After finishing up his second big tour across the Andes, Ryan Wilson heads to the rugged terrain and clear blue waters of Crete. Follow along as he gets a taste of the life and riding on Greece’s largest and most mountainous island.
I spent a couple of weeks back in the good ole US of A following my flight from Chile before I was already heading toward the sprawling metropolis of Athens, Greece. I barely took my trusty Prospector out of the box to swap a few parts just to seal it right back up.
I happened to have a soon-expiring flight voucher on a certain Türkiye-based airline burning a hole in my pocket which made a Mediterranean start to this trip ideal, so I mapped out a rough idea of some riding through Greece, Türkiye, and Georgia for the summer and hit the road. While I’ve been to Türkiye a couple of times before and have a huge list of regions that I want to visit there, Greece and Georgia would be totally new to me. I’d heard plenty of good things from my Greek friend Chrissa while we were riding through Central Asia together, so I knew I’d have no trouble finding some great riding (and of course great food).
In a last-minute wrinkle, I decided to first take a ferry to the island of Crete after a couple of days in Athens. Perhaps it was the Siren’s call from the Aegean sea or maybe it was just that perfect mix of coastal and mountain riding that was drawing me in. Either way, I was stoked for the change of pace after a year in the Andes.
“The Texas of Europe”
Before I even set foot on Cretan soil, I had multiple locals describe the island to me as “The Texas of Europe” (or perhaps that should be vice-versa), a reference to the gun-loving, fast-pickup driving, independent-minded people that live there.
Jumping off of the ferry in the city of Heraklion and immediately pedaling out toward the countryside gave me some first hints of that with road signs frequently showing signs of being used for target practice, with spent shells lying around, and trucks narrowly buzzing past at the speed of sound. I was ticking down the meters until I could get off the main road and find myself somewhere quieter.
Thankfully, these initial kilometers out of Heraklion weren’t indicative of what the rest of my trip through Crete would be, otherwise I’d be looking for the first ferry back to the mainland.
I hopped from village to village through a web of small roads splintering off in all directions and eventually came up against a closed but unlocked gate (the first of many) above a farm with a bunch of goats staring at me suspiciously from the other side. I looked around and couldn’t find a shepherd at my first scan of the surroundings until a voice yelled out from the distance. A man was waiving me on as if to say it was OK to pass, but I couldn’t understand a word he was saying so I just slowly opened the gate and kept an eye on his reaction to make sure I wasn’t pissing anyone off, and waived goodbye as I continued down the overgrown trail.
Cretan Nights
By that evening I found myself looking for a spot to camp, and while the letter of the law in Greece says that “wild” camping isn’t allowed, everyone I asked said I’d have absolutely no problems as long as I wasn’t trying to set up in the middle of a crowded beach for a week, and I was respectful of people’s land. Luckily, overcrowded beaches are not my usual scene anyways, so I found Crete to be one of the more laid-back places once it came time to find a spot to set up camp for the night. With no wild animals to be concerned about and plenty of places to find a quiet spot, especially in the mountains, camping was a breeze. Local shepherds were always happy to point out good spots for me.
If there was one challenge when it came to camping here it was in fact that breeze. I had more than a few nights where a dead calm evening suddenly turned to 80+ km/h (50mph) gusty winds overnight, so if you don’t have a strong tent and a good pitch, you might find yourself in for a long night if you’re perched up in the mountains somewhere, exposed to the elements.
The Dikti Mountains
My goal in Crete was to focus most of my time on the three largest central mountain ranges as well as the rugged southern coast. First up was the Dikti Mountains, home to the Lasithi plateau, which is said to have been the birthplace of Zeus himself.
As I usually do, I looked for the highest small roads across the area that I could find on OpenStreetMaps and tried to link them all up in the general direction that I was trying to head.
The first climb into the core of the Dikti was a classic. No traffic, drifting clouds, and a view toward not only the sea far below but also a distant view toward Crete’s tallest mountain, Psiloritis aka Mount Ida. It was a perfect evening ascent that landed me on a small hill overlooking it all, with the omnipresent sound of goat bells as my soundtrack. It was too good to move on from a spot like this, so I pitched the tent and whipped up some dinner.
After reaching the Lasithi plateau the next morning I climbed further toward the more remote Katharo plateau, which houses mostly seasonal villages for shepherds and the occasional taverna for local classics like my favorite, stuffed tomatoes/peppers.
Much like the mountain roads in neighboring Türkiye, the grades here are relentless. An abrupt dive down into the picturesque village of Christos was immediately followed by a steep slog back up to yet another small Dikti mountain plateau. This one was even more empty than the last, with only one shepherd spotted on my entire trip through.
As is fairly common here, the churches on the plateau (2) outnumbered the people (1). Aiming for these churches in the mountains is generally a good idea when you’re looking to camp as there’s almost always some flat ground in the area, there might even be a water spout around if you’re lucky, and chances are good that no one is going to mind you being there. And hey, worst comes to worst, you can probably shelter inside in an emergency as they tend to be unlocked. This turned out to be one of the best spots in all of Crete. Tucked into the mountains but with a nearby viewpoint of the impressive southern coastline.
A Change of Plans
Leaving the plateau for the coast in the morning I was greeted by some of the most insane wind I’ve ever come across while riding. It was difficult to even walk with my bike. It was so strong that it was pushing dust from the Sahara up and blanketing the entire region in a thick haze. This went on for a couple of days and made the air quality terrible so I stayed put in the village of Ano Viannos for a couple of days to wait it out.
As things cleared up, I hit the southern coast and met up with Sarah Swallow’s route that she did several years back. This region is home to some of the most dramatic roads on the entire island, and is definitely the more “remote” coastal region in Crete.
I was loving the twisting and turning climbs straight up from the sea, though I felt torn at times, particularly as someone who isn’t that interested in beach life. One minute I’d be on this amazing and quiet coastal mountain road, but then I would pop out into these coastal villages that felt pretty tourist trap-y, with little resembling the authentic villages that I was enjoying further inland.
The detour I took down and up a set of serpentine roads to Tris Ekklisies encapsulated this perfectly. The descent was a highlight of the trip, but after a great night camping just above the coast, I made it to the picturesque village I had spotted from a distance to find that it was essentially a cluster of hotels, Airbnb’s, and a strip of overpriced restaurants, with seemingly no local life to speak of. Even the one supermarket was abandoned for the off-season still, waiting to open just for peak tourist season. Thankfully I had just enough supplies left to get me to the next major town.
I continued up and down climbs and descents for a while down the coast, including the impressive Tripiti slot canyon road, but after crossing a couple more tourist villages around Lentas with their double-priced grocery stores and beach resorts, I decided to call an audible and head off route back toward the high mountains. There’s no question that the riding here is beautiful, but there was something about those high plateaus and the more authentic vibe there that was drawing me back.
This time it was the Ida Mountains, home to Psiloritis, the peak I’d seen from a distance earlier in the trip. First I’d stop in the lovely town of Zaros, at the foot of the impressive Rouvas Gorge. I liked the town and the hotel (Keramos) I stayed in there so much that I decided to stay for a week to catch up on work and do day trips to the surrounding mountains.
At the Mercy of Aeolus, God of Wind
From town, it was a quick thousand vertical meters back to my happy place in the land of rocky roads, a million sheep, and its share of mythological lore as legend says Zeus was raised in a cave in these mountains that you can visit today.
A large, open plateau opened up near Zeus’s old crib so I decided to spend the night there beneath the surrounding peaks. I got all setup, whipped up dinner, and just before I felt like falling asleep, I checked my phone, shocked to see I had internet way up here with no one around. The evening was calm, but as a slight breeze picked up, I checked my weather app to be sure, only to find that this very plateau was set to get 90+ km/h gusts of wind by 1 am, and that would continue through the next day.
It was already 11 pm, and I was not in the mood to pack my whole tent up, but I knew I would struggle to sleep with my tent getting hammered all night, so I packed everything up and moved my campsite toward a church I’d seen tucked into the hillside nearby under the full moonlight.
It was a good thing I did, too, because the god of wind was right on schedule that night.
Heading for Chania
I descended from the mountains and cruised from village to village, fueled by copious amounts of souvlaki and tzatziki. The summer heatwave was really starting to kick in by mid-May, which was making these rides a bit less pleasant than when I first arrived. I found myself hiding away in the shade of a cafe for many of the mid-day hours, and getting my riding in early in the morning and late in the evening on most days.
My recommendation for anyone looking to ride in Crete would be to aim for early spring (if you don’t mind chilly water) or fall to avoid peak tourist and peak heat season, which can be downright brutal.
With that, I had one more big mountain crossing in me, starting with the steep climb from Kapsodhasos back into the rugged hills at the edge of the sprawling White Mountains. My time was winding down on the island as I inched closer to the other large port town of Chania to catch a ferry back to the urban sprawl of Athens and plot out the rest of my journey east toward Türkiye and Georgia. I left Crete with sore legs and a belly full of gyros, excited to see what would be next…
See the Prospector frame he’s touring on and more at Tumbleweed Bikes.