This post will be photo heavy. Sorry (or you’re welcome, depending on your take) in advance.
 
I awoke around 2 AM to torrential rain pouring down, each drop making that soothing sound on the hardshell tent’s molded roof. By the time we got up the next morning the campsite was absolutely soaked and the air had a chill that was unexpected for mid-August in New England. Throwing on a jacket and my trusty trail runner footwear I climbed down the ladder from the Jeep’s roof and faced the day. Others in the camp were also waking up, noises and voices growing in that familiar way that campsites come to life every morning. 

The plan for the day wasn’t overly drawn out… a handful of options had been presented in the pre-trip itinerary, and over breakfast we chose to hike the nearby Allagash Mountain. Tents and stoves were packed up and put away as Bob’s kids ran around with the dogs, and by 09h30 we were rolling out towards our next adventure. The trailhead itself was located just a few miles down a narrow dirt road that strategically began directly across the road from our Round Pond campsite. Dani and I lead the way in the Trailhawk as the four other vehicles fell in line behind us, tall wet grass sliding underneath the vehicle’s skid plates as we drove through the woods, our surroundings eerily dark and vividly green as a result of the overcast skies above. Parking just shy of a wide metal gate in a makeshift lot where the fire road ended, we gathered up backpacks and water bottles before beginning the hike. Shaun wasn’t feeling well, and hunkered down in their teardrop trailer with a handheld radio to sleep while the rest of the group began down the trail.
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​ ​Allagash Mountain stands 1,770-feet tall and features a thousand feet of elevation gain during its ascent. Round trip the route was in the ballpark of 5 miles, and the summit would feature an old fire tower facilitating views of the entire region. Claude and Ben led the way with Bob and Jessica in tow, while Jenny, Dani, Brendan and I brought up the back. The trail started off relatively level down the remainder of the gated fire road before running straight into the backyard of the otherwise undiscoverable Ranger Station at Allagash Lake, nestled into the woods with gorgeous views of the lake’s waters. From there we turned back into the forest and began the upwards climb, gradual at first before becoming a steep final pitch that left us scrambling up wet rocks and grabbing at tree trunks to maintain balance before emerging to a cleared summit. 

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The Allagash Mountain fire tower stood proudly atop the mountain, reminding me of dozens of peaks with the same adornments that were strewn throughout the Appalachian Trail. A strong breeze was moving clouds above us and the morning sun had burned off most of the fog while we were climbing. As the group wandered around, took photos, and enjoyed the view, Brendan and I climbed the narrow ladder up the fire tower itself to see what was inside. Squeezing through a narrow door hinged to the floor of the structure we found old topographical maps, a tiny stove, and what appeared to be an old telegraph/morse code key (I may be wildly wrong, but it truly appeared to be such a device!). I snapped some photos as Brendan consulted the topo map and pointed out at Canada to our west and Katahdin to our south, then we carefully descended the ladder back down to the rocky surface of the summit.
 
Wedging my camera into a crevice of granite I was able to snap a group photo before we headed back down the mountain. The initial descent was even more difficult than climbing up, with wet rocks and fallen leaves making for less than ideal conditions and sketchy steps forward. The group took just over an hour to get down, having paused briefly for a few slips and falls, and found Shaun drinking a cider in his camp chair next to their Jeep. 
 

​​Our drive from the makeshift parking lot to our anticipated campsite at Wadleigh Beach was only supposed to be 11 miles. Rolling out through the fire trail we turned back onto the wider and more maintained roads, increasing our speed and taking in the scenery and warm afternoon air. Dani and I were leading the way when out of nowhere a young moose darted across the road a few hundred feet in front of us. Before I could reach for the Ham radio to call it in to the rest of the group behind us, the huge animal had disappeared into the woods on the other side of the road. I came to a full stop, anticipating another one or two to follow across the road, but unfortunately none appeared.
 
A half hour or so later we arrived at the campsite that Brendan and I had chosen months prior, only to find it happily occupied by a few vehicles with a handful of people down by the lake. We pulled the vehicles off the side of the road, constantly aware of the possibility for a fully loaded logging truck to come flying down the road at any given moment, and laid out our paper maps across the hood of Jenny’s Jeep in search of a new place to spend the night.

 Lucky for us after inadvertently splitting up, dead ends and u-turns down decades old overgrown trails, and some sketchy radio communications, we all arrived at a quiet campsite nestled right alongside Saint Francis Lake. Dinner was family style taco night, a crowd favorite and pretty much trip tradition at this point, and was followed by smores over the campfire. The night rolled on as a handful of people went to bed, a few of us staying up late drinking bourbon under a vast and brilliant starry sky while Freebird and other instantly recognizable rock songs played on into the night.
 

So it's with great frustration and disappointment that I type this from a new laptop. Last weekend while on a work trip in San Francisco with Dani, we took a lunch-time stroll through Golden Gate Park to visit the Japanese Gardens. We walked around for about 45 minutes before returning to the rental car, parked alongside the park's main thoroughfare, only to find the rear two windows shattered, and two of my work bags stolen from the SUV's trunk area. I had folded the 3rd row seats over my backpack and suitcase, but it was returned to an upright position and covered in glass where my stuff used to be.

In total, over $15,000 of equipment, computers, cameras, lenses, my passport, and a multitude of hard drives were stolen from me, including the primary and redundant backups of my photo library and computer data drives.

We even had the unfortunate opportunity to watch my LTE enabled iPad trace its way across San Francisco as the police took a report. Yes, insurance is in place for all of this, but the loss of the photo files and memories (including but not limited to the last year's trips to Grand Canyon National Park, Mt. Rainier National Park, Hong Kong, Shanghai, etc.) are what breaks my heart the most. Equipment will be replaced, but I'll never be able to get those images back.

So anyway, thankfully I uploaded the North Maine Woods photos to The Cloud prior to writing this trip report, but still a disappointing situation all around.

Be back soon with more of the Allagash Wilderness story!

​Ryan

Having packed the last of our gear into the Jeep the night before our departure, we had no reason to rush around the house the morning we left for Maine. With the temperatures climbing into the mid-80s and a good amount of humidity blanketed over Boston, we did a final inventory check and pulled out of the driveway around 09h30. The dash-mounted iPad had GPS coordinates put in for Millinocket, Maine, located some 290 miles north; from there we’d switch over to Gaia, our backcountry navigation app, and make our way off-pavement to our first night’s campsite just south of the North Maine Woods Telos Checkpoint.
 
The highway miles were easy, and the Jeep rolled along smoothly. We had just mounted our new Wildpeak AT3W tires a few weeks prior thanks to a partnership with Falken Tire from Rancho Cucamonga, CA, and I was interested to see how our gas mileage would compare to the factory tires. On top of the Jeep was our brand new hard-shell roof top tent - a 10" tall roof mounted shell that expands to almost 40" tall at campsites allowing us to sleep on the top of the Jeep. Our sleeping bag, pillows, and sleeping clothes are stored in it as we travel, and it collapses back down in just a few minutes when we're ready to move on. Also freshly installed on the front end of the Jeep was Chief Products' Lower Front Guard, a skid plate that replaced the plastic bumper from the factory to add protection from rocks and trees as we adventure through the woods. The Grand Cherokee had all three of these products installed in the last month and here we were, headed into the woods, excited to see how they all performed. 
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From Boston to Millinoket we averaged 21 miles per gallon, a number I was pleased with given the equipment load we were carrying. The town and roads were very familiar to me and brought a smile to my face and great deal of memories to my mind. As we slowed to the local speed limits I used every opportunity to point out to Dani places I remembered from the last days of my Appalachian Trail adventure four years prior. We drove through the sleepy town in search of a last snack from civilization before continuing down the final maintained road we’d see for days, our sights set way out of town far beyond where the pavement ended.
 
Our final stop was at an old service station/convenience store a few miles outside of town where a gas pump, antiquated by modern standards, rolled its analog dials counting out gallons of fuel at a glacial pace. Writing down the digits behind the pump’s glass, I carried the information inside and paid the attendant while Dani perused the store. Heading out again we traveled down Baxter State Park Road for another fifteen or so minutes before splitting from the dissipating pavement and breathing a sigh of relief as we rolled onto roads comprised entirely of dirt for the first time in the trip.
 
We passed the Abol Bridge Campground & Store, a place where I rested for an hour or two after exiting the Hundred Mile Wilderness during my 2014 Appalachian Trail thru-hike before heading on to Katahdin’s finish line, and continued on Golden Road for a long while. I stopped to fly the drone and capture some footage of Katahdin and the Nesowadnehunk Deadwater, a river flowing out from the Ripogenus Lake just west of where we stood.  
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Turning onto Telos Road a few miles from Harrington Pond Camp where we’d spend the night, I was able to reach Bob on his handheld radio. Our 2m Ham radio setup in the Jeep has an incredible range but hearing back from lesser powered handheld units can be a little more difficult in thickly wooded areas. He reported back that the campsite we’d chosen was a perfect spot for the night and directed us to its exact location. An open clearing nestled up along Harrington Pond, the area would easily fit our group’s four vehicles and two trailers once everyone had arrived. Dani and I found a good spot for the WK2 and I got to work setting up the roof top tent while she set up our base camp gear.
 
The Sweeneys arrived shortly thereafter, and the group cooked meals while I got some drone footage over the lake as the sun set. We sat around a campfire until 21h00 when Brendan’s voice came through on the radio proclaiming he was just a few minutes away but would need help finding the nearly invisible turnoff from the main route to access the campsite. I met him on Telos Road with my radio and a flashlight and helped him squeeze his Jeep and trailer down the narrow road, the final vehicle and driver to join our North Maine Woods adventure.
 
With nine people sitting around a campfire and two dogs playing in the clearing around us, we discussed the days ahead. As the last logs burned down and only the glow of embers (and Bob’s multi-color rope lighting) remained, people retreated to their roof top tents and trailers for the night, excited for the trip that lay ahead of us past the Telos Checkpoint and deep into the North Maine Woods.
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​First off, I’m a year overdue in writing this. That said, better late than never, so here we go.
 
The North Maine Woods is an incredibly unique place consisting of more than 3.2 million acres of privately-owned land abundant with trees, rivers, and almost entirely undeveloped land, located 100 miles north of Bangor and some 6 hours north of Boston. Wikipedia describes it as “a thinly populated region is overseen by a combination of private individual and private industrial owners and state government agencies, divided into 155 unincorporated townships within the NMW area.” and almost enthusiastically notes, “There are no towns or paved roads.” As reference for anyone who followed along with my 2014 Appalachian Trail thru-hike, the southern end of the Woods borders the edges of Baxter State Park.
 
Last August our Jeep/overland club got together for a five-day trip through Maine’s Allagash Wilderness and the aforementioned North Woods as our annual summer trip. A lot of the group are recurring faces from our 2017 QB-5 Overland trip, including myself and Dani, Brendan, his dog Jackson, Bob, Jessica, their boys and dog Niko, and Shaun and Jenny. All together we had two Jeep JKU Wranglers and two Jeep WK2 Grand Cherokees, two roof top tents and two teardrop trailers. It’s a group that travels well together and this trip was no exception to our adventures in years past.
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Brendan (back row, second from left) and I worked over the course of a few weeks drawing up a route, referencing data and maps from this group’s 2016 trip through some of the same regions. For those that have never heard of, visited, or planned a trip through this remote section of Maine, it’s unlike anywhere else in the US. With no established towns the areas are instead divided into a grid and labeled by location on a horizontal and vertical axis. For example, one of our campsites might be located in an area called T3R10, or further northeast at T12R15. Once we established where possible campsites were, we’d plot out exact GPS points and then begin stringing trails and roads together to create a route.
 
Having enough data compiled for a 5-day, 4-night adventure through one of the most remote places in America, we then turned to mapping gas stations, hospitals, and general “SHTF” waypoints in the event of an emergency. As far as the North Maine Woods goes, you’re basically on your own shy of a MedFlight chopper. Fuel, food, and first aid must all be carried on-board the vehicle, and redundant supplies for parts and troubleshooting are all on a bring-what-you-need basis.  The route spanned a respectable 800 miles (including the drive to/from home) and gave us 3.5 days inside the Allagash Wilderness to explore, hike, swim, and relax.  
 
With the maps digitized and the details detailed, it was just an inpatient waiting game until our date of departure.

We woke up early in Heraklion, packed our bags and were out the door by 05h45 in order to return the rental car and make it to the ferry terminal for our boat to Santorini. There were some communication issues from the ferry company about the departure time, but after a bit of delay we were on the (very nice) ferry boat and underway to what is arguably one of the most famous islands in the world.

We purposely chose Santorini as our final stop in the counter-clockwise tour of Greece, renting an private Airbnb for three nights that gave us incredible views of the bay. Once the ferry docked we located a taxi that would take us to the far side of the island, a tiny village called Imerovigli that is literally built into the steep cliffs of the island. With a western facing view, the village is nicknamed "the balcony to the Aegean Sea". By the time we arrived it was nearly noon, and the temperatures had climbed into the low 90s. We located our Airbnb host and walked down the narrow corridors and steep staircases to find our apartment, a white-washed cave-home that was built into the side of the rocky island. Our porch had two relaxing patio chairs and a four person hot tub, and looked as absolutely incredible as it had on the internet when we selected it. For the cost of this place (nearly $700 USD per night due to the peak tourist season visit), we had decided that most of our time in Santorini would be spent on the porch and relaxing in the cool apartment.

We spent the next three days relaxing on the island, visiting the hundreds of little shops, watching sunset in the small village of Oia just a few miles north, and eating the narrow variety of food that Greece seems to offer. Hiking around Oia showed us the famous windmills that the town is known for, as well as the three blue-domed houses that are now world famous. With the cruise ships arriving early in the morning and departing in the late afternoon, we spent most of our days at our apartment soaking in the sun and reading our books, then heading out into town once the crowds had disappeared. There were just so many people confined to these little streets that it not only made it hard to move around, but also difficult to feel like we had any time to ourselves while exploring. I firmly believe that thanks to the advent of social media apps like Instagram and Snapchat, places in these destination cities have become overrun with travelers who just want a single photo alike what they saw online. I'm not saying that I don't do the same sometimes, but it's now at the point where these places (Santorini, Zion National Park, etc) are asking people to not travel there, simply due to the influx of tourists, many with their selfie sticks swinging around haphazardly, overwhelming the infrastructure of the island.

Thankfully the evenings relaxed the crowds and we were able to wander around between restaurants and bars, soaking up the warmth of the night and watching the starts shine overhead. After a whirlwind week and a half leading up to our visit to Santorini, it was wonderful to have nothing to do and nowhere to be. I took photographs of the famous places, and spent a while each day rotating my lens towards different buildings to try and capture a more quiet image of the island; I can only imagine what it'd be like to visit it in the shoulder seasons. The colors of the water, both abundant pools and ocean, shine brightly against the bleach white buildings that stretch as far as the eye could see.  As a gift to myself I didn't write much during our stay in Santorini. It was a fantastic time, and I feel lucky to have visited such a beautiful and unique place.

After three days we got on another ferry, this one far less clean/enjoyable, and took a seven hour ride back to the port in Athens. It was quite the experience and was followed by a cluster of a situation getting to our final Airbnb, a venue that was a disaster in itself, enough that we walked back out the door and on to the Marriott Athens for a comfortable night leading up to our flight home. The next morning we took a pre-arranged taxi to the airport, and after an easy walk through security waited at the gate for our flight to board. West-bound flights from Europe are some of my least favorite, as it all takes place in sunlight and therefore feels like the longest day ever. A quick layover at New York's JFK International put us on a short jumper back to Boston, and we were back home just before midnight. 

With almost a month and a half of reflection, I stand by my initial thoughts that Greece was truly a fascinating place. The variety of construction types, agriculture, people, and living circumstances were nothing short of amazing. We visited twelve cities in fourteen days, drove a few hundred miles through less traveled lands, and saw far more than I believe the average visitor to the country might see. I don't know that it's a place that I'd return to anytime soon, perhaps to traverse the northern part of the country, but otherwise this one adventure was wonderful enough for me.

It's always a pleasure to travel and see the people and things this planet is home to. I think the opportunity to experience different cultures is one of the most special privileges many people have in this world, and is one that everyone should take advantage of in whatever capacity they're able. The easy ability to hop on an airplane, get in the car, ride a bicycle, or simply walk and be somewhere else in such limited time is something we often fail to appreciate. 

I recommend a Greek adventure to anyone who has never been, or anyone who has ever wanted to go. Rent a car and see the places TripAdvisor doesn't list as a must-see, relax on the world-famous beaches of Crete, hike in the wildly varied terrains, and eat as much tzatziki sauce as you can humanly manage. For me, Dani and I have checked Greece off the bucket list and are off to find the next adventure elsewhere, after all, the world is chock full of them to choose from.

Onward & upward,

​Ryan
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​The rainy forecast came true in the early morning hours, pouring water down and shaking the small house with thunder. With no true agenda and no alarms set I woke up around 08h00, packing up my gear and taking some time to work on the blog. We had the car packed just an hour and a half later and were underway, driving through town before reaching the highway. It was fascinating for a few minutes, turning down small village roads and talking aloud about what we saw. This place, like many of the others we’ve visited so far, is tired and run down almost everywhere we look. I’d mentioned to Dani the night before at dinner that looking back at town made me feel as if I was looking at a village in Pakistan or Afghanistan. The tan washed buildings are monotonous and dirty against a dry mountainous background, overgrown weeds and vacant lots filling the space in front of us. It has been like this over and over, visible signs of the recession and government struggles in the country. 

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Finding E75, the two lane highway that runs the length of the island of Crete, I shifted through the gearbox of our little BMW, finding 5th gear sufficient for our speed and the occasional hills as we moved west. Light rain came and went as I weaved around slower cars, passing wherever I wanted or felt the need. I’ve decided that the traffic laws here are non-existent. Cars drive in the lane, breakdown lane, or halfway in between with no rhyme or reason. Some do 40km while others pass at well over 120, moving out into the oncoming lane and accelerating past as many cars and trucks as they can in a single go. While slightly unnerving at the start, I’ve grown more accustomed to it over the last week and have begun doing it more on my own. Today was no exception, and I was having fun navigating us down the road as Dani watched out the window and occasionally changed the song on the radio to suit her tastes. 

Around lunchtime we made it to Rethimno, a vibrant and bustling city on the edge of the sea. We find free parking down on the water and began a few hours of exploration down the narrow streets, passing small shops and restaurants, taking photos regularly and enjoying the welcomed sun shining down from above. As luck would have it, there was a break in the rain for the duration of our time in town, a wonderful gift to us that made navigating the colorful streets overgrown with green vines and saturated blooming flowers so much more enjoyable. We stopped at one restaurant for a snack, choosing a gluten free crepe with chicken, sun dried tomato, and mozzarella cheese to share. The dish was huge, but the chicken was dry which left the entire meal to be disappointing. We paid the check and moved on, back towards the car and to our final destination, all in all walking just over 4 miles during our brief visit to town. 

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On the way out of town we took a twisty route up through the countryside past a small farm that Dani had read about. Their restaurant was closed, but we took some time to explore the stone courtyards that overlooked acres of vineyards and the ocean in the distance. Heavy rain plagued us the remaining 70km to Heraklion, but as we drove down the same coastal highway the storm clouds were beautiful in contrast to the blue grey sea they covered. Our Airbnb was nestled in the heart of the neighborhood nearest to the port, a key location given our early ferry ride to Ssantorini the following morning. The streets were so narrow and cars parked so closely together there were actually moments that our side view mirrors cleared only by half an inch on either side as I eased the clutch into first gear and crawled between the vehicle next to us and concrete buildings on the opposite sides. The apartment we rented was on the third floor of an older condo building, but had a nice view across a city park and windows protected from the rainfall outside, allowing us to leave them open and feel the cool breeze of the afternoon. 

Dinner was found at a restaurant literally right outside our door, an almost-American place born and raised in the States some forty years ago. The fourth location owned by the family, Amalia’s Kitchen had an incredibly diverse menu, including a vast gluten free selection, and served our needs well for dinner. The owner and namesake, Amalia herself, came to visit or table and talked with us about her two decades living in the US, operating the restaurant started by her father in Houston back in the 70s, then moving it back to her hometown in Crete after he passed away. We talked about Boston, New York, Texas, and the restaurant itself before moving inadvertently to the more serious topics of Greece, the housing market, the government, and (lack of) police presence. The most hard hitting fact she gave us was in regards to the vacant mid-construction houses adorning every town, something she says is due to a $60,000 Euro permit fee to finish a home. Much alike a building permit in the US, maybe $125-1,000 depending on where you live, the $60k permit is required for construction but is something that nobody can afford to pay, causing these homes to be abandoned halfway through being built, left to deteriorate without much further action.  The things Amalia told us really hit home just how reliant this country is on tourism, and leaves me with a lot to think about as we go into the final week of this adventure. 

Making the exceptionally short walk back to the apartment we packed in preparation for the early ferry ride to Santorini. Crete has been beautiful and diverse, but I’m really quite excited to see what our next island has in store for us. 
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​When we initially read that Bolis Lagoon was an hour drive from Kissamos, we figured it was a good 40-50km away. As you might imagine, finding out it was a mere 9 miles away came with quite the shock. Leaving the Airbnb I navigated our little Beemer (a car I’m really starting to enjoy) through the quiet town and out around the bay to an area full of farming land, olive trees, and crop fields. There was one other car with what looked like tourists inside, stopped on the edge of the road asking a local for directions which, given the road and time, I assumed were to the same beach we were headed towards. Thankfully our cell phone plans have unlimited international data and we’ve been able to utilize Google Maps since we first got here, so we passed by politely and continued following the little blue digital breadcrumb trail my phone was leading us down. Not much further down the road the olive trees gave way to rocky hills as the  road turned to dirt, cut into the side of the terrain with a jagged and steep cliff as the only thing between us and the deep blue water of Kissamos Harbor. 

We followed along at a comfortable pace, Dani peering out the passenger window and reminiscing about the same feeling of driving up New Hampshire’s Mt. Washington Auto Road for the first time last fall, slightly unnerved about the pitch of the slope next to us and her proximity to the edge. Another few kilometers up the road we ran into something I wouldn’t have expected, a pack of wild mountain goats blocking the road. I creeped the car up to them as they reluctantly moved out of the way, allowing us passage towards the beach parking lot. Dust kicked up behind us as we continued on, reaching a small flat area at the end of the long dirt road where we again found ourselves in the company of only a half dozen other cars. The funny thing about this lot was the elevation and complete lack of ocean water. Not one of the blogs we had researched or photos we had seen had ever alluded to the 1.5 mile hike over the mountain at the end of the peninsula in order to make it to the beach. The hike was rocky but somewhat graded over the pass, then began a surprising 500-vertical-foot descent down to the immaculate water below us. The descent itself was done with a makeshift staircase built by the Cretans, a genius move in my opinion to prevent the degradation of the hillside by people traipsing around. The stone “path” probably works wonders to keep everyone in line, though as we descended we saw only two other couples making their way down to the waters edge. 
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​We picked out beach chairs and an umbrella and settled down for some reading and soaking in the sunshine, initially sharing the beach with maybe a dozen people. As the day progressed and sun moved across the sky, hundreds of others arrived by sailboat, ferryboat, and foot, the beach that had been so tranquil again becoming a madhouse. I thought to myself how adventures a few summers back while getting my sailing licenses had allowed me access to beaches the masses simply couldn’t get to, and how privileged I had been to experience that. It seems more and more now that places that were probably once filled with solitude are now known to the entire world with a click of their computer keyboard (we’re absolutely guilty of this too) and filled with people instead. These thoughts lingered on in my mind throughout the day, and around 15h00 we packed up and began the literal hike back to the car. The climb up was a little more difficult in the 90+ degree heat, but we made it back to the parking lot without incident, finding it overflowing with a hundred or more cars. 

It took some convincing to move the mountain goats out from behind our rental car’s shade, but once they were gone and the car was packed we headed back down the long dirt road to town. I was surprised to see even more cars lining the cliff side of the already narrow route, parked as best they could in order to access the beach. Having not eaten, we stopped at an upscale hotel back towards the olive groves and had a small afternoon snack while overlooking the bay from their restaurant deck. As it turned out, our waiter's family lives in the United States and owns a very large Boston-based grocery store chain, Market Basket. He enjoyed conversation with us and even brought us free dessert before we left. The rest of the afternoon was spent doing utilitarian things like laundry and repacking, followed by great naps that brought us right up to dinner time. For simplicity and enjoyment we returned to Maria’s, the same restaurant as the night before, sharing more of the baked feta cheese, calamari, and salmon. Discussing the plans for tomorrow, we’ve decided to head out early driving back east towards Chanya, then on to explore the famous seaside town of Rethimno before making the final push to our Airbnb in the busy port town of Heraklion. 
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​Though the bunk I had was no larger than a yoga mat, sheer exhaustion led me to sleep without stirring, and wake feeling surprisingly rested when the alarm went off at 05h. Having packed our bags the night before we were ready in short order, returning the room key to the appropriate parties and standing in line with a small group by the escalators to the lower deck for our eventual exit. We waited for over half an hour as the line of people grew behind us, each seeming to be in a big rush to get somewhere. The truth was that we were too, as the rental car company couldn’t confirm availability beforehand and told us to show up the morning we arrived, hoping for the best. 

Getting off the boat we managed to be the first people to grab a taxi, and 20 minutes later were at the sleepy Crete Chanya (the latter pronounced with a silent “C”) International Airport. So early were we that the rental car desks weren’t even open, and we waited a while for the rental agent to arrive. The only availability was for a more luxury midsize, which would come with an extra $50 cost. Not feeling the need to argue over the price, we agreed and were off in no time to find a beach. The ‘more luxury’ vehicle is a midnight blue BMW 116i, a diesel powered six-speed that proved being worthy of its German descent just minutes later while merging onto the islands’ main highway. Our destination was Elafonisi Beach, famous around the world for its pink sand and turquoise waters washing in from the Mediterranean. The drive took nearly two hours of our early morning, the majority of which was spent navigating windy switchbacks on narrow roads that were literally cut into the sides of mountains. Grinning from ear to ear I stuck to just two gears, second for steep climbs and corners, and third for straightaways between the previous two. The feel of the vehicle made the entire process joyful, the tightly tuned suspension allowing minimal roll in corners and the buttery smooth shifting making me feel like I was racing in some mountainous Grand Prix. Crossing through a single lane tunnel in the side of the highest mountain, we began our descent into the lower lands and on toward the sea. 
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Arriving at the Elafonisi Beach well before the masses (it was only 09h00 at this point) we parked close to the entrance with another half dozen cars; by the end of the day there would be hundreds. Walking down the long shoreline we saw faint hints of the notable pink sand, and read signs of the deterioration of its colorful presence due to visitors taking it home with them. The signs poignantly reminded readers that we were borrowing the land from future generations, and to respect it accordingly. Setting up our beach towels on a quieter spot of land across a 50’ wide waist deep river of inlet water, we retained a bit of solitude throughout the day as crowds (and busses) of people arrived in the following hours. I regretted aloud not having taken pictures of the serene landscape when we first arrived, as now there were people everywhere. Temperatures peaked in the low 90s shortly after noon, and we lingered around swimming and reading our books until almost 15h00.

The drive back was far less enjoyable for me due to the swarms of traffic leaving the beaches, but we made it over the mountains in a hour as our GPS directed us to Kissamos, the small town where we would be staying for the next two nights. We met the Airbnb hosts, a woman and her mother, and got checked into the in-law apartment they have behind the main house. For $45 USD per night we have the place to ourselves, access to a washing machine and air conditioning, all while being just two blocks from the beach. After quick showers and starting a load of laundry we walked down to the water and enjoyed an amazing meal at a small local restaurant called Maria’s. We dined on baked feta cheese with peppers and tomatoes, veggie risotto, and a dish called Pastisito, made with macaroni, mashed potatoes, cheese, and minced meat. Both the service and food were exceptional, and the manager surprised us with dessert and a local liqueur as we watched the sunset over the town’s northern bay.  

By the time we returned to the apartment it was 22h30, plans in place to wake up early and head to another famous beach on the northwest corner of Crete, hoping to get some photos and footage of the beautiful landscape before countless numbers of people arrived as they had today. Located just 9 miles away the drive is said to take over an hour, which has me eagerly anticipating the kind of terrain we might be crossing to get there.

​With no air conditioning in the Athens Airbnb, a lone fan in the corner of the room tried its hardest to circulate the otherwise stagnant air. I woke up early and used the time and my electric beard trimmer to give myself a quick haircut, a necessity due to the 90+ degree temperatures we’d been seeing thus far. By the 10h00 we had our bags packed and were walking to the rented Suzuki parked a few blocks away. The Airbnb checkout time was noon, and our ferry to Crete didn’t leave until dark; to avoid carrying our gear around all day we extended the rental car by a few hours and used it as storage for our bags. 

After a 1 mile walk in the already stifling heat, we found ourselves at the entry gates to the Acropolis. Surrounded by hundreds of other people we showed the park employees our tickets and made our way through the gates and up the hill. The first sight was of the theater, down the steep hill on our right. It’s being used for music festivals throughout the summer, and I enjoyed seeing the way the production equipment was utilized in the literally-ancient space. Continuing up the stone pathway, slippery from hundreds or even thousands of years of people walking on them, we passed through the Propyla, the west-facing stone entrance to the upper portion of the Acropolis. Straight ahead of us were Athena’s temple and the Parthenon. Having seen the latter for years in both media and throughout my public school education, it was nothing shy of spectacular to stand next to and admire this 2,300 year old structure. The myriad of tourists and selfie sticks make it a little harder to truly enjoy the experience, but I felt as if I had a better relationship with the Parthenon than others around me thanks to the 30 minute drone flight I did overtop of it the night before. Dani and I snapped some photos and read all of the surrounding signage, the majority of which talked about the reconstructive and restorative efforts for the buildings. They detailed the removal process of old stone pieces, then lab-based laser scanning for 3D imagery, new piece machining, and ultimately the replacement of new stone into the structures. The grout and filling work the crews do to original pieces is 100% removable and reversible if future technology proves to be superior. All of this was information I found absolutely fascinating and undeniably impressive, though Dani and I had hoped for a little more information on how the Parthenon itself was originally built.

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We descended from high atop the city as temperatures grew higher, stopping for milkshakes at a shaded street-side restaurant. Moving on to visit the Stoa of Attalos and Temple of Hephaestus, we saw hundreds of stone pieces including transcribed laws, statues of political figures, and busts of Gods and Goddesses dating back to between 200 and 500 BC. I questioned aloud who must’ve first drawn these Gods, so that for centuries others could carve and draw them identically, comparing it to Coca-Cola’s 1931 print advertisement drawings of Santa Claus; an influence that lasts throughout global culture to this day. After an We spent the mid afternoon continuing walking through the city streets of Athens, deciding to visit the Hard Rock Cafe for a drink and ultimately staying for a more ‘American’ meal. While the local/regional food here has been delicious, the menus are very monotonous, and I jumped at the opportunity for a BBQ pulled pork sandwich. 

The walk back to our car took an hour or so, and we closed in on a total of 6 miles of walking city exploration for the day. We dropped the Suzuki off at Enterprise with enough time to get a relaxing drink at a wine bar before taking a cab to Athens’ Port Piraeus where we met our cruise ship/ferry. For the price of $60 euro each we reserved a private cabin on the Blue Star Line “Blue Galaxy”, a 650’ ship that would carry both passenger, cars, and freight trucks between Athens and the southern island of Crete. For the geographically inclined, Crete is the dividing piece of Greek territory between the country’s mainland and Africa, located just 200 miles north of both Egypt and Libya’s coastlines. We stood on the deck watching the sunset and listening to the muster drill instructions over the ship’s loudspeaker, slowly watching Athens disappear behind us. Engines came to full as we cleared the end of the channel, and we headed back to our berth to sleep quickly, with alarms set early in hopes of being the first off the ship at our arrival port shortly before 06h00. 
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​The sun came screaming in the glass balcony door at 06h00, almost instantly causing the temperature of the room to rise. We sleepily turned on the A/C to combat it, eventually giving in to the heat and waking up to pack our belongings for the day ahead. It was already 86 degrees by the time we were in the car, water bottles replenished and music on loudly at 10h30 as we began the long haul back to Athens. 

The towns we passed through on our climb from the seaside were each colorful and very alive with activity, mopeds zipping by and schoolchildren running this way and that. Driving so far has been both fun and challenging as I do my best to respect what little laws it seems they have. An hour or so from Monemvasia we were deep inland, winding through and around some massive peaks that towered over the road. I’d guess these peaks to be 7-8,000 feet each, and their protrusion from the otherwise flat valley was something spectacular to see in person. So many friends have visited Greece and seen only the islands, our backcountry tour between the ocean villages has given us an entirely different experience that I feel privileged to have had. Our only real pit stop during the 4 hour drive was a bathroom break at a little roadside bakery. Dani grabbed a cold Coca-Cola from the fridge and I picked up a freshly made raspberry strudel pastry for myself. By early afternoon we arrived in Athens, and the open roads and limitless freedom of the last two days driving came to a screeching halt as the city streets became packed with traffic and the typical hellish confusion that always seems bustling in major metropolitan area roadways. 

Our Airbnb was not as nice as we had hoped, and the host informed us we had to turn on the water heater at the electrical breaker panel “then leave for half an hour”. I asked if the leaving was for enjoyment of time outdoors or safety reasons, and he didn’t go into detail after saying it was the latter.  Combined with the miserable condition of the bathroom itself, we each decided against risking our health and lives just to take a shower. We had a light snack in a nearby shopping district, street vendors everywhere and restaurants galore, each place convincing you that their (nearly identical) menu was the best. The evening was spent high atop Athens from a place called Philopappos Hill, a part of the city park that has an elevated monument to Julius Philopappos, a prominent regional administrator in 114AD. Most importantly the highest point of the hill has a direct and unparalleled view of the Acropolis - perfect for anyone looking to photograph the ancient architecture. I set up my tripod and got the camera ready, reserving our spot as more people arrived, and we talked for a while with a younger UK couple who were on a two week vacation as well. The guy, after asking where we were from, complimented Tom Brady, saying he waits up to watch Sunday American Football in the fall. Conversation turned to the more internationally friendly Formula 1 racing, and we talked about favorite teams and tracks around the world as the sun began to set over Athens. Getting a few photos and some footage with the drone, Dani and I packed up and headed down the hill, ultimately finding an upscale restaurant with an elevated terrace that looked out over the Acropolis, perfect for a nice dinner on our first night in the city. We shared a salmon salad, both surprised to see it came out raw, and an unparalleled gluten free brownie dessert with fresh strawberries and a light caramel drizzle. It was quite the experience to sit there enjoying a meal, our view being straight across to what my arguably be the most recognizable structure in the world, the Parthenon.  With a rare opportunity in front of me, I took a moment to fly the drone up over the Acropolis. It was a nerve-wracking experience, but captured some of the most beautiful footage of our entire trip, which I'll share with you in a few weeks once I have it edited.

After putting the camera equipment away, I navigated us back through the city streets with no GPS, Dani somewhat doubting my internal compass but following along nonetheless. Sleep came fast, alarms set for early in hopes of making it up to the Acropolis before the heat made the completely unshaded monument unbearable. To be honest, so far Athens hasn’t blown my sox off, but we shall see if that opinion changes in the morning. 
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