FEATURE HOLIDAYS CRETE

LostiA 120-mile expedition through themountains of Crete by a self-confessedhack-hater should have been hell. Instead,MARTHA TERRY finds herself smugly con ten t

TAKE two slightly ditzy girls. oneincomprehensible language. abrace of strange horses and dumpthem on a Mediterranean island.Then tell said girls to navigatethrough 120 miles of

impenetrable terrain and come home safely.Sounds like a recipe for disaster?Well. perhaps. But I also thought itsounded

fun - and had no trouble conscripting myflatmate. Caroline. for the trip (solo travel isnot allowed on the unguided Lasithi trail).

I'd never been to Crete and. though I officiallyhate hacldng. one sniff of adventure has mesnared. But as Odysseia Stables manager Manolishanded me some saddlebags and a curious ropeattached to a crooked horse shoe before directingme to a pony halfthe height of my own titchyeventer. my confidence began to waver.

The saddlebags. explained Manolis. heavingthem over Macho's back. contain a 24hr supplyof oats. a tetherer (the shoe-rope thing) andthree. days' clothes andnecessities forourselves. Wejust had tofollow bluearrows markedon stones alongthe trail, keepan eye on themap and pitchup at a tavernaevery evening.

I can get lost in adressage arena. soI delegatednavigating toCaroline. Manolis promised we would findhay and evening oats at each guesthouse. andurged us to let the horses drink wherever wecould find water. We exchanged mobile

~ numbers. with his plea that we would call if~ ever we were unhappy with one of the ponies~ - ei ther in temperament or soundness - and.~ he would bring a replacement. With that, hei;' tapped Macho on the rump and waved us off.~ We set off in fleeces. heeding the locals':; warnings about the chilliness of the Cretan.21 peaks (1.800m) - they get snowed in during~ the winter. But just two blue arrows into our::!E ride. we decided itwas bikini time. Amid1;' secluded hectares of olive groves ribboned~ with rugged mountain paths. only a lone eagle~ circling ahead. we stripped and changed - just

before Manolis's Jeeppurred round the corner.

"I forgot your lunch'"he grinned. stuffinghunks of bread. ham andcheese into our bags.

But for most ofthe trail.we felt far away from any civilisation.

No two days of the six are the same - one daywas spent amid rocky. red and Arizona-esqueisolation; another day we rode along a fertile.fruity plateau flecked with quaint white-sailed windmills; one we spen t on the balmysouthern coastline. another up in the cool ofthe Dikti mountains. Some days we trottedthrough villages where clusters of gnarled.toothless old men willingly hobbled up fromtheir roadside benches to offer our horses water;other days. the only glint of a communitywould be the lively chime of a goat's bell.

As Pony Club camp veterans. Caroline and Ithought we'd cruise through six day-long rides.tending to our ponies. Although the Cretansare oblivious to B-tests and conventionalstable management, Iwas struck by quite howmuch Sabine and Manolis. the couple who

Above and left: seven hoursin the saddle is rewarded by arest and a dip in the Libyan Sea

82 HORSE& HOUND·10FEBRUARY2005

run Odysseia Stables. care about their horses.In fact. they once dismissed a rider on day one

- not on account of his ability. but for treatinghis horse like a machine. Manolis admitted tome later that he watches the way his clientsthrow their bags into his truck at the airport toglean signs about which of their 14horses wouldsuit them and whether they are caring riders.

But there is no farrier nor vet on the island.and consequently some ofthe horses' toes wereuncomfortably long. And forget all those rallyrules about "safe tying up" with baler twineand quick-release lmots - here. we simplyattached the horses to trees by the tetherersand they ate. slept and rolled as happily as mymollycoddled Pony Club pony. My DistrictCommissioner would have exploded.

Our first day was an eye-opener. From theGorge ofGonies. we clanlbered fi'om sea level toI,lOOm. Six hours into the ride. and the horseswere straining under the effort. Macho'sfleabitten white coat blackened and glistenedas he toiled up the craggy path. But Macho. atough little Berber pony. is bred to cope withthis sort of vertiginous. rocky terrain. Ijusthad to learn to cope with his way of going. He

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Feelingthe heat: an antiquated watering-hole

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HOLIDAYS ICRETE FEATURE

Taking it in their stride: the ponies are extremely versatile, even when faced with 100 concrete steps

'No two days are the same, somedays spent in isolation, others

trotiingthrough villages'

likes to surge on at a pace, then take a break,panting and looking round rather helplessly.

I couldn't fathom what he was trying toachieve - he could scarcely go home for a branmash only 20 miles in. But no sooner had Iresigned myself to the idea of tethering him tothe nearest olive tree and bedding down forthe night than he strutted on again withrenewed purpose.

Caroline's ride, BillyDiamond, was adifferent proposition.Diamond was bred for theflat, but has lessaffilia tion to a racehorsethan a tadpole. He likesto amble along at hisown pace, his noble head lobbingmetronomically as he slithers down theasphalt tracks and climbs methodically uphillon his long legs.

After a gargantuan effort like this, horsesneed their R&R,but on a different evening,when we'd oniy spent a couple of hoursmeandering through the orchards of theLasithi plateau in the morning, we decided

that a dusk hack was in order.The horses seemed delighted to be out in

the cool of the evening, without theircumbersome saddlebags. While we pluckedfigs, grapes and pomegranates from the treesfringing the sandy tracks, the horses snuffledaround in the dust for windfalls like pigssearching for truffles. It beats my typical

blackberry-fuelledhack. This carefreeattitude abruptlytranslated into a madhomebound gallop,hurtling round theunfamiliar bends -Macho's biood-sugarlevels had evidently

soared due to the over-ripe figs.On the hottest day of all, warmed by the

drying African winds, we rounded off sevenlong hours in the saddle with a dip in theLibyan Sea. The horses initially seemedreluctant to taclde the breaking surf, but oncethey were confident we weren't going to takeany contact on the reins, dragging themunderwater, they bobbed around happily.

10FEBRUARY2005 •HORSE & HOUND S3

HOLIDAYS CRETE

COSTS AND CONTACTS• TH E Lasithi Unguided Trail is availablefrom March toJune and from September toDecember. We visited in September, when thethermometer hit 28

0

C most days.

• SEVEN nights'/six days' riding costs£613 (unguided) or£650 guided. Singlesupplement costs £75. This includes bedand breakfast, dinner at local restaurants,all riding activities. Transfer from Heraklionairport is not included (taxi costs€30).

• CHEAP flights from local airports toHeraklion via Athens can be bookedthrough low-cost airlines. Prices varyaccording to the season.

• LUGGAGE is carried in saddlebags anda change of clothes is brought to you atthe end of the third day. Half-chaps aresuitable, and bring your own crash cap. InSeptember, sun-cream was a must, but inthe colder months be prepared for rain, sunand even snow.

• THIS trip was organised by UnicornTrails. For details, contact Sue Woodbine,2 The Acorn Centre, Chestnut Avenue,Biggleswade, Beds SG18 ORA (tel: 01767600606) www.unicorntrails.com

Back atthe ranch: 120 miles and six days later, we return to thestables. The horses are given 10 days off to play and recover

Tourism has yet to take over thedeserted south coast of the island

84 HORSE & HOUIID • 10FEBRUARY2005

Tucking in: the fertile Lasithi plateau is a vast orchard of apples, pomegranates, figs and grapes

Right: one of the bluearrows, which directedthe entire trek

«Again and again, these horses surprised mewith their versatility. Macho is an all-singing, all-dancing circus pony. The trail winds througha sleepy whitewashed village, incorporating adescent of100 chapel steps. Admittedly,Diamond got his lanky legs in a twist, butMacho strutted down as if to the manor born.

The guesthouses and villages, like the trails,vary enormously, from hotels and tavernas toa family spare room - while the horses arepa tien tly tethered to any nearby tree. Theaccommodation isn't exactly salubrious-spartan, clean and with a private bathroom,but far from plush five-star deluxe. But the hosts,without exception, were charming and helpful,despite the insurmountable language barrier.

We ate local Cretan fare - breakfasts ofyoghurt and honey, and suppers invariablyincorporating lashings of olive oil, vine leaves,Greek salads, lamb and fresh grilled fish.Every night we would be plied with a carafe ofraid - "the Cretan spirit", ominously translatedas firewater- and two shot glasses, often froman anonymous donor in the taverna.

Mercifully, we were warned that it is theheigh t of impropriety to refuse the offer, evenif you have no intention of drinldng it. And .you don't-raki tastes like tequila mixed withpetro!. But possibly rather worse.

At the end of the trip, Manolis and Sabinegenerously took us out to supper in the brightlights of Herald ion to celebrate our safe return.The sudden immersion into a buzzing touristcity, with neon lights, gaudy sarongs andsunburnt Englishmen, pitched a stark contrastwith tile rustic, peasant-W<eidyll we'd so enjoyed.

A 120-mile trek is far from a "happy hack". Itwas adventurous, challenging and at timesremote - with only a good friend and dependentpony as company for an en tire week. The richtapestry oflandscapes was compelling, thepeople delightful and - when eachextraordinary day is over - you slept with thatsmug contentment of time well spent. H&H

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