8 Te Travel Guide


Promotional Content • Saturday 27th January 2024


Hiking through the Samaria Gorge, Crete PHOTOGRAPH: AWL IMAGES


Walk this way “I


t’s like Buddhist philosophy: bringing nature into order,” says Yianna Kouridaki,


motioning to the cairns of carefully stacked rocks all around us. “People want enlightenment from these stones; they’re so ancient.” Yianna is guiding me through Samaria Gorge, one of a series of dramatic clefts that concertina the southwestern coastline of Crete, from the White Mountains down to the Libyan Sea. In the classical age, the city of


Tarrha flourished here, becoming significant enough to mint its own coins. Tey bore the image of the kri-kri, the Cretan goat, which continues to roam Samaria today. “It’s long been a symbol of the unenslaved Cretan spirit,” says Yianna. Later, that spirit saw Samaria become a centre of resistance against successive invaders. First came the Venetians, then the Turks. In the 1770s, 1820s and 1860s, Cretans used Samaria as a base for uprisings against the Ottomans, who couldn’t penetrate beyond the Iron Gates — the narrowest point of the gorge, where 1,000ft-tall rocks close to a gap just four metres wide.


Greece’s numerous isles are best known for their idyllic beaches, toes-in-the-sand tavernas and laidback pace of life. But threaded through steep mountains and ancient gorges, Crete’s network of hiking trails offers insights into the soul of Greece’s largest island. Words: Daniel Stables


Te 10-mile hike through the


gorge isn’t particularly dangerous or difficult, but nothing motorised can reach down here and the nearest helipad is several miles down the track — break a leg, and you’re carried out the old-fashioned way: on the back of a mule.


Down the winding road Trees of cypress and maple shade the path as rock formations rear up on either side. Te air is heavy with the aroma of mountain herbs: wild thyme, oregano and Jerusalem sage. Yianna points out the spiky leaves of oleander, known in centuries past as a poison. “In Ancient Greek times, ladies would put it on the table when they knew their husbands weren’t too faithful,” she says. Toxic plants aside, the biggest danger is falling rocks; at one point, I’m nearly decapitated by a cat-sized boulder, set loose by the hoof of a kri-kri on the canyon wall above. Crete’s gorges and mountains


echo not just with tumbling rocks, but with myth, infusing every realm of Cretan life. According to Greek mythology, it was on this island that Zeus was born in a mountain


cave and that Teseus braved the Labyrinth to slay the Minotaur. Te day after my adventures in the


gorge, I set off to explore the north of the island, following a dried-up riverbed to the village of Gavalochori. I poke around the darkened ruins of a pre-industrial olive mill and rest from the heat in a plane grove scattered with the remains of Venetian wells. I catch a bus to Chania, Crete’s second city, a short way up the coast and ensconce myself in Chrisostomos, a traditional restaurant where the menu reflects the culinary quarry of Crete’s mountains: mutton slow baked with feta; wild chicory; rabbit with thyme and oregano.


Monasteries in the mountains “Sorry I’m late,” puffs Father Vartholomeos, one hand clutching his kalimavkion hat, the other pressed to his chest in a mea culpa. “I’m becoming a deacon this Saturday. I’m a little stressed.” Father Vartholomeos is showing


me around the Agia Triada monastery, a Byzantine masterpiece built by two Venetian brothers in the 17th century. My eye is drawn to strange artefacts, particularly the


ostrich eggs hanging from incense burners. “Tey symbolise God, who watches his offspring from a distance like the ostrich watches her eggs,” explains Father Vartholomeos. “Tey’re very fragile,” he adds. I wonder how Father Vartholomeos


ended up here. “I wanted to work in shipping in London, but I found no meaning in the common life,” he says. “It was like food without salt. Here in the monastery, the main thing is to struggle with yourself, with your will. I may want to go out, but I’m not allowed to. But we must look at this as a blessing.”


Back in time Bound by no such blessing, I set off from Agia Triada and head along a dirt track into the mountains of the Akrotiri Peninsula. As the path proceeds, time unspools backwards. At the top, I pass the 16th-century Gouverneto monastery, then zigzag sharply downwards to the crumbling Katholiko monastery, the oldest in Crete, founded in the 11th century. I meet Father Ephraim, a monk from Gouverneto, tending to a shrine carved into the mountainside. Why, I ask, would anyone build a monastery


here, somewhere so hard to reach? “Tat’s kind of the point,” chuckles Father Ephraim. “To get as far away from society as possible.” I descend to the valley floor, where


thorny shrubs erupt from the dry ground. Reaching a rocky cove, I dip my feet in the cool Aegean blue before beginning the daunting schlep back up the mountain, pausing halfway to speak again with Father Ephraim. “Do you really come down here every day?” I pant, through bursting lungs. A half-smile. “It keeps me busy,” he says. A blessing, in a place like this.


HOW TO DO IT


Aegean Airlines connects Chania and Heraklion with destinations across Europe. Almyrida Resort hotels (from £65, B&B) are a good base from which to explore Crete’s hiking trails. Strata Tours has expert guides. en.aegeanair.com almyridaresort.com stratatours.com Featured in National Geographic Traveller (UK) magazine April 2023 nationalgeographic.com/travel


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