Meg and I made an early start and bid a sad farewell to the lovely pool and surroundings at Tenuta Badessa.
Half an hour later, we were at Brindisi airport to drop Meg off at the start of her epic journey to the US via Milan and Sweden.
Then, as the temperature climbed, I drove round the coast a few km to find the ferry terminal – after only a modicum of trial and error.
I waited in line with a melting pot of Greek, Italian and Balkan passengers, checked in for my ferry and was handed tickets for me, the car, Lottie and a lounge seat. Then I went and got what would be my last delicious Italian cappuccino and cornetto for a while.
Another Grimaldi ferry
Then we hustled back sharpish to the boiling car so Lottie didn’t burn her feet on the ground, put on the air con and drove around the terminal until I found the correct car park for passengers waiting to board for Greece.
As usual, everyone except me seemed to know what to do and there were no helpful signs. Neither are there any passport checks as we were travelling within the EU. In fact, I haven’t shown my passport once since leaving Portugal in June.
Eventually someone in a hi-vis jacket came and flapped their arms at us. It was time to board for the 8-hour daytime crossing.
On the Barcelona-Civitavecchia ferry a few weeks earlier, I learned the hard way that the ramps leading to the higher car decks are made out of a mesh material that my car stalls on when attempting a hill start.
Now I wait on the lower deck until the car in front has cleared the ramp so I get a good run at it.
The Grimaldi car boarding system is very hands-off. Someone materialises at the last moment to make sure you park in the right line, but that’s about it.
This time the ferry was smaller and I was parked on the open-air top deck alongside three or four crammed cattle trucks. I couldn’t bear to think about the cows’ 9 hour sea journey, plus their drive to the port and the drive they’d doubtless have at the other end.
The crossing to Greece
I’ve dreamed of getting the ferry to Greece from Italy since student days, when Greece used to be the favourite option for our hippyish UK student summer safari.
The Magus, a novel by John Fowles, with descriptions of Greek island life was a big influence at the time. And I read My Family and Other Animals by Gerald Durrell, describing an idyllic childhood on Corfu, over and over again when I was about 12.
I went to Crete two years running in the 1970s, but always took the overland route through former Yugoslavia, while others flew to Italy and caught the ferry to Corfu from Brindisi.
When I finally emerged on deck after a bit of down time on my lounge chair, the view didn’t disappoint.
Later, when it got dark, I was mesmerised by a trail of phosphorescence alongside the ferry. It looked like something was keeping pace with us under the water – maybe dolphins?
Igoumenitsa
We docked right on time and, after a panicked hunt for my car and an unsupervised reversing free-for-all to get off the ferry, we finally rolled off onto Greek soil at 10 pm, one hour ahead of Italian time and 2 hours ahead of UK time.
My host for the night was waiting to welcome me at the nearby, very reasonable and salubrious Thirsty Dog Urban Port Studios (I have no idea why it’s called that) and I thankfully fell into bed.
The following day, I had a scenic drive along the Greek coast culminating with the spectacular Rio–Antirrio Bridge across the Corinth Canal.
After that breathtaking sight, the rear of the drive was a bit anti-climactical, though equally easy. All of the many toll booths were manned and the occupants were happy to lean as far out as they could for me to pay them from the driver’s seat of my right-hand drive car, cheerfully yelling “yassas.”
Piraeus ferry port
I arrived at Piraeus in boiling heat a couple of hours before it was time to board my second ferry in two days, this time to Crete. I found the Anek ferry office and traded in my reservation email for proper tickets.
Then I made the mistake of decided to scope out the ferry location in advance.
Piraeus is one of the biggest passenger ferry ports in Europe and certainly the busiest. It has 12 entrance gates marked E1 to E12. Actually it has 12 exit gates too.
I exited the terminal and followed the road signs to my gate for the Crete ferries (E3), only to find both the entrance and exit gates closed.
At which point I navigated my way a few km round the one way system back to the ferry office via several hairy roads that looked to be on 45 degree gradients and demanded more information.
Ferry to Crete
Apparently you had to enter through an gate within the port complex marked E7 and somehow make your way round to E3 on an internal road.
I duly managed this without the aid of any road signs and was delighted to be confronted with what was unequivocally the Anek Superfast 9 pm ferry to Heraklion.
There was no queue, so I parked the car nearby and asked someone in a hi-vis jacket to double-check.
“Can I board?”
“Of course!” he replied with an expansive Greek gesture.
I was practically the first car on board and expertly manoeuvred into position by a master of the art. Not for nothing are the Greeks one of the greatest shipping nations.
Once we’d done the “left hand down, right-hand down” rigmarole to the car park attendant’s satisfaction, I thankfully grabbed Lottie and my stuff and retreated to my cabin.
Arrival in Crete
The ferry arrived on the dot at 6.15 am. After an hour or so of driving along the windy, mountainous main road that runs along the north coast of Crete, I stopped for a delicious coffee at a roadside cafe and comfort break for Lottie with goats looking on.
My next host kindly let me check in early and I spent the next couple of nights at their guest house in the hills near Chania on the north coast of Crete.
It was too hot to visit Chania, so I spent the time doing a little work and walking Lottie down to one of the nearby beaches.
Dogs are allowed on the beaches in Greece, so we sat in the shade and had a beer. The meltemi wind was gale-force, making it too rough to swim.
The development on the coast was a bit scrappy in the area I was staying, but things were a lot nicer a km or two inland.
Speaking of which, I spotted signs for the Cretan Brewery about 30 minutes’ drive away. How could I resist?
Apart from the array of beers on offer, there was a good food menu.
I took some draft beer back to my guest house to try, though others seemed to be knocking back their set of 7 tasting glasses on the spot with nary a designated driver in sight.
I enjoyed my two days on the north coast of Crete, but couldn’t wait to cross the island to Paleochora…
