Inaugural Tour of Crete

This new addition to the Budget Tours 2000 brochure attracted the regular customers (Steve, Roland, Tony and myself) despite lingering doubts amongst some that anywhere else could match Spain for sunshine, scenery and good scoff at low, low prices.

We left Manchester on a cold wet morning, and arrived in Crete on a warm and sunny afternoon, witnessing the baggage handlers playing that game where they try and see which bike will bounce the highest when it is thrown off the plane onto the tarmac. Remarkably, all the bikes emerged unscathed..., which is more than can be said for Steve's peace of mind he was convinced his bike had been buckled. Such little faith!

Just 5 miles down the road from the airport was Heraklion, where we savoured the sights and sounds of Cretan nightlife, before setting off into them there hills the following day. We quickly left the coastal package holiday territory behind, turning inland and upward to the Lasithiou plateau, enjoying the unfolding views and sunshine from our evermore lofty vantage point. At about 900m above sea level, we reached the pass through the circle of mountains enveloping the plateau, stopping to admire the ancient windmills. The 'real Crete' unfolded as we passed through the plateau's villages and farmland. It seemed to be harvest time for just about evervthing; pick-up trucks laden with potatoes, cauliflower, tomatoes and onions growled up out of the plateau towards the markets, whilst olive, peach, orange, walnut and almond trees offered up windfalls all along the roadside. The older folk just sat and stared from the roadside cafes, all the while swinging their worry beads distractedly, the younger ones and the women engrossed in the manufacture of the local spirit, raki, stomping merrily on the plentiful grape crop.

The Lasithiou Plateau was captivating for its pace of life, and the visits to the caves were also memorable, the Dikti Cave for its interest and legends, the Kronos Androu cave for Georgio, a local guide who seemed intent on dragging me off into the cave - alone!? The others seemed to delight in seeing me struggle to escape?

Next we enjoyed a scenically splendid descent down to Agios Nikolas, progress only slowed where we rode through setting concrete (the road was being reconstructed) and when we had to save Roland from the 'black widow' who was intent on selling him the best olive oil, pears and jam known to man. He got off lightly, parting with money only for a few pears, which on closer inspection, were nothing better than windfalls! With a little direction from the locals, we found a well appointed hotel with balconies and sea views. Down below, lights glinted enticingly from an open air waterside restaurant. Despite Roly's worries about lager louts, we all enjoyed this place, myself and Tony particularly appreciating the all enveloping cushions of the chairs in one waterside bar, and Rolv and Steve watching the girls go by from their classy nighttime haunt nearby. Steve took being told to belt up' a little too literally, slipping 5 shiny new leather ones into his almost too small panniers.

By now, it was apparent that the original route planned was a little optimistic for our feeble bodies, so we cheated and took the bus right along the island to Chania, from where we could explore the more dramatic western end of the island. In Chania. we found some delightful rooms in an old Venetian mansion, complete with a balcony overlooking the picturesque harbour.

Next morning, we set off for Omalos, high in the White Mountains. We had got no further than the harbourside when we bumped into Liz - holidaying with Anne at a little resort some distance away.

Liz looked enviously at the bikes, but sadly their holiday was ending soon, whilst we had another week. By late afternoon we had reached our destination, having climbed all day, stopping only to watch some goats and sheep being fed and to try and make sense of the roadside plaques commemorating past battles. Later we made a brief evening ride to the start of the Samaria Gorge - which was filling with mist as the sun set. That night we all made good use of previously pointless blankets, the temperature reflecting the height that we had climbed up from Chania that day.

Another bright morning and we set off on probably the most scenic ride of the whole trip, following the contours of the mountains at the very highest level, before dropping down for mile after mile, eventually arriving at the small village of Sougia on the south coast.

Despite the temptation to chill on the beach, somehow it was decided to ride to Paleochora the next day. We knew this involved at least a 6 mile climb straight up out of the village, and due to excellent planning, we managed to get this to coincide with the midday sun, and then add a boneshaking off-tarmac descent just for good measure. Little wonder then that the Dutchman with whom we kept crossing paths finally asked 'Just what kind of people are you?'

After a spot of lunch on the seafront and a brief look round the somewhat tired looking resort, we headed back, this time on the tarmac which wound endlessly up behind the coast before enjoying the long descent back into Sougia in the dusk - the longest day's riding so far.

Despite Sougia's charms, we had to move on the next day and enjoyed a splendid day riding the 'coast to coast', taking us over the main mountain range, alongside a dramatic gorge, and finally into the largely shut up resort of Kolimberi on the northern coast. The sea was pounding the rocky coastline and there was a distinct chill in the air - a very unwelcome change from earlier in the day, which set the mood for that evening's proceedings. The next day we set off along the flat coastal strip towards Chania - bar, hotel, restaurant, tat shop, bar, tat shop, tat shop, hotel, bar, restaurant, car hire, tat shop, bar, bar, bar..., and so it went on. We stopped only to seek out Christina, Steve's acquaintance of 15 years ago, but the pace of development in this area had Steve completely fooled.

Somewhat down at heart, we rolled into Chania once more. Only then did Steve pull Christina's long lost phone number from the depths of his wallet, and with the help of the pension owner, who was enjoying immensely her Cilla Black role - Steve finally made contact with Christina. Suffice to say, a return trip to Crete could be on the cards next year.

The following day we had a long, but not difficult ride along the coast to Rethimnon, where from 8am the next morning, we discovered the downside of a hotel right next to the mosque - the wailing must sound tuneful to some. After resetting our watches thanks to a tip about the autumn time change from the receptionist, we soon were back riding up mountains, this time into dirty, littered hillbilly like country where the prospects of a pleasant night's stay were slipping deep into the shadows of imagination. Pick ups with drivers fuelled by an afternoon drinking session screeched round the tight corners all afternoon. Nor was it easy to find somewhere to eat. We settled down at some pavement tables and ordered drinks. Roly's enquiry as to whether they could rustle up an omlette met with very confused looks, not surprising really as a closer inspection of the shadowy interior revealed the place to be a betting shop!

Thankfully we arrived in Anogia unscathed. Nobody spoke English, but following an invitation to ride up front in a pick up, it was apparent that hidden away there was excellent accommodation in this village, which we took full advantage of, as we did the owner's bar, where crudely chopped hunks of sheep were hewn and spit roasted before our very eyes - billy basic, but very tasty, and possibly the real Crete - Roland certainly thought so.

Well, that was about it - or so we thought. Just a gentle ride down to Heraklion, a bit of last minute shopping and then up to the airport for our 5am check in. Only there was no return flight - the company had gone bust days before, and the clocks had never really gone forward as we had been told! Roly was so tired he actually thought it was the airport clocks that were wrong!

The following morning we managed to find a travel agent downtown who advised us that the rescue plane was coming for all us stranded holidaymakers that night - giving us the opportunity to do a bit of last minute shopping (again), somewhat curtailed by everyone's need to spend the afternoon kipping in a 3* hotel.

Once again, a fun filled and eventful holiday, with good company and many happy memories. All in for £500. Can you ask for more?

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	Swaledale Outdoor Club

Inaugural Tour of Crete

Valerie