An Olympian Paddle

Islands Magazine, March 2006

http://www.zinio.com/browse/issues/index.jsp?skuId=126247929&pss=1

by Rolf Potts

As I paddle my kayak along the mountainous edge of Crete's southwest coast, I hear a strange sound and slow to a glide. Resting my paddle across my lap, I try to place the sound. Is it a wind chime? The clank of cooking pot? For a moment I hear nothing as I carefully scan the sheer, pale-tan cliffs of the shore.

Normally, a lone sound wouldn't be so fascinating to me, but along this empty edge of Crete, any sign of onshore life comes as a novelty. Yesterday, for example, I was entranced by a group of Greek women dressed in black, lined up outside a shrine to St Paul.

I soon spot a shepherd and his flock negotiating the steep slopes of the shore, and then recognize the sound I'd heard as the tinkling of goat bells. Though unremarkable, their progress is strangely bewitching in this barren landscape. I bob on the waves and watch the pastoral spectacle for several minutes before dipping my paddle into the water and moving on.

Such empty ruggedness, a world away from the tourists that populate the north coast of the island, is what brought me to this part of Crete, known as Sfakia - that and the chance to sharpen my kayaking skills in a region where goats outnumber people, and where rounding each new headland promises a dramatic vista of cliffs, caves and brilliant blue waters. To mainland Greeks, it's said, Crete feels far-flung and isolated; to the Cretans themselves, Sfakia feels far-flung and isolated.

For the past couple of days, 10 other Americans and I have been paddling our way along the Cretan coast. Our guide is Rick Sweitzer, a fit silver-haired Chicagoan whose outfitting company, Northwest Passage, has been leading kayaking and bicycling adventures on Crete for 25 years. After two initial days of kayak training at the 1960s hippie haunt of Matala, where ancient Roman cave-mausoleums honeycomb the cliffs, my companions and I took a shuttle van west in the White Mountains of Sfakia and hiked 15 miles through the forested national park in Samaria Gorge down to the deep turquoise waters of the Libyan Sea.

Rick met us nearby with a support van and a trailer full of kayaks. From the coastal village of Agia Roumeli, our goal is to paddle the coast of Sfakia, sleeping in the village of Loutro and exploring the region's capital, the town of Sfakia. Beyond Sfakia, we plan to paddle to the more-traveled beach communities of Plakias and Agia Galini before negotiating an open-water crossing back to Matala - a sum total of 75 miles by sea. Though kayaking this far in a little under a week seems like a challenging task, in practice it has proven quite pleasant and manageable, as the bulk of our gear is shipped ahead of us by van and ferry.

Each morning, we wake up early and paddle for five or six hours, stopping en route for coffee, lunch, a swim and the occasional cliff-dive. At night, we stop in coastal villages to sleep in local inns and dine on grilled fish, Greek salad and honey-baked Sfakiot cheese-pie - all washed down with a house wine and raki, a local Cretan firewater distilled from grape skins.

Most of my companions are here to savor this sublime combination of physical challenge, natural beauty and fine dining, but I find my biggest thrill in the small details that underscore our novel isolation in this well-visited corner of the Mediterranean.

On our third day of paddling, we come ashore and notice a ruined 14th-century Venetian fortress sporting a makeshift weightlifting set fashioned out of iron bars and cement blocks. Curious, I hike back down the ridge into the small village of Loutro in an attempt to find the bodybuilder.

Midway down the coast of Sfakia, Loutro is a lovely, palm-lined fishing town that rims the only natural harbor on the south coast of Crete. According to the Bible's Book of Acts, before a storm sent his ship careening toward Malta this harbor was intended to be St. Paul's winter haven in Crete. My arrival proves much more pleasant and, with Rick's help, I'm eventually able to find the man who built the improvised gym in the Venetian ruins. Tall and broad-shouldered, with sandy hair and a low-buttoned white shirt, he look like the kind of guy who might find pleasure in smashing plates over his head or picking up tables with his teeth. His name is Pavlo Kantounatakis.

"I don't lift weights that much anymore," he says as he prepares a table for us at Sifis, his taverna and inn. "I was in much better shape when I was living in Cleveland."

"Cleveland?"

"There was a time when the only jobs for young men in Loutro were with international shipping companies. A generation of men from Loutro saw the whole world this way." Pavlo proceeds to tell me how, after many years at sea, he settled in Cleveland and made a small fortune painting bridges. Eventually, he took the money back to Loutro and opened the whitewashed, blue-shuttered Sifis Inn. "We have a reputation for being provincial in this part of Crete, but Loutro isn't that way anymore. We're the most cosmopolitan town in Sfakia."

Pavlo is right: Though technically a fishing village, nearly every building along the Loutro waterfront has been transformed into an inn or restaurant. Small groups of French, Norwegians and Canadians - lounge in the restaurants at night. With clear blue-green water, pebbly beaches and no motor traffic, the village has a wonderfully sleepy atmosphere.

The following day my fellow kayakers and I load up and continue our progress along the Cretan coast. Morning is my favorite time for kayaking in Crete. The weather is still cool, and the light bathes the cliffs in brilliant colors. I veer off from my companions and paddle slowly, enjoying the calm water and the morning silence, watching tiny seedpods skitter along the water's surface while school of small fish dart beneath me.

Eventually I catch up to the others, and we stop in the comparatively urban town of Sfakia, which is connected to the rest of the island by road. Over lunch, a charismatic, mustachioed gentleman named Stavros Magelakis tells me about the time in 2004 when the president of Greece came to visit Sfakia. "He gave a speech against the use of guns," Stavros says. This is a big problem in Sfakia: People are always getting hurt shooting off guns at weddings, or turning them against each other in family vendettas. The president's speech was very convincing, and the people of Sfakia gave him a huge ovation. Then we declared him an honorary citizen and presented him with a gum."

"A gun?" I ask.

Stavros smiles and shrugs. "They didn't mean to contradict the president; it's just that a gun is such and appropriate Sfakian gift. We have always been here, resistance fighters, men of strength and honor. Nobody considered the irony"

After lunch, we leave town and paddle for the rest of the day.
We churned past 23 miles of gorgeous coast line - our longest day of kayaking - and finally arrive in the town of Plakias before dusk. Here, I notice that the random indicators of coastal solitude have given way to more conventional tourist landmarks: sandy beaches lined with umbrellas, speedboats and water taxis, waterfront tavernas full of Brits blasing techno music.

A check of my map confirms my suspicion: We have crossed out of Sfakia and into a less mountainous, more accessible stretch of Crete. Paved roads head inland toward the major cities of the island, and my sense of isolation is momentarily shattered.

Fortunately, I have two more days of kayaking to indulge my craving for solitude. The following morning, I wake up, pull my kayak down the beach and paddle out in the deep blue waters.

PLAN YOUR TRIP! Islands.com/crete

Cretan Solitude

OPA! Kayak with Northwest Passage, a U.S.-based outfitter that runs trips along Crete's rugged south. Fly into the Heraklion airport, where you will be met by English-speaking guides who will transfer you to Matala. There, you'll learn and practice some paddling skills to prepare for your adventure. After two nights in Matala, hike to Agia Roumeli, the starting point for the kayaking. From there the group will paddle southeast, stopping at secluded villages like charming Loutro and staying at family-owned inns. Trips in 2006 begin May 20; rates start at $2,595 for eight days and seven nights. nwpassage.com