Twenty years ago we went to Crete. Enticed by the write up in brochure in a cafe we decided to walk the Samaria Gorge. The entrance to the Gorge is from Xyloscalo, near the village of Omalos, leads past the old village of Samaria and (sixteen kilometres, that’s ten miles in old money) later eventually ends at Agia Rouméli, a small pretty coastal village with glorious views of the Mediterranean Sea. And tavernas under canopies of eucalyptus and cypress trees. I have to say it was the thought of this last description that persuaded me.
Last week, much to his excitement, husband (the photographer) found some of his photographs taken with one of his old cameras. These reminded me that this was the very first long walk that we actually did together.
Shades of things to come!
When I say “together” I actually mean that, if I didn’t keep an eye on what he was doing, I’d often be walking for ages before realising I’d been talking to myself and he was nowhere in sight. Since then I’ve learned to take a notebook and pen on these excursions so I can sit and write while he takes dozens of different photographs of the same scene, but from different angles, with different lenses, and all that technical stuff.
Armed with strong hiking boots, sunhats, sun cream, bottles of water and snacks we caught the bus at Chania to take us to Xiloskalo at five in the morning. By the end of the hike I was glad we’d started so early; it was sweltering. But I must admit that, at first, I wasn’t quite as enthusiastic as the photographer to be getting up at that time on holiday.
How wrong I was. This is one hike I will never forget.
Declared a National Park in 1962, mainly to protect the endangered Cretan goats (Kri-Kri) which live in the area, the gorge has a rich history dating back to ancient times. Inhabited by people who worshipped the goddess Samaria. It also served as a refuge for Cretan rebels and freedom fighters during various periods of oppression and occupation by foreign powers such as the Turks, the Germans, and the British.
It also is home to the most exquisite plant life…
The Cretan ebony is found only in Crete, with purple flowers that adorn the Cretan mountains. Other endemic Cretan plant species are the Cretan crocus, the beautiful Cretan bell several aromatic herbs that thrive on the island. ( N.B. This is not one of husband’s photographs but courtesy of CRETA MARIS.I couldn’t resist showing this gorgeous plant, which wasn’t flowering at the time we went – otherwise you would definitely be seeing various angles and shots of it courtesy of husband)
The above is the narrowest and most famous section of the gorge – called Portes or The Iron Gates. It’s thirteen foot wide and one thousand six hundred and forty foot high. This was the most rocky part to walk – though as far as I remember we did much clambering over and around boulders all the way.I was very glad of the stout boots.
It took us six hours before we reached Agia Roumeli and relaxed outside a taverna with a cold glass of water and a dakos ( a hard barley rusk soaked in olive oil with coriander seeds, chopped tomatoes, oregano and cheese). I asked how this was made but I’ve never quite managed to achieve that special flavour we tasted that day)
The gorge is only open from May to October; in the first and last few weeks of that period it may close if there’s a danger of flash floods.
And I was glad that I wasn’t told before we set off that the gorge is home tofour different snakes, the Balkan whip snake, the dice snake, the cat snake and the leopard snake. Although not dangerous I’m relieved i didn’t see one.
Now husband has discovered photographs from his old camera I’m hoping he can find more from other walks we’ve done over the years. They’ve brought back many memories.
Trust is the one thing that families should be able to take for granted. Trust born from love, from the belief that each member knows the other because they have lived together, seen the weakness and strength of each other. Having faith in each other means there is trust in theirselves, in their judgements, in the confidence that they are implicitly correct in that conclusion. But of course trusting can be the automatic option, the unquestionable. It also avoids any confrontation between siblings, parents, relatives. It means that every one can get on with their lives, not having to think too hard about the actions of everyone else in the family. It’s taken for granted that each believes whatever they are told. Don’t question. In turn it’s accepted that each can also reveal whatever they want to disclose about themselves, their thoughts, their actions. And take for granted that they are believed.
There is only one problem with that premise. Everyone is alone in their heads. No one (whatever anyone believes to the opposite) can read minds. What we present to the world, the façade we choose to show is our decision.
And that is where the secrecy comes in. Although it’s undeniable that every family has its secrets, it’s the substance of them that count. Of course secrets can also be trivial, small, kept in a loving way (a celebratory surprise, a present) or as a kindness, hiding something that is better kept under wraps if the person keeping it believes that.
On the other hand, harrowing, life-changing secrets can damage an entire family for some time. Even forever. Those kinds of secrets break that instinctive trust, that belief that those closest to us, who we love and respect, are truthful. Are not lying.
Families can be complicated. That’s an obvious statement. And where there are families with secrets, there are stories. And these are the stories that are at the root of all my books.