HappyTrvlr

Looking forward to Part II and Loutro!

KayF

Dave, we're dying to hear about Samaria Gorge! We are staying in Chania in early Oct and are undecided about doing it, it sounds tough! We've been looking at alternative hikes but it sounds like signposting is a bit hit and miss, also getting from point A to point B may be difficult.

Looking forward to the next instalment. We have been to Greece a few times and your bathroom descriptions had us in stitches.

Kay

travelerjan

KayF --- Why don't you try posting under Crete: GOrges besides Samaria?? Tagging on the end of someone else's travelogue means a lot of people will skip over you query. I'm serious.

Also, if you want a detailed answer, I suggest posting on Lonely PLanet's Thorn Tree forum,which has a lot more of this kind of thing, since it attracts more travellers who are interested in active things, rather than luxe hotels and fine dining.

A friend and I in 2002 chose Imbros Gorge after Doing Our Internet Homework, another move I advise. There are photos and even a gorge-walk description. It was perfect. We wanted a hike of about 4 hours or so, no crowds, but terrific gorge scenery. We also had a car and planned to stay down on So. Coast for a couple days insted of returning to a NOrth Coast base at end of day.

We drove south from Rethymnon area to Imbros, left car at Gorge entry. Great walk---stopped to picnic half-way. In May, saw only 15 people the whole way. Flowers gorgeous.

At end, theres a km walk to a taverna with taxis. Rode up to top of gorge & drove back down (25+ hairpin turns be warned)...you need not do that! If u do, you're positioned to do the wonderful cliffside walk from Loutro to Chora Sfakion.

NOTE: find or bring WALKING STICKS for either hike. It's not the hike that tires, but balancing on rocky footing.

sheila

Kay, you might like to have a wee look at the hiking pages on explorecrete.com, too.

KayF

Thanks for the info, I wasn't actually asking for info, just wanting to read Dave's report of the gorge walk. We have read up on some of the other gorges, including Imbros, and are a bit undecided. I'll look at the website, thanks Sheila.
We are in Edinburgh on holiday, heading up north of here tomorrow but will check that out once we get home. (Can highly recommend Edinburgh!!)

Thanks again.
Kay

Frozen_North_Dave

TRAVELS IN GREECE – PART 2(a)

This is a continuation of our Travelogue of our trip to Western Crete, (based in Chania and Loutro), Folegandros and Santorini in early May of this year. Please see Part 1 for our earlier escapades and a description of who we are.

IN THIS INSTALLMENT we discover the following truths:

1. 4055 feet is a lot of feet when you are walking from that number all the way down to the number zero.

2. Someone forgot to put sidewalks in the Samaria Gorge, or alternatively someone forgot to tell us that the first fifteen kilometers of the Samaria Gorge do not contain a single square foot of flat space upon which to place a human foot.

3. A forty-eight year old pair of legs and knees will send you very clear signal that they did NOT get the Memo that they would be required to descend from an altitude of 4055 feet over 17 kilometers of uneven terrain down the longest gorge in Europe on the second day of vacation.

4. The Samaria Gorge is: although quite a challenge, GORGEous (pun intended – lets get that one out of the way) spectacular, beautiful, rugged, breath taking and an awesome natural wonder of Greece that should not be missed if you can manage it.

5. The Cretan knives forged by the macho Cretan warriors of Western Crete are razor sharp and very impressive. Wussy bald Canadians whose arms are used to test those razor sharp blades are NOT so impressive.

6. It’s really cool to see a basket of live snails in the Chania market (See the First Installment). It is quite another thing to actually eat them. They are still slugs, even if coated in herbs, olive oil and fresh tomatoes.


PLANNING FOR THE SAMARIA GORGE:

Before you get the wrong idea, we are not ordinarily the hiker-trekker-nature-loving-mountain-co-op kind of couple. Although we happen to live in Canada’s “big backyard” and people often travel TO our neck of the woods to do the canoeing, fishing and outdoors thing - “We don’t do outdoors”. To give you some sense of the fact that we are so NOT the outdoorsy type, the first time we went “camping” when we got married, Kathy’s parents brought and set up the camper trailer, and our luggage included four coolers of food (including chilled strawberry soup, champagne and chocolate pate), a hot-hair popcorn popper and a 40 foot extension cord.

As we began to travel through the years, HIKING was not a word that even existed in our self-absorbed vacationing universe. As I have said, for me, hiking conjured up visions of smelly feet in sweaty hiking boots, a very unflattering Tilley Safari wardrobe (I also don’t do floppy hats), overburdened with GPS gear (that I would be unable to operate with my digitally-impaired brain) and being buried beneath an overstuffed ruck-sack filled with hydration packs, survival gear, solar blankets and most importantly flares -- which would most certainly be required when we became hopelessly lost and my wife threatened to beat me senseless unless I summoned a rescue team to return her to the comforts of our hotel. I was neither a hiker, a navigator, an explorer, nor an adventurer. I’m one of those guys who is usually unable to re-fold a map, let alone read it properly.

This changed when we “accidentally” hiked up a mountain beside the Pitons in St. Lucia, and discovered the exhilaration of exploring the back roads, and seeing some of the natural environment along with the history and the culture. We had begun to get a little more adventurous during our first trip to Greece when we had hiked along the Caldera on Santorini, walking from Oia to Fira and also spent a wonderful day walking the Byzantine Road from Lefkes to the sea on the island of Paros. Both of these moderately challenging hikes had sparked an interest in getting off the beaten track and doing some exploring as part of our vacationing.

The inclusion of the Samaria Gorge on the itinerary for our second trip to Greece was thus a no-brainer. Our oldest daughter, (lucky kid that she is), had spent a month in Greece with the Canadian Lyceum of Greece in 2004. The Canadian Lyceum is a Canadian organization run by a terrific group of Ontario High School teachers that offers students the opportunity to obtain a full high school credit while experiencing the culture and history of Greece on the island of Crete. The program included an excursion to the Samaria Gorge. We were astonished when our daughter called home that day after returning from the Gorge exuberant with her experience, waxing poetic about this walk through the south coast of Crete. We figured that if the highlight of our teenage daughter’s month in Greece was a hike in a gorge, it HAD to be something special. It usually takes a lot to enthuse the typical-MSN-PS2-iPod-cellular phone-obsessed teenage mind.

Knowing that the walk was a bit of a challenge, we worked hard in the year leading up to our trip to get into shape and physically ready. Kathy was definitely in better shape than I was, being a more devoted gym-bunny and compliant with her exercise schedule. I didn’t consider myself a slacker. Don’t get me wrong, the Iron Man roster was not likely to include me any time soon and “Part-Time Couch Potato” would most certainly be included within any on-line dating profile I might compose (were I not so happily married to the love of my life). But I was in fair shape. In addition to the moderate physical preparation, we had spoken with an acquaintance who had done a pilgrimage trek in Spain and she recommended hiking poles if we were going to do any amount of hiking. So we bought each other Lekki hiking poles for Christmas. Nothing says “I love you” like two telescoping titanium tipped spikes.

So we were ready to Rock the Gorge.

MORNING DAWNS – OFF TO OMALOS

We knew we were in for a different kind of day when we awoke that morning to the sound of roosters somewhere in the neighborhood. We jumped out of bed and were heading to the bus station before 7:00 a.m. with our packs stocked with water, plenty of moleskin and blister pads, Lekki walking poles, and snacks, and assorted emergency items (including the mandatory stock of “Tushie-Wipes”). The streets near the harbour were quiet and peaceful, very different from the bustle and energy of the evening before.

The KTEL bus station in Chania is located just a block south of the old city wall and was within easy walking distance of the hotel. We had purchased our tickets the day before. Although, in the busy season, there is apparently an early bus around 6:00 a.m. the earliest bus to Omalos that morning was shortly after 7:00 and that was just fine with us. It was bright and sunny and already warm as we arrived at the bus station. It was easy to distinguish us tourists headed for the Gorge from the locals en route to the multitude of towns and villages of Crete. It was kinda hard to “blend in” decked out in wardrobes ranging from purple bandanas, Tilley Hats, baseball caps, hiking boots, shiny telescopic poles, Uber-sunglasses and every manner of packsack, rucksack, backpack, fanny pack and daypack.

The logistics of doing the Samaria Gorge Hike are fairly straightforward. There are many pre-packaged tours available which basically includes transportation. The KTEL bus system in Crete is however an excellent and cheaper alternative. The published bus routes and times (although invariably subject to change and requiring that you always pre-check the times) are efficiently organized. The buses are modern, clean and accommodate all manner of luggage (including our boxcars-on-roller-wheels later in the week). The KTEL bus ticket for the Gorge is sold as a round-trip ticket but you must buy the ferry ticket separately in Ayia Roumeli. KTEL offers three or four morning buses to the Gorge once it opens in late April or May, and delivers you right to the top of the Gorge on the Omalos Plateau. At the end of the hike, you arrive at the coastal town of Ayia Roumeli . From there, the ferry departs along the south coast to the small town of Hora Sfakion, where you again board a bus for the white-knuckled ride up and through the White Mountains delivering you safely back to the bus station in Chania.

Oh yes – and in the midst of this mechanical transportation scheme there is that little matter of the 17 kilometer trek over uneven rocky ground starting at 4,055 feet and ending up at sea-level. For the topographically impaired – sea-level is zero so there is no “estimating” the total elevation drop from Point A to Point B. But at the end of the walk you won’t need a map or a guidebook to tell you the extent to which your body has been carried downhill for such a distance – your legs (and in particular your knees and calves) will be screaming at you – “What the hell were you thinking!!!”

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

The bus ride was enjoyable especially as we approached the Omalos Plateau. The roads are not quite as precarious and precipitous as the route back from Sfakion, but nevertheless deadly. Deadly that is for the poor darling lamb that got schmucked by our bus near the end of the journey. One minute the bus was maneuvering through a herd of the fluffy wooly critters and then – BUMP – the poor little fellow was bleating beneath the wheel. Somewhere that night in the neighborhood there were lamb-chops on the plate. Life on the Cretan roads.

There is a small canteen and restaurant at the top of the Gorge. After a quick pit stop, Kathy came upon the brilliant idea of buying a few fresh oranges at the shop. When she asked if there were any for sale, the lady apologized that she “only” had these “small” oranges they used for juice. These “small” oranges made our measly, puny, oranges back home look like grapes and when we stopped and feasted on these orange explosions of juice a couple of hours later, they were literally the best oranges I had ever tasted.

Before you begin the descent it is possible to walk UP to the quaint look-out building and platform which is the Kallergi Refuge of the Mountain Club of Chania perched a short distance up the side of the mountain. Although the view was tempting, considering what was ahead of us we opted to begin the descent without adding on any extra feets (or feats) of walking.

The Samaria Gorge is touted as the longest gorge in Europe. As a protected National Park in Greece it is maintained and regulated by the government. The admission fee is paid at the entrance to the gorge. You start the descent at the entrance at 1236 meters above sea level or 4,055 feet and you get to dip your toes in the waters of the Libyan Sea just shy of 17 kilometers later. Official travel time is about 5 ½ hours but this can vary greatly depending on your pace, the number of rest or appreciation stops you choose to make and whether any part of your body initiates a revolution or bloody coup with your brain (which initiated the original decision to start the whole damn exercise to begin with). Generally we started out taking it slow and easy, luxuriating in the amazing vistas at the first part of the descent and then rapidly accelerated near the end realizing that we wanted to make the mid-afternoon ferry and fearing that if we slowed down below a certain acceleration our legs were going to seize up like a rusty farm tractor in a rain storm.

Although there are rangers who patrol the route, we saw them only at the old abandoned village Samaria which is quite a distance from both the entrance and exit. As I walked the length of the Gorge I tried to imagine the logistics and results of any type of medical assistance needed for any hiker that underestimated the demands of the Gorge. Would an injured person be airlifted or donkey-lifted. The thought of being extracted any number of kilometers with a broken limb upon an ornery bouncing donkey brought tears to my eyes. The thought of being airlifted by helicopter out of the Gorge was even scarier.

WE BEGIN THE DESCENT

My first preconceived misconception about the Samaria Gorge evaporated within the first ten feet of the descent. The “Xyloskalo” forms the first part of the descent of the Gorge and is a switch-back stepped pathway that descends almost 1,500 feet in the first two kilometers. It was carved out of the mountain-side by the shepherds of the Omalos eons ago. At home I had mistakenly formulated the image in my mind of a paved, or at least flat, mortared series of steps with handrails for this rapid descent to the floor of the gorge. NOT! The pathway in some places is indeed what could be considered a “pathway”, but is in most places the walk is composed of thousands of juxtaposed rocks and boulders, with the occasional timber, arranged in a complex but very stable series of steps and descents. As we began the process of carefully placing one foot after another onto the next stone, and the next stone, and the next one, (always lower than the last one) I wanted to nominate our friend who had suggested the walking poles for sainthood. My knees have always been the weakest part of my anatomy (after my hair follicles which refuse to grow upon my head) and the hiking poles soon became a valued method of relieving SOME of the pressure on my knees and calves.

At this point in the hike two things began to crystallize for me:

1. I realized why, when people ask “What did you see at the Samaria Gorge?” the most common answer is “My feet!”

2. I began formulating what eventually would become my “Zombie Syndrome” theory. This theory describes the commonly-felt effect that the Samaria Gorge has upon the legs of hikers that descend to the challenge of the Gorge. It was confirmed few days after hiking the Samaria Gorge when we sat on the dock at Hora Sfakion waiting for the ferry to return to Loutro in the late afternoon. The same ferry moves up and down the south coast and serves to deliver hikers from Ayia Roumeli to Sfakion to catch the bus back to Chania. As the huge door descended from the back of the ferry, the throng of Samaria hikers was disgorged from the ferry. There was something commonly odd about everyone exiting to the dock. Then it hit me. Everyone looked like an extra from George Romero’s classic zombie movie “Dawn of the Dead”. Shuffling, flat-footed, stiff-legged, and lurching, the tourists who had walked the full length of the Gorge looked a bit like the hordes of the Undead. Some poor souls were leaning upon their fellow zombies due to the obvious pain shooting up from their calves. I’m sure I even heard a few zombie-like moans as everyone stumbled forward, heading for the comfort of the bus seats. I know with certainty that I saw not-a-few of those glazed-over vacant looks seen in the classic zombie flicks. The only thing missing were the stiff outstretched arms. Since we had been two such “zombie-extras” just a few days before we knew EXACTLY how they felt that day.

I have to stop here, so as not to give the wrong impression. I am indeed whining here just a bit, (okay – well a lot) and it may sound like walking the Samaria Gorge might be the most miserable and tortuous of vacation excursions in Greece – that’s NOT the case. The Samaria Gorge is most certainly a demanding physical challenge, and to ignore that reality may, I think, invite misery or worse, injury. In my opinion, you have to be either young, or in fair physical shape, to make the entire trek. Weak ankles would be a tad risky. And yes, your lower body, by day’s end, will be sore and quite stiff, and it will take a couple of days to recover. But the Samaria Gorge is worth it. Breathtaking, beautiful, majestic, unique, and humbling are but a few adjectives. The smell of the pines, and the spring flowers in May, and the buzz of the bees and the sound of the birds was so very peaceful. The vistas of the White Mountains during the first two kilometers, descending through the shadow of the pines, were unforgettable. The various crossings at the streams complete with tumbling waterfalls, the ancient chapels and churches, the spooky and abandoned village of Samaria, and the incredible soaring chasms near the “gates” at the lower end of the Gorge were simply amazing. Spectacular.

And heck – if the King of Greece and his family could make it down the Samaria Gorge in World War II to escape from the invading Germans, then surely we two middle-aged Canadians could do it. I mean how hard could it be.

(continued in next Post – see below)

Frozen_North_Dave

Part 2(b) – Continued

We took our time, as we said, down to the “floor” of the Gorge over the first stretch. Most, if not all, of our fellow travelers on the bus passed us by. We relaxed and stopped often for pictures and to make some memories. It seemed like we had progressed a lot farther than the sign markers were telling us. For the most part that day, we had the unusual pleasure of walking the Gorge, more or less, in solitude. On any given day in the high season, a couple of thousand people may walk the Gorge, which could make the walk feel a bit like an assembly line or a very unusual queue. This was early May however, and the few trekkers were soon spread out along the length of the Gorge and far ahead of us. (A few were behind). We stopped at the first crossing of the stream and enjoyed the sounds of the waterfalls. We had our Oranges and enjoyed the sunshine. At the water crossing farther down (at the 6 km mark) there is a traditional practice of stacking rocks to mark your passage in and around the pools and eddies of the watercourses and the stream bed. We stopped there and added our own in the nook of a tree.

One of the neatest things in the Gorge is the appearing and disappearing water. As you travel the walk along the sides and courses of the Gorge the path takes you over and back across the streams which criss-cross the ravines and valleys in the Gorge. The rushing sound of water reverberates. Suddenly the water disappears and it is quiet. The watercourse disappears beneath the ground, only to appear again farther down the Gorge. (Farther down, past Samaria, black piping intrudes on the natural wonder, sucking fresh water down to the coastal settlement at Ayia Roumeli.)

CHURCHES, DRAGONS AND SCANDINAVIAN OLYMPIANS

We stopped again at the Church of Agios Nikolaos 4 kilometers into the walk. Tucked away in a stand of cypress trees, this little stone church seems almost lost, but reminds us of our expression – “You can’t swing a dead cat in Greece without hitting a church”. After visiting, and stumbling upon, so many of the whitewashed, stuccoed churches in the Cycladic islands, this ancient stone building nestled in the trees, with it’s tiny rounded portico and shingled roof, seemed more representative of the earth and soil than of the lofty spiritual heavens. Scattered around the church were these striking and impressive purple spiked flowers which we later learned were called Dragon’s Wort or Dragon arum. This big, soft, floppy, purple petal formed a base for a single purple pointed spike rising from green rods. In the sunlight they were magnificent….and apparently quite poisonous.

It was the stretch between Agios Nikolas and the old village of Samaria (at the 7 km point) that we began to worry that our relaxed pace might leave us finishing the walk under the light of the moon. There was a long stretch under the hot sun and we also began to feel the effects of the dehydration and physical exertions, (and the temperature was not more than 25 to 28 degrees Celsius). It was at this point that the first strains and aches began to be really felt in our lower legs. We were sitting, resting at one point on the broad floor of the basin just before the old village, huffing and puffing and congratulating ourselves at our oh-so-impressive middle-aged accomplishment thus far. Weren’t we great! Weren’t we just so superior to all the lazy sedentary tourists back in Chania sitting in the Tavernas, sipping their Mythos and munching on their mezedes.

Suddenly a Scandinavian lady with calves the size of my thighs, towering well over six feet, appeared out of no-where sporting a humongous gear-laden back-pack with hiking poles strapped, unused, to the pack! She virtually zoooomed past us, nodding politely and jogging at a pace reserved for most cheetahs. She wasn’t breaking a sweat. She looked older than we were. We were now humbled. With our place in the hiking universe now made clear, and with 10 kilometers still to go we looked at each other and thought we’d best get our soft North-American tushies up and moving down the Gorge.

We crossed the wooden bridge and made one more stop in the old village of Samaria, with a quick pit stop, and a refill of our water bottles from the fresh spring fountain. Some of the rangers were at the guardhouse in the village with a few of the donkeys. We ate the last orange, took some pictures, and looked around at the eerie deserted village. Samaria was an isolated, but busy, village until 1962 when the village declared the gorge as a national park and relocated the population. A flash flood some years earlier had apparently devastated the village and killed a number of the residents. Now, only the guard station is located here, and somewhere a landing pad exists for a helicopter to land in the case of an evacuation. It was hard to imagine a busy functioning agricultural village existing in such a remote and unique location.

THROUGH THE GATES AND THE LAST STRETCH

It is after the village that the truly spectacular part of the Gorge begins. There are three “gates” where the gorge narrows to a narrow chasm, with walls towering hundreds of feet on either side. The path moves back and forth over the stream bed (with wooden bridges in place). As we pressed forward it was difficult to both watch our footing and take in the dizzying height of the rock walls skyrocketing upwards on both sides. At the last of the gates (at the 12 kilometer mark), the gorge view is incredible. With a width of only about 9 feet at the base, the wind was howling through the narrow pass. We were all alone. We were very tired by this point, knowing we had another 5 km walk to the sea. It was difficult to stop and take it all in. It was awesome to consider the force of water that might thunder down the gorge in the spring trying to squeeze through this very narrow opening. Try as I could, the camera could not take in the sheer height and enormity of the canyon walls and the mountain peaks towering beyond. I resisted the temptation to lay on my back and look straight up.

The last part of the walk, after the gates, was unfortunately somewhat anti-climactic after the many splendours of the Gorge. The little signs make you painfully aware as to how much more you have to walk, (the exit of the park is at 14 kilometers) and hammers home the fact that there is still a rather tedious three-kilometer home stretch to the Tavernas. Although the pathway was paved my knees and calves, by this point, felt like they were trying to crawl up into my groin and hide in something soft and fleshy, just to avoid the continuing pounding thundering up my bones from my feet. The soles of my feet were on fire, despite my top-o-the-line hiking socks and well-worn hiking shoes. The salt from my sweat was now crusting on my shirt. The water no longer tasted quite so refreshing. I felt a bit like a mindless farm animal as we trundled towards the end of the road. I wanted to moo. (Bleating like a wild goat would have been more appropriate given my location.)

In a rather bizarre twist, after hiking through fourteen kilometers of natural (albeit organized) wonder we managed to get “lost” on the concrete path as it met the little church of Agia Triada, smack dab in the middle of the valley floor. It was on a little rise, and we weren’t sure whether to go left or right around the church. The right answer was right. We went left. Which meant a minor, but annoying 200 foot detour in a circle to meet up with the main path. Unfortunately it necessitated us crossing over a beautiful stone path being laid and under construction. There were two workman involved in the meticulous exercise of laying the stones. Our brains, thickened and hazy, didn’t comprehend that as we approached the end of the path (with me in the lead) stepping on the newly laid stones wasn’t exactly a smart thing to do. The language barrier disappeared in an instant as the stonemason expelled an emphatic and loud: “Eye, Yy, Yy, Yy, Yy, Yy, Yy” which is obviously Greek for “Get the Hell off My Freshly Laid Concrete You Moron.” He was absolutely right of course and somehow the muscles in my legs dutifully elevated me upwards and over the edge of the path with a responsive pleading of “Signomi times six. We hurried away embarrassed.

AYIA ROUMELI - CUE THE ZOMBIES

We eventually stumbled into town and bought our ferry tickets from the little office conveniently located on the street leading down to the wharf. The brilliant aquamarine blues of the Libyan sea came into view down the street. There was a great little Taverna/Café right on the waterfront, elevated above the beach and enjoying a refreshing breeze blowing through the terrace. It called to us. We went. We ordered up a Greek Salad, fruit salad, water, and some white wine that splashed down my throat and tasted like nectar of the Gods. It could have been goat’s pee for all I cared at this point. We were not rushed and the ferry was not due to arrive for over an hour. The sun was shining, the view was beautiful and all was right with the world. We got some great shots of each of us smiling, exhausted, but proud of the accomplishment.

Immediately to the side of the Taverna was an outdoor Café with a couple of trees situated among the tables. We had a birds eye view. We giggled as one of the locals entered with a dog and began to engage the lady at the bar in conversation. As he did so, his dog made the circuit of the plants within the Café dutifully lifting his leg and “making his mark” on the café’s vegetation. No one was fazed. Kathy smirked that we were no longer in the Land of the Anal-retentive Health Inspectors.

We wandered down to the beach for a few minutes as the ferry came into view. The sun was beginning to wind its way towards the west. The old Turkish castle was visible up above the hillside. We commented that given its location, it was likely seldom visited by the Samaria hikers. If we were indicative of the physical condition of most hikers waiting for the ferry after finishing the Gorge, the possibility of climbing UP another hill to see a Turkish castle was NOT in the cards.

The Ferry “Daskalogiannis” appeared and soon we were climbing the stairs to the upper deck for the trip eastwards along the south coast, past Loutro to Sfakion. I was walking behind Kathy, and as each leg struggled to climb up to the next step I muttered “Ouch,Ouch,Ouch” for effect. There was no sympathy.

In what was surely an act of sado-masochism we grabbed a seat with a land view (the port side?) so we could scout out our hike planned for the Aradena Gorge and Sweetwater beach walk in around Loutro. We were scheduled to move from Chania to Loutro two days later, on Tuesday. In planning our trip we had picked Loutro so we could do some exploring and hiking from this picturesque and isolated fishing village. We tried to mentally map the coast terrain for the upcoming hikes. The massive “gash” in the land, that is the Aradena Gorge, and the visible winding trail of the coastal walk all the way from Aradena to Hora Sfakion resulted in two obvious “Gulps”. Were we crazy? Were we really going to aim for two more days of hiking after what we had just done? “Of course!!”, said the Crazy Canadians with few functioning synapses and even fewer functioning leg muscles. We can do it!

About a half hour later we exited the ferry at Hora Sfakion. In my head I heard George Romero yell from somewhere: “Cue the Zombies”. We exited from the ferry, stiff legged and shuffling to the bus. Perhaps, more pragmatically, we would have to see how things were by Tuesday before hiking up (or down) any more mountains.

BACK TO CHANIA

The bus from Sfakion to Chania was packed. We chatted with two very nice ladies from New Zealand (who had also zoomed by us on the walk, leaving us to eat their dust). The hyperventilation began shortly after leaving Sfakion. I had seen pictures of the road up through the pass and into the mountains along the Imbros Gorge, and down to the north coast. I knew the ride was a little…well, “viewsome”. I was prepared for that.

What I wasn’t prepared for was that we had a Nascar wannabe in the driver’s seat and we (and our fellow Kiwi travellers) were soon in need of paper bags (whether to breathe into or retch depended on your constitution) as we careened up the road and around the hairpin turns with just a little TOO much gusto. The KTEL drivers are phenomenal drivers and obviously very good at what they do. Our driver, I prayed, was going to uphold that reputation proudly by delivering us alive in Chania. I desperately wanted to assist in the driving and I was repeatedly pressing on my fake brake nine seats back from the guy who was really in control. I tried to recall whether any of those “Bus Plunges” headlines that you read about originated from Greece or from far more remote locations. As an act of avoidance (or denial) I twisted my head to concentrate on the rock walls, instead of looking at the sheer cliffs dropping hundreds of feet to my side. (I had mistakenly chosen the window seat – I’m such an idiot sometimes!). I took little comfort in the fact that we were facing this drive again, two more times, later in the week! What fun THAT would be.

Mercifully, my old body rescued me from my anxiety and tendency to dramatically fantasize my premature death. I fell asleep as we passed the entrance to the Imbros Gorge.

(Having travelled the route three times over our trip, we stopped at the top of the Imbros Gorge a number of times as hikers exited here for this shorter, but apparently still amazing gorge hike. This hike was highly recommenced by a number of shopkeepers and locals while we were in Chania. It is much less busy and, by all accounts, equally as impressive. The guide books and hiking guides include the Imbros Gorge in their lists of “must-dos” and the pics on the net were quite impressive. Having not walked this Gorge (we couldn’t do them all) I can’t speak with any authority, but I can say that looking down into the Imbros Gorge from the bus waaaaaaaay up on the side of the mountain – this is no minor gorge either!!)

(continued in next Post – see below)

Frozen_North_Dave

Part 2(c) – Continued

I came out of a fuzzy haze just as we were entering Chania. Something was different. It was the lower part of my body. My legs seemed to be facing backwards! At the very least someone seemed to have performed a cruel knee-joint fusion in my sleep making it difficult to flex my legs. I groaned. Kathy looked at me. “Legs?” she asked. “What legs?” I replied. I almost pitched forward onto my face as I tried to exit the bus.

By the time we reached the Porto del Colombo, we were feeling a little better and the kinks seemed to have worked themselves out. However, when I tried to walk up the first of the three flights of stairs – my knees wouldn’t bend. Kathy was actually doing fine, being in better shape than I was. The nice young lady at the front desk probably wondered what the weird Canadian guy was doing side-stepping it one step at a time up the stairs. Either that or she shook her head and muttered “Samaria”.

After a quick shower, we were famished and ready to enjoy a nice relaxing meal. I considered whether to suck it up and go down the stairs on my rear-end (which would be humiliating but less painful) or to do the macho thing and do the side-step descent. I would have liked to use the hiking poles but figured the Porto del Colombo management might take exception to the gouge marks on the wooden staircase.

The sun was setting and the harbour was alive with people. We had an awesome dinner at Monastiri, around the corner from the Mosque. Their grilled and baked meats and vegetable dishes were amazing. Despite the fact that they had a podium with the laminated pictures of the food at the front, the guide books were right in identifying this as one of the friendliest and best restaurants in Chania. This was one of the restaurants always packed with Chania residents each night and the staff were particularly friendly. There was a dish called “Nun’s Sin” which was pork stuffed with tomatoes and peameal bacon. I also had excellent roasted lamb, and the Saganaki (fried cheese) was really good. There was an awesome warm dish of fried potatoes and cheeses which we dubbed “Greek Poutine”. It was a somewhat more refined version of the dish we were familiar with back home. “Poutine” is a Quebec dish that can hardly be described as “high cuisine” – you take a large dish of deep fried French fries, then sprinkle cheese curds or mozzarella cheese on top and then smother the plate with hot gravy. It is a high-calorie, high-fat, high-cholesterol indulgence that is great with a burger. The soggy concoction is a favourite in most diners and restaurants across Quebec and parts of Ontario. This Greek version was MUCH better.

We strolled SLOOOOOWLY back to the hotel and fell into a Coma. With typical melodrama, I dreamt I was leading an army of moaning stiff-legged Zombies across a rock-strewn landscape, but the buggers all jogged past me with gigantic backpacks, waving cheery hellos of the undead.

DAWN OF THE DEAD – MONDAY MORNING IN CHANIA

The next morning, the top half of me got out of bed, but the bottom half stayed on the mattress. The resulting stumble was less than graceful, but only Kathy was watching and she moaned in sympathy. I felt a little better that someone was sharing my misery. We popped a couple of anti-inflammatories, (medicinal druggies that we are) jumped in the shower (well, shuffled slowly would be more accurate) and headed down for breakfast in order to explore the rest of Chania. Once we were up and about (or as Canadians say – ooot and abooot) we felt a lot better but it took until Wednesday morning for our legs to get back to normal (in time for our next hike in Loutro).

We decided to relax and tour Chania. We started by exploring the back streets on the west side of the old city. At the very southwest side, near the Schiavo Bastion tower, we turned the corner and stumbled upon an interesting view of the city. Up a path there is an overgrown path up a ramp to the west wall of the city. As we came to the top we discovered what I could classify as the “Wildflower Hanging Gardens of Chania”. The entire surface of the tower and wall was covered in thousands of wildflowers, mostly wild daisies. We took some pictures of this sea of daisies with the minarets and towers of the churches of Chania spread out below. Just below the wall was an interesting side streets where the walls, through the ages, had slanted inwards. Unfortunately, in the more recent ages, this quaint curiosity was sadly marred by some ugly graffiti. I just can’t figure that one out!

KNIFE BRANDISHING CRETAN WARRIORS AND MY FEATS OF DEATH-DEFYING BRAVERY

We moved eastwards, up to the Kastelli of the city, past the Minoan excavations, to the square, Platia 1821 where we had a light lunch in the pretty square beside the Ayios Nikolaos church, once a Turkish mosque. (Try the Cretan dish of dried rusk bread with tomatoes, onions and feta cheese if you have the chance. Most excellent with good Greek wine!) We then headed off to find one of the knife shops of Chania. The Cretan tradition of knives has had a long history and in different areas of the island, there remain some of the traditional knife artisans. On Sifaka Street we found one of the shops, “O Armenis” where a very friendly and helpful lady gave us some of that history, explaining her family’s history, how the knives were made, some of the differences in the leather, steel, wood and bone handles, and the engraving and the “mandinada” poetry on the knives. I thought one of these knives would be a great souvenir and a practical addition to my kitchen knives and we picked one. It was a fairly hefty, with an angled blade and very sharp point, apparently made for slitting the throats and skinning hides from the family goats (or, I suppose, the “other” clan in a West Cretan Sfakia blood feud). I was embarrassed to know that it would be used for the much less macho tasks of slicing my tomatoes and carving the Sunday chicken purchased from the local grocery store. As we left, the lady told us that the patriarch himself could be found across at the workshop across the street.

And he was. As we walked along the sidewalk peering into the shops we eyed a white haired, classic Cretan fellow sleeping in a wooden chair, facing the door and surrounded by the machinery and tools of his craft. Not wanting to wake him, we kept going, but alert to the possibility of a sale he heard us, jumped up and ushered us into the workshop. He spoke no English, but we managed to explain that we had just purchased one of his knives from the lady in his store (who I believe was his daughter-in-law) across the street. I pulled the knife out to show him. He unwrapped the knife, removed if from his sheaf and tested it with his finger. He decided it needed some fine tuning for the tourist. He handed the knife back and started up his grinder. He motioned me over and I gave him the knife and he sharpened the blade and then honed the edge with the whetstone. He motioned me over closer. Suddenly he grabbed my wrist and brandished the blade with great theatrics over my arm. I was proud to say that in a very uncharacteristic move on my part, not only did I hold steady, without flinching, but I also avoided a very unmanly squeal. Having proved the strength of my bravery the Cretan knife-maker of Sifaka Street dragged the blade over my forearm, cleanly dry-shaving a section of my arm air, as proof of his skills. Kathy got a picture of me, my knife, and the knife-maker. I proudly displayed my square inch of bald arm to anyone who would listen in the next month. (My kids humoured me, upon our return, pretending to see the shaved arm and clearly NOT appreciating the extent of my death-defying flesh-surrendering bravado.)

MORE EATING, HIDDEN CHURCHES AND A MUSEUM OF TRADITIONAL CRETE

We managed to fit in yet more eating in the space of another day. We found Karanagio (or Karanayio), also on the waterfront, which is located a bit back from the harbour behind a parking lot. This place is also on everyone’s short lists and has a large menu and excellent Cretan and Greek food and seafood. I tried the snails here which were served “fresh from the basket”, in the shell, very simply fried with some oil and herbs and a bit of tomato and not smothered in cheese and garlic as more commonly seen. Very tender and tasty but still required me to cope with the very simple fact – “I’m eating a slug!”.

In our humble experience it seems that some Greek restaurants are geared to tourists and others (while always welcoming visitors with open arms) are favoured by the locals who know their good food. You can never go wrong with a Taverna that is packed with Greeks, but of course it is seldom before 9:00 or 10:00 at night. We also saw the other establishments in Chania, (particularly on the waterfront), with a ubiquitous “Taverna Salesman” at the front trying to politely hustle you into one of the empty tables. Some of these had the glossy, laminated menus with rather unappetizing pictures of Moussaka, Souvlaki, Pastitsio and Greek Salad. Maybe the food was good, but much of it, when we passed by, sometimes looked warm and tepid and unappetizing. Sometimes the beep-beeping sounds of microwaves from the Kitchen made us walk a little faster. There was one taverna on the waterfront that was perpetually empty the entire time we were in Chania despite the valiant attempts of the man in the peach colored shirt and bright suspenders to hustle passer-bys onto the chairs. The only time there were people there was the night of the basketball game when even the fellow in the suspenders was glued to the T.V.

Taman was on our list, and right around the corner from Porto del Colombo, and was always packed each evening. Another lovely place off the harbour was Semiramis (8 Skoufon) which is a few streets back from the harbour and located in a beautiful treed courtyard illuminated by strings of lights and waterfalls. Musicians were playing folk songs that last evening we went, which made it very romantic. We had only a light meal with desserts but the full menu (and watching the plates go by) listed the full range of good home cooking. This is a great place to enjoy some music in a quiet setting.

Two of the other things we managed to do that last day was visit the tiny Cretan House Folklore Museum displaying artifacts of traditional life in Crete. By no means was this anything hugely special, but it was neat seeing some of the photos and also the implements of traditional life on the island. Around the corner was the Roman Catholic church of Chania. Down the same alley way, and off a very peaceful little square with a statue of what looked to be a Benedictine monk, was a beautiful church. It was twilight. The doors were open and it was extremely quiet. One elderly man was sitting in a pew. It was beautifully adorned very much unlike the Catholic churches back home and very different from the Greek Orthodox churches.

We missed both the naval museum and the archeological museums, simply because we ran out of time. We resigned ourselves to the fact that we would be forced, kicking and screaming against our will, to return to Western Crete to see what we had missed the first time. Not that we need a reason to come back to Greece, but we had two legitimate ones now.

We returned to the Hotel and packed up the Bags From Hell, ready to go for the next morning. We were off to Loutro and more hiking if the Greek Gods favoured us. Kathy was more or less recovered. I was certain my knees would be back to normal by the next morning. However, I couldn’t forget that one, teensy-weensy, physical trial those Greek Gods would be throwing at me to prove my worthiness. I still had to help move the two Ballistic Nylon Torpedoes down the lovely, circular, three-story staircase. It seemed ironic that might have survived the infamous Samaria Gorge only to perish beneath a falling suitcase.


IN THE NEXT INSTALLMENT – Wonderful Loutro – The Crescent of Tavernas – Greek Taverna Gods from Conde Nast - Walking from Loutro to Sweetwater to Hora Sfakion – The Hike up the Mountain and down the Aradena Gorge – Dead Goats Have No Predators - Off to Heraklion – Tourist Traps (no really!)

jmw44

bookmarking. Great reading. J.

MarthaT

Well, now I have 3 weeks to decide if I want to walk the gorge. Guess I will wait and see what the weather is like.
I am a couple years older than you and think I am in pretty good shape but at this age you never know. Those aches and pains just come out of no where.

lifeofmytime

I'm truly enjoying your travelogue - I feel like I'm right there with you!

There is one addition I'd like to make to your commentary on Greek Bathing Receptacles. The bathtub in the middle of the room - next to the bed. Our shower experience was #3, with a toilet in that room... and then the bath tub and sink were just out in the open in the main room. Which also meant you couldn't wash your hands after using the toilet until after you had left the bathroom!

sheila

This is a terrific report about places I know well and love dearly.

thank you.

nicegirl512

Bravo! Encore!

travelerjan

To those wondering about walking THE Gorge (which is what everyone seems to call the Samaria Gorge), please note my post after Part I -- about Imbros.

I walked it a few years ago, it's just lovely, almost no people, 1/2 the length of Samaria yet just as spectacular, and I was fine the next day, to do the "cliff walk" from Loutro to Hora Sfakion (and I'm a retiree).

Dave described accurately the Zombie look of Samaria walkers... and others have told me they spent most ofr their time looking at their feet. I think if some of them had spent time looking at guidebooks & the internet to compare gorges, they might have made a different choice. I recommended googling "Imbros Gorge" both for accounts, gorge maps, and on "image" to see photos of it.

That being said, I thank Dave so much for his delightful detailed description of both Samaria and Chania...I"ve been to the latter place 4 times and it still charms me anew.

KayF

To TravelerJan -
re the Imbros Gorge, I have read you can catch a bus to the top of the gorge but how easy is it to get back from the bottom once you have finished? Are there buses back to Chania? I read that you had a car but we are not keen on driving. I imagine a taxi back to Chania would cost a fortune.
Kay

Frozen_North_Dave

KayF

Traveler Jan might confirm if anything of this is incorrect.

We're not drivers either so I'm with you on the bus/no driving idea. If you are staying in Chania you would catch the KTEL bus going to Chora Sfakion and tell the bus driver you want to stop at Imbros. The day we rode the bus a number of people stopped there.

The link to the KTEL web site is: http://www.bus-service-crete-ktel.com/timetables3.html. I would check the schedules.

From Imbros (points of entry clearly marked), you walk the Gorge down towards the coast. The Gorge walk more or less ends near the town of Komitades.

You have two options then. You can wait for a bus that goes on to Chora Sfakion (which might have a limited timetable. You might have to time your walk to be in Komitades about 3:30 which is about when the bus would leave according to schedule info. (You would have to check the schedule).

The second option is to continue the walk along the road down to Sfakion. This is about another 4kms or about an hour. We saw a number of hikers doing that.

(As you walk from Komitades to Hora Sfakion there is another bus stop where you can catch the bus travelling from Chania to Sfakion or vice versa, but if the bus is full it may not stop.)

Depending on the time you arrive, you can enjoy a great lunch at one of the the many tavernas in Sfakion. The bus stop is right near the waterfront, just up from the docks and all the times are posted.

Then (assuming you are in Chania) you catch one of the buses back from Sfakion directly to Chania. This is the same bus that the Samaria hikers will take who arrive from Agia Roumelli by ferry. (Currently the KTEL site shows aternoon returns at 17:30 and 19:15 from Sfakion to Chania) You will be delivered right back to the same Chania bus station you left from.

There are two good "Walks" book. I like the Sunflower book - "Western Crete". The maps are fairly good and so are the walk descriptions/instructions. (I've confirmed the above info from the Sunflower book).

Another one is "Crete the White Mountains" by Loraine Wilson.

Hope this helps you.

Hope my travelogue didn't unduly disuade you from the Samaria. I can say, we had heard so many good things about the Imbros Gorge (as TravlerJan has noted) and it was on our list. However we were too pooped to do that as well as the other Loutro walks we did.

Have a blast in Crete!

Dave

thursdaysd

Just discovered this thread - loved your descriptions so much! Especially as I was in Chania late April last year - also staying at the Porto del Colombo, and also hiking the Samaria Gorge.

Happily I only had a relatively light backpack to carry up the stairs, but I only had 58-year-old knees to carry me down the gorge. After two hours, one knee hurt. After three hours both knees hurt. It took me six hours to make the whole hike. But it was absolutely worth it - and I was fine the next morning. I didn't seem to have the same difficulties with the bathroom, and the hot shower the night of the hike made all the difference.

travelerjan

Yes Dave, you got it right. There's a bus to Hora Sfakion that will stop at the top of Imbros GOrge. THen as Dave says u can come back from Hora Sfakion in late aft. Anyone doing bus can confrm return times in Chania when they board.


We did not take it because we had a car and were staying on the Souuth Coast for a couple of days -- we did the boat to Loutro then the 'cliff walk' back to Hora Sfakion, with a swim stop at Sweetwater beach... the day we were there, it was occupied by bronzed beautiful naked German girls frolicking in the foam. Plus us 2 old birds with dark one-piece suits! But also having fun.

travelerjan

I forgot to say that my secret Gorge 'weapons" are those stretchy Ace knee elastics under my khakis. I don't have knee problems but wearing them for hikes and mountain stuff AVOIDS getting probs. And I'm WAAY older than all these folks in pain (old enough to vote for Kennedy.)..

KayF

Thanks for all this info, very useful. It confirms to us, really, that transport is not easy in that part of the world. A 2-3 hr walk/hike would be more manageable for us anyway. We always have such busy holidays, doing and seeing too much and coming home exhausted, so the thought of not doing a gorge walk and instead sitting in tavernas people watching and relaxing sounds pretty damn good.

Dave - this is such a pleasure to read, you have a real talent for writing. Thanks for contributing.
Kay