This was a particularly good year, although as a creteaholic all holidays spent on the island are good, however this year was unusual in that while most years I tend to wander off on my own for a few days, in 2008 I found myself for the most part in the the company of 2 bloody Englishmen and a rather naughty Scottish lady.
Day 1
A rather windy Kokkinos Pirgos
It was good start to the holiday
Allan & myself having a beer while
Mick was still snoring in Galini, what more
could you ask for.
17/09/2008
15.04pm
It was good start to the holiday
Allan & myself having a beer while
Mick was still snoring in Galini, what more
could you ask for.
17/09/2008
15.04pm
Galini waves Grey Heron Galini Sunset
Day 2
The first of the bloody Englishmen joined me today, Mick, aka Henry the Navigator. I would like to blame Henry for us getting lost........so I will. We left Galini heading to Gortyn and thanks to you know who and a road diversion due to road works we ended up in Archanes. Not too sure where exactly the windmills pictured here are but the goat that Mick made friends with was in Archanes. Finally get to Gortyn below we have The Gortyn Law code is believed to have been written circa 450 BC and is the oldest known example of ancient Greek law. An unknown Philosopher or Scholar, Roman Amphitheatre. I am pretty sure Henry is bragging about something here but I had switched off hours before this.Church of St. Titus, The first church dedicated to the Saint, who was a disciple of Paul the Apostle, was built here in Gortyn the then capital of the island, this church one is thought to date from the 6th century AD although it was built on the site of an earlier one or perhaps even the original. It was destroyed in or around 828 AD; some blame an earthquake others the Arabs (St. Titus was the first Bishop of Crete and he is the islands patron Saint). Finally proof that snails originated from another planet, here they are climbing as high as possible in the hope the their mother ship will call back for them. Home sweet home in the church of St. Titus. A pleasant sunset in Kokkinos Pirgos, alas Henry was also there, then again he did pay for the beer.
Day 3
This was the beginning of the end. From the start of the day I was joined by the 2 bloody Englishmen (Henry, Mike aka Hanno) and the nice Scottish lady (Vivian), who shall for now be referred to as the 2BE's and NSL. The day was spent in Triopetra with Wim, Lydia, Linake and Paul. Among the images below we have the Lovers in Stone, my impression of Indiana Jones, the Unhappy Fish and a sunset taken from a few miles west of Triopetra. The day was unusual in that I do not think we got lost even once.
Day 4
Spent the day wanding over on the third beach, at least that is what I call it. You can walk to Kokkinos Pirgos and I have done this several times but did not do it this day, as you can see from the colour of the sky it was not one of the sunnier days. The picture of the sea Anemone and Starfish were taken just at the last of the moorings below the gunport. Had not seen the Starfish here before and did not see them for the remained of the time.
Day 5
As I am writing this a year after the event I have to admit I cannot remember why I spent a second consecutive day in and around the village. I had the car for the duration so I will have to assume that I was feeling the after effects of 4 or 5 raki or metakas too many the night before. I think I got some nice shots today so maybe it was for the best.
Day 6
This was a fairly full day. There was four of us one naughty Scottish Lady two bloody Englishmen ( self proclaimed navigators; a Henry and a Hanno, I feel I must point out at this stage that if for our main voyages of discovery we were to rely on their likes that the shape of our world would still be a debated question.) and mise ( Irish for me). Our first stop was outside of Feastos where we had sun & scenery. There is a hill to the right of the church of Ayios Georgias which I would recommend anyone takes the time to climb if they are reasonably fit and have sensible footwear on them ( be careful on the descent, both times I found myself slightly off track and repeatedly had to tell myself; 'you are not a goat, you are not a goat' ). I will tell you more about this hill on the the last day of the holidays but for now I will say I have scaled it twice (2005 & 2008) and on both occasions I have been lucky enough to spot a pair of Golden Eagles. Our second stop was Matala where we had less sun, lots of caves & plenty of rain. I am wondering why the man gets to keep the umbrella while the female is left with a towel for shelter. Next up we had a very relaxing stop in Kalimaki where we had evening sun, surf & pussy (well the pussy was all Micks, meaning he is the only one who got it). I am being neither rude or crude just telling you what one naughty Scottish Lady said. Our final stop was in Kokkinos Pirgos where it was time for an overdue beer for the worn out driver and one absolutely fantastic sunset that lasted for less than a minute but thanks to digital can last a bit longer.
Day 7
This was another relaxing day spent wandering the third beach and looking like I was in a hurry to do nothing in the harbour. As you can see it was a good day for watching fishers or those who catch fish. While it always nice to watch the Kingfisher I was rather chuffed to spot the Shag on the rock half way between Galini and Kokkinos Pirgos. He is of the same family as the Cormorant but slightly smaller, for more info under Cormorants in the Bird section.
Day 8
You would not know it from the photographs below but we covered a fair bit of ground this day. First stop was the Kourtaliotiko Gorge or Valley of the Eagles as I found it called in one of the online guides. Fantastic views, if you walk about 20 metres south of the parking area and then look back you will see a small church built into the side of the cliff ( I will have to go back someday and take a shot of it for the site) . Our Cricket and Kingfisher were spotted in Plakias while the photograph after the Kingfisher was taken in what I believe is know as Swiss Village. We did not realise until halfway through our stroll that it was a private complex, we came across it by accident while exploring the roads along the coast east of Plakias, it is about half way between there and here, or Plakias and Damnoni. It is hidden in the hills and reminded me of the setting for the television series The Prisoner with Patrick McGoohan. Next up we stopped for about an hours relaxation time on Damnoni beach before heading just that bit inshore for some food as Henry scouted the tavernas on the beach and nothing met his standards (they were all too good). We stopped just up the road in a village called Lefkoyia, I believe the restaurant we picked was the second on the right as you enter from the beach road. How lucky we got with our choice; a typical family run small restaurant, the food was fantastic and so much off it. While it was being cooked I noticed the Lady of the House putting a tray of Raki glasses and a jug of the water of life into the freezer. Duly after our meal was finished the same was produced and boy was I sorry I was driving; I only had a sip but it electrified my lips, I do not believe that any my companions the N.S.L, Hanno or Henry are big Raki fans but as far as I can remember they were impressed, the only time I tasted Raki as good as this was given to Puck and myself by shepherds as we were taking a hike there the Imbros gorge a few years back. They put a different name on their Raki however so I will have to find out what it was. If you are unfamiliar with Greek Raki I should let you know that it bears no relation to the Turkish national drink of Raki which usually starts with a base of Grapes or Raisins and is flavoured with Aniseed (that I am aware of most of the Balkan countries also produce similar types). Greek Raki is made from the mash or leftovers after the wine is finished being made, I was told it can be produced in 10 to 15 minutes, if you are not used to it a few too many and you can take a full day to recover.
Day 9
It was Viv and Mike's (NSL & Hanno) last day so they decided to stay in the village while Mick (Henry) and Myself went a wandering. Personally I think they were afraid we would really get lost and they would miss their flight home. The truth be told I do not blame them, I left most of the navigation up to Henry and Hanno and I somedays I was surprised that we managed to find a way out of the village.
Anywho, we did not stray too far, went over to Agios Pavlos for a few hours, Henry stayed near the taverna as he was weary of missing his High Tea while I took a wander around. Not too sure about the origins of the rock formations below, have tried googling information and all I am getting is beautiful rock formations, fantastic texture etc.. While I do agree they are marvelous to behold ( hence the reason I took the shots ) but I would like to know at bit more info. Will post this request on the front page. On the way back we stopped in Melambes for a couple of shandies and a wander, not however before Henry spotted the Lama in the hills (see below) the following shot is of Kato Satouria and the next of a building that Henry and Myself argued over who should move into, we left undecided, the next two shots are of Melambes while in the last Henry is either attesting to ownership of Paximadia or declaring his undying love for NSL.
Anywho, we did not stray too far, went over to Agios Pavlos for a few hours, Henry stayed near the taverna as he was weary of missing his High Tea while I took a wander around. Not too sure about the origins of the rock formations below, have tried googling information and all I am getting is beautiful rock formations, fantastic texture etc.. While I do agree they are marvelous to behold ( hence the reason I took the shots ) but I would like to know at bit more info. Will post this request on the front page. On the way back we stopped in Melambes for a couple of shandies and a wander, not however before Henry spotted the Lama in the hills (see below) the following shot is of Kato Satouria and the next of a building that Henry and Myself argued over who should move into, we left undecided, the next two shots are of Melambes while in the last Henry is either attesting to ownership of Paximadia or declaring his undying love for NSL.
Day 10
A sad day this, not because I drove around with Mick for a second consecutive day, though you could factor that in as well, but mainly because our Naughty Scottish Lady and Hanno have left us for a damper climate.
Although I did not know it at the time the day had more than one musical connections, or at least I made them up later, then again it is my life so I will do as I want to (within the law of course).
We took a wander over to the Amari valley, up and down a few side roads, nothing doing really we were just wandering on wheels. As the day wore on we decided to take a side trip over to Kalimaki, although he did not mention it, I think Mick wanted to say goodbye to his Pussies. I kid you not when I tell you that bag you see them sitting in is our very own Henry the Navigators version of a knapsack, well it worked for him.
I feel at this point I must explain the names that came to be bestowed on my fellow travellers: well the N.S.L. she started out as the Nice Scottish Lady and well lets just say that she would not be the first Scottish lady to become known as Naughty, and I have to say the name was changed long before she mentioned Henrys pussies. Now for the two bloody englishmen : The first day out with Mick I gave him the map and noticed after a while that when he did look at it he seemed to always hold it upside down...still getting lost was fun, and as I always say when travelling around an island, any island, once your feet are still dry you cannot go too far wrong. The next day the 2nd bloody Englishman joins us, Mick sitting in the front opens the map at which I said aloud “Henry the Navigator”, I was disappointed...my sarcasm was lost on him. It also appeared to be lost on Mike who says “If he is Henry can I be Hanno the Navigator”. Now this kind of stalled me, I read a lot of ancient history and mentioned that the only Hannos’ I knew of were Carthaginian generals and maybe an admiral, but never heard of one called the navigator. So where does our backseat driver know of this Hanno….from an Al Stewart song by the same name...he explains that a lot of Al Stewarts songs are based upon events in history...I learn something new (which is always a good day). Needless to say I did Wikipedia him when (Hanno not Al) when we got back to the Hoi Polloi later that day and there he was big as life (once) and bold as brass sailing down the west coast of Africa 500 years B.C.
On the day I have to admit that when I saw the chap parasailing I immediately thought of the Patty Griffin song Trapeze “Some people don't care if they live or die. Some people want to know what it feels like to fly. They gather their courage and they give it a try”. (If parasailing is not what he is doing then please let me know via the blog what it is called).
Now the last mention of music here. I was home in Sligo a few months, am browsing in a record store and see the album by Seasick Steve and immediately the image of Henry in front of the house in Kalimaki came to mind….. “I started out with nothing and I still got most of it left”.
Although I did not know it at the time the day had more than one musical connections, or at least I made them up later, then again it is my life so I will do as I want to (within the law of course).
We took a wander over to the Amari valley, up and down a few side roads, nothing doing really we were just wandering on wheels. As the day wore on we decided to take a side trip over to Kalimaki, although he did not mention it, I think Mick wanted to say goodbye to his Pussies. I kid you not when I tell you that bag you see them sitting in is our very own Henry the Navigators version of a knapsack, well it worked for him.
I feel at this point I must explain the names that came to be bestowed on my fellow travellers: well the N.S.L. she started out as the Nice Scottish Lady and well lets just say that she would not be the first Scottish lady to become known as Naughty, and I have to say the name was changed long before she mentioned Henrys pussies. Now for the two bloody englishmen : The first day out with Mick I gave him the map and noticed after a while that when he did look at it he seemed to always hold it upside down...still getting lost was fun, and as I always say when travelling around an island, any island, once your feet are still dry you cannot go too far wrong. The next day the 2nd bloody Englishman joins us, Mick sitting in the front opens the map at which I said aloud “Henry the Navigator”, I was disappointed...my sarcasm was lost on him. It also appeared to be lost on Mike who says “If he is Henry can I be Hanno the Navigator”. Now this kind of stalled me, I read a lot of ancient history and mentioned that the only Hannos’ I knew of were Carthaginian generals and maybe an admiral, but never heard of one called the navigator. So where does our backseat driver know of this Hanno….from an Al Stewart song by the same name...he explains that a lot of Al Stewarts songs are based upon events in history...I learn something new (which is always a good day). Needless to say I did Wikipedia him when (Hanno not Al) when we got back to the Hoi Polloi later that day and there he was big as life (once) and bold as brass sailing down the west coast of Africa 500 years B.C.
On the day I have to admit that when I saw the chap parasailing I immediately thought of the Patty Griffin song Trapeze “Some people don't care if they live or die. Some people want to know what it feels like to fly. They gather their courage and they give it a try”. (If parasailing is not what he is doing then please let me know via the blog what it is called).
Now the last mention of music here. I was home in Sligo a few months, am browsing in a record store and see the album by Seasick Steve and immediately the image of Henry in front of the house in Kalimaki came to mind….. “I started out with nothing and I still got most of it left”.
Day 11
Went on a boat trip to where I do not know, somewhere over to the east of Galini, roundandabout the Kaloi Limenes / Chrysostomos area. The real question is not where but WHY...........two years on and I still have not figured that one out, I possibly agreed after 2 glasses of wine, 3 or 4 pints, 1 raki and possibly a metaxa or two. One of those drinks just mentioned holds the answer, they need a certain amount of bodies and obviously they were bady stuck and I was badly inebreated. As you can see from the images it was a nice soft day for Ireland, however as I was still in Crete it kinda felt out of place. I have wonder; why is it that the fellas always seem to get the umbrellas on the island.
Anywho I made a new friend, Ludi from Italy, not too sure of the spelling, she had travelled the world with her dad but he had sadly passed on recently and so was flying solo, I think for the first time, she was good crack. After she arrived back in the village she intended to drive straight to Rethymnon, however I noticed she had a raki too many on the return boat trip (though not as much as myself the night before) so we went up to the Hoi Polloi for a couple of coffees before she headed off.
Now the realy sad part; It was this evening that Henry abandoned me.....ahh...so sad. We watched from the door of the bar as his taxi called for him, he is still carrying his essential blue bag (see previous day) now however the driver opens the boot and gets handed a less than half full small holdall, I kid you not a 5 year old would have a bigger school bag, then again Henry was only in the village for 3 weeks. Marilyn smiled as the driver looked around for the rest of the luggage.
Soon after they drove off Marilyn handed me some petrol money and a bottle of Raki sweeted with honey and sugar, still not too sure who it actually came from but as I type this I raise a glass to the Naughtly Scottish Lady, Hanno and Henry. This is nearly two years later (15th June 2010 @ 10.27pm) but I still have some of it left. Slainte.
Martin called in shortly after and so off we went to play pool, discuss nothing of importance and consume a beer or 5.
Anywho I made a new friend, Ludi from Italy, not too sure of the spelling, she had travelled the world with her dad but he had sadly passed on recently and so was flying solo, I think for the first time, she was good crack. After she arrived back in the village she intended to drive straight to Rethymnon, however I noticed she had a raki too many on the return boat trip (though not as much as myself the night before) so we went up to the Hoi Polloi for a couple of coffees before she headed off.
Now the realy sad part; It was this evening that Henry abandoned me.....ahh...so sad. We watched from the door of the bar as his taxi called for him, he is still carrying his essential blue bag (see previous day) now however the driver opens the boot and gets handed a less than half full small holdall, I kid you not a 5 year old would have a bigger school bag, then again Henry was only in the village for 3 weeks. Marilyn smiled as the driver looked around for the rest of the luggage.
Soon after they drove off Marilyn handed me some petrol money and a bottle of Raki sweeted with honey and sugar, still not too sure who it actually came from but as I type this I raise a glass to the Naughtly Scottish Lady, Hanno and Henry. This is nearly two years later (15th June 2010 @ 10.27pm) but I still have some of it left. Slainte.
Martin called in shortly after and so off we went to play pool, discuss nothing of importance and consume a beer or 5.
Day 12
This was most definitely a day to be spent doing absolutely nothing, or at least as little as possible. My last recollection of the previous night was Martin and myself playing pool extremely badly and in morning my head felt like it had lain on the table and got hit a few times, so much for worrying about Ludi, perhaps I should have saved a little of that concern for my own liver and other innards, not that I would have taken any heed of myself. So I wandered around the village for the day and done an damn good imitation of a hungover tourist; the most exciting thing that I witnessed was a Vulture getting mobbed by a Mob of Grey Crows, fishermen fishing and other fishermen painting, fruit growing, White Wagtails wagging their tails and the sun setting: actually a near perfect day that comes towards the end of a good holiday.
Last Day
Last Day.
As with most of my days there were no definite plans, the only thing I did arrange was to drop up to Allan & Marlyns house for coffee later in the evening. Well after the lazy day yesterday and a walk around the village early in the day feeling refreshed and ready to go I decided to clock up some miles. First off a return trip to Gortyn to see how the snails were getting on, still no sign of their mother ship, and then Phaistos, or more precisely the hill overlooking it. I think this was the second time I climbed this hill and was fortunate enough to, for the second time, see a pair of Golden Eagles. It is a bit of a dodgy climb and so was watching my feet for most of the ascent and just spotted them as they both climbed higher and higher to eventually disappear into the sun, I only just managed to capture one with the camera. The views from here are spectacular and I would say it is most definitely worth the few scratches and scrapes, just don't do it the day before the finals of the “Most Beautiful Legs” competition, it cost me a gold medal.
The first time I scaled it was to find the sight of an ancient church, I think it was where Agios Georgias was originally located but am not 100% sure about that. The only remains are the column featured in the photograph, my initial thought was how disappointing, then I sat down, took rest and looked around and realised how I was so lucky to able to see this fantastic island from up here where so few people venture. Beware; the scramble down can actually be harder and more severe on the bare legs than the climb up. I then headed for Kommos, outside of Kamalaki, however I realised that time was against me as I missed the turn so headed back.
Took a wander up to the house and Allan drove over to Ayios Yioryios for evening cocktails on the veranda, good thing I had brought my tux. Wait a minute…..it was sandles, beer and olives.
The drive back to the airport was more typical of the holiday. I cannot remember the times exactly but it was something like: Flight leaving at 2am so I was going to leave the village at 10pm, that gives me ample time.
Something went badly wrong; I do not know where or why, but for some reason I left the village closer to eleven, as I was driving I had not been drinking, one beer with Allan at around 5pm hardly counts. After I pass through Moires I recheck my ticket, the flight is at 1.45 am and not 2am. Again I cannot remember why I had not rechecked the times sooner. Needless to say I put the foot down and made great time to Heraklion.
This was the first time I had managed to drive into Heraklion and I was remembering what Martin said “ if you go under the bridge you have gone to far”. Very sensible advice, now only if I had recalled that prior to going under the bridge and entering the motorway on the wrong side. It would have being the right side if I had intended to go Rethymnon, however that was not for tonight. As the motorway was practically deserted I had hoped that somewhere ahead there would be a break in the barrier, there was none and I ended up doing a uturn at the very end, I am out of Heraklion at this stage. Now any sensible person would have driven straight on until they hit the exit for the Airport, not yours truly, I took the turn off for Moires when it reappeared and started to follow the road around and guess what………….yes……….I managed to do the exact same thing again ( I am writing this three years later and still do not understand why I did not just stay on the motorway once I was heading in the right direction). I realise as I am half way up the on ramp just what I have done, I slow down and what appears behind me but a police car. Well now is not the time for an illegal uturn so I head on to the motorway, knowing I am going in the wrong direction, I am thinking “ I am going to miss this flight”, don't think about that just yet. The police car overtakes me and magically transforms itself into a taxi, it just may have being a taxi all the time but there is just no way of proving this now. What to do what to do. A bit up the road I notice the taxi indicating to head off the motorway, what the hell; It was time for a Dirk Gently move. (Mick aka; Hanno reminded me of this character earlier in the holiday. If you are unfamiliar with him he is a creation of Douglas Adams and had certain eccentricities (and that is putting it mildly) one of which was: as he would set out on a journey he would follow the first car in front of him, even though it may appear to be heading in the wrong direction, hence when he arrived at his destination he may not get where he had intended to be he would however be where he was meant to be). This made sense to me as I drove into Heraklions strange streets in the middle of the night. I have less than an hour to catch a plane, I am lost so what better thing to do than follow the tenets of a slightly imbalanced fictional character created by the mind that gave us the Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy ( I had a towel in my luggage so I felt safe).
Now first I follow this taxi down about 2 km along a main road and as we approach a junction I decided to abandon D.G. and the taxi, he drives straight on while I veer right, I think I am up near the port and if that is in front of me, North, the airport is to my right, East. I follow the road, again I am stuck in a one way system, the thought just entered my head that if I cannot find the airport in 10 minutes I might as well head back for Galini and behold the road turns dual and we are on a main thoroughfare, it turns right and what do I spy but a chap manning a booth with magazines, cigarettes etc.. It I got out to ask for directions and just my luck, the little Greek I have is useless as this chap is Romanian (that’s a guess). So what do I do at 1.15 am but hold my arms out and move side to side to imitate an airplane. To tell the truth I did realise at the time that I looked like a bit of wally but look at the ideology that had got me to this man. Needless to say he decks straight away where I want to go, points up the street and veers his hand left, as a planes wings would move in a turn, as if an aid was needed at this point a plane is coming into land. I shake the mans hand and am off, I remember thinking as I got back into the car " I should have bought something from him" too late now. Knowing where I am lifts the weight and I head up and around the road. Pulling in to the right I drop the car in a rental car space across the road from the terminal and leave the key in the kiosk pointing in the general direction of where I parked the car, I do know I have put in the wrong bay but at this stage I am not the slightest bit worried about such matters. I dash across the road and I kid you not but as I run up to the Monarch check in desk the last girl is walking away. She comes back, tsk tsk’s me, tells me how lucky I am that I am not the only person late and should head immediately for gate 1, a real gem, as she gives off to me she is also smiling, lifes good. Phew, I genuinely did not think I was going to make it so duly oblige and she sees me do a jog in the departures direction. Through security I head for the gate and notice that there is a couple of hundred people around it, what the hell, after all I panic I had put myself through I decided I could treat myself to a beer while they boarded. I got a can of Heineken and sat down, as I pull the ring there is an announcement: “This is the final call for Mr and Mrs Whoever, Miss Whoever, Mr Whoever the 2nd and Mr Padraig Conlon. Could they please make their way to gate 1 as the final shuttle bus is waiting to board them”. The Heineken touched my lips just as I thought that is very unusual that someone here has the same name as me, this was immediately followed by the thought….YOU FOOL...I can still recall putttng the can down that fast that even though it had touched my lips they did even get damp from the beer, ran for the gate, push through the passengers who were waiting on the next flight. . I get on my private shuttle bus, private with the exception of the driver, and five minutes later when it turns out that the other Mr's and Mrs' will not be flying on this Monarch flight we head for the plane. Piece of cake. And the moral of this story is turn up late and you get the seat with extra leg room that nobody else was willing to pay for. As I am just outside the cockpit I hear the pilot or co-pilot discussing the predicament of my fellow late arrivals, as it transpires they did make the airport around the same time as me, they were traveling from Hersonissos, however in their last minute dash they somehow managed to leave their passports behind, I suppose everything was laid out and they were simply left on the dressing table. Their hotel had already dispatched a taxi with them and the next Easy Jet flight was going to accommodate them. That is the great thing about traveling on your own; you only have yourself to blame.
Overall it was another fantastic experience on Crete and I remember thinking as the plane made its way West; where will I go next year on the island. As it transpired it took me two years to return but it was well worth the wait.
As with most of my days there were no definite plans, the only thing I did arrange was to drop up to Allan & Marlyns house for coffee later in the evening. Well after the lazy day yesterday and a walk around the village early in the day feeling refreshed and ready to go I decided to clock up some miles. First off a return trip to Gortyn to see how the snails were getting on, still no sign of their mother ship, and then Phaistos, or more precisely the hill overlooking it. I think this was the second time I climbed this hill and was fortunate enough to, for the second time, see a pair of Golden Eagles. It is a bit of a dodgy climb and so was watching my feet for most of the ascent and just spotted them as they both climbed higher and higher to eventually disappear into the sun, I only just managed to capture one with the camera. The views from here are spectacular and I would say it is most definitely worth the few scratches and scrapes, just don't do it the day before the finals of the “Most Beautiful Legs” competition, it cost me a gold medal.
The first time I scaled it was to find the sight of an ancient church, I think it was where Agios Georgias was originally located but am not 100% sure about that. The only remains are the column featured in the photograph, my initial thought was how disappointing, then I sat down, took rest and looked around and realised how I was so lucky to able to see this fantastic island from up here where so few people venture. Beware; the scramble down can actually be harder and more severe on the bare legs than the climb up. I then headed for Kommos, outside of Kamalaki, however I realised that time was against me as I missed the turn so headed back.
Took a wander up to the house and Allan drove over to Ayios Yioryios for evening cocktails on the veranda, good thing I had brought my tux. Wait a minute…..it was sandles, beer and olives.
The drive back to the airport was more typical of the holiday. I cannot remember the times exactly but it was something like: Flight leaving at 2am so I was going to leave the village at 10pm, that gives me ample time.
Something went badly wrong; I do not know where or why, but for some reason I left the village closer to eleven, as I was driving I had not been drinking, one beer with Allan at around 5pm hardly counts. After I pass through Moires I recheck my ticket, the flight is at 1.45 am and not 2am. Again I cannot remember why I had not rechecked the times sooner. Needless to say I put the foot down and made great time to Heraklion.
This was the first time I had managed to drive into Heraklion and I was remembering what Martin said “ if you go under the bridge you have gone to far”. Very sensible advice, now only if I had recalled that prior to going under the bridge and entering the motorway on the wrong side. It would have being the right side if I had intended to go Rethymnon, however that was not for tonight. As the motorway was practically deserted I had hoped that somewhere ahead there would be a break in the barrier, there was none and I ended up doing a uturn at the very end, I am out of Heraklion at this stage. Now any sensible person would have driven straight on until they hit the exit for the Airport, not yours truly, I took the turn off for Moires when it reappeared and started to follow the road around and guess what………….yes……….I managed to do the exact same thing again ( I am writing this three years later and still do not understand why I did not just stay on the motorway once I was heading in the right direction). I realise as I am half way up the on ramp just what I have done, I slow down and what appears behind me but a police car. Well now is not the time for an illegal uturn so I head on to the motorway, knowing I am going in the wrong direction, I am thinking “ I am going to miss this flight”, don't think about that just yet. The police car overtakes me and magically transforms itself into a taxi, it just may have being a taxi all the time but there is just no way of proving this now. What to do what to do. A bit up the road I notice the taxi indicating to head off the motorway, what the hell; It was time for a Dirk Gently move. (Mick aka; Hanno reminded me of this character earlier in the holiday. If you are unfamiliar with him he is a creation of Douglas Adams and had certain eccentricities (and that is putting it mildly) one of which was: as he would set out on a journey he would follow the first car in front of him, even though it may appear to be heading in the wrong direction, hence when he arrived at his destination he may not get where he had intended to be he would however be where he was meant to be). This made sense to me as I drove into Heraklions strange streets in the middle of the night. I have less than an hour to catch a plane, I am lost so what better thing to do than follow the tenets of a slightly imbalanced fictional character created by the mind that gave us the Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy ( I had a towel in my luggage so I felt safe).
Now first I follow this taxi down about 2 km along a main road and as we approach a junction I decided to abandon D.G. and the taxi, he drives straight on while I veer right, I think I am up near the port and if that is in front of me, North, the airport is to my right, East. I follow the road, again I am stuck in a one way system, the thought just entered my head that if I cannot find the airport in 10 minutes I might as well head back for Galini and behold the road turns dual and we are on a main thoroughfare, it turns right and what do I spy but a chap manning a booth with magazines, cigarettes etc.. It I got out to ask for directions and just my luck, the little Greek I have is useless as this chap is Romanian (that’s a guess). So what do I do at 1.15 am but hold my arms out and move side to side to imitate an airplane. To tell the truth I did realise at the time that I looked like a bit of wally but look at the ideology that had got me to this man. Needless to say he decks straight away where I want to go, points up the street and veers his hand left, as a planes wings would move in a turn, as if an aid was needed at this point a plane is coming into land. I shake the mans hand and am off, I remember thinking as I got back into the car " I should have bought something from him" too late now. Knowing where I am lifts the weight and I head up and around the road. Pulling in to the right I drop the car in a rental car space across the road from the terminal and leave the key in the kiosk pointing in the general direction of where I parked the car, I do know I have put in the wrong bay but at this stage I am not the slightest bit worried about such matters. I dash across the road and I kid you not but as I run up to the Monarch check in desk the last girl is walking away. She comes back, tsk tsk’s me, tells me how lucky I am that I am not the only person late and should head immediately for gate 1, a real gem, as she gives off to me she is also smiling, lifes good. Phew, I genuinely did not think I was going to make it so duly oblige and she sees me do a jog in the departures direction. Through security I head for the gate and notice that there is a couple of hundred people around it, what the hell, after all I panic I had put myself through I decided I could treat myself to a beer while they boarded. I got a can of Heineken and sat down, as I pull the ring there is an announcement: “This is the final call for Mr and Mrs Whoever, Miss Whoever, Mr Whoever the 2nd and Mr Padraig Conlon. Could they please make their way to gate 1 as the final shuttle bus is waiting to board them”. The Heineken touched my lips just as I thought that is very unusual that someone here has the same name as me, this was immediately followed by the thought….YOU FOOL...I can still recall putttng the can down that fast that even though it had touched my lips they did even get damp from the beer, ran for the gate, push through the passengers who were waiting on the next flight. . I get on my private shuttle bus, private with the exception of the driver, and five minutes later when it turns out that the other Mr's and Mrs' will not be flying on this Monarch flight we head for the plane. Piece of cake. And the moral of this story is turn up late and you get the seat with extra leg room that nobody else was willing to pay for. As I am just outside the cockpit I hear the pilot or co-pilot discussing the predicament of my fellow late arrivals, as it transpires they did make the airport around the same time as me, they were traveling from Hersonissos, however in their last minute dash they somehow managed to leave their passports behind, I suppose everything was laid out and they were simply left on the dressing table. Their hotel had already dispatched a taxi with them and the next Easy Jet flight was going to accommodate them. That is the great thing about traveling on your own; you only have yourself to blame.
Overall it was another fantastic experience on Crete and I remember thinking as the plane made its way West; where will I go next year on the island. As it transpired it took me two years to return but it was well worth the wait.
