Report on guided walks week, Plakias, Crete, September 2003
PLAKIAS WALKS WEEK 24-29 September 2003
This week of walks in Plakias, southern Crete, was designed to explore the area behind and along the high limestone
mountain ridge that runs behind the resort - and to pass Lance's 50th birthday in congenial surroundings.
WEDNESDAY. For the first walk, we caught the 9.30 local bus from Plakias. We managed to hold the bus up long enough
for those people who were late arriving to be able to catch it. One of our regulars, Pam, could possibly be excused this initial
tardiness since she had reached Plakias from Heraklion airport just four hours earlier at 5.30am. The bus route went through
the spectacular Kourtaliotis gorge to the valley behind the mountain ridge, and the village of Koxare, scene of battles
between the Cretans and the Turks, and in a later century between the Cretans and the Germans.
Heading out of the village and uphill towards the hilltop ruins of Koxare castle, we were soon breathing the exhilarating
Cretan fresh air, redolent with hints of pig from a nearby farm. Behind the farm was a new building which looked like a
multi storey hotel block with an Orthodox church perched jauntily on one end. This was the new monastery of Axion Esti.
Ahead of us however, history was less well cared for. Metal grids, originally intended for reinforcing concrete structures,
have proliferated across the Cretan countryside, being used as the ultimate easy-to-erect fence. Several of these severed the
one-time access path to the castle. Subsequent ungrazed, unrestricted growth of shrubs had then blocked off the remnants of
the path. After several attempts to reach the castle were unsuccessful, we continued further along the track, to discover that
it too was impenetrably overgrown.
While the group admired and photographed some magnificent groups of purple autumn crocus flowers (Colchicum
macrophyllum), Lance scouted out the best alternative route forward. A straightforward path, through an adjacent olive
grove, brought the group safely back onto a higher, and still open section of the track. From the open hillside there were
fabulous views across to the east, along the valley to Spili, with a series of peaks: Xiron Oros at 904m, Kedros at 1777m,
and finally Psiloritis, the highest point of the island, at 2460m.
Since it had been hot and sunny all the way, some were keen for the shade at our first sit-down stop by a little blue and
white, courtyarded church. Even sun-worshipper Gareth, our most frequent walker, with 13.5 walks weeks to his credit (it
would have been 14 if he hadn't missed his flight to Parga in May 2001), had a few minutes in the shade to cool down.
Moving on, we found the recently detached tail (still warm to the touch) of an ocellated skink (once erroneously referred to
as an oscillating skink) - this is a comparatively slow-moving lizard, which can shed its tail if attacked. The attacker is
distracted by the still wriggling tail while the rest of the skink makes its escape. Ocellated refers to the eye-like markings
along the sides of the skink's body. The group were warned that since the lizard's tail was a reptile-skin product it was
illegal under wildlife protection laws to take it into the UK, even if the owner had abandoned it voluntarily.
After a brief pause to stare up the zigzags of the Kouroupa road that climbed 600m up the steep ridge to the left, and be
reassured that it wasn't part of the walk, the group moved on into Atsipades village. Despite government attempts to
persuade the populace to move to a valley-bottom new village next to the main road, in view of the predicted earthquake
collapse of the old village, life seemed to continue to flourish here. Indeed, one house had built a large terraced swimming
pool, and the main church was being completely refurbished, both of which seemed to indicate faith in the stability of the
land on which they were built.
The group paused in the shade of the main church, while Lance wandered off to examine the next door cemetery -
something to do with his imminent arrival at the age of 50.
Leaving the village, the back end of the group had ripe figs thrown to them by an old man, while the front of the group
stopped to smell the flowers on a carob tree. The hawthorn-like scent is liked by some, and thought fairly repellent by
others. A dirt track led on along the edge of the valley, at the foot of the mountain ridge, passing through soft green
countryside with fields and scattered oak trees, then through denser areas of oak and cypress woodland. In one place, a deep
gully was filled with giant bay trees, more like those found in Canarian laurel forest.
A picnic stop was made in the dappled shade of a glade in the midst of cypress woodland.
After lunch the dirt track took us down to parallel the valley stream, which was marked by the bright green leaves and shell
pink flowers of shrubby oleanders, and the unseasonal croaking of frogs. The track narrowed to a path as we crossed a large,
empty field, and then Lance led his somewhat doubtful group through tall grass and across a ditch. It was only the presence
of a small, collapsed gate that confirmed it was actually a path, but on the far side we joined a more straightforward dirt
track - although someone managed to stumble into a large rut here. Eventually, the track crossed the main stream at a ford
with just a sheen of water, and rose past a pungent, tethered goat to reach the main road. We walked along the short distance
to the start of Agios Ioannis village, but then turned off into a side track to recross the valley and reach Kanevos, where our
taxis would meet us.
In Kanevos, we reached the Iliomanolis taverna with time before the taxis were due, so we stopped for drinks. Lance tried
the raki, but Andrew had great difficulty in being served at all, as Mr Iliomanolis - for reasons best known to himself -
insisted on trying to talk to him in German, and then took Andrew's money but did not provide the ordered drink.
THURSDAY. The second day's walk involved a fleet of taxis taking us from Plakias up to the main square in Sellia
village. From here we set out on the road towards the Kotsifos Gorge, passing the local memorial to various war dead, including
the events of November 1922, when Greece became the first country to execute 3 ex-prime ministers in one day - a
magnificent achievement which has still to be equalled. Turning off the road, we took a side road, steeply upwards, past the
co-operative olive press and the school. The first donkey of the week appeared for a photo-shoot.
The route continued, upward and upward, past concrete goat-sheds and abandoned terraces. At an altitude of about 550m,
we had a sit-down stop, with panoramic views of the gorge and of Plakias. The discovery of flowering cyclamen and some
large purple-flowered stemless-thistles had a few keenies leaping up for photographs, while others continued to stuff their
faces in a valiant attempt to reduce their picnic load.
"Exactly where are we supposed to be?"
"Don't you dare put me on that website!"
Lance relaxes during the break
The straightforward dirt track ended and a subtle path continued - so subtle, in fact, that many doubted it was there at all. It
was more of a series of muddy streaks over stones amongst the ankle-high spiny vegetation. Some people discovered that
the spines saved them the weight of some blood that they otherwise would have had to carry. A steep half hour brought the
group up to a rocky shelf, with fabulous views southwest over Sellia and its otherwise hidden, circular agricultural plateau,
and another sit-down stop which some people again mistook for the picnic lunch. In the areas of bare red terra rossa earth
between rocks, were the flowers of squadrons of tiny pinkish-blue autumn squills, and the bizarre white-robed and -hooded
little flowers of Biarum. Small white autumn narcissus with tiny golden-red centres, peeked out of protective bushes.
hillside path above Sellia
Rocky steps led us down into a narrow, hidden valley, where golden Sternbergia crocus flowers grew in tufts in vertical
crevices of the grey limestone. Then we continued up a side gully, to a second hidden valley were we turned right, and into
an almost pathless area of large boulders and clusters of dwarf maple trees. The red flowers of Cretan dittany, a cure-all
herb only found on remote cliffs in Crete, were spotted and Andrew went over for a photo. The back of the group thought
the pause indicated the picnic lunch stop, but were soon disillusioned of this. Because of the terrain, the group now stayed
together well, making sure everyone was in sight at all times. Lance led us through a series of little valleys and dolina (a
doline is a karst limestone hollow without an outlet, in which limestone dust settles to form a level soil layer. The plural is
dolina because it is a Serbian word...), to a picnic site with magnificent views out over the Kotsifos Gorge to the long
mountain ridge opposite, in particular the limestone summit of Kyrimianou (our destination in two days time).
crossing a doline
Ed wandered down to look for a sheer and vertiginous drop to photograph. Judith followed shortly afterwards, to keep an
eye on him.
After lunch we headed off through a couple more dolina and some strong post-picnic wind, to a junction where Lance
announced the optional ascent of 829m Xylis Korfis summit. The majority opted to shelter behind some rocks, but a hardy
few made the detour up the slope to the crest-like summit 40m above. There were unexpected views from here, including
the large, cultivated highland plateau to the west.
From here it was downhill almost all the way. Skirting dolina with alacrity, we reached a sheltered elongated valley, whose
narrow floor was covered with knee-high dead grass. After opening a fence, the group continued increasingly steeply
downhill, before the valley debouched onto open hillside, not far above the northern end of the Kotsifos Gorge. Joining a
dirt track briefly and passing a muddy sump full of young frogs, we diverted via a field, a hole in a fence, another field, and a
stream bed, to join the main road in the gorge valley below. Gambling on the taxis not being too early, Lance led the group
a short distance uphill to Kanevos and the Iliomanolis taverna, where the taxis arrived at the same time as us.
SATURDAY. In order to make the day's walk safer, Lance had reversed the route. It would go from sea level to 650m to
440m, instead of from 440m-650m-sea level. Lance explained that the benefit of the walking up the extra 440m was that the
group would not have to walk downhill on a slippery section. He also pointed out they would gain an extra café stop before
the picnic.
Heading back into the olive groves, the group soon found themselves going steeply uphill towards Myrthios village. Lance
pointed out that all trace of the pretty little path that once zigzagged picturesquely between rock outcrops here had now been
erased. The replacement concrete road was eroding badly. The group paused at a water channel - sourced from the
Kourtaliotis Gorge - that irrigated much of the Myrthios-Lefkoyia area. Continuing on, upward, on a dirt track, we reached
an old wash-house - a series of sinks and scrubbing slabs by a spring, where pre-Zanussi Cretan housewives would have
laundered their smalls while their husbands discussed important matters in the cafés of the village above. The sinks would
also have been used for dyeing, for widows to dye their garments in fetching shades of black.
refreshments in Myrthios
Once up in Myrthios we stopped on the balcony terrace of the Panorama taverna for fabulous views and refreshments. The
route through the village passed what was the mayor's office in May 1991, and the site of the wedding of Lance and Hilary -
the first civil wedding ever in the village. The marriage has survived better than the office.
At the top of the village we passed the little cemetery, with its recent extension which has - rather ominously - filled up very
quickly. Lance told off some of the group for going on ahead, but we were soon up into the next little valley, where the
owner of the taverna had built himself a large and well-positioned house. After passing a shed full of geese and henpecked
chickens, we had a sit-down break at a small church, tucked under a cliff and dedicated to St Damianos and St Kosmas. The
church had apparently recently come into money, and considerable refurbishment made it unrecognizable to those members
of the group who had last seen it in 1986.
After a couple more gateways, we reached the goat hotel - a two storey building originally intended to be a hotel, as
evidenced by the upstairs balconies and opening for windows, but now used as a large goatshed. We joined what had once
been an asphalt road and started a long zigzag uphill into the valley below the saddle of Mt Kyrimianou. At the top of the
road, which ended at a large, concrete, goatshed-like goatshed. We rested again, before the steeper path that would take us
through the saddle. Several griffon vultures slid overhead on taut wings.
towards the saddle
A winding, stony uphill path, thoughtfully cairned by Hilary at the beginning of the week, led the group up to the saddle at
650m, where a new view opened up to the north. We joined the end of a broad dirt track, but soon turned off it - uphill
again - onto a rougher track that led up to the picnic site on the eastern rim of the Kotsifos Gorge. The limestone summit
ridge of Kyrimianou sheltered us from the south. To the west could be seen not only the previous walk's picnic site and the
little grey summit cone of Xylis Korfis, but the extensive area of trees - mostly cypress - that cover the western upper cliffs
of the Kotsifos. Lance wandered off to look at the flora, while the rest ate their lunch.
The descent was straightforward, back on the broad dirt track, which would its way down the hillside towards Kanevos.
Passing a marshy area, Lance spotted a large land crab and held it for people to photograph while it attempted
unsuccessfully to sever his fingers. These crabs spend their whole life on land, usually in the hill, only coming to water to
breed, in freshwater streams. Soft-hearted and -headed tourists occasionally return these hapless creatures from the hillsides
to the sea they haven't come from - nowadays the crabs tend to hide from tourists as they know being spotted can mean a very long walk back home.
At a new little church, the group had its photograph taken by various members, before heading down past another open-air
laundry, and to the Iliomanolis Taverna in Kanevos.
SUNDAY. A shorter walk today, since the group had to get to the birthday party afterwards. Taxis took us to Kanevos, from
where we walked a short distance along the road towards Kali Sykea village. We turned right, almost reaching a cemetery,
but Lance veered off just before it and took us into Agios Ioannis village. An old man in the village, who had never seen us
before but was convinced we were going the wrong way, told us not to use a pretty woodland path that led down from the
village to the stream, but we ignored him. Near the stream, we searched for the white flower spikes of the autumn lady's-tresses orchid, which Lance had seen here in September 1987, but none could be found, to Ed's disappointment. Giving up
on the search, we headed up into the oak and cypress woodland and joined a large dirt track eastwards. A loose donkey
appeared, but ran away before it could scare anyone.
The track went round to the famous woodland cyclamen site, from where Lance diverted onto a side track that was partly
cover by fallen oak branches, then onto an even more overgrown path. He asked the group to wait, while he and Richard
pruned away shrubs that blocked the route. Anne meanwhile, stepped up to a tree trunk to examine a fungus growing on it
and disappeared into an Anne-sized hole in the ground beside it. Only her hat could be seen. She was extracted from the
hole and appeared unharmed apart from a brush with a bramble stem during her descent.
woodland church above Agios Ioannis
unidentified walker relaxes graciously
After finally pushing through the jungle, we emerged near a small church, where we relaxed for a while, before we started
up the steep hill behind. Those who were convinced that the dirt track was far too steep to be a dirt track, were right since it
was in fact a firebreak. Lance had anticipated the first person at the top might be someone who lived in a really hilly area,
but in fact it was John from Folkestone. At the 706m summit of Armos, everyone enjoyed the view from under the telecom masts,
looking out over to the north coast. They also wondered what a two-storey, home-made, wood and plywood structure - inside
the top of which a local was sitting listening to a radio - actually was. Shortly afterwards, when Hilary spotted flames and
smoke on the northern flank of Mt Kryoneritis, we realized that it was a fire lookout tower. We pointed out the distant flames
to the man and he rushed to report it. Within a few hours the fire brigade were on their way.
Picnic lunch followed soon after, at a small church under construction at the western end of the ridge, and with good views
out over the valleys, though cooled by a chilly northerly breeze, which the group complained about.
From here it was downhill all the way, via country lanes to the village of Kali Sykea (good fig tree) where we paused at a
café for refreshments. Local men sitting outside brought out some chairs for us to sit on, and then left. The village was
razed to the ground in a reprisal raid in1944 and the surviving population rehoused in depressing post-war concrete
architecture, however a considerable resurgence in fortunes has led to the recent construction of many large and luxurious
houses along the main access road.
While the non-botanical part of the group relaxed over their drinks, Lance led the keen botanical section up the hill to look
for the smallest of the autumn crocus (Colchicum pusillum), however none could be found at a known site, leading us to
conclude that they were awaiting the first rains before they would appear. The considerable quantity of body parts of dead
goats led us to believe that some of the new EU regulations on disposal of animal carcases were not being observed. This is
good news for the very rare lammergeier (bearded vulture) - whose Cretan population of 31 is the last viable breeding
population in the Balkans and which relies on a supply of animal bones in order to survive.
From Kali Sykea we headed down to the Iliomanolis Taverna in Kanevos, more refreshments, and early taxis home in order
to prepare for the party.
The internationally-famous Lysseos Taverna in Plakias had been chosen for the birthday party, since owners Lito and Loukas had known Lance &
Hilary for many years: Lito had been koumbara (a combination of best person and godparent) at their Myrthios wedding;
Loukas had taken the wedding photos.
MONDAY. On Monday morning, the start of the walks was half an hour later, to allow for any tiredness resulting from the previous
night's party. The local bus took us to the Kourtaliotis Gorge and the top of the several hundred steps down to the chapel of
Agios Nikolaos. Ten griffon vultures mooched overhead. It is said that St Nicholas, in the gorge with companions who were in need of water, touched the rock-face
with his hand and five springs appeared. Nowadays, there are a couple of viewpoints overlooking the voluminous springs
which run along the eastern side of the gorge. They are several metres above the main stream which has cut down deep into
the bedrock here. Around the springs are built-out brackets formed by mineral deposition and moss growth.
After viewing the waters, we returned a short way up the lower steps, but then turned off onto a dirt track that accesses an
old pumping station that provides the Plakias valley with irrigation water. We went up the gently rising track to meet the
main road at the southern end of this section of the gorge. For no apparent reason, many of the group were sneezing at this
point, although there seemed no obvious flowering plants to provoke hayfever. The weather seemed hotter, and the group
complained about the lack of a cooling breeze.
From the corner of the road, we headed down a side road towards the sea, passing a modern olive oil factory, an old church,
and then the remains of a much older oil press and factory with a plaque dated 1890. Lance urged the group onward, parallel
with the reed-shrouded Megalopotamos river, to an old bridge (1850), financed by the Preveli monastery. There was a brief
elevenses stop, which some took at the nearby, Scottish-Greek, Yefira café, and then we continued onward - now on the eastern side of
the river. After a winding a route alongside eastern valleyside, passing scattered individuals of the native Cretan date palm,
the path climbed up onto the rim of the southern section of the Kourtaliotis Gorge - also known as the Preveli Gorge. There
were vertical views down 100m to the palm-lined river - quite biblical in appearance if you disregarded the occasional
pedalo and several hundred semi-naked tourists.
photo taken before arrival of pedaloes and boat trippers
Lance thought he had miscounted the group at one point, but it turned out to be two young Scandinavian tourists who did
not know the route so followed immediately behind the group The descent steep zigzag path down to the beach was
somewhat marred by the Scandinavians suddenly and impatiently barging past and knocking over a member of the group as they did so.
The group spilt up on the beach, to choose their preferred picnic site - some choosing to avoid views of the naked flesh on
display.
Regrouping on the far side of the river, we headed up the main access path which rises steeply to the car park, but turned off
onto a much smaller and comparatively level path which clung to the cliff-girt coastline - spectacularly so in a few places.
The path then led through a very recently burned area, where all the shrubs had been reduced to short stumps and the only
sign of life were the spikes of white sea squill that had emerged from their huge bulbs following the conflagration. In the
absence of more comfortable shade, the group sheltered under a cave-like overhang, formed as part of an ancient coastline
and now more regularly used as a sheep's toilet.
Joining a new dirt track, we climbed up to the back of Preveli Monastery. A monk sped past in the luxury of a huge new
4WD, showering us with dust. The scattered group passed around the back of the monastery, where new air-conditioning
units sprout from the refurbished section and obviously make life there less ascetic than it once was. We passed - in the
wrong direction - the signs forbidding entry and warning of aggressive guard dogs - presumably intended to discourage
tourists from seeing the more comfortable side of monastic life.
If you anticipate religious simplicity and a peaceful ambience, you may be disappointed by the monastery. Nowadays, the
candles seem to burn brightest at the shrine of Mammon, and the place is besieged by hire-car tourists and coach tours.
Replete with tourist Euros, the church authorities have embarked - with their usual anti-conservation vigour - on a
campaign to bulldoze a network of dirt tracks across the surrounding countryside. Their colleagues at Toplou Monastery at
the very dry eastern end of the island have gone even further and have leased 26 sq km (yes, 26!) for a vast holiday resort,
incorporating three golf courses and a deepwater port for Athens ferries. Good luck if you're an international investor, bad luck if you happen to be a nearby local farmer
depending on the limited ground water for your crops, or a fisherman benefiting from a pollution-free sea.
After a café stop outside the monastery, the group set off again - albeit with some reluctance by those who would have
preferred to have transport the rest of the way - up and over the ridge to Yianniou village and then down to the main road
outside Lefkoyia. Part of the group decided to catch the local bus back to Plakias from Lefkoyia, but the remainder of the
group headed down to Amoudi beach, and westwards along the coast. The dangling parts at the naturist Damnoni Cove
caused some comment, as did the excessive hotel architecture that now swamps the once-pretty Damnoni Bay. Andrew
insisted on sampling some lantana fruit, despite being advised by Lance that it was said to be poisonous. A final overland
section brought us down to the southeastern end of Plakias beach and then home.
In the evening we reassembled in the Alianthos taverna for live Cretan music and dancing - although some elements of the
management seemed less than keen to accommodate the group. At least one member of the group found the music too loud
for comfort, but some others joined in enthusiastically with the dancing which on occasions spilled out onto the street.
LATER THAT WEEK... Finally, Hilary and Lance on their own negotiated the notoriously precipitous Frati gorge path, to prove that it was still possible.
innocuous start of the path
a distinct drop
scary-ish
view at the end of the narrow section of path
Lance Chilton and Marengo 2008
Marengo 17 Bernard
Crescent HUNSTANTON PE36 6ER England e-mail us: here
