Traversing Crete

Sat, April 3, 2010
Crete, Greece

Put your pencil to paper. Now draw a line about three inches long with as many tiny little squiggles as you can. See if you can get them to almost make figure eights – not actually crossing each other, but coming so close you can barely discern the space between them. That is what our map looked like today. All those tight little squiggles are hairpin turns going through the mountains that separate the north of Crete from the south of Crete, a distance of fewer than 70 km, but a driving time of about 3 hours.

Wow! Was it beautiful. Several times as we were riding the ridge, we could see the sea on either side of us. To the north is the Cretan Sea; to the south, the Libyan Sea. It is all part of the Mediterranean Sea, which is magnificent. The terrain was steep and rocky and little villages clung to the sides of the hills. Many times we would pass through a village and all that would be there would be a few houses and a church.

The northern part of the island, where we are staying, is the wet side of the island, and is lush with palm trees and citrus groves. The oranges and lemons are in season, so all along the roadside are trees laden with fruit, their windfalls scattered on the ground like bright polka dots.

The southern part of the island is the dry side. The hills there are absolutely covered with olive trees – ancient and gnarled and growing out of rock. We passed olive trees that were so old they may very well have been here when St. Paul was preaching the good news of the gospel. Certainly there were trees that were easily a thousand years old. It seems the only things they grow on that side of the island are olives and goats. Every time we got out of the car to take a photo (many times, believe me), we could hear the goats bleating and the tinkle of their bells, but often they were impossible to spot. They can cling to the most precipitous of cliff faces and they blend right in with their surroundings. Often the only way we were able to locate them was when they began moving. Once the leader starts to move, all the other goats follow behind and they leap from rock to rock with such agility that I just had to marvel. I should be so coordinated!

Our plan was to visit archeological sites along the shoreline, but we never did find them. Instead, we visited the little towns of Sougia and Paleochora, which was a very nice alternative to crawling over old ruins. Both villages are sited on lovely stone beaches. I love those stone beaches! In Paleochora we waded into the water and sat soaking up the sun while our feet dangled in the cool of the Libyan Sea. Pretty nice. I also filled my pockets with interesting and unusual stones, and once again found myself at the end of the day having to pick the best of the lot to come home with me. Now that we’re at the tail end of the journey, collecting stones is a little less of an issue. We only have to haul them around for a few more weeks and then we’ll send them in the checked luggage. But their still heavy and Jeff keeps me honest. There’s no hiding rocks in coat pockets when he’s the one who has to carry the bulk of the luggage.

Speaking of stones… as I sat on the beach contemplating the blue of the water and the surreal fact that I was sitting there, it occurred to me that we had come in search of ancient ruins and, instead, had ended up sitting on stones that were more ancient than time. Perhaps that explains my fascination with rocks. They are the repositories of history. In their layers and cracks and folds and multiple colors lies the history of the world. And the best thing is, you can find them anywhere, even in your own backyard. It’s nice to travel around the world to see what civilization has built (or destroyed), but civilizations rise and fall, dynasties come and go, nations are born and then conquered. Water and rock and wind and sky endure. I like to think that long after I am gone, these stones will still be standing, silent witnesses to what has passed and what is yet to be.