| | One of the main attractions that Crete has to offer (second only to the 3000+ year old Minoan palace of Knossos- which I also went to!) is the Samaria Gorge. It is the longest gorge in Europe. That might not sound that cool, but just wait till you see these photos.  The trip through the gorge is a full day event, and quite an experience. The day begins by taking a bus up to the very top of the gorge to the village of Omalos. This is about 1 hour from Hania and 1250 meters above sea level! Once there, and faced with the majestic site of Mt. Ida (where Zeus is said to have been born and kept hidden from his jealous father Kronos) you hike your way down into the gorge, which takes about two hours descending on rocky paths and steps. Along the way, there are curious rock stacks that people have made-- almost like little zen gardens to say "I was here" without etching "I was here" tactlessly into trees or stones. It was really cute. As you see above, I fit in well with the rock stacks. The views on the way down are absolutely breathtaking. 
There is never a dull moment while hiking the gorge because of the ever shifting scenery that unfolds before you and arouses your sense of wonderment. Because of reports from Constantine's sometimes pessimistic father that we would never make the trek in under 5 hours (which is perfectly realistic goal to set), we sometime found ourselves wanting to stay ahead of other hikers that we encountered. After identifying some of the other hikers and their nationalities, Constantine exclaimed, "This totally feels like the amazing race, or the Olympics, or both!" We had the American team (us), an Italian team, a pseudo-Rasta Canadian team, a German team, and a late emerging Lithuanian team. That is the "Olympics" version of our race. The "Amazing Race" version was the gay couple (us), the total yuppies (the italians), the stoner hippie Rastas (Canadians), the older under-dog couple (the Germans), and the Euro student travelers (the Lithuanians). VERY FUN. As if the rocks were not enough, we had these games to keep us motivated to push past our slowly forming blisters and keep the pace. In somewhat of an upset, we took the silver medal (or the 2nd place in the amazing race). No matter how you slice it, we are not going to get the big endorsement deals, or the million dollars. Ti na kanoume? (what can we do?)
At the halfway mark, there is a picnic area where everyone stops and rests for the final (and most impressive) section of the gorge. In the picnic area there is also a charming little chapel and an old venetian fort for your edification. After that you go right into the "gorge" part of the walk.  That is where I started freaking out.  You come out from a thicket of trees and suddenly this enormous gorge appears before you. It was just so majestic walking through these huge towering rock walls which had been eroded by years of wind and water and have the appearance of marble-ized paper.  Pointing the way there is also a trickling brook (which I'm sure pales with how it looks in the height of winter) serving as a quiet companion. It is quite impossible to describe how awesome it is. The giant stone hewn walls gradually close in on you until they reach about 3 meters at their narrowest. It was a truly a spiritual experience!
After about 9 miles the nature hike is suddenly over and you find yourself walking through a series of restaurants (Don and I would call this being "Disneyland-ed" aka forced to walk through stores or shops after a ride) on your way to the tiny port town, only accessible by boat. On the way we also passed some sheep and goat herds, a beautiful whitewashed forlorn church, and a seriously dilapidated bridge sitting in a dry river bed that looks like its about 200 years old. Speaking of dry, the last mile of the path is on hot concrete with no tree cover. We passed through the small port village of Ayia Rumeli and stopped briefly to buy our tickets to the ferry boat out of the village, which would leave in just over an hour. By the time we got to the port, we were sweltering. As if by design, just when you are at your hottest, you reach this black pebble beach with inviting cool water from the Libyan sea (!). We ravenously threw on our swim suits and sunk our swollen feet into the heavenly water. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! After such a long and beautiful hike it was something like a catharsis to sit in the water with the tide drifting over us and reflect on all of the beauty of the gorge. We rested from our labors.
Too soon, we saw the flocks of people drifting toward the ferry boat, the one and only way to exit the village. Our deserved beauty rest continued as we slowly moved through calm blue water toward Sfakia, where we could catch a bus back to Hania. The whole day had proceeded without a single hitch in our plans..
Knowing that it might be somewhat crowded finding a seat on the bus back to Hania, and Constantine knowing the demeritorious nature of Greek public transit, we made sure that we were the first people (team?) off the boat. We hurried out of the port past small tavernas and gift shops up some stone steps to the landing where the buses stop. As we reached the top of the stairs we saw a group of probably 200 stringy-haired, exhausted and wary-looking travelers standing in a clump trying to talk to a man who was shouting in Greek. I mean this in the most polite way: it looked like a refugee camp, and we were joining. As our champion Greek speaker, Constantine ascertained that the bus was not here yet. But was there really only going to be one bus back to Hania? How in the world is this going to work? Who is going to get on this bus?! The refugees seemed restless as the Greek shouter walked away. It was still sunny and everyone was seeking shade and trying to keep their bags and knapsacks in organized piles. Suddenly a bus rounded the corner. Like a starving pack of vultures everyone lunged toward the bus. Constantine and I held back, noticing that the bus did not say Hania. The bus, seeming unaware that it was the subject of so much fervor, simply made its way past the throng and then merrily reversed into what seemed to be its normal parking place. Then another bus came, and confusion increased as some of the first vultures could not decide which carcass looked meatier. This bus also pulled forward past everyone, then reversed into position parallel to the first. More mayhem. Among all the chaos of the two arriving buses, a third bus quietly appeared. Constantine saw that it said Hania, and then I noticed it as well. My eyes got big, and just as I was ready to lunge for positioning Constantine said, "Don't look at it! Everyone will know!!" Assuming (correctly) that the third bus would follow suite, we waited patiently exactly where we predicted the 3rd bus's door would end up-- we were EXACTLY in the right spot, and the 3rd bus was indeed the bus to Hania. As the bus pulled into position, we felt like we had outsmarted all the other refugees. Gratified, we showed our pre-purchased tickets and with a prideful sigh we boarded that vessel or victory.
Maybe we had taken the silver in the actual event finals, but we felt like nothing less than gold medal winners as we settled into the spacious front seats of the large air-conditioned bus which took us on what seemed to be our glorious and exultant road back to Hania. |
| | Posted 9/2/2008 9:00 AM - 7 Views - 2 eProps - 1 Comment
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