The cold, windy winters feel like a distant memory here in Crete.
On the first day of February, we gather a good crowd of cyclists. Some join us for the first time, it’s good to see the old friends and the newcomers together.
The sun welcomes us. It’s another warm day. The sky is clear, it looks so close as we ride by the familiar coves and up the hill.
We follow the road meandering through the olive groves. As we come to the end of the road, a binary choice. To the right, the open landscape of the low Mediterranean phrygana, thorny bushes, thyme, a rocky wide track and the prospect of steep ascents and infinite views. To the right, the safety of the paved road, tiny hamlets, olive trees on repeat. We split the group, set a meeting point where the paths rejoin before the descent.
The ridge above Falasarna delivers the promised breathtaking view. We’re on top. Visibility is incredible, Antikythera is crisply detailed. We stop for some pictures, we marvel at the expanse of the Cretan sea to the West and Kissamos bay on the other side.
The downhill to Falasarna beach is exhilarating, smooth, fast.
We park the e-bikes at Big Beach and walk on the soft golden sand.
Some brave cyclists get changed into their swimsuits, ready for a leap into the water. The sea reflects the sky, a clearer shade of blue. Those who don’t swim sit on the shore, soaking up the sun, snacking and watching the show.
For a while we cycle along the coastline, between the dunes and the greenhouses where our salad produce grows all through the winter.
Then we climb again, new tarmac, steep but smooth. The whizz from the motor is initially faint, just a background sound. As we proceed, the engines get set on Turbo speed, the group gets shaken like in a Grand Tour attack, we come up the mountain piecemeal and regather at the spring.
The alpine looking mountain is right above, in front of us. We leave the sea behind, follow the torturous road as it sidesteps the giant rock mass and dives into the hills among the scattered villages. The going is good, the path narrow and yet we always find our way as we pass by the ghost walls of semi-abandoned houses, haunted by the half-hearted barking of apathetic dogs.
In the end we find ourselves back to where we started, elated in Kissamos.
