June 5-6: Crete

Crete, the largest of Greece’s many islands, possesses a remarkably mountainous landscape that makes overland travel long but visually rewarding, especially if you like spotting mountain goats. It was also once the home of an ancient advanced civilisation known as the Minoans, who built up some sort of city, traded with mainland Greeks (Mycenaeans) for centuries, and then mysteriously vanished, leaving well-preserved footprints including the forerunner of our alphabet.

The Palace at Knossos is the predominant remnant of the Minoan people, comprising a theatre, private rooms and storage chambers surrounding a large central court. Once again, we managed to inadvertently arrive on a free-admission day (thanks, "International Day of Environment"!), which made us less bitter about the rain and the hordes of tour groups.

Minoan frescoes, an early example of "Spot The Difference".

From there we traveled west from the centre of the island to Hania, a coastal town which was in days past a fortress and a port for occupying Italian forces many years ago. It’s now a pretty and peaceful waterfront town with lots of little alleyways, full of friendly folk, cafes, jewellery stores, and consequently, tourists.

Lotsa pots.

Hania's Old Town waterfront. Nice rainbow shot, Vicky.

Hania is the city closest to Samaria Gorge, Europe’s second-largest gorge (18 km). This massive crevice was somehow created by a "small river" running between two mountains. Its very high walls, at times covered in fog, made it spectacular to walk through, partly justifying the 6 am wakeup time and the smelly bus. A baby had vomited on to her mother and the seats, about a third of the way there, prompting the driver, on noticing the smell, to stop the bus and angrily confront the rear passengers (“What smells?”). The joys of motherhood.

Fogtacular!

One of the narrower bits of the Gorge. Note people much smaller than fallen rocks.




A cheap attempt to shrug legal responsibility for any crushings.

Overhanging wall. People walking quickly in foreground.

We were quite proud of ourselves to arrive at the finish point, the beach village of Agia Roumeli, in 4½ hours (which is quite fast) with no blistering or sunburn. The speed was deemed necessary to ensure we made the first ferry out of Agia Roumeli (having previously almost missed the bus to the gorge), which in turn was necessary to ensure we made it back to Hania to pick up our laundry before the 9pm closure, as we were departing for Santorini at 5.30am the next day. When we discovered the first ferry was cancelled, resulting in a possible very-late arrival back at Hania, we were starting to regret the decision to wash 75% of our clothes a day before a major departure.

Pretty, Internet-less Agia Roumeli. Population: 100.

In the absence of Internet or telephone contact, the miracle of global roaming allowed several intercontinental text messages to be made to co-ordinate a fragile backup plan for the collection of our clothes through our helpful hotel owner. However, Limmy, through some clever Amazing Race-type manoeuvering, discovered an earlier ferry (via a different route, not mentioned in the Lonely Planet!) which would connect us with an earlier (and only) bus to Hania – and hopefully, a successful laundry rendezvous.

The only obstacle would be the hundreds of other tourists who had encountered similar dramas with the ferry cancellation. This meant the bus trip back would be critical, for to be left off the bus would mean a) staying the night in a remote beach town, and b) missing both laundry and the next connection. With about 300 passengers on the secret early ferry possibly vying for one of 30 bus seats, Limmy was on personal red alert and mentally rehearsing one of several emergency scenarios to maximise mission success.

On porting, Limmy, fueled more by dreams of being on Amazing Race than any desire to reclaim our clothes, ran from the ferry (to the surprise of the other 299 mostly geriatric passengers) through the small port village (to the surprise of the bemused locals) to the ticket office to ensure seats on the bus. Ultimately, the “critical” bus back to Hania was only a quarter full. The other eight bus passengers, Vicky included, had walked leisurely, leaving Limmy with a mild sense of embarrassment defiantly overshadowed by a deep feeling of triumph. As it turns out, the only other runner was also a Chinese fellow (who had gone to the trouble of doing warm-up exercises on deck for his glory run), conclusively proving that we are the most unnecessarily competitive ethnic group. Note: Limmy beat him.

And so, with clean clothes in possession, we headed to Santorini - winners.