Fifth Journey Day 137: Lines That Drifted Away From My Hand

"Lines That Drifted Away From My Hand" — A soft record of mist, reeds, and patience by Lake Pamvotida in Ioannina.

Date: September 22, 2025
Location: Ioannina, Greece

In Ioannina, a lakeside city in the Epirus region of Greece, the day opened in a veil of mist over Lake Pamvotida—an autumn mood shaped by water, reedbeds, and quiet shores beneath the old castle walls. The morning asked for slowness, and the sketchbook answered with restraint.

Mist Over Lake Pamvotida

The mist was the first thing I noticed. It hung low over Lake Pamvotida, blurring the outlines of the island, the boats, and the reeds at the water’s edge. As I walked along the shore, I felt as though the air itself were part of the lake, folding me into its quiet rhythm. The sound of birds carried faintly through the mist, standing out against the otherwise quiet morning.

Along the Shore

I passed fishermen setting their lines; their movements were steady and unhurried. The stone path was slick from last night’s rain, and my shoes picked up its dampness. The air smelled of wood smoke, though I couldn’t see its source. It reminded me of the small villages I had passed before—places where the season is marked by fire as much as by air.

Sketches That Drift

I stopped at a bench just long enough to sit and sketch a few loose lines. Nothing was finished; just gestures: the rise of mist, the downward slant of reeds, and the suggestion of wings moving in and out of fog. My hand moved without urgency, following what remained in my memory. I liked that the lines felt incomplete, as if they, too, carried the same hesitation as today's light.

Between Water and Stone

The city behind the lake was quiet; its streets did not press in. I felt suspended, caught between water and stone, between arrival and pause. There was no need to seek out more—no monuments, no history lessons—just the lake breathing against me. I thought about how the most vivid part of a day often comes not from what one seeks but from what remains after the seeking is set aside.

Night Clears, Quiet Remains

Tonight, the mist has cleared, though the air still feels cool. I carry with me the lake's stillness, its patience, and its refusal to reveal itself all at once.

Travel Notes

• Weather: Cool and damp, 17°C; pale grey sky; light mist lifting from the lake with a faint breeze carrying the scent of wet leaves.
• Scents: Wet leaves, lake water, and a trace of wood smoke from somewhere unseen along the shore.
• Sounds: Bird calls threading through the fog; soft water against reeds; the quiet, deliberate rhythms of fishermen preparing lines.
• Reflection: Incompletion felt honest today—sketches as pauses, letting the lake decide what stays and what drifts away.

Continue the Journey

You may also enjoy another lakeside hush in Greece—pause with me in Thessaloniki’s “Dance of the Olive Trees”, or wander urban edges in “Urban Current” from Thessaloniki.