord fitted with Remus exhausts—a combination that sounds like a thunderstorm.Note to self: From now on, you’re riding at the very back of the pack whenever we enter a tunnel. Do you hear us, or has that exhaust already taken your hearing? :P
Garagounis Vagelis
The final member of this crew—and the one currently behind the keyboard.I am the chronicler of our miles, the man who stops at every curve because the light 'is just right' for a photo, and the one who tries to translate the roar of our engines into words. My job is to make sure that these moments—the laughter, the breakdowns, the 960km days, and the '5 PM' lies—don't just fade into the rearview mirror, but stay etched in time.I ride for the frame, I write for the friendship, and I’m always looking for the next 'click' of the mind.
The "Moto-Yafka" & The Birth of Earth Explorer
"While the core of our group consists of the seven individuals mentioned above, there is a much larger circle surrounding us. A dear friend once christened us the 'Moto-Yafka of Trikala,' and that name stuck. This wider circle is made up of numerous friends who offer more than just company. They provide unwavering support at our events, in our daily lives, and in our professional endeavors. They are the pieces that complete the puzzle; without them, the spirit of this group would be hollow. I won’t list names, for fear of forgetting someone and causing a heavy heart—but on behalf of the whole crew, I want to say a massive Thank You.
In a natural evolution of this bond, about a year ago, Thanos, Apostolis, and I became partners in our company, Earth Explorer.
Today, the three of us channel our inexhaustible energy into designing, testing, and bringing specialized travel equipment to the motorcycle market. We consider ourselves incredibly fortunate to have blended our professional lives with our greatest passions: the motorcycle, the journey, the thrill of exploration, and the joy of meeting new friends on the road.
Parenthesis closed. Now, let’s turn the page and dive into everything that unfolded before and during our two-day odyssey."
Trikala – Moto-Yafka: February 8, 2015
Another freezing night, and inside the Earth Explorer headquarters, the usual suspects were at it again. We were huddled around the wood-burning stove with hot coffee for the elders and tea for the youngsters (Apostolis, remind me to forage for some mountain tea on our next ride).
As it does almost every night, the conversation revolved around the country's economic crisis, our deep concerns regarding the political establishment, whether Adonis would finally become Health Minister, and if Varoufakis is spelled with one 'n' or two...
Lies.
Our next ride, the next big journey, why KTMs are ultimately so problematic, why Hondas are so reliable, and why those Remus exhausts make such a damn racket—those were the things actually on our minds.
Somewhere between discussions about rectifiers, fuel pumps, sprockets, and other 'hair-salon' style gossip, Apostolis—to the rhythmic soundtrack of his growling stomach—remembered he hadn't eaten a thing all day. He started reminiscing about Xanthi’s pies.
(Flashback: Valia Calda, November 2014, at Kipina Monastery. Xanthi opened one of the side panniers of the GS and a feast erupted. Homemade cheese pies, apple pies, spinach pies... pure heaven. 'Pass me some, old man!')
There was a pause.
'Pie,' was the first word he managed to utter. 'The Earth Explorer New Year's Pie Cutting Ceremony.'
'But Apostolis, a New Year's pie at the end of March?'
'Yes, why not? A pie accompanied by kontosouvli, lamb chops, and beef in red sauce...
The "Post" That Started It All
Later that same night, the event was live on Facebook. We hit 'Publish' and waited, staring at the screen to see how the world would respond.
At that moment, we knew almost nothing. We didn’t know the exact location, we hadn't nailed down the dates, and we had no clue if other events were already 'running' at the same time. But the biggest 'unknown' was our friends. Would they show up? Late March in Greece is a gamble; the weather could easily turn our grand plan into a washed-out failure.
We were essentially inviting people to a mystery tour, guided by hope and the promise of good meat.
The Blueprint: Epirus and the Zagori Peaks
Over the following days, after endless debates and a flurry of suggestions regarding our final destination and the route, we made our decision: we were heading for Epirus, specifically the stunning Zagorohoria.
But the destination was only half the story. To reach our overnight base in Tsepelovo, we wanted a route that was as breathtaking as possible—one that would cut through a massive section of mountainous Central Greece.
Drawing from the experience of our previous Earth Explorer trip through the mountains of the Southern Pindus (Valia Calda, Photo Therapy Tour), we began to stitch together a path that would challenge and reward every rider in equal measure.
We made a conscious decision: the routes for this new excursion had to be completely different from anything we had done before. No repeats, no shortcuts.
It was a massive risk. The first day’s itinerary clocked in at roughly 360 kilometers—all through demanding mountain terrain. Adding that much distance was, in hindsight, a miscalculation of legendary proportions. (You’ll soon understand exactly why as the story unfolds...)
At the time, however, we were fueled by ambition and the thrill of the new, unaware that the Pindus mountains have their own way of measuring time and distance.
The Reality Check and the Viral Buzz
For the second day, our initial thoughts hovered around another 300-kilometer stretch. However, after carefully mapping it out—and allowing the more 'rational' voices in the group to finally be heard—we scaled it back to a more manageable 200 kilometers.
On paper, everything was finally going according to plan.
Meanwhile, back on Facebook, something unexpected was happening. The number of people clicking 'Going' was growing exponentially—hour by hour, day by day. With nearly a month still to go, it was becoming crystal clear: this wasn't just a small ride anymore. It was turning into a massive gathering.
The Logistics Maze: Beds, Bridges, and Brotherhood
From this point on, the real challenge began. The romanticism of the open road was replaced by the cold reality of logistics.
Our first mission: finding hotels and guesthouses. From the very start, our priority was fairness—we wanted to secure the exact same price for every participant, regardless of which guesthouse they stayed in. Consistency was key.
Furthermore, we insisted that all accommodations be within the same village. We wanted to avoid unnecessary movements after the long ride; we wanted the group to stay unified.
Then came the 'Big Saturday' planning. We had to arrange a dinner that could accommodate a small army of hungry riders and find a suitable space for the evening event we had envisioned. We weren't just looking for beds; we were building a headquarters for a night.
The experience we gained from our own group rides allowed us to anticipate and iron out potential issues long before they could arise.
From the very beginning, we made a firm decision: no off-road sections. No matter how short or easy they might seem, dirt was off the table. The reasoning was simple: when you organize an open event, you must account for everyone. You have to consider riders with limited experience, those traveling two-up, and motorcycles that simply aren't built for anything but asphalt.
Our goal wasn't to prove how tough we were; it was to ensure that every single person who joined us would have a safe, enjoyable, and stress-free experience.
The directive was clear: 100% asphalt
But sticking to the pavement was only the beginning. Our stops had to be surgically placed to ensure that less experienced riders wouldn't succumb to saddle fatigue. We also had to account for fuel logistics; some bikes in the group had a limited range, struggling to hit 200 kilometers on a single tank. In the heart of the mountains, a dry tank isn't just an inconvenience—it's a mission-stopper.
Lunch breaks, mid-day coffee, and rest periods weren't just 'suggestions'—they were carefully calculated windows for recovery.
Finally, we had to monitor the road conditions up to the very last minute. We knew all too well that the Pindus winters are unforgiving; by late March, the provincial network is often scarred by landslides, frost-damaged tarmac, or debris. We couldn't leave the safety of our friends to chance.
Scaling the Peak: From 7 to 245
As the days ticked away, the participation numbers exploded. We filled the first large hotel almost immediately. Then we scrambled to secure a second, then a third—always fighting to keep the same fair price for everyone. By the eve of the event, we had managed to book a staggering 11 hotels and guesthouses, totaling 109 rooms and 245 beds.
At one point, we felt the weight of it all. We genuinely feared that the situation was spinning out of control. We even considered posting an announcement to cap the registrations or stop them entirely. But after some soul-searching, we rejected the idea. It wouldn't have been fair to those who intended to join but had delayed their sign-up for whatever reason.
What gave us the courage to proceed was the memory of our first excursion to Valia Calda. The participants there had been exemplary—not a single issue, not a single 'sour' note. Relying on that shared respect, we decided to let the event evolve naturally.
The final tally? 179 motorcycles (based on the numbered event stickers we handed out) and 245 people. The Tsepelovo 'invasion' was officially on.
One of the most pressing challenges was finding a venue large enough to host our Saturday night event. Initially, the lobby and dining hall of our primary hotel seemed perfect—it could comfortably seat about 110 people. But when we realized, just 20 days before the trip, that our numbers had skyrocketed past 100, we knew we had to pivot. Fast.
With the support of local hotel owners, we reached out to the Mayor of Zagori. Our request? To use the village's student dormitory hall. After a formal City Council meeting, our application was approved! We were given the green light, provided we returned the space in the exact condition we found it—a promise we took very seriously and, of course, fulfilled.
Small details like extra chairs and heating were handled on the fly, thanks to the incredible cooperation of the local guesthouse owners. The village didn't just host us; they teamed up with us.
The Reconnaissance Mission: 600km in One Day
A quick parenthesis to mention the 'Recon' ride, which took place—if memory serves—just one week before the main event. The usual suspects were there, plus a surprise guest: Giorgos Papadopoulos from Thessaloniki. This is exactly what I meant when I spoke about the people who surround this crew with love.
The mission was simple but brutal: map out every single turn and every scheduled stop. We covered nearly 600 kilometers of demanding terrain in a single day. We kicked off at 07:00 AM and finally rolled back home just after midnight.
We rode so the others could glide. Here are a few snapshots from that long day of preparation.
"Katara" Pass. Snow everywhere, blocking the horizon and chilling our spirits. A wave of disappointment washed over us... but was it for everyone? Not exactly.
Amidst the snow and the uncertainty, Vasilis Theodorou decided to lighten the mood. Showing off some 'flawless' style on a nearby pole, he proved that even at sub-zero temperatures, the spirit of the crew remains untouchable.
Sorry, Svetlana... you’ve got some serious competition here! :)
Zaharopoulos Sotiris
Vagelis Georgakis decided to put his Haintenau tires to the ultimate test. He went full 'fire and fury' into the snow, but the mountain had other plans.
If we hadn't stepped in to drag him and his bike out of that white trap, he’d probably still be there today, waiting for the summer sun to melt him free. A few meters of glory, followed by an afternoon of shoveling!
And there it was. The end of the line
Not just soft, fluffy snow, but impassable, frozen ice. The kind that mocks your knobby tires and ignores your horsepower. At that moment, the 'recon' mission became a reality check. We stood there looking at a white wall that separated us from our planned route, realizing that the mountain had officially closed its doors.
For a group of seven, it’s an adventure. For a convoy of 179 bikes? It’s a guaranteed disaster. The 'Katara' had lived up to its name, and we were forced to face the organizer's hardest task: The Detour.
The Metsovo Plateaus: A Bitter Beauty
"The Metsovo Plateaus during our reconnaissance. Here, the snow was no longer an obstacle but a masterpiece. The view of the white peaks was so breathtaking that we actually caught ourselves wishing the snow wouldn't melt before the official event.
We had marked this exact spot for a photography and smoke break during the upcoming odyssey—a chance for 179 riders to soak in the majesty of the Pindus range. Unfortunately, as we would soon discover, the mountains had a different itinerary for us. When the actual day came, the rain and biting cold turned this 'photo-op' into a battle for endurance, forcing us to keep moving.
The road from Milia to Krania, just before reaching Grevena.
An amazing video from George Papadopoulos
Zagori - The balcony of Vikos
Vagelis Georgakis
A natural-born leader and always the first to lend a hand, no matter the situation. He has a knack for finding solutions when things get tough. His true 'horsepower,' though? His arsenal of jokes and those legendary facial expressions that can lighten the mood on even the grimmest road.