by Sometimes, when you travel, you arrive somewhere so ridiculously picturesque, so dictionary-definition of what you expect the country to look like, that you half suspect that it was built as a film set, or that it is ” Disneyfied” specifically for tourists.
I get this feeling when I walk on to the small horseshoe-shaped bay at Mochlos, Crete. Half a dozen restaurants, cobalt wood chairs, white tables and blackboards offer gyros and freshly caught fish. On the narrow strip of stones that edge the low sea wall, a handful of locals are toweling off after a late dip, the last two heads bobbing in the metallic blue water, the humpy little island behind them backlit by the light apricot-gold. of the sun, slowly sinking below the horizon.
I settle in with a cold Mythos and order a plate of crispy gyros, fresh pitta and tzatziki. Looking out over the slowly receding Gulf of Mirabello, I feel sure I could spend a week here, doing nothing but the 10-minute walk between my hotel, the Mochlos Blue, and this ramshackle cliff of tavernas, more restorative than others. luxurious spa hotel.
But this quiet corner of Crete is well worth exploring. The north-east, where the Dikti mountains are, is one of the last unspoilt stretches of coast on the island, and a world away from the luxury resorts that dotted the coast around Elounda, and the sprawling 1980s hotels and apartments that characterized by places such as Agios Nikolaos.
After a lazy first day, I discovered a good local beach (the one thing Mochlos doesn’t have), and followed a recommendation for Tholos, hidden 3km from the main road.
It turns out that the beach was amazing: a long stretch of sand free of sunbeds and parasols, the only shade cast by a cluster of tamarind trees sheltering a handful of cars. As I step into the water, only one other couple is swimming. The water is extremely clear, small fish flakes swirling through the shallows. The mountains to the south of the beach jump past a single whitewashed house on the small road that passes the headland to the north.
Swimming is really just an excuse for overindulgence. Cretan food is arguably the best in Greece, with the island’s varied landscapes producing everything from mountain herbs, greens and tangy cheese to grass-flavoured olive oils, freshly caught fish and crispy pastry snacks, such as sample. spanacopita – golden flaky pastry, filled with only salty feta and herbs. Best of all, because this area of Crete is off the beaten path of mainstream tourism, the most amazing pub is rarely found too often.
I go to the village of Mirsini, where clusters of white-washed houses cling to the side of the mountain and Mochlos is little more than a vague white edge along a small stretch of sea, hundreds of meters below. As I climb the steps of the Taverna Kathodon, I pass circular trays of tomatoes, drying slowly in the sun. Step out onto a series of small platforms, filled with terracotta pots and mismatched chairs and tables. The bright yellow walls are covered in everything from straw hats to fake flowers and old cooking utensils.
As this area of Crete is off the beaten path of mainstream tourism, the most notable pub rarely goes unnoticed.
The scenery is so spectacular – great scrub-faced mountains, the distant outline of Crete’s rugged north coast like a giant sleeping alligator by the sea – that it wouldn’t matter if the food on average. Instead, I eat crispy mizithropita – flat bread filled with cheese, heated out of the pan and sweetened with honey, and dolmadaki – the most succulent vine leaves I have ever tasted.
At the table next to me, an elderly couple is working their way through a carafe of wine, taking pictures to send to their grandchildren. On the other side of the terrace, a Greek family is tucking into large plates of meatballs and calamari. Beneath it all, the cicadas maintain their rhythmic chorus. It strikes me that I may have reached peak Greek.
All the eating forces me to decide to tackle the Richtis Gorge, a short half hour drive from Mochlos. I take the easy option (although it’s all relative) and drive the steep, twisty road from the upper parking lot down to the beach, reducing the hike from two hours to about 40 minutes (and cutting out the most of the uphill stretches). However, it is quite steep and more like a rainforest walk than a gorge. Small waterfalls run through gashes in the rock, and study the main event – a shimmering aquamarine pool with kinetic tendrils of water hurling down the rock face above.
The Richtis is a great adventure, justifying my last day of doing little but lazing by the relaxing pool of the Mochlos Blue. The hotel is for adults only (except for summer school holidays), and with only six rooms it feels more like a large villa; The honesty bar is well stocked with snacks, cold beer and local wine, and the small breakfast buffet is recommended every morning with traditional homemade beets – scrambled eggs with tomatoes, spanakopita and, my favourite, loukoumades – deep fried dough balls, drenched in honey and nuts.
On my last evening, I drive up from the village for supper at the Taverna Natural, where tables are set in a charming garden dotted with trees. The view across the Mirabello Gulf is probably one of the most stunning on the whole island. I time it just right for sunset and watch, transfixed, as the sky glows through an unusual palette of colors, the sun slowly shining down toward the purple-auburn mountains. I order a tomato and moussaka salad, the blue eggs spread across the dish are like silk. The view is amazing, the food is delicious, the beer is perfectly chilled… Would it be wrong to wait another week?
A week at the Mochlos Blue costs £899, including car hire and B&B accommodation, through Simpson Travel. For more details, go to simpsontravel.com
