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Pomegranate Heaven Before we came to Greece everything we had read or heard from fellow travelers indicated that Greece was hilly. It had proven to be accurate. Crete was simply a range of mountains protruding from the sea. We spent another day traversing those mountains. As I slowly crawled uphill in my granny gear I began to mentally examine the excess I was hauling. Postcards I had for the past month should be mailed-as should my last journal. The six books I was currently carrying (Sharon had the same amount) had to be pared down-it was excessive even for us. With our small libraries we felt like traveling bookmobiles. As I climbed toward Ayios Nikólaos I looked at my odometer and calculated it was still seventyfive kilometers away. We had pedaled over a thousand kilometers in Greece. A newly whitewashed church provided a pleasant lunch stop. It had a view of olive groves in the valley and I could see Ayios Nikólaos and the sea in the distance. Pomegranate trees, growing conveniently nearby, provided us with dessert. We found four ripe ones the birds had overlooked. Around three in the afternoon we decided to call it a day and looked for a spot. Along a deadend road leading to an old quarry we found an ideal cove with a view of the spectacular coastline. Distant mountains held a skiff of snow. |
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