The beginning was bad, the middle was better, and the end was great.
The only way to see the whole of the Samaria Gorge in Crete is on foot. One of our travel goals for many years was to walk through this gorge, the longest in Europe. It is also interesting for the variety of vegetation types along its length, because of the change in altitude as one descends from the high valley to the sea. On our second visit to Crete one July we decided to do it. My husband and I bought the tickets for one of the excursions, which leave from the city of Hania on the northwest coast.
I am very excited about this trip, but also a little concerned as it’s a full day and I hadn’t previously walked that far in one day. Physically it could be a challenge for the unfit. We have to leave very early and go by bus to the trailhead, then walk 16 km through the gorge, and catch a boat to the bus to bring us back to Hania. But, we are prepared with good shoes, a hat, and a day backpack with plenty of bottled water.
In the middle of the night before, I begin to feel extremely ill, with stomach cramps, headache, and many visits to the bathroom. In the morning I’m tired, drained and still running to the bathroom. Obviously something in the dinner the night before is affecting me.
What to do? I still want to see the gorge and this is our only opportunity this trip. But can I do it? I waver a while, tempted to stay in my bed, but take some immodium tablets and add some spare clothes to the backpack. This is not a good start to our adventure.
The bus leaves at 6am for Omalos, the village in the Omalos Valley at the head of the Samaria Gorge. I’m concentrating so hard on not needing to go to the bathroom that it’s hard to appreciate the dawn beauty of the countryside. It’s a strange high valley, so the bus makes quite a zig-zag trek to get up there, through pastures with herds of sheep and goats and some potato fields.
The bus stops at the Tourist Lodge at the trailhead. This is my last chance to turn back. The immodium seems to be working, though it’s making me light-headed with a pounding headache. I take two Tylenol tablets and say to my husband, “Let’s do it”. He carries the backpack, so all I have to do is walk.
July is peak season and there are many people wanting to do this walk. Many are older than I, many look less prepared, some don’t have proper footwear. But I feel really miserable.
The walk through the gorge is 16km long, and the first part is very slow. We begin by going carefully down the wooden “stairs” (wooden and stone steps and ramps), which get us off the valley onto the side of the gorge. The rocky path then zig-zags steeply down. None of the walk is particularly flat or easy, but there are definitely a few better parts where the path is fairly flat and meanders along. Mostly it is very rocky and the rocks are worn shiny slippery, so it’s easy to lose your footing, especially if you’re tired.
It takes a while to actually get down to the river bed and then the walk continually crosses and re-crosses the rocky river, which doesn’t have much water now, but can be a torrent in the spring. The day is hot and sunny but there’s plenty of shade, and it’s very dusty especially with all those feet pounding the path.
We pass the deserted village of Samaria, which was evacuated to make the Samaria Park, and the little chapel, Agios Nikolaus. It’s a good place for a quick break and I stretch out gratefully on the grass with a wet hankie on my face.
The gorge proper only begins about half-way down, and later we reach the Sidheresportes (Iron Gates) where the rock walls are so close it’s like passing through huge gates. I begin to feel a little better, to relax, to look around me. I’m here, walking this famous gorge. Soaring mountains, pine trees, and cicadas chirping, slowly become stronger images in my mind than the need to control my stomach. I look around and begin to enjoy the sheer rock faces and amazing rock formations rather than just concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. We turn around and look back up along the gorge, a spectacular sight, impressive in its size.
At the end of the park is old Ayia Roumeli village, which was also moved to make the park. The new Ayia Roumeli is on the southwest coast, where people catch the boats back to the next town along the coast, where the buses wait. The last few kilometers from the old village are extremely hot and dusty, and we begin to have visions of a beer and a shower. We arrive at the end of the trail, a little footsore, flushed with heat and achievement.
“I did it, I did it” is the refrain in my head. We walked almost six hours. We sink down into a chair in a shady taverna with a glass of lemonade, feet up, the moment so perfect. THIS is what makes travel so worthwhile. If I did it in my condition that day, so can many others, and therefore people should try, and not be limited by fears of failure.
And many others did do it that day, hobbling, sunburnt, some cut because they’d fallen, but they came, and we heard so many comments about a sense of accomplishment. I’m glad I didn’t stay in my bed and my discomfort today was far outweighed by the stunning scenery, and the tiring, dusty, wonderful walk.
(this article was previously published in DivineCaroline at
http://www.divinecaroline.com/22244/83627-walking-samaria-gorge–crete )
I did Samaria in 2005 … and pity anyone who chooses to do it the other way, confronted with the ‘ksiloscalo’ at the end.
If it’s too much of an undertaking, Irini and Imbros gorges are nearly as good … and they’re open all year round, and both ends are accessible by road.
Rod and I keep saying that we need to return to Crete, so maybe we’ll try one of those gorges to walk. I remember reading your post cards about that—are they on your blog too?
Yes; there’s an entry about each, and a video as well … and on the way to Imbros, don’t forget to look for the village sign at Krapi!!
They’re at:
Thanks Keith.