Tag Archives: Spinalonga

The End of Summer

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We’ve arrived to the tiny island of Spinalonga, Crete and have stepped down the wobbly gangplank and on to the beach, where groups of people are milling about. Presumably, some of them are waiting for boats to leave. Others must, like us, be waiting for a promised guide.

We walk up some steps towards a path by an archway, where a woman is checking tickets and go through the archway into a tunnel and out the other side. There are more, bewidered visitors milling about but still no sign of the fabled guide- no mustering call, no sign. Hmm…

Returning to the ticket checker yields no result as she makes a vague gesture towards the beach where we came from. We saunter back through the tunnel and out on to a paved path, then on towards the ruins- and inside the tumble-down walls of one, there is a gaunt, middle-aged woman wearing a lanyard and speaking to a small gathering. We assume this is the guide, shuffling in at the back, although it’s difficult to catch what she’s telling us, out here in the breezy air at the back of the small crowd. All I manage to glean is that Spinalonga, famous for being home to Europe’s last leper colony was squabbled over by various countries and cultures for its trading position. She tells us very little about the lepers, who, I’m ashamed to admit, I’m most interested in. Having read ‘The Island’, [Victoria Hislop] however I do know quite a bit about the inhabitants.

The talk is short- no more than about 10 minutes- then we’re left to wander and we follow the path up through the ruined buildings and on round the island. The first few metres has a row of shops. Further on there is a shell of a hospital building and as we approach the corner there are old fortress walls from the pre-leper times. We round the bend and pass a little church, high up near the top of the island, then drop down back towards the beach where we’d disembarked. There’s a cafe at the end of the path, although when we enter there’s very little on offer- a packaged, croissant-like cake is all we can find to stay the pangs on our return journey.

Then it’s back up the precarious plank on to the boat and we’re on our way again. The breeze hasn’t become any less boisterous and the temperature has not climbed as we leave Spinalonga and head back towards Agios.

It’s our last few days here on Crete; still sunny, still warm in sheltered spots. We discover a sandy beach by descending steep steps and turning right, away from Agios along a coastal path. There are sunbeds for hire and it’s a change of scene for a relaxing few hours with a book.

I’d definitely return to Crete, perhaps to a different part. It’s an island of contrasts- rugged, snow topped mountains which can be skied in winter and an arid interior as well as ancient sites and beautiful beaches. But life isn’t easy for Cretans- there’s been no rainfall since April and the olive crop is failing. Tourism, then is all they can rely on.

We return to gloomy Gatwick and our UK winter. Ho hum…

Novels by Jane Deans [Grace]: The Year of Familiar Strangers and The Conways at Earthsend. Visit my website: janedeans.com

Those that Swim and Those that Don’t

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By the time we’re up and out and walking to the harbour in Agios Nikolaus the breeze has stiffened, raking the sea into choppy waves. It’s cooler. Knowing we’d be blown about on a ferry, we’ve packed fleece tops into our rucksacks but we’re still in shorts. We descend to the quayside and get our tickets at the booth, then follow others up and on to the boat, choosing seats on the middle deck, which has a roof but is open at the sides.

The boat is full, though not bursting at the seams and gets underway at the stated time of 12.30pm, reversing out of its berth and setting off out of harbour.

Once out of the shelter of the harbour it’s breezier still. We get intermittent snatches of commentary from a guide who is clearly as ‘end of season’ as everything else. He points out a few things along the coast- the ‘most expensive’ hotel and one or two of the islands. The woman opposite us hands out snacks to her two children and drapes them in towels to warm them up.

After about half an hour the boat pulls into a bay and shudders to a halt some metres from the shore. This is a stop for people to dive off the boat for a swim. Regular readers will know that swimming is not a favourite activity of mine and I’m only tempted into water if the outside temperature is so hot as to necessitate cooling. I’m even less inclined nowadays, since modifications to my physical self have occurred [but that is another story]. And by now, it’s cool- far too cool for cold water!

We descend to the lower deck, where a handful of braver souls are shedding their outer wear and plunging off the back [sorry- stern] of the boat with abandon, then swimming off into the lively waves. On this lower deck we can get coffee, which we do. Outside on the sea I watch as a flat cap bobs jauntily past, its confused owner patting his head to note its absence.

Coffee done and the swimmers return, clambering up the gangplank and dripping puddles on the deck. We return to our upstairs seats and the ferry resumes its travel towards Spinalonga and I succumb to an extra layer as by now the wind is cold, blowing across the decks and causing the boat to rock and roll. I’m grateful at this point for not suffering from sea-sickness- a condition I’ve only experienced twice [in spite of having made countless boat and ferry trips].

But I do want to get some photos, which means getting around to different points on the deck and this is tricky, involving hanging on to various fixed items with one hand while gripping my camera in the other. Yikes!

A little further and the tiny outcrop of rock that is Spinalonga Island comes into view. We almost circle it and then we’re pulling in towards a minute beach and the crew lower the gangplank- which rocks and slides, making disembarking a dodgy feat- although we manage better than some! We step off on to the shingle to wait for our alleged guide- now where can they be?

Novels by Jane Deans [Grace]: The Year of Familiar Strangers and The Conways at Earthsend. Visit my website: janedeans.com

Shore, Harbour and Lake

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Something we’re finding tricky here in Crete is finding a way to get around and see the sights without recourse to car hire or a tour. The long, long transfer from the airport has deterred us from booking a coach tour; we’re not willing to waste half a day visiting neighbouring hotels to pick others up. We’ve not seen one single, local bus on the roads around us, so it seems an island bus service may not exist…unless you, reader, know different? So we may need to accept that on this occasion we won’t get to see the Knossos etc.

One trip I would like to make, though, is to Spinalonga. Victoria Hislop wrote about this tiny outcrop in her 2007 novel, The Island.https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Island_(Hislop_novel). Spinalonga was the last leper colony in Europe and has a fascinating history. We don’t, however want to go on a pre-arranged trip.

But we have yet to see all that Agios Nikolaus has to offer, so we set off once more, this time to walk around the shore to the other side of town, past the tiny bay where we’d dined on a shared sea bream and along by the curving sea wall, There are few pockets of beach here, so hotels and guest houses have used their ingenuity to create beach-style areas from jetties and man-made platforms. Out to sea there are tiny islands which look uninhabited or have miniature churches crowning them.

Since the heatwave we experienced in the first days subsided, a breeze has set up, making it comfortable and perfect walking weather.

As we near the town harbour there’s a promontary bearing a marble and bronze statue of a bull and a maiden. This is the statue of Europa, overlooking the sea. But continuing round, the buildings thin out and the views become less interesting. There are a few beach bars here but we aren’t tempted by any of them and turn back towards town, deciding to turn in towards the harbour, where one leisure, tourist boat is moored and another is approaching. The side bears a large sign: Spinalonga! And I realise that all we need to do is walk here, to town and climb on a boat. Hooray!

There’s a small ticket booth on the quayside but we’re assured we won’t need to reserve tickets so late in the season. Result!

Across a small bridge there’s a miniature lagoon. Locally known as the ‘Lake’, it is surrounded by steep cliff sides and fringed with bars, the sun lingering on the outside tables long enough for an early evening beer to be enjoyed. Interesting excavations into the steep sides hint at ancient remains but again- no information. Further round there’s a minute, white chapel where tourists are queuing up to take selfies. The lake cannot be totally circumnavigated to we backtrack to the bars to reward ourselves for walking.

Across the opposite side there are more interesting resaurants, so it’s an area we’ll return to for a meal. In the meantime we have our trip to Spinalonga to look forward to.

Novels by Jane Deans [Grace]: The Year of Familiar Strangers and The Conways at Earthsend. Visit my website: janedeans.com