Kardamili was the home of Patrick Leigh Fermor, the great Philhellene travel writer and English commando in Crete during World War II, and rumors were that he was seen at times in a local pub. Driving deep into the rugged paths of Mani, the scents of thyme, rosemary, grapes, and currants were in the air. Towers appeared on the torn, barren land then disappeared just as suddenly. The town was wild and naked, night was falling, and there was not a pub in sight.
In Limeni I found a simple room by the harbor and the next day joined a tour by flat-bottom boat of the many-splendored Diros caverns. The underground caves were just a bit wider than our boat and I could not resist touching the golden walls. Our guide said the caves were inhabited in Neolithic times before an earthquake struck and today there is an underground lake that extends far north, almost to Sparti. The awesome caves are truly one of the world’s wonders.
My next stop was at the lovely port of Gythio where I tried to arrange transport to my destination–the islet of Marathonisi. I was told it was impossible at this time, but if I asked for a room with a balcony at a seafront hotel, I would be able to see it. Fate smiled upon me and I was given the last room available with a balcony.
I explored the small town with its Turkish style houses and numerous fish tavernas. I had delicious grilled red mullets at a seaside tavern and drank “Hercules Blood.” The next morning, rosy fingered Dawn greeted me as I sat on my balcony before packing. The view was perfect.
I looked to the right toward Marathonisi, the islet where Paris is said to have taken Helen after abducting her from her husband, King Menelaus, and starting the Trojan War. Dawn spread her rosy fingers wide, but they lingered over Marathonisi and seemed to close in a caress over this ancient love nest.
TO TELOS (THE END)
Published in The National Herald, March 2014
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