Monday, 26 June 2017

Dead in Gorge....

.... I mean, In Dead's Gorge 😊.

From Agios Nikolaos we drove east to Mochlos, then Sitia and over the mountain to the sea at Kato Zakros.  We stayed for three days in a stone cottage right beside the beautiful beach, the archaeological excavations of the Minoan Palace of Zakros, and The Gorge of the Dead (or Dead's Gorge as it is also named).  Not a bad location at all!

Gorge of the Dead sounds quite ominous until we discover that it is so named because the Minoans buried their dead in the caves of the gorge.

Zakros is actually two villages literally divided by the gorge;  Ano Zakros at the top of the mountain and Kato Zakros down on the beach.

On the first morning we were up early and walked to the beach where we had arranged for Manolis, the friendly taxi driver from Ano Zakros, to collect us and drive us up the mountain to the head of the gorge.  Manolis pointed us in the right direction and waved us off wishing us 'good walking in the Deads'.

Through the start of the gorge we walked down hill, it's quite steep and we scramble over rocks, all the time picking our way by finding the rocks blazed with a red lick of paint.
Red dots show us the way .....

It's green and forested, there's trickling water, a small stream to rock-hop across, goats with tinkling bells, and masses and masses of aromatic wild herbs.  It's stunning, the sights and smells.

Part of Dead's Gorge walk is along the E4, the European long distance path that begins in Portugal, travels through Spain, France, Switzerland, Germany, Austria, Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria, Greece, (including Crete) and ends in Cyprus.

As we descend lower into the gorge it becomes more rocky, less green.  Before long we see the sheer orange faces of the gorge walls and we begin to walk along the floor of the gorge.  More stunning-ness.

If you ever want to feel like you're alone on this planet, a walk along the floor of Dead's Gorge will do that.

Even though we left early, after two hours walking the sun is getting higher and it's hot.  We stop from time to time, drink water, take pictures, cooo-eee, and marvel.  In just under three hours we emerge from the Gorge and it's a right turn to our stone cottage.  We haven't passed a single other hiker.  For those hours the gorge was ours to share with the goats.  We do not turn right, instead we turn left and walk an extra 800m to Kato Zakros beach.  There's a little change hut beside the beach, we change into our swimmers and dive into the beautiful cool water.  It's the most delicious and rewarding swim after our morning hike.

The beach has a row of five tavernas serving very good local food, fish and coffee.  They are all good though we like Tavena Glaros best.  Vegetables are grown in their own garden out the back.  Coffee is served with a slice of courgette cake, and as is usual in Greece and the Aegean each tavernas has a few sunbeds and umbrellas directly in front.  We made good use of them over our days in Kato Zakros.  It was utterly gorge-ous.

Mochlos village, on the way to Kato Zakros.

The bougainvillea series continues.

Up over the mountain looking back at Mochlos.
Tiny Mochlos island has excavated remains of a
Minoan settlement. 

This way 

We walked a small section of the E4.

Following the leader.... and the red dots into Dead's Gorge.

This massive oak - we could hardly distinguish what was rock and what was tree.

Finding those dots.

Descending into the Gorge.

Taking a breather.

Sheer walls are dotted with caves that served the Minoans as burial caves.

See the path?  Sort of.  The smell was beautiful. And the silence.

Orange walls

Collecting wild figs along the way.


Taverna Glaros on Kato Zakros beach.

Our lovely stone cottage.

The archaelogical excavations of the Minoan Palace of Zakros.

Rambling through the excavations.  

This staircase is about 2,500 years old.

Tiny Kato Zakros, the picturesque bay and the imposing hills around.


Fun Fact:   Crete is closer to Africa than it is to Athens.  North Africa is just across the Libyan Sea. In spring the wind - the sirocco - comes blowing all the way from the Sahara.


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