The White Mountains

or as the Cretians know them,Lefka Ori.  But first, a basket of pomegranates, just because they were there.

We headed down to the south today, stopping off en route for morning coffee here:  

If I could remember which high plateau it was, I would tell you.  But I can't; however the coffee was excellent, as was the view of the plateau and not to rub it in, but on this particular November morning it was HOT.  Looking out over the fertile plain one could almost be forgiven for thinking it was spring and the long days of summer would be here soon.  Sorry folks, it's Christmas next month 😉

See the white mountains just peaking out?  Well they are the White Mountains and are called so because they are. Ade of limestone and usually covered in snow until late spring.  There are over 50 gorges in the range, but we'll get to that later.

Just look at this view, quite the 'Julie Andrews' moment .....think Sound of Music, wrong country I know, but mountains, meadows, goat herds....you get the idea.

But no skipping down hill for us because this morning the only way was...UP!

Walking through a landscape that looked almost lunar ( not that I have been, but I have seen photographs!)

it was a switch back climb that needed all your wits about you.

And just when you needed a breather the view all but took what remaining breath you had away.

Doesn't that sea just look so inviting?

But off we went, up, up up...

...just time for a pause every now and then -  a snatched moment of calm, to be carried with you along  the busy footpath of life.

We passed a pile of cedar logs, inhale deeply and you can smell the sweet resin.  It doesn't diminish with time, so I am hoping that the lump I showed in my backpack still smells as good when I get it home.

Although it is a scrub landscape this delight was waiting for us at the top, apparently the only white Autumn crocus.

Our goal was the small chapel of Loutro.

Some had already left their mark.

But here is my shadow to prove I was there too...even if I look like one of the flower pot men.

Fortunately Jean was on hand to capture the family moment for us.

Just below the chapel was the remains on an ancient Dorian town.  It seemed older than time itself.

I don't really do chapels, but the floor was jolly and

there was a nice blue bench, 

which was just the same blue as the sky outside.  If you squint closely you may just be able to make out the flock(?) of  griffin vultures circling high overhead.

But a quick head count to check we were all there...

and the helpful spray painted road sign told us where we had been.

But we followed the arrow pointing right,

down the mountain side,

into the village and straight to here

where there was a Cretian feline welcome rep. ready to seat us underneath the chestnut trees.

Perhaps if we had known where we were heading next we might not have had that second glass of wine with our excellent lunch.  But on the other hand, if we'd been stone cold sober we might not have  descended into the gorge, but then

looking at the alternative, perhaps it was the best choice.  Either way, once you'd reached the bottom the only way out again was to climb on ...

...up!

Fortunately this little beauty was there to cheer us on our way.

A quick peak into the ruins of the abandoned village at the top followed by a swift cold drink and we were off again.  This time back over the bridge - in the bus, and off to find a suitable beach for an early evening dip.

This made me smile,

as did the swim in this little cove.

And so did the sunset as we struggled back into our walking gear...getting dressed on the beach is never easy, but at least there was a pretty view to distract us.

A walk on the wild side?

Today's walk started with a stroll through the orange and olive groves, past the avocado bushes,

Where it was so tempting to stop and pluck one, ripe and buttery straight from the bush!

The hillsides are terraced

and cropped to make this one of the most productive regions of the island and everything is ripening fast in the late autumnal sun.  Not a whisper of a breeze today, so it quickly became very warm as we headed up the hillside,

but not for too long because soon we plunged into the densely wooded gorge to continue the path up the hillside.

First though, we stood and marvelled at the power of a deluge.  This chestnut tree has had to adapt its roots to accommodate the frequent washing away of the supporting soil, leaving its initial root system hanging desiccated in mid air.  

Much cooler here, the dew still shimmers when caught by the sunlight penetrating the dense canopy high above us. This damp atmosphere is just right for ferns and mosses.

Plenty of different fungi where on show too, although my photography doesn't do justice to the brilliant chartreuse colour of this pair.

Some are really quite bizarre, as this photographs show, but the presence of fungi is nature's way of saying all is well beneath the ground!

Look carefully at the tree trunk, can you see the tightly curled ferns waiting to spring open?

Shimmering high up the webs of the master woodland spinners provide fascinating structures and

you have to marvel at the sheer skill and tenacity of something so small to create a structure so large.

Many of these webs were a couple of metres in diameter, with its creator waiting patiently at its centre.

The deciduous trees are steadily dropping their leaves; isn't there something immensely satisfying about crunching and swishing your feet through piles of crispy leaves?

Our biscuit breaks are often accompanied by a reading and today we had several.  It's such a luxury to be read to and Jane's reading about the cosmos had us both transfixed and moved.

But it was left to Jonathan's reading about dirt to bring us back down to earth!

And just before lunch we were left to ponder on 'A Rough Ride to the Future' by James Lovelock.

But before we could eat we had to descend back through the olive groves.  Here huge black nets (look closely, you'll see them stretched out across the ground) have been secured

underneath the trees ready to capture this year's harvest.

The sky is still startlingly blue, hard to believe it is well into November.

As we walked towards the village we could turn back and see from where we had come

and  remember that in a couple of weeks the high White Mountains will become just that as the snow begins to fall on them.

But until then it is still warm and pleasant to sit out and eat lunch.

Especially when it has been cooked just for us, local lamb with potatoes and herbs slowly cooked over hot coals.

A Greek salad to start with, local wine to wash it down and cinnamon dusted apples slices with cheese drizzled in honey to finish.  Simple food, but divine.

And even if the kitchen sink has a marvellous view, it's nice to know that will be someone else's job for now!

Serious walking finished for the day we stopped off at the Botanical Park and Gardens in Fournes for a gentle stroll along the terraces.  I can't recall the name of this plant but suspect it is of the lilly family

Whilst the serrated leaves of this plant make it beautiful but lethal.

Isn't the flower of the passion fruit vine stunning?

And of course all great gardens need some catnip...

This variety enjoyed accompanying us on our walk!

The sun fades fast and soon it is time to head back to Charnia,

where a stunning sunset awaits us.