We all met up outside the Relax Hotel at 8:30 to take the bus to Omalos, the start of the 16 Km walk down the Samarian Gorge. The trip took us a couple of hours and provided fabulous views down to the Mediterranean or Libyan Sea across this parched and wild landscape.
When we arrived with all our bags Miriam, Jonathan and Marco transferred to their van. Miriam’s job to transport them to our new hotel while we descended through the gorge. We set off slowly as we dropped down steeply on the first part of the journey. In fact for the first section we descended at a rate of two Km per hour. I don’t think I have ever walked that slowly. However the path was extremely rocky and each step downwards had to be carefully negotiated.
I had brought 2 walking sticks to help me with my balance and keep me steady. I feel that I’m lest sturdy on my feet than I was a year ago. Maybe it’s just about suppleness rather than balance, whatever the cause I felt much better off with both sticks.
Because of the difficulty of the terrain it became hard to admire the dramatic landscape in which we found ourselves. I had to stop and actively make a decision to look around. The rest of the time I concentrated on where I would place my next step. At the same time as we worked our way down the steep valley the temperature remained high and we made numerous stops for water breaks.
At one point when we halted for a drink Matt came in behind me and looked completely shattered. He was given water and an energy tablet. There was even talk of him returning back up the hill because we were only 4km into the walk. Anyway he decided to continue the journey downwards with the rest of us.
We arrived at the derelict village of Samaria where we stopped for lunch. Jonathan’s team had provided our picnic lunch, which was very tasty and more than adequate. We proceeded downwards and the terrain eased slightly, not that we speeded up markedly but we did go a little faster.
At one point I turned round to find Matt walking along lopsidedly, leaning over to his left. He said that his back was giving him trouble. He struggled on for a little further, but then Jonathan decided that Matt should take the only other way down that is via a mule. The park rangers provide safety for all the tourists who visit the gorge and the only ways up or down the gorge are by two or four feet.
The mules know the routes automatically and need very little guidance from the handlers. Matt now had a rickety ride down. He looked very perilous perched on his mule.
The further down the valley we descended the faster we travelled. Eventually the national park came to an end. Matt dismounted and walked the few metres to the cafe where Fiona and Marg had planted themselves. Matt and I had a large beer while we waited for the rest of the party to arrive.
We still had a few km to go before arriving at the port where we waited for the water taxi to carry us to Loutro. The port itself reminded me of the film Shirley Valentine where the woman from the north falls in love with a Greek guy and works as a waitress to continue her stay on the island.
What an enchanting view as you pass the headland and see the small village of Loutro nestled along the water’s edge. All in white, the houses and shops shine brightly in the sunshine. These lights contrast with the brown rugged hillside almost devoid of vegetation above and around.
It is such a romantic picture. The only way in and out of Loutro is either by foot or boat. The biggest landowner has fought against the building of a road perhaps to retain the unique nature of the village and perhaps to prevent it expanding.