The one trip that every visitor - even those eminently unsuited to it - feels combelled to make is the hike down the Samaria gorge now a national park. At 18km in length, the gorge is the largest in Europe. Descending dramatically from the Omalos plateau, this natural wonder was formed by a river which flows betwen Mount Volakias to the west  and the towering bulk of the Leuka Ori to the east which, over time, has sliced a step, cavernous  ravine between the two.

In summer the violent winter torrent reduces to a meek trickle and this is when the multitudes descend.So if you're expecting a wildness experience, an opportunity to commune peacefully with nature, think again.On the other hand, this is not a  Sunday afternoon stroll to be lightly undertaken: especially in spring when the river is roaring, or on a hot midsummer day, it can be thoroughly gruelling test of fitness and stamina.The mules and helicopter standing by to rescue the injured are not mere talk: anyone who regularly leads tours through the gorge has to tell you that to undertake the walk you need to be reasonably fit and/or used to lengthy walks; and you should have comfortable sturdy shoes that will stand up to hot, sharp rocks.Gorge wildlife means most famously the kri-kri (variously the agrimi, Capra Aegagrus, the Cretan wild goat or ibex), for whose protection the park was primarily created.You are most unlikely to see one of these large nimble animals with their long backswept horns, though you may well see ordinary mounain goats defying death on the cliff faces.More likely candidates are the local birds and reptiles.Almost four hundred varieties of birds are claimed to have been seen here, including owls, eagles, falcons and vultures; bird-watchers after a coup should look out for the endangered Lammergeier (or bearded vulture).On the ground lizards abound and there's also the odd snake, but the multifarious trees and the wild flowers and herbs are more rewarding finds.There are wild irises and orchds, thyme, sage, oregano, and Cretan dittany. a celebrated medicinal herb referred to by Aristotle and Hippocrates and taken by women in ancient times as a method of abortion.

The gorge walk
The Samaria gorge begins, with startling suddenness, on the far side of the plain.After the dull tranguillity of the plain you are faced with the great cleft opening beneath your feet and, across it- close enough to bounce stones off, it seems- the gaunt limestone face of mount Gigilos.Most walkers head down (rather than up) the gorge, and it would be a daunting start were it not for the well-worn trail leading clearly down below you and the dozen of people hanging around ready to set off.Here at the top there's large area where cars and buses park, with a couple of mobile stalls doing a brisk trade in hot coffe (first thing the air is breath-foggingly cold up here) and supplies for the journey.This is a fine place for a spot of contemplation before heading down, allowing the crowds to disperse if you've arrived with a mob.There are maps showing the path and facilities en route, others with the vegetation zones marked, and lists of park regulations.

  The gorge hike itself is some 16km long and the walk down takes between four and seven hours, depending on your level of fitness, and how often you stop to admire the scenery, bathe your feet and take refreshment.Be wary of the kilometre markers-these mark only distances within the park, not the full extent of the walk.At the park entrance you'll be given a date-stamped ticket which should be kept and handled in at the gate by which you leave; this is partly to make sure no one tries camping in the park, partly to check that nobody is lost inside.

  The descent begins on the Xiloskalon (wooden stairway), a stepped path cut from the rock and augmented by log stairs and wooden handrails, which zigzags rapidly down to the base of the gorge, plunging 1000m in the first 2km or so of the walk.Near the bottom the chapel of Saint Nikolaos stands on the little terrace of conifernous trees: there are benches from which to enjoy the view, and fresh water.Beyond, the path begins gradually to level out, following the stream bed amid softer vegetation which reflects the milder climate down here.In lata spring it's magnificent, but at any time of year there slould be wild flowers and rare plants (no picking allowed), including the endangered large peony, paeonia clusii. The stream itself is less reliable: there are places where you can be sure of icy fresh water and pools to bath sore feet all year round (particularly in the middle sections), but what starts in spring as a fierce, even dangerous torrent has dwindled by autumn to a trickle between hot, dry boulders, disappearing beneath the surface for long stretches.

   The abandoned village of Samaria lies a little under midway through the walk, shortly before the 7km marker.One of the buildings here has been converted to house the wardens' office, another has been pressed into (inadeguate) service as a public toilet, but for the most part the remains of the village are quietly crumbling away.It's inhabitants, until they were relocated to make way for the park in 1962, were predominantly members of the Viglis family, who claimed direct descent from one of twelve aristocratik clans implanted from Byzantium.Certainly this settlement, as isolated as any in Crete and cut off by floodwater for much of the year, is a very ancient one: the church of Osia Maria, from which both gorge and village take their name, was founded in the early fourteenth century.

   After Samaria village the path is more level, the walls of the gorge begin to close in and the path is often forced to cross from the one side of the stream to the other, on stepping stones which at times may be submerged and slippery.Beside you, the contorted striations of the cliffs are increasingly spectacular, but the highlight comes shortly after the Christos resting point with the Sideroportes (iron gates) where two rock walls rise sheer to within a whisker of a thousand feet: standing at the bottom, one can almost touch both at once.For this short strech, there's a wooden walkway raised above the stream, whose swirling waters fill the whole of the narrow passege.Almost as suddenly as you endered this mighty crack in the mountain you leave it aigain, the valley broadens, its sides fall away, and you're in a parched wilderness of rubble deposited here by the spring thaw.

   Before long- 8km beyond Samaria- you reach the fringes of Agia Roumeli, where there's a gate by which you leave the park and a couple of stalls selling cooldrink.Frustratingly, however, this is not the end of the walk: old Agia Roumeli has been all but deserted in favour of the new beachside community, a further excruciatingly hot, dull twenty minutes away.Arriving finally in Agia Roumeli proper you face the agonizing choice between plunging into the sea or driving into one of the tavernas for an iced drink.Agia roumeli is a pretty attractive place, but that drink, and the first plunge in the sea, are likely to live in the memory as the most refreshing ever.

Chania the Modern City