Day 1, night 1. Hania city was sunny and warm, but the sky was full of mares tails and there were bruised and sullen storm clouds obscuring the mountains. We also flew through some thick cloud and turbulence over the Greek mainland. Heading west by bus to the trailhead, the cloud thickened and darkened. Spots of rain began to fall. I was tired too, and on stepping down from the bus, decided to have a coffee and a think about what to do. To stick with the plan despite the weather? Or to get a room a wait for tomorrow? A couple of showers came and went in the time it took me to drink a cappuccino and check the weather report... light rain, falling like glitter in the intermittent sunlight. I decided to stick with the plan, so I downed my coffee and hit the trail.
There are a number of peninsulas on the north west of the island which stretch like rocky fingers out into the Aegean. The westernmost is called Gramvousa, and ends in a spectacular coastal lagoon with scattered offshore islets. One of these was garrisoned by the Venetians as a natural rock defence against marauding pirates. Not that it did much good, since it was successively overcome by these same pirates who used it as their lair. You can visit today and climb the rock cut steps up to the remains of fortifications. I ran nonstop for about 3 hours to get to the lagoon, just as the sun was around 45 mins from the horizon. Standing at the top of the cliffs facing west, the sky was like a Turner stormscape - churning, mottled cloud, crashing waves, great jets of foam, dark silhouettes of offshore islets. And where it was not a thousand shades of grey, it was emphatically golden, either in one great blot where the sun itself was covered in cloud, or in shafts piercing through the gaps to strike the shimmering water miles out to sea. It was an awe-inspiring sight, and I stopped there and then to find the right words to describe it. A little exercise in paying attention.. an antidote against sleepwalking through life.. and a reminder always to wonder.
There are a number of peninsulas on the north west of the island which stretch like rocky fingers out into the Aegean. The westernmost is called Gramvousa, and ends in a spectacular coastal lagoon with scattered offshore islets. One of these was garrisoned by the Venetians as a natural rock defence against marauding pirates. Not that it did much good, since it was successively overcome by these same pirates who used it as their lair. You can visit today and climb the rock cut steps up to the remains of fortifications. I ran nonstop for about 3 hours to get to the lagoon, just as the sun was around 45 mins from the horizon. Standing at the top of the cliffs facing west, the sky was like a Turner stormscape - churning, mottled cloud, crashing waves, great jets of foam, dark silhouettes of offshore islets. And where it was not a thousand shades of grey, it was emphatically golden, either in one great blot where the sun itself was covered in cloud, or in shafts piercing through the gaps to strike the shimmering water miles out to sea. It was an awe-inspiring sight, and I stopped there and then to find the right words to describe it. A little exercise in paying attention.. an antidote against sleepwalking through life.. and a reminder always to wonder.
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