Crete, Where Water Remembers

A poem by Alexandra Davis inspired by our day out with Nicole on the Wanderlust Lake & Springs Tour in Crete.

We rose with the sun in Chiana’s first light
Where hills cradle rooftops, a morning delight
As the Wanderlust tour bus drove up into view
We anticipated stories of the old and the new

Nicole was our guide, a glint in her eye
A voice like warm olives, a breeze in the sky
Gathering us in with a storyteller’s grace
Leading us through Crete at a wanderer’s pace

The wheels hummed a song down the wild winding road
Past vineyards and chapels where ancient blood flowed
There the trees whispered the secrets of old
Where the land wears the myths like a mantle of gold

The Songs of the Sirens

Souda Bay shimmered like a siren’s lament
A crescent of stories and of wars now long spent
Ships rocked in the harbour, steel giants at their ease
Carrying sighs from the White Mountains along the cool breeze

Nicole spoke of sirens who sang with the tide
Of fairies and spirits you seek as they hide
Their echoes still dance on the sea’s briny breath
Intertwining the line between life between death

Snow dusted the peaks where the old gods once roared
And Mount Dikti cradled the thunderous lord
If you pause in the silence you may just about hear
The sound of Zeus breathing into your ear

Through The Looking Glass

Through folds in the hills like a secret unspun
Lake Kournas appeared in the low morning sun
A mirror so still it might swallow your gaze
With shadows and shimmers and glints through the haze

The flamingo boats waited, their bright colours sublime
Paddles poised for children and tourists in time
But beneath all the laughter something eerie remains
Of a girl who once walked here through sorrowful rains

A village lies sunken, a tale told in hush
Of judgement and mercy and mists in the rush
Nicole told it softly, her words barely stirred
The lake held its breath at each lyrical word

We wandered the shores past turtles and birds
Where silence grows deeper yet wants to be heard
It wasn’t just water but memory and more
This thin misty veil opening this secret door

Endless, Everlasting, Eternal

Argiroupoli sits high in the mountains
Defined by springs and natural fountains
Built on the bones of Lappa’s great pride
Where Romans once walked and nymphs still abide

The springs burst like joy from the heart of the earth
So clear and so constant, a total rebirth
They say they bring healing and we think they do
The waters feel sacred, the air soft with the dew

Nicole led us winding through aged worn lanes
Past houses which hum with ancestral remains
Olive wood carvings, chess pieces and spoons
With wind chimes tinkling their lovely soft tunes

Saint Paraskevi’s church stood quiet and small
Her presence was vast in the hush of it all
We traced with our fingers the threshold so worn
Where centuries whisper the sight of newborn

Roman mosaics, their floors still in place
Brushed clean every spring for the sun’s soft embrace
In winter they rest beneath blankets of sand
Treasures preserved by this village’s hand

Avocado products were tested and tasted
From a farm where no part of this fruit ever wasted
Creams, balms and potions, green gold from the trees
Scents carried away on Argiroupoli’s breeze

Lunch & Legend

We lunched by the springs where the cool waters flow
At Agia Dinamis shaped by the hillside’s own show
Curtains of water a colourful sight
This taverna indeed is a foodie’s delight

Slow cooked lamb traditionally roasted
Herbs from the garden, zucchini just toasted
From the oil of the pan all golden and green
Each bite a memory in this magical scene

Water danced each flavour down moss-covered stones
The breeze played its tune through the roots with soft moans
We finished our meal then walked through the green shade
Where legend and nature hand in hand had been made

The Chapel In The Sea

And then came the sea with the sky just so blue
Where the waters meet, a picturesque view
Georgioupoli called with its chapel of white
Set out on the rocks, a visual delight

Saint Nicholas waits where waves rise and fall
Safe passage, protection for one and for all
We walked to the chapel, a pathway of stones
The sea at our ankles, the breeze full of moans

Each step was a crossing from here to elsewhere
Where past and present drift in the salty sea air
We stood in the chapel, just stone and just sky
And felt something settle, like breath or a sigh

The Best Storyteller

It wasn’t just the lake nor the hills nor the bay
It was the voice which we followed during this day
Nicole with her stories and spark in her tone
Made each ancient story feel like one of our own

So go where the springs rise and rivers still run
And the chapels shine beneath the hot sun
In Crete the old world will never depart
It lingers in landscapes and tugs at your heart.