Sfakia, On and off the beaten track - May 2018 - part 2

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JonC
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Registriert: 28. August 2015, 16:16
Wohnort: Shepperton England

Sfakia, On and off the beaten track - May 2018 - part 2

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I got a good nights sleep, as the breeze and I guess the altitude kept flying things to a minimum and the next morning, after further appreciation of the views and solitude, I went in search of a trail to Kakos Poros, on the cliffs further west. The anavasi maps show an indistinct trail between the sheepfold a few hundred metres back from Sellouda on the path to Ag. Ioannis, that leads through the woods to this viewpoint. Well, I didn't find it, so bushwhacked through the woods, only finding a semblance of trail where you cross a shallow gully, but working on the basis that if I fell off the cliffs I'd gone too far left, I made my way across to the more distinct path between Ag. Ioannis and Kakos Poros. There's a picnic bench here, albeit at the last you have to go down 20mtrs or so of cliff face on a tenuous path to reach the plateau where it's sited. Still, at that time of day....what a place to have breakfast! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0BjMUUPHqBkme
Tearing myself away, after quite some time and several contemplative cigarettes, I headed up the path towards Ag. Ioannis, which leads shallowly ever upwards through woods and one or two open areas that were once obviously cultivated. At one of these points there is a large circular well, with climbing plants growing down into it, and, as I looked over, buzzing with insects... and birds, who bullet out in fright at my disturbance. Leaving the last of the woods I crossed a rough field and via a gate at the side of a cattle barn, reached the paved road in Agios Ioannis. Just to my left is a small stone building on a large terrace, covered by pergola, and with a couple of benches and tables. A lady is sweeping the terrace and I called "Kalimera, is this Alonia?". She was momentarily startled by my appearance out of nowhere, but replied "Yes, of course!" This is explained by the fact there is a large sign saying 'Alonia' on the wall, but facing the usual approach road rather than my cross country route, so I didn't see it until I stepped onto the terrace, as we clarify in the next few moments, thus saving me from a further 'vlákas' reputation. http://www.alonia.gr/en/article/home I introduce myself, she is Anna, the wife of Antonis and together they run this isolated guest house. I have a reservation here for 1 night, and making the most of civilisation I asked for enan eliniko sketo parakalo, at a convenient moment. After this, feeling it couldn't possibly be too early, I have a beer, and also start with the cameling again. One or two snacks are provided, and I find it hard to motivate myself to get on and do anything, so have more beer... In the meantime, Antonis (pron. Andoni, sort of nasally Godfather stylee), has returned from ferrying the previous nights oap walking group to the top of Aradena and their luggage to Likos. We pass time chatting about the walks in the area,.. their surprisingly bouyant, almost year round business,.. and life after brexit (not really), whilst the lovely Anna is chained in the kitchen to get on with tonights dinner....
Peeling myself away, I decided to walk to Kormokopos cave...a short easy stroll according to my research. The initial path is the same as to another lookout point, Papa Kefala, but after 45 mins or so splits right from this and heads off into the wilderness. This is one of these paths where you always seem to be going uphill, even on the way back..... but is very well marked with blue on white circles, which I believe are the handiwork of Antonis. It threads through woods and glades eventually reaching a slightly more strenuous climb and then descent to the cave at the other side of a less precipitous than usual gorge. A natural water source within the cave sustains some unusual plant life and thousands of insects, all focused on obtaining water, no time for bothering you, and attendant birdlife. There is a theoretical route from here up over and into the Eligas gorge, which the pro's use, but I couldn't even work out the beginning of it, so that one's out permanently. I had also planned on taking the other trail to Papa Kefalos...a spectacular lookout I'm told, but in the heat, on rough ground and with a bit too much beer, couldn't be arsed, I'll save it for next time. It turned out to be about 9km round trip which was enough I felt.
Back at Alonia, I did some washing and hung it on the wall outside my little chalet overlooking a small sheepfold, just to add a domestic touch to any photography, letting the last of the afternoon sun have a go at drying it while I had a little lie down. Refreshed, I wandered along to the communal tables at the terrace, introduced myself all round, and asked Anna for a karafaki ouzo, which came with a little too much meze, so was shared around. No-one took me up on sharing the ouzo and I felt a little out of place with the small but vigorously healthy handful of alpinists, assiduously sticking to water or an occasional daring limonada. However, it didn't stop me following this with Anna's long slow cooked lamb dish, with greek fries (as you know, wildly better than french fries) and a bowl of pea,green bean,tomatoey garlicked olive oil deliciousness -sort of fasolakia but better, with a half kilo lefko krasi.....hic. Lamb & Goat in Sfakia is like nothing you've ever tasted before, these animals live a nigh on wild life, foraging on the herbs up on the mountainside and the flavours are unbelieveable. I felt somewhat justified in my pig out given that I'd only eaten 2 salad's and an omelette since arriving....and was going to need the energy. I have no excuse for the booze...but I was on holiday!
Not making hasty tracks the following day, I take my time over a couple of coffees, plenty of water....but no food...please!! Saying my farewells, I headed off on the partially familiar mule path to Sellouda, this time taking the direct route down and across the open plain, with it's broken down walling which at one time would have been field enclosures. You can only imagine how hard a life this would have been, with a soil that always seems to be 90% rock, to grow enough to survive on. Nearing Sellouda again, a spritely chap of perhaps my age was heading towards me. I said hello and discovered he is a walking group leader, who had got ahead of his party on the climb up the kalderimi from Agios Pavlos and is just having a look ahead to check his bearings before going back to the kalderimi to await their arrival. I'm agog, as I know I'd have just fallen in a moaning heap on reaching the top, never mind scouting about. We walked together back to the top and the first of his party are appearing below. In about 15 mins everyone had made it, and I applauded them all in from my lazy perch at the top, genuinely impressed. They are a group of french walkers (the accent, not the garlic - although after last night, throw me a beret and I could wing it) who have walked from Roumeli that morning. They are more my stamp and all flopped groaning across the handily placed large smooth rocks at the top, doubtless worn down by generations of people doing the same thing. As they recovered and I did more squinty eyed staring into the abyss, another couple arrived along the path at the top, then a party of 4, then another couple,.....this is ridiculous, we're at least 5km from anywhere and there's twenty of us all at the same time! I'm not exactly phobic, but I don't walk to meet people, I enjoy the solitude, so I let the new arrivals get ahead down the steeply descending kalderimi and a hundred metres or so down I stopped beneath a lone tree and again took in the vista, doing away with a still chilled bottle of Alpha bought from Alonia. Peace reigned again and I continued on this frankly amazing route, spaghettiing gradually downwards to the sea, past first sparse and then denser woodland and after perhaps an hour, reaching the E4 coastal trail from Loutro, via Marmara, still high in the forest above Agios Pavlos beach.
Another 20 mins or so of walking and I arrived at the sandy dune and slid my way down to the taverna, which I don't think has any other name but the Agios Pavlos taverna. Giorgos, the owner, is welcoming and feigns to remember me from last year, which is flattering if unlikely. He's a bit busier than when I arrived last year, but it's later in the day and several tables are filled with lunching walkers and a few who have made their way by boat. As the hunger was still not with me, I had a beer, (Eza - new to me, very nice too!). Again, I got rather too comfortable and another 1 or 2 later....I pushed off down the beach for a swim. Giorgos says to pay him on the way back and I sloppily made my way over to the chapel for a reminder nosey round, then rock hopped along the back of the beach until I recognised 'my' spot from last year and settled down for first a swim and then a snooze. If you get to Roumeli, really try to make time to spend a couple of hours on this beach. The only 'traffic' flows from and to the high footpath in the forest above the beach via the taverna, so you will likely be totally undisturbed on the 2km of beach stretching eastwards. The sea is crystal with a wave action opaqueness near the edge, genuinely turquoise...a beach of dreams. Prosaically, I realised I didn't have cigarettes or my phone with me....and assume I've left them in the taverna; sloppy indeed. But I'm due a return if only to pay, and yes, my fags & phone were there, except somehow I'm persuaded to have a drink, "try this "... a pasta 'risotto', "have some"... grilled sardine, and more drinks, and raki....
The sun had gone and the light was fading as I finally headed off to Roumeli, shouts of encouragement following me.....I knew this path, knew what to expect and raki makes you brave anyway! And it was easy enough, lets face it, I'd had a long enough rest at AP. About 9.45 I arrived at Pachnes http://www.pachnes.gr/, one look at me..."You are Jon?" said Stelios... "Thash me!" I slurred, "Any chance of some food?" I shower and sobered up a bit and came down to another lamb feast, lots of water and, predictably, another beer... I slept like a dead man and woke feeling fantastic at about 7.30.
Despite this, I was very slow to attack the day....I had the wobbles, today I started the walk to Sougia along an unfrequented and infamous stretch of the E4, one that is normally bypassed by ferry. I'd researched this since I first had the idea in 2015, but there is surprisingly little info anywhere on the web, either as a result of the limited numbers of people actually doing it, or to dissuade those who might think of it as just another footpath. The best info was from a german website, which read via google translate made for several amusing corruptions, but the gist was there. From my balcony, I saw a party of hikers heading up towards the turkish fort just above the village, over a dozen in a conga line zedding upwards....and still I procrastinated. I had packed up my bag and couldn't find another reason to stay in the room, so went down to greet Stelios. It transpired that Stelios is Antonis brother, but I don't think he'd been pre-warned ....
I had a coffee on an unsettled stomach, and cameled a little.... Stelios asked me how much water I was taking, "5?". "Yes", I said, "about 5 ltrs". "No no, I mean 5 bottles!" he replied.... Oh,.. really?, bugger, what's that lot gonna weigh?, ... "And no alcohol", he adds as an afterthought..... Blimey , this is serious!
Ok, well he's the boss, he's walked it several times... This is the problem with this E4 stretch, there is, by and large, no water, not even stuff you can filter, over the whole 20km's of largely steeply up or steeply down, vague precipitous paths. It can take from perhaps 9 or 10 hours, if you're a superfit nutcase and don't want to see anything, to 15 or 16, spread over two days...or more.
In another bout of prevarication, I walked to the minimarket to see what sort of easily packed munchies I could find for the trip.....ending up with a vacuum sealed salami and a bag of salty crackers, these to add to my imported stash of nuts'n'raisins (Wilson lite 250gms). And then I went and had a look at the start of the trail, discretely tucked away at the end of the road just past Panorama Rooms. There's a bit of overgrown waste ground with a barely trodden path to a wire goat gate, and here is a small E4 diamond sign. Not much really for the start of such a passage. ....
You can see how good I am at beating about the bush, can't you?
The final moments back at Pachnes,.. Stelios filled 2x 1.5ltr and 2x 0.5ltr bottles for me, and I buy another 2x 1.5ltr chilled from the cabinet, the bigger bottles taking most of the space in my backpack, the 2 smaller in side mesh pockets, and the sleeping bag relegated to perched on top with a couple of straps. I know he's waved off many hikers on this route before, so likely can't understand my anxiety ... but I'm an old man!, have pity....
Hefting the pack, It actually felt ok, despite the 7odd kilos of extra weight I'd just put in it. Stelios says I should be at Domata beach at about 3pm, and it's now 10.30am.... we'll see... I waved him cheerio, and pushed off at last.
Immediately through the gate, the 'path' (I'll stop doing 'that' now...you've got the message) marginally zags but is more or less straight up a dusty, crumbly bank through light tree cover, as it turns onto the scree slope above the cliffs rising behind Roumeli beach, it comes perilously close to the edge, but moves gradually further away from the drop, albeit on a narrow rockstrewn way crossing a 40 degree slope. Towards the end of this scree you climb upwards and reach the site of many photos, a rock hoop in front of a small cave, framing Roumeli in shot. Beyond this is a bit of down and then a climb up to a spur, followed by more down across a boulder field, and finally reaching the bottom of the climb up through the forest in a wide ravine. That all sounds pretty straightforward, but it's a good hour of sweat and terror to get to this point, and you still have the climb up through the forest yet. The way up is loose stones over a dust base, ideal to slip and go arse over, in a vague serpentine, but exceptionally steeply. You are no longer in danger of arriving at speed on the beach, but a fall here would still be pretty nasty, as there's no soft landings.
About halfway up I met a couple of americans, mature, should know better, like me. The older one of the two had a katsouna to help with the hike, but the end is too fat and rounded to grip here, also the toll on his knees has ruined them for steady footing, so he is largely making his way down sliding on his backside. I help him down a specially awkward bit we meet at, but I can't see an option for them but to slowly continue. That's the other thing, you're on your own here, there's no mountain rescue with dogs and helicopters...be a dickhead on Snowdon and you'll be plucked to safety,... here.... it'll be more like 'touching the void', sort yourself out.
At the top of the raspy lunged climb through the forest, you emerge onto a canted plateau.... if you look closely you'll see the spot under the first tree, I suspect permanently marked by the quivering, sweat streaming thing I had become. From here a trail, at times indistinct from many goat paths, crosses the plateau reaching the highest point of around 500 metres, then runs northerly down into a wooded upland ravine. This is true wilderness, not even the sea is visible here, and the civilisation of Roumeli has been out of sight since before the forest climb. Now turning southwest, the western side of the ravine is climbed and a trail heading down towards a crag thats looms above Domata beach is followed. At the landward foot of this crag, still a couple of hundred metres up, a magnificent view down into the Klados gorge, of the beach, and of the coast sweeping away to the far out of view Sougia, is framed by pines on the crag. A last bit of tense threading down the cliff path and I arrived at the deserted, beautiful Domata beach. I checked the time, it's 3.20pm, so Stelios' assessment of my abilities was reasonably accurate. I had at no point rushed, or even pushed on a bit.... it's not that sort of hike, too dangerous for one and I won't be passing this way again soon, possibly ever, so wanted to let it settle in as much as possible.
Domata was empty, not a soul but me....and extremely hot. Even though slightly unnerving, I found a niche in the rocks at the eastern end with an overhang that affords some shade. I keep glancing at the overhang, worrying about 20 tons of rock coming down on me; ... yes, of course, that's what'll happen, it's been here thousands of years but it'll come down on you this afternoon... I rigged up further shade with the shemagh that had been my hat/sweatband, it needed a good dry out anyway... and relaxed. Although it wasn't particularly windy, the elements had combined in such a way that great rolling 10 foot waves were crashing in onto the beach. I normally like a bit of surfing action, but getting caught under one of these, pounding into the fine shingle, on a deserted beach miles from anywhere seemed a bit stupid even to me, so I settled for a cool down in the surf shallows.
Time passed pleasantly, reading, dipping, smoking, a couple of handfuls of nuts'n....and occasional glugs of water. I was pretty pleased with myself, I'd got through just over a litre getting there and somehow thought I'd cracked the tough part, so was thinking I had plenty, more than enough,... that Stelios, he's so cautious....
Later, maybe 5pm ish, a party of 3 hikers arrived from the direction of Sougia....setting up base behind a large rock towards the back of the beach, which was now affording some shadow as the sun lowered. They hit the surf but, like me, stay close enough in to not get caught under a wave. They're a party of, predictably, German hikers, well equipped and knowledgeable about this path. There are 5 in their group but they have strung out a bit over the course of the day..... In fact it's nearly an hour later before the 4th member arrives and another hour again before the last makes it. I can't really see the point of travelling in a group for safetys sake, then leaving a man behind. Admittedly, a companion on this hike isn't going to stop you falling off things, so is really only there to tell others where to find the body :), but it just didn't seem right...
In fact, they aren't the last to arrive..., a young lady with some interesting tattoo's, gets there a further hour behind, raises a hand in greeting to me and the other group, sets up a tent, then spends an hour on her phone (I can't even get a signal?) and hits the sack. So, my deserted beach has become quite the popular spot this evening. In the meantime, the sea has calmed down enough for me to risk a proper swim and was... refreshing. 10 mins or so and that's enough so I body surfed ashore as the waves were still considerable.
I dine alone, knawing the salami (not a euphemism) and decide just the sleeping bag in the sand will do, as the tarp has been unnecessary so far, and I can't be bothered with the sleeping mat, so settled down for another bout of stargazing.
Somehow, warm soft sand turns into concrete after a couple of hours and I spent a lot of the night shifting position, whereas I should have blown up the mat..... Nevertheless, I got a reasonable amount of kip and it's early but full daylight when I awoke. The girl has already gone and the other guys are having breakfast, possibly the early morning alarm call of my snoring giving them a helping hand. I had another swim in the now pretty calm waters, packed up, waved goodbye and headed off up the beach.
Across the rocks and into the gorge mouth, there's a special vagueness of trail here, as it's all large shingle and rocks, but I managed to spot a cairn suggesting a route and on the other side of the gorge find a steep way up the bluff. Across another area of steep plateau and a bay hoves into view, a ragged series of zig zags takes me further down into this rocky inlet, but still far below on the western shore are a small village of colourful beehives. I can't say I'd specially noticed many bees around but the scent of thyme, sage...and maybe rosemary...but definitely no parsley, was heavy in the air and honey as a result of this concoction, of free from pollution wild flora, must be spectacular. I assume the odd visits here for harvest must be via boat, but there's no one around...except...just making their way down from the other side of this dip into the cove was a lone walker. I've stopped to do my usual soak up the atmos stuff, and breathe heavily...and he rapidly reached me. He's carrying a light pack, bulging with water bottles and wearing open hiking sandals. A fetishist obviously...; actually a very nice, but frighteningly healthy german chap who had left Sougia at 5am....so he's making bloody good time as it's now 9.45am he tells me. His haste stems from having left his family in Sougia while he gets it out of his system, and needs to get the afternoon ferry back. At the pace he's going I reckon he'll be in Roumeli by about 3pm, so bags of time I tell him.....have a swim at Domata!
Another climb and then a dip down through a ravine and back up and around the top perimeter of a short headland, you then walk over the edge onto a short 30 degree path running down a cliff face, with a long long drop below you, and turn sharp left onto what is the most discussed and feared part of the trail. This would once have been a continuation of the path down the cliff face, but landslides have wiped it out and it is now a foot wide crumbly, gritty, multi-faceted sloping tiptoe across the face of the slide, with a fatal drop below. I dug in the hiking pole and tackled this much as I recall doing so at the birth of our daughter, by caesarian, holding my wife's hand and, with a thousand yard stare, looking but not seeing. So inching across the slippery surface, denying the drop below until I was across and able to breath again. Looking back at it, it seems to me it'd be an easier go heading east, as it'd be uphill, so less chance of slipping....
I can't say the trail onwards from here is particularly confidence inspiring either, that may have been the 'worst' point, but there's not much in it in my opinion. Actually, possibly over-confident now I had passed the heavily discussed traverse, (a quote from the website "Meine persönliche Horror-Stelle auf dem Weg"), I had a couple of slips nearly resulting in, at best, a tumble down steep boulder screes...surely ending my trip, if not worse. You can bet I had a sharp word with myself over that! Shortly afterwards you pass a pine with a branch like an arm over the trail, and an E4 diamond nailed to it. I'd been reading up about a freshwater source that emanates very close to, if not actually in the sea waterline, somewhere below this point. Stelios had pooh-poohed this, saying that the water was pretty much salt....but I was prepared to reserve judgement, until I saw the tangled mess of rocks, branches and boulders I'd need to climb down to try to find this source. My water reserves were now about 4 litres so I felt pretty confident that I didn't need to put myself through it to find this hidden el dorado, and by now I was keen to get to Sedona beach and have a swim....so I pushed on.
The trail reaches a more solid basis of a plateau above a bluff rather than the effectively scree track on former cliffs, and is quite pleasantly pastoral, if only for goats. A lovely lookout with a single maritime pine tree casting a dappled shade over likely the only bit of flat and relatively stone free ground on the whole route was a pleasant place to stop and take in the beauty and tranquility.... and have a smoke. Moving on, the trail drops over the edge of the bluff which is a minor bit of climbing, the piled rocks by hikers helping even if a bit wobbly, and then a short stretch along the cliff face until the trail reaches a bulldozed track at Sedona beach. There is a small landing stage the track runs to but I can't see it would ever be possible to offload a vehicle here, so perhaps the beach itself is used on rare occasions. There are several beehives near to the landing stage end and at the other end of the beach are a couple of small buildings and many many more beehives. Despite this, the beach is insect free, and, as you'd expect 10kms from anywhere, completely deserted. The sun was pretty much overhead now and I could only squeeze a foot or so of shade from a boulder, but the beach is comfortable and I hit the much subdued sea for a cool off. Through my ageing eyesight, I occasionally looked to see if there was any movement up the beach at the buildings & hives or from the trail from Sougia beyond but can't quite get it into enough focus. Sedona is fantastic, crystal water, small shingle that is ok underfoot, artistically placed bloody great boulders on the beach and in the sea, and on my day, hot sunshine and a gentle breeze. If you ignore the bulldozed track high up behind it, it's like the bounty advert they should have made, albeit lacking a tanned temptress. When I do finally make tracks and walk along the beach, there is, as expected, absolutely no-one, and I pass the buildings and head into the maze of water carved rocks that the trail takes to round the point of Cape Tripiti. It's quite easy to lose your way here and a couple of times I reach only passable by getting wet bits and have to backtrack to find the right way. When you reach the cave that is used as a goat pen, this passes right under the point and you can use this to emerge into the gorge, but as a purist I persevered with the last bit of rocks and came out at the landing stage, used by the boat trips from Sougia to land people here so they can walk back to Sougia, or vice versa. The mouth of the gorge has the Church of Panagia Tripiti, built into and using a part of the goat cave. A small, slightly run down one room house,.. another, small, tall and thin, built of stone into a crevice/cave in the cliff face, like a hermits dwelling, and a fairly newly built, quite swish looking 'condo', trapped behind a wire fence. No one here, and quite who wants these places in this amount of isolation I don't know. Certainly the newer one would be far more than the average shepherd would need/want? I've seen the 'mitato's' in the hills, this is a palace by comparison.
In the mouth of the small bay, is an enormous, mansion sized boulder, seemingly precariously balanced on pebbles and rocks, and I took shelter from the sun here and had a bash at the water, now down to 3 ltrs, maybe less. A couple appeared from up the gorge, young, mid-late twenties, she in full cover, long trousers, big hat and using a couple of sticks as hiking poles. They both have modest backpacks and make as if to go through the goat cave under the point. Spotting me , they changed tack and came over. "Good Morning" I say, raising the water in a cheers/hello motion. The guy speaks, they are americans.... "Is this Domata?" he asks. Now this is slightly worrying, to be this vague as to your whereabouts out here.... "No, It's Tripiti, Domata is 2 or 3 hours away." He turns to his...girlfriend?, "Looks like we're not making as good time as we thought".... and to me "Thanks, good intel" ..... CIA Rambling Section? I ask what their plans are and it's to make Agia Roumeli that day. I suggest that they have 7-8 hours ahead of them without much in the way of stopping and that they might want to think about maybe just spending a bit of time on Sedoni and then call a taxiboat from Sougia. This is because the girl looks like she's ready to call it a day, is complaining about the steepness and slipperyness of the trail, and despite her coverings, her fair skin is getting sunburnt. The guy is adamant however, so there's not much I can do...... I guess they made it, or maybe took my advice? I didn't hear anything afterwards about any drama's, but I bet the girlfriends not speaking to him at a minimum.
Heading up the gorge to the climb up to Profitas Elias, I am surprised the trail markings are so vague, now we're bac k in more frequented parts, the odd cairn being largely the only guide. Up a steep scree slope there is an E4 marker pole so I knew I was on the right track, but this scree climb is very tough, probably as bad as the climb out of Roumeli for effort, if shorter and a little less nervewracking. Nearer the top there are a multitude of zigzag paths and you can largely chose whichever as they all get up to the top eventually, where you arrive at the saddle by the ruined turkish fort. The path up to Profitas Elias chapel runs south from here up along the ridge, bypassing the fort, and for me took a special effort of will to continue the climb after the relief of reaching the saddle. I'm a little in surfeit of spectacular views from high vantage points, but this is one of the best, especially with Sougia now in the distance. Resisting the 'bell ringing' ritual, as I've heard it is frowned upon, I gazed westwards.... My usual optimism/poor judgement subconciously told me it can't be more than 3 hours from here.....ok, we'll see....
The track down from the saddle is rougher than I'd expected, like many have been. Too steep to be a comfortable walk down and too indistinct and rocky to let gravity have it's head. As it levelled out, and you round a particularly attractive wooded spur, you are looking at the enormous oleander bush which signals the only water source of any note on the trail, Pikilassos. This is generally known as the 'dripping' water source as it's likely that only after heavy rains/snowmelt would it be much more than a trickle. There is a plastic pipe inserted into the source, and a steel trough below this, which pipes down the ravine it's at the head of to....more about that in a moment. I was at about 2 1/2 ltrs at this point and could do with a top up really. The dripping source was only just that; I stuck a bottle onto the pipe and found some shade to wait in. After 15 mins or so, I had an inch of water.... a full bottle would have been a couple of hours. I assume the exceptionally mild winter, so lack of snow, had caused this premature 'dry up' of this source. I could have filtered some water from the slightly scummy, wasp festooned trough, but decided I could get by, so added this inch to the 1/2ltr and chucked in a berroca orange fizzy vitamin tablet.
Down past the oleander you bump a way further through the ravine and then.,....lose the trail and get lost. I headed along the progressively rougher ravine, ending up at a rock ourcrop above the ocean, with a shepherds, or more goatherds hut behind an empty wire pen, where the pipe from the water trough led to. I'd realised by now I'd gone wrong, but had a nosy round the crated bottles on the porch, all empty, and admired the flayed goatskin hung over a post and buzzing with flies....do they clean the flesh off? Suddenly coming over a bit 'Deliverance', I headed quickly back up the ravine and worked out where I'd cocked up, a minor climb up the ravine wall and I'm back on track, a bit hot and breathless, so the berroca'd concoction went down.
Somehow I was thinking that was nearly it...., at a fork I stayed right, higher on the hillside and shortly saw Agios Antonios chapel out on a small headland, where the left fork would have led to. There had been an initial plan about having a further night out, camping here at Agios Antonios, but my water supply wouldn't have stretched to it, and there's no beach to lounge about on.... In the distance I looked at a high headland and wondered how the path went round it. Short answer is, it doesn't. What happens is you come down into the Keratides gorge and then head north up it for some distance, finally reaching an old, not bad nick, kalderimi that zig zags you south again up the west wall and over the top. This quite a blow when you're tired, and chewed through another litre of water....down to 1.
I have trouble recalling this last stretch, which is still perhaps an hour from Sougia. Given I can recall pretty much all my journey up to here, it's a little concerning..... a bit like sometimes when you arrive somewhere in a car and can't remember any details of driving....or is that just me? I'm mostly aware that as I joined the road on the top of the last crest and a hundred metres later, saw Sougia below, I drank deeply of my remaining...1/2 litre?, and was grateful to be there. I'll have to walk this bit again, from Sougia, as it's really gone a blank on me..
After some dirt road walking there is supposedly a cut through path down to the dry river bed, not that I could find it in my depleted condition, so I stuck with the road, and grimly walked on until I dropped the backpack beside 'my' table at Lotos cafe on the seafront. The angelic form of one of Lotos' waitresses materialised, and took my order for, big bottle of cold water, two limonada and a big bottle of Fix..... "all together?" she queries,...."yes, parak...please", I croaked. She is right, the beer is warmish by the time I have the oomph to deal with it, but I have another for good measure...in an hour I've gone through 3 litres of fluid...my body just returning to hydration. I find Lissos rooms, where I have a reservation, but I'm a night early so Sofia juggles some bookings and finds me a small but perfectly formed single room for my stay. We bond over our shared terrible smoking habit on her lushly planted terrace. Later, slightly lame in a pair of flipflops, I head out in search of fish...what had been in my head for several hours on the trail was a nice plate of small fried fish. At Kyma, the brightly lit terrace was pretty full, and the waiters busy, so my brief loiter there is unnoticed. Next door, at Livikon, I asked about small fish....the board announces mixed fish, dorado etc for two for €31, but I haven't got that sort of appetite. "Yes, no problem...where would you like to sit?" With their rather more subdued lighting on the seafront veranda, it is still pretty busy, and I pick a table at the open front and centre of the taverna proper. My company is the owner, parked on the next table, a large water, large raki, and cigarettes in front of him. I am offered marides or sardines.... I ask for a bit of each, and a small salad, one man size....the waiter sends an enquiring look to the owner, who nods assent. I also ask for some fried potatoes, and a beer. The one man salad is still huge, the fries from some collossal potatoes, and the fish is enough for at least two. Knuckling down we discuss the best ouzo option, and agree on Plomari....a karafaki and an ice bucket. A long time later, I admit defeat, there still being enough left for a decent meal... After a fair interval, during which the owner and I send smoke signals, and chat with difficulty, a small dessert of honey soaked cake and... "would you like raki?", err... "yes please". I have a feeling it's a bit gauche to have both ouzo and raki in the same sitting, but after what I've been through.... Soon, exhaustion...or something, crept over me, so I paid the €22 bill and headed home.
And that's about it really, the next day I blew on sleeping late, lounging about on the beach and in tavernas and the Raki bar late on.... and the following day I took a walk to revisit to ancient Lissos, and had a pleasant 2 or 3 hours wandering around there and swimming.
Despite my longer time there this year, I still felt I'd rushed things,.... I think I'll have to plan something with a bit of a 'less is more' feel about it. However, I have at least got the AR-Sougia E4 hoodoo out of my system. You need a lot of research on this to make sure you're going to be comfortable with it, that you 'know' the route. It's no ramble, but a fairly punishing physical and mental test, and once you're 'in', there's no easy out. My new friends at Livikon told me of a number of rescues that have had to be made from this stretch, not something they're particularly geared up to do, usually involving local firefighters, shepherds who know it well, and boats such as those owned by Capt. George. So they won't thank you if you're a fool. Cretan philosophy, as much as filoxenia is embraced, is also about live and let live, if you want to do it, do it, your choice, but not their responsibility.
As before, I had great time, good food and hospitality, breathtaking (literally) walking, some good laughs, and a suntan that's peeling as I write. According to a web mappy distance thing I found, I've done about 75kms and 6000 odd metres of up, so therefore also down... that's like Kilimanjaro... I must be fitter. I'm just having a problem re-acclimatising to work and the joys of family. My apologies for the inane waffling, I like to write it all down as it helps me to remember/re-live it...although I had a go with some photo's this year.... no prizes there I guess....but if I work out how to upload/link them I'll let you know.
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