28.05 Crete: Villages of Hora Sfakion and Loutro, little gems linking on foot, tucked away on the Mediterranean.

On an undulating trail along the cliffs, the dual waters are eye-catching.




"She'll be coming down the mountain when..." the early stages of the walk between two coastal villages.




Signage, all over the world, fulfills a vital role—it also is humorous at times. In reading a book on Crete hiking, we noticed a hint that amused us. “When you lose the trail”, it began, “Think what a donkey would do in that position and follow your instincts.” Many trails are goat paths and not always clear. I mentioned to the editor, “What do you think of that? We are supposed to imagine what goes on in a donkey’s head.”

“Fortunately,” she replied, “You have a distinct advantage in that department.” Nice. Rather than be sidetracked and rise to the bait, the only thing I could think of regarding a donkey's thoughts are those of food, relieving itself and avoiding work.

Meantime, the same editor, Miss Smarty Pants, said to me as we were coming down Imbros Gorge, “These rocks are hard.” In my short time on earth, I have yet to come across a form of rock that was anything but hard. At the Samaria Gorge, there are signs at various intervals warning about falling rocks. At certain sections, the hiker is encouraged to move quickly by because of possible rockslides. I don’t think, in case of avalanches, signs or not, that a person has a chance of survival. The rocks are also hard by the way. I checked.



Approaching the village of Loutro from above.




Standing above the nudist beach, steeling myself for the challenge. (What challenge is that?)




Passing nudist beaches always makes us uncomfortable. On each occasion, especially when it's unexpected, the first reaction is something like, "Did I just see what I saw or am I dreaming?" Be that as it may, we feel it raises one of the major issues of life. We are puzzled and cannot determine the proper perspective. So we asked ourselves the following question after seeing a number of naked bathers on the beach: "Were they genuine nudists notwithstanding they wore hats and caps?"



First, second and third positions at the annual Billy Awards.




On our rest day, we could not resist another walk to Loutro. With full sunshine, the colors were irresistible. However, we
needed a subject to complete the scene otherwise it would only have been water.




We made it to the town of Hora Sfakion, quaint and beautifully positioned on the shores of the Mediterranean Sea. Our bedroom overlooks the water and some mountains as well as other islands across the way. The views of this relatively calm body of water, covered in shades of so many blues, makes each moment of vision unique. More than that though, we sit, eat and work on the modest patio from about 5:30 to 8pm—not all functions at the same time, of course. The atmosphere, which is enhanced by the views but not totally dependent upon them, is outstanding—we've never felt more relaxed. In addition, we sleep with the door open which adds to the freshness as the sea breeze flitters into the room. One other thing. We multi-task. So while we sit on the patio, we also observe our clothing hanging next to us being both sun and wind dried. The natural life is delightful provided we have a little electricity and running water on the side.



Some of the positions were outstanding; never a dull moment except for the sky.




Perched on the cliffs, the views of the sea and activity therein were stunning.




Jenni has developed a fetish, if that is the correct word, for wishing to be on the balcony at 6:45pm each evening to watch the ferry dock and take note of the cars and people disembarking. It’s quite a sight as the sun hits the starboard, maybe portside, creating a golden aura followed by the ant-like colony of hoards racing for the buses. After ten minutes, the ferry departs, the buses chug up the hill and calm returns to the village and we continue to observe the soft-lit sunsets over the wide expanse of many-shaded blue waters. It’s not a bad life, especially as we are invariably tired after invigorating days as we feel the muscles relax and memories of the day’s experience remain at the fore. The sad thing for the store and restaurant operators is that the hundreds of returning gorge hikers have no time to stop in the village. They walk past the main thoroughfare and head for the waiting buses. We feel worse for the hikers who spend 5-6 hours on buses and the ferry, and less time walking downhill through the gorge. Each person chooses his/her own poison it seems.


Jenni was a little nervous as her posture shows, on cliff edges with the sea directly below.




A peninsula of sorts comprising sharp and treacherous rock formations on the second visit, in bright sunshine.




Loutro in the distance, a place for lunch followed by a Mediterranean swim and the turn-around.




Distances on an island are generally not great, although Crete is relatively large. The road systems are not comparable with those of modern countries—one travels around mountains, not over or through them. Therefore, time is the variable that slows one down. Whilst the distance, from where we were in Amalos, to where we are now, is only twenty odd miles on foot, it is a three-hour journey by car. Had we not rented a vehicle, it would have been an interesting journey, which we could have shortened further, in time, by utilizing the ferry. The luggage would have been the issue though.



Another sunset to round-off a glorious day.




Cheers,

Jenni and Jeffrey


Following the saga of Mr. Stavris and the Lazarows as mentioned previously, the news is good. After two days of tepid water, heat was restored, we offered grateful appreciation and the relationship seemed cemented. In fact, not only did he say we were more beautiful because of the cold water treatment but that we were nice, too. (His English is obviously not that good.) We hope that does not mean concrete blocks will be affixed to our ankles.


Things must be good in the relationship as he stood next to a sweating/smelly tenant.