Stamp through Samaria

Just below the Omalos Plateau in western Crete lies the longest gorge in Europe. Made a national park in 1992 to protect the endangered Kri Kri wild goats, Samaria is 16k long and every day hundreds (up to 3000 on peak days) of visitors tromp through. If you don't fancy a stroll surrounded by sun burned tourists get there first thing or don't go at all. If you like to gloat about your fitness level then this is definitely the place for you! Many people undertake this trail who shouldn't. The path does require good balance, sturdy shoes, and a little bit of endurance.

Scrambling over the dry and nameless river bed, the 300 meter walls of the gorge narrow from 150 to just 3.5 meters apart creating a memorable passage through the "iron gates". The walk ends shortly thereafter at Agia Roumeli where, restaurants, sandy beaches, precipitous cliffs, and your ferry back to civilization awaits.

The WRONG side of the Moon

We hopped over the painted rock that faintly alluded to the town of Hora being somewhere beyond and we made our way up and down and over and around a trail marked out by a seriously mischievous band of goats. Some five and a half hours later, lacking water, and dead exhausted from keeping my focus on staying upright on a mountain covered in scree, I limped my purple toenails and dehydrated muscles into the capital where we sat down and ate and drank and drank some more. And then we sighed a long sigh about our beautiful walk that turned into an epic scramble and a long term memory about the mysteries of Samothraki.

Moon Mountain

Mt Fegari shoots 1600m out of the Aegean sea straight into the skies of Eastern Thrace. Homer mentions Poseidon sitting atop this peak to watch the the Trojan war. Spurred on by this we made our way up to the top to see Poseidon's mount, and, although I couldn't see Troy, I definitely felt closer to the gods. The wandering goats, seemingly enchanted forest, fields of wild oregano, and endless rocks for scrambling over made the ascent seem almost simple.

We couldn't see Troy, but we could see Hora, the Island's capital. Nestled into the folds of the mountain, the walk seemed a bit long and unpredictable, but it was such a pleasant walk up, surely the walk to the capital would be equally as beautiful. Heck, I could even make out an arrow and some marks that might represent the letters for Hora faintly painted onto a rock near our picnic stop. It seemed like the logical thing for two people who had just cycled for six days through the backroads of Eastern Macedonia and Thrace to do on their rest day...

Wild Oregano

What is more Greek than oregano? Wild oregano! The minute I realized that the kilometers of ground cover I was walking over was blossoming wild oregano I thought I had died and gone to heaven. I'm pretty sure this bee is thinking the same thing.

Thorny Snails

The wild landscape of Greece is a little prickly. You must always watch where you step unless you want to end up with socks full of burrs or calves full of nasty scratches and microscopic thorns. The environment is particulary unfriendly to lycra bike shorts. I tried to imagine the ancient Greeks flitting through the mountains in their strappy leather sandals and their little skirts (yum, think of King Leonidas in the movie 300). I guess the ancient Greeks and these snails had something in common.

Hello Mt Olympus

Okay, so we didn't cycle to Mt. Olympus and I certainly hope to do so one day, but the road from Thessaloniki is entirely unpleasant and I simply could not be so close to the abode of the Olympian gods and not stop in for a "peek". We scored a surprisingly unhazy day that allowed us to witness Greece's tallest peak in all her glory.