Something Amiss

I was supposed the leave the Island of Gavdos today but he seas are crazy! A strong wind kicked up yesterday and just kept getting stronger. The calm waters of Faros beach have turned mean with fairly large waves, strong currents, and a hard shore break. The horizon is full of whitecaps. It’s definitely not swimming friendly at the moment and the two ferries that would normally run today were canceled. Oh well, not a problem really. I’m not on a strict schedule. I was warned that this could happen.

Yesterday I didn’t do much aside of find a good coffee and finally meet Lily. I’ve run into Zoey a few times and it was while getting a coffee that I saw Zoey again. She was able to talk with a local woman who told me exactly where Lily lives. So, after coffee I went and met Lily. We visited for about an hour. She’s a character. I’ll leave it at that.

Flying solo, keeping a distance, and to myself has it’s pluses. It’s kept me out of trouble. Knock on wood, I’m pretty good at that. Also, never being into a party scene while traveling helps as well. Things are not always what they appear on the surface and the facade of a friendly face in a tourist destination can be just that. A facade. The gut doesn’t lie and for most the most part I follow it well unless I second guess. As long as I don’t get in the way of myself I make good decisions. Again, knock on wood.

Generally I travel more or less as an observer. I don’t get much involved with anyone and when I do it’s usually an individual, similar to me, who is also traveling. I might wind up splitting the cost of a rental, tour, or something of the sort. For the most part I check out local sites, historic areas, and focus on the natural beauty while keeping to myself.

Greece, although a paradise of sorts may not be all that it seems when it comes to it’s people. Unfortunately, the flip side of paradise can anything but. Initially Greeks come across as friendly and for the most part honest. I’ll assume most are. However, a foreigner and their money will always be welcomed but I tend to think it’s mainly about the money. A seemingly sincere persona may just be a front. Tourists come and go and playing a role is part of the game in making money. I get it.

As a tourist it’s fun to let ones guard down a little and assume all is well. Maybe it is but Greece, although safe if not very safe for the most part, does give me a slight pause. Although, I feel good vibes on Gavdos, while focusing on natural beauty, hiking, and a swim in the sea something seems amiss. I feel a hesitation of sorts and I really don’t connect with the people.

Although all is well I’ll be ready to leave the island and don’t see myself returning. There are many more islands to visit and every island has it’s unique character and characters. Regardless, I will have enjoyed my time on Gavdos but a week is enough. However, with that being said, the typical tourist will tell you Gavdos is Paradise. I’m just not so sure.

On The Island

The sun and heat kind of got to me today while hiking a loop in the hills that passed by several small Greek Orthodox Chapels and the remains of a couple of ancient abandoned villages. At one time in history Gavdos had a population of nearly 8,000. Now it has a permanent population of around 50 with a peak summer number of around 3,000. All over the island there is evidence of where people once lived. There are lots of overgrown terraced plots, fallen down stone structures, and what appear to be man made cisterns constructed like small holding ponds. Goats are common and I can’t tell if they are tended to or feral. Probably both.

The winds shifted and the beach where I’m staying was calmer today than the last two days. The water was divine as I found myself hopping in and out once I returned from the walk. I really like where I’m staying and having had a good look all over the island I definitely lucked out on the right place for me.

After today's hike I decided to have lunch at a rather smart looking hippy cafe near Agios Ioannis beach. On my way there I saw a man who looked half Greek, half African, with slight build and dreadlocks walking along the road. He had a cotton woven day pack slung over his shoulder that was emanating reggae music. Nice friendly tunes mon at the right volume. So, I stopped. It’s kind of a general rule on a small island like Gavdos. You stop for someone on the road.

He asked if I was going to Agios Ioannis beach. I replied with a nod and he hopped in. His dog followed. I didn’t see the dog at first but it was small, not too small, total chill, well behaved, and charismatic. The little rascal hopped right in like he knew what he was doing and got comfortable in the backseat. Not a problem at all.

I asked the man, who seemed roughly my age, where he was from. He told me he was half Greek and half Ethiopian. He said he first came to the island about 20 years ago but has been living full time on the island for about 10 years. He knows Lily and told me what village she lives in. I told him if he saw her to tell her someone from Texas was looking for her. He asked me how long I was on the island for and I told him I planned to leave on Sunday. He said Sunday the sea is supposed to rough so the ferry probably will not run but Monday will be ok.

I had lunch at the smart seaside hippy cafe. They were doing a good business. A table of Greek guys about my age, all thin and sporting a rasta look with a lot of gray in their beards, sat around a table while the cafe played nice reggae beats at the perfect volume. The guy who I had given a ride to sat with them. They looked like the tanned and seasoned old guard of the end of the road. It’s a very different vibe at Agios Ioannis than Korfos beach where I’m staying but I get it. The spinach lasagna I ordered was excellent by the way.

After lunch I figured I should go down to the ferry dock and make a reservation for Sunday. A ferry was just coming in and the only time the ticket office is open is right around ferry time. The woman at the booth confirmed that I may not be able to get out on Sunday but Monday should be ok. I made a reservation for both days. While doing so I got boxed in by the traffic so I just sat and watched.

Well, with July around the corner today’s ferry was pretty loaded. Completely different from the one I arrived on just a few days ago. The vehicle hold was full. One car drove off with bed, chairs, etc all roped atop the roof. A German couple approached me asking if I knew about the island and showed me their printed booking info from booking.com. I told them I knew where their place is and that someone should pick them up. We scanned the small congested dock area and spotted a vehicle with their accommodation name. It kind of made me feel like a local for a moment but really I think I simply looked like an English speaking tourist more than anything.

But really, Gavdos is almost exclusively Greek. You can get around fine with simple basic English but all I hear is Greek being spoken outside of some Germans here and there speaking a little English and a few Italians speaking Italian. It’s kind of funny. Last week I met a small group of Italians and actually pulled off a little easy conversation by blending the few Italian words I know with a little Spanish. The two languages are very similar.

So, I called George today, the rental car guy, and told him I’m going to need the car a little longer. He sounded happy to hear from me, as we exchanged words and laughs, more or less understanding mostly what each other was saying.

Tomorrow I think I’ll take it a little easier…..

Gavdos Update

I’ve quickly settled into a routine on Gavdos. I start the day about mid morning and hike for 3 or 4 hours then go for a swim. I haven’t seen a single cloud on the island since I arrived. Just hot blue sunny skies. With the heat and sun I walk slow and take my time traversing a valley or ridge down to one of a number of beaches only reachable by foot or boat.

Yesterday I discovered the area where most people go to camp by the beach. Tents compete for shade amidst small cedar and juniper trees. This is also a variety of clever structures assembled out of driftwood, rocks, and whatever may have washed up on shore. A community of more or less beach hippies in the buff assemble for the summer to enjoy mellow good times. Not really my scene but I get the appeal.

As I’ve gotten older my travel interests have evolved. As a young lad I was more inclined to run off from one place then another, filling my time with as much variety as possible. Now when I find a place I like, and I feel as though there’s enough to keep my interest for awhile, I stay. I initially planned on four nights on Gavdos but now I don’t see any real reason not to stay six. I know I can get in a couple of more hikes.

Lily has proven to be a bit of a mystery. Whenever I ask locals about her they say they know her but that’s about as far as I get. Not sure what the deal is but no one is interested whatsoever in helping me get in contact with her. I get the impression it might be a privacy thing. Who's this stranger asking about Lily? Also, the island is almost entirely Greek, locals and tourists. Basic English is fine for getting around but easy conversation is hard to find. Not being able to converse easily and candidly imposes limitations. At this point it might be best just to let it be. I really don’t know anything about Lily or her role in the community. Probably best to just let it ride. However, I do think I know what village she lives in and that she drives a blue van.

With that said I must confess that I really don’t feel a connection with the local people. As I just said language issues are limiting. However, I really do like how the Island feels. It does have a nice vibe. Sometimes I like visiting the end of a road for awhile but I couldn’t see myself living in a small and isolated place such as Gavdos. I prefer the variety afforded by living in a city and an element of anonymity that can be preserved by being lost in a crowd.

Although Gavdos is a paradise of sorts not all is perfect here. Last night a fly flew in my beer. A bottled beer. And it could not be extracted. The bed in my accommodation is not very good. The mini fridge does not work. The island coffee leaves a lot to be desired. I ordered a cappuccino and got a bitter shot of espresso with cold whipped cream on top. And, last night’s sunset was obscured by some sort of haze. African dust?

As far as the rental car goes it’s working out fine but the 20 Euro a day is starting to add up. Right before I left Paleochora the Welshman, whose phone I borrowed, said the rental car guy, George, called him the next day wondering where I was. The Welshman told George what I had already told George the day before. The Welshman said George wasn’t worked up or anything and was easy with whatever I was doing. Their conversation ended with laughs. I think he just wanted a firm date on when the car would be back so he could make if available for booking. I’ll need to contact George tomorrow. I’m going to need a little more time.

Gavdos Goat Dinner

The only way to get to the actual southernmost point of Europe is to either hike around 3 miles or hire a boat to take you to a nearby beach to shorten the hike. When you get to the actual end point there is a Jolly Green Giant sized chair to take a break on. I hiked the 3+ miles to sit on the chair and extended the walk with a nice loop up over a plateau to Kastri then down a canyon back to where I’m staying at Korfos beach. As usual I finished the walk with a swim in sea. It was perfectly flat calm yesterday but now some small swells are coming in with modest waves. The wind has changed direction.

I didn’t hardly see anyone on the hike but I did meet a group of six women who appeared to be around my age. However, I’d been in the sun for awhile at this point. They were taking a break in a nice shady spot with a table and bench. They asked if I wanted to sit down with them. I had sense enough to stop.

They were all fit and healthy looking. One in particular, with short cropped hair, appeared to be a leader or guide. All are from Germany except for one who is French Swiss. They asked where I was from and how I wound up on Gavdos. I told them my story in a way that got them laughing. I also told them that I thought Gavdos had a good vibe. The leader looking lady acknowledged what I said in a way that made me think they might be on a spiritual yet not religious sort of journey. New age perhaps? I kind of know the type. Anyway, after chatting a bit they got up and continued on. Of course I was going the other direction and didn’t ask where they were staying or anything like that. Regardless, it was nice to run into them and perhaps I’ll run into them again.

The heat, the swim, and the sun had me napping by late afternoon but I rallied and the drove a short distance to another beach village to get something to eat. I ordered goat in red sauce with potatoes and could picture it in my mind. I wanted to try something authentic and local. Well, a more accurate description would have been goat meat scraps on the bone cooked in a thick oil with some kind of red tomato sauce in the mix. The potatoes were french fries. The taste, although foreign, was not bad but it was work digging out pieces of actual meat while avoiding fat, bone, sinew, and what appeared to be a tiny piece of fur. The bread served with the meal was stale. Oh well, I made the most of it but thought the 9 euro’s I paid was a bit high.

Eating abroad can sometimes be an adventure. I enjoy a nice fine meal like anyone but tend to eat pretty plain, simple, and relatively healthy while at home. Sometimes when I travel and I’m not sure what to order I ask for what dishes are the most popular. Usually two or three suggestions are made and I choose from those. A few years ago while traveling Mongolia, with 3 other people, we simply ordered the same thing our Mongolian driver ordered. The meat in Mongolia was wild and gamy but really good. Anyway, back to Greece.

All in all I’m not a big foodie so I generally discover a couple of popular regional dishes and stick to those. If I’m having dinner with a group of people I’ll be far more adventurous. In Greece I’m a big fan of Mousakka. It’s similar to lasagna but made with potato, instead of pasta, and layered with eggplant and minced meat. Can’t go wrong with that. I’ve had several thus far and they have all been good. An important thing to keep in mind while traveling Greece is that the salads can be enormous. I always order a half when ordering salad and it’s usually still huge.

Naturally Greece is a good place for fish but I haven’t had good luck with fish as of yet. What’s up with all the bones? I really don’t like bony fish. I guess I just haven’t figured out the seafood yet. I’m not a big seafood guy anyway.

As far as Lily goes I have not yet met her. This small island is starting to feel big for some reason.

Gavdos

After 6 nights in Paleochora it was time to move on. I packed my things and put them in the boot of my well loved rental Fiat Seicento 5 and drove down the street to meet the ferry. The ferry was in the process of positioning itself just the right way in order to let down the front loading ramp on the end of a cement dock. Somehow it managed to stay perfectly in place without being tied down for loading. Damn good ferry driver.

The first vehicles were dropping stuff off, allowed on, and left quickly. The rest of us, five cars, were then directed on one by one in order to have enough room to do a 180 so we could back closely by the vegetables and so forth.

We followed the coast of Crete in order to make a couple of quick village stops along the way where most people got off. After the second stop we headed south the to Island of Gavdos. The southernmost point in Europe.

My time Paleochora was good. For the last day I took a ferry to Sougia and walked a 10 mile section of the E4 trail, that follows along the coast, back to Paleochora. It was a hot but stunningly beautiful hike. I didn’t see many people but halfway I met a fit looking Finnish couple with their 4 ½ year old daughter who really impressed me as a hiker. Crete trails are rugged and the temperature high this time of year but the girl seemed like she was actually enjoying it. I chatted with the mother and complimented the parents and daughter.

I had never even heard of Gavdos until Debbie mentioned it a couple of weeks ago when I was in England. Her friend Mark showed up while I was visiting Debbie and told me all about Gavdos. He had spent a lot of time there and helped a French woman by the name of Lily by a place on the Island.

When I got off the ferry in Gavdos I went into the local shop and asked a man for a map and if he knew a French woman named Lily. His reply was, “Yes, but I don’t know where she is”. I then told him I knew one of her friends. He replied, with a peculiar expression, “Lily has lots of friends”. Hmm, do I really want to find Lily.

Before leaving the shop the man pointed on the map to what he thought was the best part of the Island so I figured I would go there first to look for a place to stay. I drove up a hill, took a left, drove a little further and dived down a steep hill to lovely gravely beach and small basic hotel with restaurant.

I asked if they had a room and they asked how long. I figured at least 4 nights since the next car ferry wouldn’t be until Friday. It’s Monday. “Yes, we have one”. “How much”, I asked. 25 euro a night. Right next to the sea. “I’ll take it!”. Decisively for a change.

The room still needed to be cleaned so I drove around the Island to have a look see. I was happy to discover the place I’d chosen was really where I wanted to be. Gavdos, if you know about it, is kind of a secret happy place for hippies, alternative types and backpackers in the know. It’s an end of the road sort of place. Nothing commercial whatsoever and they’ve only had electricity for about 10 years. All of the beaches are clothing optional. A note to nudist in general, trust me, you look better with a swimsuit on. Personally, I prefer wearing shorts for swimming. I’m kind of conservative that way. Not to mention I have been stung by a thing or two in the sea and nibbled on by a fish on occasion. Don’t want that happening in the wrong place.

In the evening I sat down for beer and a local dish of chicken cooked in some kind of olive oil sauce with okra and potatoes. While I was eating a woman with modern art looking tattoos sat at the table next to me. Eventually I got around to talking to her.

Zoey, who I assume is Greek, arrived on the island yesterday. She’s camped out on the Island for a month. It’s a magical place for her and she says it probably will be for me. She’s spent time on the Island before and I asked if she knew a French woman by the name of Lily. Her expression paused for a moment before replying, “Yes!”. “I can see her face in my mind but I am not sure where she is.” “I think she’s crazy, but in a good way!”

I then told her my story and she seemed pretty into the idea of helping me find her. I told her if she ran into Lily tell her an American is looking for her. Again, I am not sure if it’s a good idea or not, but Zoey got a good laugh out my suggestion. So, we shall see what happens. I figure by tomorrow noon the word will be out and by tomorrow evening I will probably have met Lily. As long as she’s on the Island.

So far Gavdos is lovely. Nothing really to do here but relax. No crowds. No stress. Water clear and clean as the sky is blue. There are plenty of trails for walking and virtually no cars on the road because there are hardly any to begin with. There is a bus that runs from one side of the island to the other but it essentially runs when the driver feels like it. Ironically, having a car on this small island is really quite handy and makes things a lot easier. The Scottish woman back in Paleochora definitely recommended it. Good call. I’m just glad I remembered to put gas in the tank. There is no gas station.

Paleochora, Crete - A Good Base

From Elafonissi I drove to Paleochora on the southwest coast of Crete. It’s built on a spit of land that extends from the mountains. Both sides of the village have a beach. On side is big boulders and the other side is more pebbly. The tip hosts a basic harbor with a very tired looking marina. Paleochora doesn’t appear to be on the list for boaties. Actually, you hardly see any boats around here. Just a few fishermen and a couple of morning and evening ferries.

Paleochora is not a party town, no nightclubs, and is void of international commercialism. Everything is low key and local. However, the town has embraced tourism and is full of family run accommodation and restaurants. It’s authentic and purely Greek. My kind of place.

As usual on these kind of trips I arrived with nowhere to stay. I parked the car on the edge of town and went for a walk. For me the far end east facing area is where I wanted to be. I inquired at a couple of hotels and they were full but I knew there were places available. I was being a little picky

I settled on a ground level sea view apartment for 2 nights at 40 euro a night. The room was just a few steps from a good spot to swim. The woman running the place is from Scotland. She moved to Paleochora after marrying a Greek man. They eventually got divorced but she’s stayed with the family and is managing the two family run hotels. I would have stayed there longer but it was booked out so I had to move.

I found a better place. Just the way I like it. Top floor, on the end, with a balcony sea view. I booked in for 4 nights but feel like I could easily stay 4 weeks. 35 Euro a night. However, I almost wound up somewhere else but left when the woman wanted extra for air conditioning. She had already hoodwinked me into more or less agreeing to pay more than I wanted. Ultimately, I followed my gut and left. For the most part I find Greeks to be pretty straight up and honest but like any tourist based area they can have a hustle.

Paleochora is a good base. A car is nice but with the morning and evening boat ferries along with local buses and special tourist shuttles you can easily do without. I’ve kind of got this area of Crete figured out as far as getting around goes but a car came in really handy for yesterdays hike up Mt Gigilos.

So far I’ve gotten in a couple of good hikes. One morning I took a shuttle to the start of a point to point hike down the famous Samaria Gorge to the village of Agios Nikoloas on the sea. At the end I caught a ferry back home. The walk is very popular and most people start within a 2 hour time frame. I hung back for an hour and did a little side hike before starting in order to avoid a couple of large groups. It’s the kind of outing that attracts a lot of people who don’t really hike much. My later start was a good call for the most part. I took my time and didn’t really catch up to people until halfway down the 16 km way.

The path starts at a pleasantly cool and high mountain valley and immediately drops down into the forest to run along a mountain stream. At about the halfway point you arrive at the small abandoned village of Samaria. Down to that point it’s nice but nothing too special in my opinion. A little ways below the village you enter the actual gorge which is really quite interesting. The rocky walls display many unusual patterns with differing colors in the lay of the rock. The walls appear to overhang somewhat in sections and there are spots where trees have taken root with curved trunks to grow vertically. Signs warn of possible rockfall.

Near the end of the gorge the walls narrow to within a few feet and an elevated wood planked walk keeps walkers above the water as it flows past bathing the walls of the gorge. The last couple of kilometers is a road walk to the village of Agios for food and drink before catching a 5 or 5:30 boat ferry. It was a very nice walk but I caught up to quite a few people in the gorge. I don’t mind meeting a few people on a hike and often times I like seeing a few other hikers but I like to put the accent on “few”. Crowds detract from just about any experience unless your looking for the thrill of a rock concert or something of the sort.

The second hike I did was up and down Mt Gigilos. It followed a section of trail know as the E4 which is a route that traverses Europe. Mt Gigilos was just my style with good honest rugged uphill hiking to a pass and side scramble up to a mountaintop. At 2000 meters the air temp was perfect with a light breeze and clear blue skies. It was nice to see a few hikers but not many. Three Italians, a couple of young Americans, and of course, Germans. Germans really seem to like Crete. As with a lot of other locations in the world.

One added bonus to renting the car is that the drive back from hiking Mt Gigilos was really beautiful. I somehow took a different way home. The winding road, although narrow in spots, was good and offered broad views with no traffic. In the hour and a half return I don’t think I saw more than 10 other vehicles. Well, at least that’s how it seemed.

As with everyday I finish the day with a swim in the Sea. The water here is really nice, clean, and very clean. Also, there are garbage cans and people know how to use them.

Before Crete There Was England

England was living up to it’s reputation of being wet, cold, and gray ever since I arrived in London a week ago. Heathrow via the tube to Hammersmith and a short walk deposited me at a Holiday Inn for the night. I checked in early, showered, napped, went for a walk, grabbed a sandwich and turned in early. I was exhausted from not only the flight from Houston but the last three months of non stop work and busyness.

The following morning I hopped back on the Picadilly line at Hammersmith and rode the tube to King’s Cross station. At King’s Cross I sat outside and watched people for about an hour before catching the train to Peterborough. A relatively sorted homeless looking fellow discreetly poured rum into a coffee cup before adding Coca Cola. Off to my right a middle aged gentleman with long tan wool overcoat and dreadlocks spun atop his head like a beehive focused attentively to his phone. A young Asian man smoked a cigarette as he stood with girlfriend and luggage. As time neared to catch my train a tight skirt with purple sweater, high heels, and gawdy makeup passed quickly. A deep voice and thin straight body was a dead giveaway. Odd. A turn of my head and I wondered if the undoubtedly fine looking stylish woman was Russian or Eastern European. She definitely did not look British.

When you enter a train station the first thing you do is go to the monitors to determine what platform your train will be departing from. Oftentimes there is a crowd at the monitors and people move out in waves as platforms are announced. My train was on platform 4, a standard coach with assigned seat. I knew during non peak hours an assigned seat doesn’t really matter so I hopped on an empty standard coach and shared it with just a few others. I like facing forward with a table. That way you get a better view and there’s plenty of room to throw the pack on the seats opposite.

My main reason for an English layover was to catch up with my friend Deb. She arrived at the station in Peterborough to pick me up just as I was about to exit the station. From Peterborough it’s a nice and relatively short drive to the traditional country village of King’s Cliffe. Stone built row houses line narrow lanes in a shallow valley with low rolling hills and a creek running through it. Royalty use to hunt in the area and during WW2 Glenn Miller played his last show at the local airbase before disappearing over the English Channel on his was to entertain troops in France.

Deb’s father lives in a nice old two story stone townhouse while Deb resides in the garden out back. She expanded a shed, below a garage, into a rustic cabin. It’s set at the top of a sloping field. A little down and off to the side she’s positioned two caravan trailers at a 90 degree angle with square wood deck and awning. One trailer is homey and set up well for a guest so that is where I stayed. The other trailer has a portion of a wall removed where it faces the deck. It contains a table with bench seat and is meant to be for hanging out. Vines crawl up to the awning and plenty of vegetation surrounds. It’s all very green. A lot of what has been built is from reused wood and rescued scrap. It’s a pretty well done work in progress. Quite lovely when it’s sunny but a bit wet when it’s raining.

Upon arrival Deb showed me to the caravan, fed me a sandwich, and led me in to see her father who I had hadn’t seen in a few years. It was nice to catch up. We all had dinner together at home before Deb and I went to the local social club for a couple of pints.

The next morning I slept in resuming my need to combat jet lag and got a late start on the day. There’s a nice forest next to village with an assortment of paths and trails which are very good for running. Nothing like a good run to re-set the body clock.

When I returned from my run I noticed Deb helping her 87 year old father get into the car. He drove off alone. I was going to say something but didn’t. I assumed it was ok.

I showered, got myself organized, had breakfast and plinked around with a guitar. Awhile later a couple of older South African ladies showed up who had just had coffee with Deb’s father. We sat out back in the garden as the sun was making a short appearance. Deb’s father should have been back a few minutes after the South Africans arrived but instead Deb got a phone call. There had been an accident.

An economy sized Toyota collided, in the village, with a Mini Cooper painted like a Union Jack. So fitting. Deb’s dad was driving the Toyota. His car, a bit older, was totaled. The Union Jack mini? Not so sure. Deb ran off to the scene of the accident. I stayed at the house with the two ladies from South Africa but they eventually felt the need to visit the crash as well. Deb’s friend Mark had dropped by in the morning. I found him napping in his van and woke him to inform him of the incident. I asked if he thought we should go check it out but he gave me a “no” with a what’s the point sort of look. We hung out at the house all day. Waiting for news.

Her father was thoroughly checked over and released from the hospital at 4 am. Deb woke me around 9 am (jet lag) and said her father was all seized up from the crash and needed help getting upright in his chair.

The next few days consumed Deb with tending to a man of sound mind but body that could barely move. I helped with what I could. Her brother and sister in law arrived on the scene for a reality check with Deb and Dad. Calls were made and arrangements made. Her father was picked up by ambulance and transported to a rehab facility. Deb followed and made sure he was sorted.

With a crash on Thursday and Deb being consumed with issues pertaining to the incident while caring for her father it was time for a three pint night on Monday.

This first was a pint at hotel pub in Nassington. With the weather being consistently wet, cold and filthy, a nice fire was going. Not a bad place but Deb thought we could do better. From there we pressed on to Cross Keys in Lawnsford.

The Cross Keys is a bit like stepping back into what felt like a 70’s or 80’s version of a English pub. It’s a small place with a low roof and a variety of nick nacks etc displayed about. The bar is quite small with ale taps up front and whiskey bottles hung upside down mounted to dispensers on the back wall. A fireplace sits in the middle of room and has been fitted with a stove that was pumping out the right amount of heat. The feel was warm and cozy. The proprietor is an Irish woman who bought the pub in the early 90’s and claimed she hadn’t really updated much but the establishment was well maintained. The atmosphere exuded a nice vibe.

Hidden in the back, past the toilets, is a second room. I had no idea it was there until I heard the sound of around 15 people playing ukuleles and singing in unison. They were covering tunes by Buddy Holly, Gerry and Pacemakers, Beach Boys etc. Mainly 50’s and 60’s stuff. Deb and I sat at the bar talking about life, travel, and nothing in particular. It’s what you do in a pub. We intentionally avoided her village social club as we knew the evening would be spent talking about her father and his crash.

So, for the next few nights Deb and I went to pubs, visited her father during the day, and I got in a couple of runs on some very nice forest trails near her village. But the rain continued. Deb was feeling the need to remodel the house while dad was away. I was feeling the need for sun and sea so I bought a ticket to Island of Crete. That was the basic plan anyway. A stop in England to visit Deb then on to somewhere hot and sunny where I could swim in the sea everyday. It totaled up to 11 days in the UK.

Note: The photo above was taken at the foundation of the airbase hanger where Glenn Miller played his last show.

Greek Car Breakdown

The car was going along fine then just died. Day two with a rental car on the Greek island of Crete. I tried to start the engine again with the key as I coasted downhill. I then threw it into gear and popped the clutch. It still wouldn’t restart. I coasted to the side of the sleepy back road near where the hills, if not mountains, meet the sea and propped the hood open.

The first person to stop was a local. A turn of the key would do nothing but we did get the car started again via the roll down a hill and pop the clutch in gear trick. I remembered a gas station a few kilometers back so I figured it was best to try and make it there. I got about 1km and the car died again at a dip in the road by a creek.

The next person to stop was a German in a beautiful finely engineered Porsche SUV speaking perfect English with a thick accent. At this point I had already deducted it was probably the alternator. The battery was only a year old according to the marked date. A bad alternator means the battery does not charge properly and the plugs don’t get a spark. If I waited a while the battery might shore up enough juice for a restart and get me down the road a short distance before dying again. The German agreed it had to be something electrical.

I borrowed the Germans phone and was able to reach the owner at the rental car agency. He was surprised to hear I had a problem and claimed he hadn’t had any problem with a car in 6 years. I described the issue and although his English is good things seemed to be getting lost in translation. In the end I told him I would get to the service station and call him from there. The German was happy to give me a ride.

“Ah you should just leave the car. What did he tell you? It’s better to rent with an international car company like Hertz. You pay more but you don’t have problems like this”. The German was giving me advice in perfect English with a thick accent. I had to agree with him at the moment. He then went on to tell me he had been to Texas.

Hat’s off to the German in the fine Porsche SUV. He was super nice and helpful and dropped me right at the gas station. He left with a wave and thumbs up.

The station had a shop but no mechanic. Fortunately the woman running the place spoke good English. I told her my problem. She called the owner of the rental car agency, who goes by the name George, and had a very colorful conversation with him. It was all in Greek but I could tell she was really going to bat for me. They were on the phone for awhile. She reminded me of my 100% Neopolitan Italian aunt who knows how to get things done.

When the conversation ended she hung up, without me talking to George, and told me another car was on the way and I needed to meet it at a Taverna (outdoor restaurant) 4 km down the road. I asked where the car was coming from and she said it was coming from Heraklion which was at least 3 hours away. She then quickly flagged down a car with four older German tourists who spoke no English and somehow told them to give me a ride 4km down the road. I got in and honestly they spoke no English. However, I conveyed that I was from Texas and they thought that was real cool because they probably remember the TV show Dallas. After 4km I got out of the car and said “Danka!” they got a kick out of that and responded with a hearty “Bita!”

It was only at that moment that I got a chance to think things through. Will a car really appear here in 3 hours? If so am I going to want to chance another junker? The taverna was very quiet, there wasn’t anything else around, and no one spoke English. I figured 3 hours Greek time would mean 5 to 6 hours American time. The gas station was in a nice a little village so I had more peace of mind with the idea of going back. Especially since the station lady spoke good English and had a phone. I wanted to talk to George personally. So, I stuck out my thumb to hitched 4km back up the road.

My next ride was with a beautiful young farm girl. She signaled that I could hop in the back of the beat up small pickup truck with a few goat bones and no tailgate. She was going to the village. When we arrived she welcomed me and informed me that all the restaurants were good.

I first went back to the station and told the woman I’d rather wait in the village for awhile as I thought it was more interesting than the taverna down the hill. I then asked if I could use the phone to talk to George myself. She said yes and redialed the number for me. George answered right away. I asked for reassurance. He insisted that a car was on the way and that I just needed to relax at the taverna with a coffee. “No problem. I send car. It’s ok”. I then started to ask more questions but things started to get lost in translation so I just figured I would trust him and things would work out. When I got off the phone the lady at the station, who had originally talked to George, said she thought he was a good man and not to worry. I left and had lunch at a restaurant.

Before going back down the road again I called one more time from the station just to get a status report. George called the driver then called right back. There had been a delay but the car was getting closer.

My next hitched ride was with a young German and his Italian girlfriend. They were super cool and I would have liked to have visited longer with them but 4km goes by really fast. All I could do was wait at the taverna.

Well, sure enough about 5 hours later a car showed up. I hopped in with a driver who was a middle aged man who spoke no English. We drove to the dead car on the side of the road. I figured since it had been sitting there for a few hours it might start right up. It did. I pointed to the alternator but I couldn’t communicate my theory. He had an extra battery so I figured he’d at least get part way down the road. He called George for me and George told me to take the replacement car and to have a nice trip. I thanked George, mainly because he had stayed true to his word, and he replied, “No problem, you are welcome, I see you in one or two weeks. Have a good vacation”. A nice added touch was that the gas level was the same.

The breakdown basically ruined the whole day but I had just enough time to make it back to the beach at Elafonissi for a quick swim and spectacular sunset. The replacement car seems better. We’ll see.

Crete Car Rental

“I tell you 140 so it’s 140. It’s no good for me but good for you”. “You keep more than one week it’s 20 euro a day but call me if you keep car longer than week, HA HA HA”! I thought I should read what I was signing. The fine print says if I get I have a tire problem it’s my responsibility and there’s a 300 Euro deductible for damage. However, 20 Euros a day with taxes and insurance included seems like a good deal. He preferred I pay cash. Actually kind of insisted. Most of all my gut was telling me it was ok. We’ll see.

I waited while the rental agency owner made what he insisted was the finest coffee frappe in Greece, Nescafe. About an hour went by and a fully loved Fiat Seicento S was ready for my taking. The first thing I noticed was the rusty seat frame and heavily worn carpet. I had been told the tires were new but I’d say they’re still ok. The body displayed plenty of knicks, scratches, and dings all around. I began to wonder if it was a second cousins nephews car or something of the sort but legitimacy was confirmed by a couple of well faded rental car company decals on doors.

The motorcycle escort out for Heraklion was free. The owner said he was going my direction anyway. The gear box felt loose but still good. The non power steering a little stiff at slow speeds but ok past 10 mph. Brakes good. Since the tank was on empty I was first directed to a gas station. After that the owner escorted me past a few more turns before veering off with a big wave and grand smile. I wasn’t sure if it meant have a good trip or good luck. As usual I am traveling without a cell phone.

So its been about a year since I abandoned the blog. I kept thinking I would do something a little different by switching to another blog site with a better format but work, busyness and life have got in the way as priorities shifted. Also, nothing like losing your father to throw one a little off kilter. I think about dad all the time. But hey, life goes on. It’s been a year and a half.

Last February I spent a month in Tasmania, Australia and pretty much took a month long break from the internet aside of checking emails on occasion. I also only recently returned to social media after a year long hiatus. I honestly didn’t miss it at all but on the flip side I missed a lot. I missed numerous social gatherings etc. People generally don’t send invitations anymore nor call to inform. They just post announcements on social media.

Anyway, the 200 plus kilometer drive in my newly rented Fiat was a smooth one. The manual transmission with low clearance and small body make the vehicle feel like a sports car at 60 kmp. I zipped thru small villages on narrow roads and squeezed by the occasional oncoming bus. All day I navigated perfectly fine with a map and didn't make one wrong turn. My destination was Elafonisi and I was driving like a rally car driver. Within the speed limit of course.

The idea was to get away from the city and hopefully the crowds. Upon arrival at the desired destination it was blazing hot and the beach below Elafonisi was packed. However, I could see beyond the excessively large dusty parking area and people. The desert rocky shores, shallow bays, and clear blue water of the Libyan sea looked pretty good. It was four in the afternoon so I looked for a place to stay.

The beach may be a big attraction but the nearby town is very small and accommodation sparse. Whats available is not cheap. I asked around, stopped at a few places, and inquired at a restaurant. I could only find one available option. A previous booking had just canceled. So, I took it

The owner of the 4 room modestly posh hotel property couldn't be nicer. Genuinely helpful and appreciative. We talked for a bit and he told me how he lost everything during the Greek financial crisis. His entire wealth of half a million Euros went up in a flash. He was fully vested in the market. Today he puts nothing in the market and everything into property. He now owns two hotels. I paid for two nights. 60 euro a night. So far I am not finding the island of Crete to be very cheap but prices are relatively reasonable and generally you get a good value for your money.

I waited for the crowds to clear out before returning to the beach in the evening. As is often the case a little walking took me past the main area to a nice spot for an evening swim. Afterwards I returned to the hotel with a private patio perfectly positioned for a lovely sunset.