Autumn is so mild in Crete.
You can tell that the summer is over because the temperatures are bearable again, pleasant in fact, and the not-too-common deciduous trees are losing their leaves.
This month we set out to do the two highest mountains in Crete, and this is the second of the series.
More by chance than by design, we casually said it would be cool to go see the Psiloritis mountain peak, which at 2,456m stands as the highest summit on the mountainous island of Crete. We gathered a group of friends, and on a promising Sunday we set off from Chania and Kissamos.
We drove a couple of hours from Chania, on the highway past Rethymno then going South to the multi-faceted reliefs. Past villages that were getting smaller and smaller, until the road climbed precipitously to finally flow into a valley dotted with a forest the proper colours of fall, all reds and hues of orange and autumn yellows.
The road ends and the path starts at Mygero refuge. We looked up in hope from the parking lot, as if to confirm the presence of the big mountains and ground our intentions. It didn’t fully work to break the spell. In great part because we weren’t completely sure of where to look. None of us had been there before and mountain peaks can be many things, intimidating, dazzling, awe-inspiring, … plain confusing.
The path is well marked and better paved, flat paving stones almost all the way up. The climb is steep but not crazy steep, walkable all the way. After an initial long, tortuous hard climb, the path turns sharply to go almost along the crest, but just enough off to the side to have intermittent cover from the South-West. This was a stroke of luck of sorts on this day. The wind was blowing from South-West, so we had wind cover at regular intervals along the top walk.
The blue skies we could see when we started gave way to thick clouds and strong winds at the top. Visibility reduced, we did runs and short breaks between the sheltered spots on the ridge path.
We caught a glimpse to the South of the Lybian sea, the bay of Mesaras and the Matala coastline.
The last stretch to the summit is just exposed and we walked it at a real fast pace, in search of the stone church that would grant us protection at the top. We found the sliver-like entrance, went inside, admired the pseudo-dome tholos structure, appreciated the wind cutting off, opted for having our picnic outside, with the remains of the view looking North, on the lee-side, before the great white-ness engulfed everything.
It did get cold quickly. The thermometer indicated 6°C, the summit wind added its sharp fangs.
We took turns to ring the bell, posed for a group photo then we ran down at full-speed back to the off-ridge sheltered parts of the path, where the wind was more lenient.
For the second, steeper part of the path we slowed down, carefully trod when the slabs turned into loose gravelly rocks.
It took us long enough for the clouds to turn into drizzle to turn into solid rain.
I don’t know if we filled a void in our spirit, but back at the cars everyone was smiling despite the very physical stings of the wet and cold end of the day.
We drove back down the mountain, got lost in the villages to find a smoky taverna with a heart-warming stove and a wealth of food. We sat down, merrily drank wine and raki, satisfied our hunger, gave thanks for a soul-filling day in the mountains before parting ways to return to our city, town and village homes.
