As has become a long-standing tradition, every December I order a wall calendar made from photographs of the past year—one to three photos for each corresponding month. And, as is now customary, a blog post based on the same photographs.
The year, as usual, was interesting and eventful, with plenty to remember. There were many good and bad moments. I lost and found a job. I traveled a lot: 79 days, almost 22% of the entire year.
So, here's our calendar. All images are clickable.
January
At the end of December last year, I was informed that I was being removed from the project I was working on—not because I was doing anything poorly, but simply because the client had decided to cut costs. So, starting January 1st, I would be moving to the bench. This wasn't a bad thing, really: I could learn new technologies and work on my own projects. I was relatively confident about my future because I had both reputation and experience, and it wasn't the first time I'd been between projects: I was always quickly reassigned to new ones. Meanwhile, we headed to the northernmost part of our state—the Keweenaw Peninsula. My child was turning 20, so we went to celebrate, go skiing, and enjoy the winter: thanks to the El Niño weather system, our winter had been unusually warm and snowless. As it turned out, we were showered with winter joy in abundance: we arrived just as a massive snowstorm was winding down. But our Toyota performed admirably, and thanks to the snowfall, a nearby ski slope opened soon after our arrival. So, the trip was a success!
February
Natasha and I have birthdays in February. This year, as a gift to ourselves, we decided to go to Hawaii—a trip we'd been planning for a long time. Incidentally, the flight there is 15 hours long (including layovers)—longer than to many European cities. But it was worth it! We swam, I scuba dived, and climbed one of the highest volcanoes in the world…
March in Michigan is unpredictable: it's warm, flowers are everywhere, and then suddenly it snows...
April
The main event of that April was the total lunar eclipse. It wasn't total for us, but right next door, in Ohio, we were already getting four minutes of totality, so we went. As it turned out, we weren't the only ones who were smart: a trip that usually takes 50 minutes took us two and a half hours. But the main thing is, we made it!
May
Another significant astronomical event is the aurora borealis. It would seem that the pole is far away, and where are we? So, we went to our local Holland—to Tulip Festival.
June
Summer is time summer festival, backyard breakfasts and harvesting.
July
Another long-planned trip has been completed - a leisurely (two-week) route around Lake Michigan (with stops at Lake Superior). A full report is in our blog.
August
August is the season for beautiful sunrises during morning jogs.
September
Lots of events.
First, the unpleasant ones: in the middle of the month, they tell me they can't find me a project (I interviewed three times with potential clients, and all three times they told me I was assigned to a project, and all three times the project was canceled: something's wrong with the economy). So, as of October 1st, I'm unemployed. But it's not all bad—I'll be paid severance pay for another 10 weeks after I leave, a week for each year I've worked.
Secondly, at the end of September we began another long-planned trip – a two-week itinerary across mainland Greece. The full report is in our blog. Of course, the layoff didn't work out entirely well, but on the plus side, I won't have to work part of the trip, as I'd planned. However, I will have to spend time looking for a job.
October
A lot of events.
We're continuing our trip around Greece. Now, in addition to completing our mainland route, we're spending a week on the island of Crete. This is how we're celebrating our 30th wedding anniversary.
My job search is bearing fruit. In early October, I interview with a recruiter, choosing a quiet location in the Athens port of Piraeus. Then, back from Copenhagen, I undergo a three-hour technical interview. And, upon returning home, I receive an official job offer. In today's crappy job market, finding a new job in 24 days isn't so bad. Well, okay, not 24 days, but a little over a month—I started my job search immediately after the layoff announcement, even before my official employment ended.
November
I don't start my new job until the 12th, so two weeks after returning from Greece, we're going on a new trip: Skyline Parkway, Shenandoah National Park, and the capital, Washington, D.C.—combining business and travel.
December
We hadn't planned anything, but unexpectedly, our old friends invited us to a rented house, so we went for one night. On the way, we stopped for some New Year's spirit at a store in the town of Frankenmuth (aka "“Little Bavaria”") - This huge store, all built on the theme of Christmas (and for us, of course, all this is associated with the New Year).
As an epigraph I wanted insert a famous joke “"“Oh, Vanya, how beautiful!”, but the censors did not approve.
On the map
When I was considering the different options for our trip to Greece, all of them included Meteora. Because it's simply impossible to be in this area and pass by. The unique combination of rock pillars and the monasteries built on them makes this place one-of-a-kind. So I planned an overnight stay in the nearest town.
As usual, we rose early this morning, said goodbye to the welcoming farmhouse near Delphi, and were briskly driving along the mountain roads of Boeotia. The area is deserted, with only the occasional sign of a ski slope or a nearby hotel visible.
The mountains give way to a plain, and after four hours of driving, we enter the town Kalambaka.
We need to find a store and stock up on groceries, but I realize parking here is impossible—in some places, the cars are parked two rows deep. So we head straight to the house I rented—the owners promised parking nearby, and, interestingly, they weren't lying! It's a large and fairly empty lot, even though the town center is less than a 10-minute walk away. It's unclear why everyone parks there when there's such a convenient spot nearby. But it's better for us.
By the way, here it is this house — We really liked it. It's a very cozy and nice place, with a washing machine (which is sometimes necessary on a road trip). We were even sad to leave. Actually, that was the case with almost every place we stayed 🙂
We had little time at Meteora—we were staying there for only one night. So, after lunch at a nearby restaurant, we hit the trail.
There are different ways to see the local beauty. Driving is perfectly fine—the road runs past the main monasteries, with plenty of parking and viewing platforms. But that's not our method. I found a rather long walking route, which is where we went.
The route began through the picturesque towns of Kalambaka and Kastraki, with restaurants, wineries, and hotels. Unfortunately, we didn't have time to stop for local wine tastings.
Monasteries were visible above, on the cliffs. We kept wondering how they were built there. After all, so much building material had to be carried up, at best by donkeys, or sometimes on our own backs.
The trail then led through the forest. Apparently, there's plenty of moisture here, so there are plenty of trees with thick foliage providing shade—a pleasant change from the rocky slopes of Mount Parnassus.
There were even druids in the forest:
And then we went up, and all these incredible landscapes opened up in all their glory.
It was really hard to resist taking photos at every turn. And we didn't resist 🙂
Then the time before sunset came, and it became even more beautiful.
However, the sun was already low, and we still had a long way to go. Moreover, at one point the trail for some reason led onto some private property, so we had to go back and go around. So we decided not to follow the route all the way, but to take a shortcut through the Holy Trinity Monastery—that's where the trail was. a suitable path.
The last photo from above, and here we are already heading out into the city.
We were very lucky with the weather in Greece. Almost every day was sunny, but it wasn't too hot: after all, late September and October are more comfortable than summer.
Only one day promised rain, but we were lucky: the day before we had hiked through the Vikos Canyon, and the weather was beautiful. Today we had to go further, so the rain wasn't too bad. However, we should have left earlier and driven through one of the most the most picturesque serpentines in the world before the rain.
Greece is truly an amazing country! Where else will a woman with the simple Greek name of Athena feed you breakfast and then help you carry your suitcases to the car?
Ironically, we were lucky with the weather here too: the clouds thickened just long enough to create dramatic lighting and a light drizzle, but then the sky cleared, and we were back in sunny weather. Apparently, all the rain had stayed behind the mountain.
The journey isn't particularly long—about four hours to the coastal town of Leptorakia. But first, we'll drive a little further to the fortress. Platamon — It was built by the Crusaders in the 13th century. As is typical here, it stood on the site of an older Greek settlement—the city of Heraklion. The fortress is small and doesn't boast many visitors, despite its beautiful views.
After admiring the views of the fortress, we headed to our town, fortunately only a 10-minute drive away. It's a pleasant resort town, now half-empty due to the end of the season (though the water is very warm). I was a little surprised by the abundance of hotels and cottages for rent to tourists: when I searched for accommodation on booking.com, I didn't see any of this. Apparently, the locals have their own pride and look down on Booking.com. I'll have to keep this in mind if we go to Greece again. We checked into a cozy and almost empty hotel on the second line—a 10-minute walk to the beach. But that wasn't a problem for us, so we went swimming right away. There weren't many people, and Russian was clearly audible. Perhaps it's too cold for the locals? After all, the water temperature was only 25 degrees. However, local residents were also present on the beach:
Mount Olympus National Park“
Swimming in the sea is wonderful, of course, but that's not why we came here. Our goal today is to climb Mount Olympus. Unfortunately, it takes two days to reach the summit, including an overnight stay at a shelter. We don't have the time or equipment for that, so we'll hike halfway—right up to this shelter.
Spiridula, the cheerful hostess of our hotel, feeds us a hearty breakfast, and we set off. It's a forty-minute drive, and, of course, it's a serpentine mountain road. However, after the road to Papingo, that's nothing to us.
The trail is very popular—we arrived quite early, but the parking lot was already quite full, and we constantly had to pass slower groups. The walking is fairly easy, and the weather was perfect.
We've finally reached the shelter! You can spend the night there (but you have to bring your own bedding) and buy food—surprisingly, it's not too expensive. Many, like us, simply reach the shelter and turn back, but others stay here for a few days and make radial excursions.
Interestingly, the shelter has no water source: all the water (at least the drinking water) is brought in. There are several tanks of industrial water, which is undrinkable. I wonder where it comes from? It's impossible to get here by car.
It would have been nice to stay here overnight and reach the summit, but apparently it wasn't meant to be. We take photos at the edge of the trail and, after a short rest, descend, passing or skirting large groups slowly making their way up.
Along the way, we encounter a caravan carrying supplies uphill. It's surprising that, despite such complex and time-consuming logistics, a bottle of water at the shelter costs about two euros—it would probably be more expensive at our department store.
The walk turned out to be neither difficult nor too long – about half a day, so we had time to have lunch, swim in the sea and watch the sun set behind Mount Olympus.
After Nafplio, our road led to Ancient Olympia. But first, we stopped in Sparta—it was almost on the way.
Ancient Sparta is located within the modern Greek city Sparta. There's nothing touristy about this city—it's just an ordinary place you'll drive past and forget about within an hour. When the GPS told me we'd arrived, I was very surprised—I expected to see a large parking lot full of cars and tour buses, but instead there was a dusty, empty lot with three cars and no signs. We didn't even bother parking there, but pulled the car over to the side of the road, fortunately there was space. The only thing that hinted at the presence of that same great Sparta nearby was the stadium with a bronze statue (as it later turned out, of King Leonidas).
A dusty path leads past the stadium, and we arrive at the entrance to the archaeological reserve—this is where ancient Sparta stood, at one point the most powerful city-state in ancient Greece.
Little remains of its former glory now: the place is clearly neglected. There's a ticket booth in front of the gates, but it's been empty for a long time; admission is free.
Inside, too, little remains—no columned temples typical of other sites, no intact buildings at all. Only the remains of walls, pine trees, and olive groves. In place of the central square (agora), there is now an olive grove.
It's interesting that the two main powers of ancient Greece, Sparta and Athens, proposed completely different paths of development. Sparta represented extreme militarization, with men confined to barracks from the age of 7 to 30, and military service ending at 60. Women and slaves were responsible for economic activity (Sparta enjoyed a level of women's freedom unprecedented in Greece—another side of militarization). Education was strictly military. Travel was restricted to state needs. In short, North Korea, by comparison, would be a fairly liberal state. But Athens represented philosophers, art, and science. It was about voting on important issues and ostracism, about Zeno's paradoxes (which, by the way, I never understood). paradox of Achilles and the tortoise, there's no paradox there 😀). And it's very nice to realize that we did, after all, inherit the Athenian model, and not the Spartan one.
But even in Sparta (modern-day Sparta), things aren't so bad—there's a school next to the archaeological site, and kids are playing football. Life goes on, which means there's hope it will get better.
Finally, we drank coffee at a nearby cafe (after all, Sparta is not a tourist city - a cup of cappuccino cost less than two euros) and drove on - the Pantanassa Monastery awaited us.
Pantanassa Monastery
When I was planning today's route, almost on the way, I saw another landmark - Pantanassa Monastery. We liked the photos, so we decided to stop by. I thought we'd spend about an hour there—really, how long does it take to see a monastery?
But everything turned out differently. Because it's not just a monastery—it's a military, administrative, and religious center, built by Byzantium in the 15th century. We spent almost three hours there (and we could have spent more, but we had to go). The monastery and administrative buildings are located on a mountainside, and above it, almost at the summit, stands a 13th-century fortress. All of this together is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.“Misra Archaeological Site”" And there is something to see there!
For example, a fortress:
And the monastery:
And, of course, cats 🙂
After visiting the archaeological site, we got into the car and finally reached our destination. hotels. This isn't Olympia yet—we're heading there tomorrow, but for now we're spending the night in the coastal town of Zacharo.
It's about five minutes from our hotel to the beach, and after checking in, we go for a swim. Then we admire the sunset and go to dinner at a pleasant and completely empty restaurant (except for the ubiquitous cats). It's empty, most likely because it's expensive—dinner for two with a carafe of wine costs a whopping 27 euros.
Ancient Olympia
The next morning, after breakfast on the terrace, we left the cozy hotel and drove to ancient Olympia—the very site that gave birth to the Olympic Games. The distance seemed short, but it took us about an hour and a half to get there along narrow country roads. But the archaeological site itself was just as expected—with a large parking lot, well-filled despite the early morning hour.
Something unexpected happened when we were buying tickets—they didn't charge us. It turned out that today and tomorrow were museum days, so admission was free. Of course, we didn't object. 🙂
Olympia itself was just as we imagined it: impressive remains of temples, baths, and, of course, the stadium.
The very stadium where the Olympic Games began
The site houses a rich museum displaying artifacts collected here. Admittedly, the abundance of must-see antiquities begins to feel a bit overwhelming after a certain point. It's a good thing that archaeology will soon give way to natural wonders in our program.
Castles, bridge, beach and harbor.
We're leaving ancient Olympia. We'll be driving for about four hours, but there are plenty of places worth visiting along the way. The first of these is the medieval castle of Clermont. It's right along the way, so I decided to stop there.
But we were in for a bummer: the castle is open until 3:00 PM, and we arrived at 3:20 AM. This isn't the first time we've encountered this: many tourist spots in Greece close very early. As a consolation, we admired the beautiful view of the Gulf of Patra.
View from the castle to the Gulf of Patras
We continue on. A short stop in front of a modern wonder – a bridge. Rion - Andirion. It was built just 20 years ago, and before that, the only route connecting the Peloponnese peninsula to the mainland was the Isthmus of Corinth, which we crossed. We wanted to visit the Venetian fortress of Rio, built to control the strait. But, as expected, the fortress was also closed. So we admired the bridge and headed across.
The bridge and the fortress in front of it.
Shortly after the bridge we make a short stop in the ancient city Nafpaktos. The city has a rich history, dating back to before the Peloponnesian Wars between Athens and Sparta. I even regretted not staying here at least for a night, or better yet, a week. 🙂 As always, there's not enough time to see everything we want to see. We swim in the sea—there's a beautiful beach there with a view of the medieval fortress.
An unexpected monument to Don QuixoteView of the bridge from the other side
Then we have lunch (or dinner—it's 5 pm), admiring the picturesque Venetian harbor, and continue on to Delphi along a steep serpentine road. I hoped to make it before dark, but it didn't work out.
Along the way, we make a couple of short stops to admire the sea from above – the lighting is really beautiful.
Tired, we arrive at our housing — It's located in a converted farmhouse in a mountain village near Delphi. It's a very picturesque place; it would be great to visit in winter for some skiing (if you can manage the serpentine roads).
While preparing for the trip, I realized many times that I didn’t know Greece at all. For example, the city Nafplio, a very ancient city (older than Mycenae), the first capital of independent Greece. I only learned about it while planning my itinerary: the city is interesting in its own right, and it's also very conveniently located, so we stayed there for three nights.
On our very first evening, we went to the beach (about fifteen minutes from our apartment), then strolled along a beautiful path along the sea. For some reason, the promenade was blocked on both sides by gates, which everyone bypassed (there was even a well-trodden path there).
The next morning we climb up Palamidi fortress. According to various sources, the staircase to the top has 913, 921, or 999 steps, and all the guidebooks advised either climbing early in the morning, before it gets too hot, or driving there (there's a road leading up from the other side). In reality, the climb isn't difficult at all (especially compared to Grand Canyon or a mountain Mauna Kea), but the views from the stairs are interesting.
For example, this ugly building in the photo. In the middle of the last century, when post-war Greece was trying to attract tourists, someone came up with the idea of building a concrete box on top of the ancient fortress. Acronauplia — that's cool and progressive. I wonder how they even got permission to do this—I think a hefty bribe was involved. Tellingly, the hotel was popular for quite a while (and of course, in such a great location!), but in the early 2000s, something went wrong. Here are some links with details:
Well, we continued on up. It was good to arrive early: there were only a few of us in the entire fortress, and no one was interfering with our detailed inspection.
On the way back, we discovered that the street in front of the fortress stairs had become a farmers' market. After buying a liter of local wine for two euros and some fresh fish, I started thinking about moving to Greece again.
The island-fortress of Bourtzi
Burdzion Island (Bourtzi) is impossible to miss—it's visible from practically everywhere in Nafplio. It resembles a stone ship—that's because the island is almost entirely occupied by a fortress of the same name, built by the Venetians in the 15th century to defend themselves from the Turks. It didn't help them, however.
In 1950, a luxury hotel opened on the island (though the luxury was all about exclusivity—the rooms themselves are quite austere), and now it's a tourist attraction. There's a boat service to the island, and a ticket costs about 5 euros, plus another 5 euros for entrance to the fortress. We happily spent a couple of hours there.
Evening Nafplio.
After dinner, we go for a walk to see the city at night. It looks nice—narrow streets, through which we wander aimlessly.
At some point we come out to strange object, reminiscent of the entrance to an underground bomb shelter. The entrance is unguarded, and we step inside. We see several elevators, one of which even has working buttons. There are only two—up and down. Since we're at the bottom, we press the top one, and a couple of minutes later, we find ourselves on a mountain above the city. Around us is an expensive hotel (rooms start at $400) with a beautiful view of the city (called "Nafplia Palace"). We pass through and descend along the dark road back into the city, stopping to take night photos.
Sanctuary of Aesculapius
I get up early this morning and, for my morning jog, climb the 900-odd steps to the Palamidi Fortress again. The fortress is still closed, but I don't need to go there—I want to take pre-dawn photos from above. It turns out I'm not alone—several other people are watching the sunrise with me. And it was worth it!
We have breakfast and get into the car: today our road leads to the ancient city of Epidaurus.
Once upon a time, when I was in fifth grade, we were studying ancient Greece in history class. And our teacher, Alla Fedorovna Stroy (it's been so many years, but I still remember it), was telling us about ancient Greek theaters—their acoustics were so good that, even sitting in the top row, you could hear the actors on stage without any amplification.
And now, many years later, I am standing in one of these theaters - this is theater in Epidaurus, next to Asclepion — a temple complex dedicated to Asclepius.
And yes, the acoustics are really good.
It's about an hour's drive from Nafplio. In addition to the theater and the Temple of Asclepius, the complex includes a hotel, several baths, and a stadium. In short, it offers everything needed for a healthy lifestyle.
And again, olive trees and pine trees are all around. Apparently, they grow better than other trees in the local rocky soil.
After the temple, we continue on to the seashore. Our destination is a small beach from which you can swim to“sunken city”"In fact, it's not a city, but the remains of several houses near the shore, at a depth of about one and a half meters. They were discovered by chance in the 1970s during aerial photographs. They are believed to be the ruins of a 2nd-century Roman villa.
There aren't many people there, and we happily spend a few hours there, swimming and lounging on the sand. We have lunch at a small restaurant (with cats everywhere) and then continue on to the settlement. Methane.
Along the way, we stop at a pass and admire the beautiful views. For some reason, I thought the Peloponnese was flat, and the mountains awaited us in northern Greece. But it turns out there are mountains everywhere.
We're not interested in the settlement itself, but in the nearby hot springs. Where else can you sit in a spring and immediately plunge into the sea? And for free, and with almost no one around.
A couple of hours on the beaches of Methana, and then it's time to go home. It's been a busy day.
After spending the night, we pack our things, get in the car, and head out. As the crow flies, it's not far: less than two hours. But driving straight isn't part of our plans: we didn't come to Greece to drive from point A to point B.
First, we'll stop at Acrocorinth. "Acro"“ means something like "elevation"“, so "Acrocorinth" refers to the elevation above Corinth. Just as "acropolis" refers to the elevation above the city. The ancient Greeks—both the Mycenaean culture and the later Hellenes—almost always built their cities near acropolis fortresses. The Minoan culture, however, did not construct fortifications on Crete: their palaces are believed to have served administrative and religious functions, but not military ones. They began building fortifications shortly before the collapse of their civilization, sometime in the 15th century BC.
Acrocorinth It stands on a fairly high mountain—it takes us about 15 minutes to get there by car. At the top is an impressive fortress. However, most of the fortifications are not Mycenaean, but rather Venetian and Turkish: the fortress controlled the important Isthmus of Corinth, so the walls and bastions were rebuilt more than once to meet the latest fortification requirements.
Now there are dusty rocks, dry grass, turtles and a small number of tourists: apparently, Greece has so many archaeological reserves that there are not enough for all the tourists.
At the top, we met two girls from Belarus. Or rather, they approached us when they heard Russian and asked for a ride down to the bus stop for our return trip. I admired their courage: they had come to Greece with an organized group, and on a free day, instead of lounging on the beach, they took a regular bus and went to see the fortress. Despite their limited English, and, it seemed to me, they had a lot of money. Incidentally, they had hiked up the mountain, which earned me genuine respect—it's a long and steep climb.
We still wanted to go towards their hotel to see the Corinth Canal, so we agreed to meet downstairs in the parking lot.
Having explored the fortress to our heart's content, we pick up the girls and head down. But first, we want to stop in ancient Corinth itself. Unlike modern Corinth, it's not located on the seashore, but about 10 kilometers away, beneath the fortress-like mountain. Apparently, in those days, the defense of the fortress was more important than the nearby beach.
Temple of Apollo in ancient Corinth
Corinth Canal, Incidentally, it can be considered the oldest long-term construction project in the world. The first mention of an attempt to build it dates back to the 7th century BC, and later Julius Caesar, Caligula, Nero, the Byzantine Empire, and Venice all attempted to dig it. All the rulers of the Peloponnese, except the Turks, made their mark.
The canal was dug in 1893, under the Greek government. It's now of no commercial importance—it's too narrow.
The oldest long-term construction project in the world.
After taking in the canal, we head back to Mycenae. Along the way, we listen to Oldie's audiobook from their Achaean series, "The Grandson of Perseus." A strange sense of presence arises: the book's setting is the very places we're currently driving through: Mycenae, Tiryns, Argos, Nafplion...
We arrived in Mycenae quickly—everything was close by. The great, "gold-rich" Mycenae, the most important city of the ancient civilization that gave it its name, was in fact a relatively small acropolis fortress on a hilltop. A city once surrounded the hill, but little remains of it. However, the fortress walls are lined with the so-called "“cyclopean masonry”": The Greeks of the classical period, who settled the Peloponnese several hundred years after the collapse of the Mycenaean civilization, did not possess the technology for laying such large blocks and decided that these walls were built by the Cyclopes giants.
Entrance to the Acropolis through the famous Lion Gate
As we walked around the fortress, I became increasingly melancholy. The thing is, in preparation for the trip, I read articles about ancient Greece and listened to lectures while jogging, so I knew about“Bronze Age catastrophe”In the 12th century BC, events occurred that led to the destruction of the Mycenaean civilization. While some Greek cities (Nafplion, Athens) managed to survive, Mycenae was completely destroyed and abandoned.
But it's one thing to know, and quite another to see the remains of buildings and explanatory plaques: "Erected in the 13th century BC. Destroyed by fire in the 12th century BC." And so it is on almost every building, only the first date may vary. This wasn't a bolt from the blue: just before the collapse, Mycenae was in a period of heightened activity building defensive fortifications. For example, they carved an 18-meter passage into the rock to reach an underground stream, built a cistern to collect water, and expanded the fortress walls to protect the stream. All of this was built in the early 12th century BC and destroyed a few decades later.
View from inside the underground passage to the stream
We walked around Mycenae for a couple of hours, visited a very rich archaeological museum, and went to our place of stay for the next few days - the city of Nafplio.
Greece smells of sun-warmed pine. Of course, there are many other scents there too: juniper, oregano, jasmine... Athens often smells of exhaust fumes—narrow streets, lots of not-so-new cars. In Nafplio, in places, there's a smell of sewage—a common problem in many truly old cities. One street in the mountain village of Mikro Papingo smelled intoxicatingly of ripe grapes—they entwined the beams overhead, creating a cozy canopy. For some reason, it smelled specifically there, although grapes were plentiful elsewhere. But now, sitting on the plane taking me from Athens to Copenhagen, I remember Greece exactly like this: blue skies, dry, rocky soil where pine and olive trees grow freely, and the joyful scent of pine pervades everything.
The Long Road to Crete
I started planning a trip to Greece five years ago. Our 25th wedding anniversary was approaching, and I wanted to celebrate it with a memorable trip. Especially since we hadn't traveled anywhere since our wedding: what kind of money did a graduate student have in 1993, even though I was working two jobs? I knew Natasha's childhood dream was to go to Crete, so I started looking into options for a trip to the island.
That time, going to Crete didn't work out: I couldn't find a suitable flight from Detroit. All flights required at least two stops and took an absurdly long time, over 20 hours. So we flew to Lisbon and took a wonderful road trip through Portugal and Spain. We also started a tradition of annual fall travel: we luckily got married in October, when most of Europe enjoys beautiful weather and there are fewer tourists. We missed the COVID-19 year of 2020, but every other year we've traveled to a new region.
This year, our 30th wedding anniversary was approaching, and I started thinking about Crete again. A flight search revealed that there still wasn't a convenient flight to Crete from Detroit, but now that I had more experience, I remembered our trip two years ago: we flew into Vienna and then took an overnight train to Venice. I really liked the idea: you board the train in the evening and get off in Venice the next morning, refreshed and well-rested. A double compartment (I didn't consider cheap seats—we're not students anymore, after all) from Vienna to Venice and back from Rome to Vienna was significantly more expensive than airfare, but considering we were saving two nights at a hotel, the cost was comparable. And most importantly, it saved time: any flight, even a short one, is at least half a day wasted… So I started looking for an overnight ferry from Athens to Crete. And it turned out there was!
So, the idea for the trip was solidified. All that was left was to put it together with plane tickets, an itinerary, and booked accommodations... I've gotten pretty good at this sort of thing, and every year there are fewer hitches. First, I had to decide on the length of the trip: I was only given two weeks' vacation, but I work remotely, and for that kind of work, all I need is a laptop and internet connection. So I planned four weeks: two weeks of vacation and two weeks of remote work. I've done this before and have learned to combine work and leisure. A week and a half before the trip, I learned that I couldn't work remotely anymore: I'd been laid off. Business activity had slowed, and I couldn't be assigned to a project. I thought I was safe since I was working on a fairly important internal project, but as it turned out, I was wrong. I shrugged and decided that this way I'd be able to see more of Greece. Although I still had to work a bit, because I also have a small business, and clients don't care whether I'm on vacation or not. Moreover, shortly before the layoffs, I very fortunately found a program that searched for jobs and sent out resumes using artificial intelligence queries. So, I quickly figured it out and customized it, and while we were walking through various historical sites, the program worked tirelessly. As a result, I completed one interview while on the trip, then another – a much longer one – and, a few days after returning, received a job offer.
I've divided my four weeks like this: two weeks of travel around mainland Greece. Then we'll return the car and spend the rest of the day wandering around Athens (or rather, the Pireos port area). In the evening, we'll board a ferry and spend a week in Crete. On the way back, we'll spend another day in Athens and three days in Copenhagen. While searching for flights, I discovered that separate Detroit-Copenhagen and Copenhagen-Athens tickets are much cheaper than the Detroit-Athens route, and the flight is easier because you can rest after the long flight across the ocean. Copenhagen will be an added bonus: we've already transited through there, but only spent half a day there.
So, we've landed in Athens! Behind us lies a ten-hour flight across the ocean, a half-day stroll around Copenhagen, a night in a hotel, and then the short three-hour flight to Athens. Now we need to pick up the car we reserved in advance.
I found a cheap car rental company with a decent rating, and a representative was supposed to be waiting for us at the airport. He wasn't there, so I called. They promised he'd be there in 10 minutes, and sure enough, about that time later, a guy in a red shirt appeared at the door with the company's name on a small poster. Another 15 minutes later, we were getting into a white Nissan with a manual transmission. I'd long ago learned that in Southern Europe, you have to get a manual transmission, because an automatic is considered a luxury and costs twice as much. Furthermore, in inexpensive European compact cars, the weak engine with an automatic transmission won't pull the car well uphill: I'd already experienced this in Israel, where manual transmissions are virtually unheard of.
Our first night was in the city of Corinth, just about an hour's drive from the airport. It immediately became clear that toll roads in Greece are excellent, but quite expensive: a short trip cost about 15 euros.
We arrived before our scheduled move-in time, so we parked the car near the beach and went to lunch. While parking, a funny incident occurred that would shame my gray hair: at an intersection, I had to back up a bit to fit through a narrow passage, and I discovered to my horror that I didn't know how to engage reverse gear in my car. The thing is, it had an unfamiliar 6-speed manual transmission, and it engaged reverse gear completely differently than the 5-speeds I was accustomed to. No matter how hard I tried, I kept engaging first gear instead of reverse. This all happened at the intersection of two small streets, and on one of them, there were already several cars parked, and I was blocking their passage. I had to turn on my hazard lights, and they carefully drove around me. No one honked their horns even once, even though I blocked them for two minutes. Luckily, one of the cars parked on the curb moved away, and I was able to park without reversing. But I still needed to figure out how to reverse, so I asked the first person walking his dog nearby. My Greek was only good enough for the obligatory polite phrases: "good morning," "thank you," "please," and so on, as well as "do you speak English?" Luckily, almost everyone in Greece speaks English, and my passerby was no exception. He showed me that when you reverse, you need to pull the little knob on the gearshift lever with your fingers, after which everything becomes easy and simple. So I parked the car properly, and we went to lunch.
I need to write a separate post about food, but for now, I can say that Greece is a paradise for meat and cheese lovers. I'm even seriously considering moving there 🙂
After lunch, we checked into our apartment and drove to ancient Nemea. Nemea is the very place where Hercules captured his Nemean Lion. Besides the lion, this place was famous Nemean gamesOnce held every four years and rivaling the Olympic Games in popularity, enthusiasts are now trying to revive them, holding them a month after the Olympics. All that remains of Nemea is an archaeological site with a well-restored stadium and the Temple of Zeus nearby. There was also a drinking tap with delicious cold water. Generally, water in Greece has a special place—probably due to the hot and relatively dry climate. In almost every place we photographed, a bottle of cold water was waiting for us in the refrigerator. Most archaeological sites will have drinking water taps, and all the mountain villages we visited will have streams carefully channeled into stone drains.
Ancient Nemea. The Temple of Zeus is in the background.
Besides ancient Nemea, we also planned to visit a few wineries: it's a very famous wine region in Greece. But then we made a mistake—probably due to jet lag. We saw a building we mistook for a winery. There were tables with a few people sitting at them. I went inside and asked the hostess for some wine. She didn't speak English, and my Greek was only good enough to say that we only wanted wine, not food. She poured us a small carafe of some kind of wine, and then I realized this wasn't a winery: there they would have poured me a few glasses for tasting. So we sipped a little (it was sour and we didn't like it), I asked how much we owed, paid three euros, and we headed back: it was too late to look for other wineries.
In the evening we took a stroll along the sea: at first there was a pleasant embankment, but then it ended abruptly, we walked a bit by inertia along the port, and then turned back.
We've been wanting to circle Lake Michigan for a while now. Technically, it's not difficult: the entire loop from our house takes about 20 hours, or two, three days at most. But that's not our plan, of course: the idea was to drive leisurely, stopping at various beautiful spots. Such a trip requires at least two weeks, and we've never had enough: my vacations were long two weeks a year, and only relatively recently have they increased to four weeks.
But now I work remotely, and that changes everything completely: all I need to work is a laptop, internet access, and, preferably, a more or less comfortable desk. And whether that desk is at home, in a hotel, or in a rented house—no one cares.
We decided to go in the second half of July: by that time, the water in Lake Michigan and Lake Superior warms up to a comfortable (Michigan, but, as it turned out, not everywhere) and acceptable (Superior) level. We set aside two weeks for the trip. I planned to work almost the entire time, with the exception of one day.
And then came the usual routine: planning a route, booking accommodations, finding forest trails for walks and points of interest in each place… I'd done all this before. The hardest part was choosing the cities where we'd stay. I'm not sure the choice I made was the best, but what happened, happened.
Trip map
Halfway to Chicago
We packed all our things into the car the night before. We got up in the morning, had a leisurely breakfast, and were off. Our first stop was a Michigan park on the shore of a lake. Grand Mere. We love this park and consider it our own. I like that it's a 20-minute walk from the parking lot to the beach through sand dunes—it effectively cuts out 80 percent of the lazy people in the US (there's a more civilized park nearby). Warren Dunes (with asphalt paths). But in the last few years, Grande Mere has fallen into disrepair: it's become a favorite spot for yacht owners, and on summer days, a small fleet of boats lines the shore, and by Michigan standards, the beach becomes crowded (we consider a beach crowded here when you can hear other people talking). But it's still a beautiful place. The water in the lake has finally warmed up, and we enjoy a long, enjoyable swim. But there's no time to hang out here for long; Chicago awaits.
Windy City.
I have mixed feelings about Chicago. It's the closest major city to us (I don't count Detroit), and we go there quite often. Chicago is a nice place to visit for a couple of days—to admire the architecture, visit the wonderful museums, bike along the Lake Michigan path, stroll through the parks… But I'd find it hard to live there—after just three days, I start to get tired of the sheer number of people and events.
We stayed with some old friends—long ago (over 25 years ago), we worked together at a “Russian body shop” called Exadel, a software company that employed immigrants from the former USSR. The guys then traveled extensively around the world—Japan, Britain—and recently returned to Chicago. They very wisely bought an apartment in what I consider to be the best neighborhood in Chicago, right near the lake. That evening, we sat down over Chicago-style pizza and a bottle of wine, strolled through the nearby park, and in the morning, I went for a run. There's a wonderful hiking and biking trail along the lake nearby. Despite the early hour, there were plenty of runners—I've never run in such a large group. This turned out to be very convenient—you can pick someone at a suitable pace and stick with them. As a result, instead of the planned five miles, I ran a whole nine.
Then we went to a world-class art museum. Besides the very impressive collection of impressionists and the famous painting “American Gothic”, the biggest impression on me was made by a situation that is painfully familiar to every cat owner: “a person is trying to force vitamins into his cat.”.
Having finished with the museum, we walked along the streets, looking around, as tourists are supposed to.
Finally, late in the afternoon, we got in the car and headed to our next destination—Sheboygan in the neighboring state of Wisconsin. It was about time: Chicago, in large doses, is very tiring. 🙂
Sheboygan
Sheboygan is a small town in Wisconsin, on a lake, naturally. Since I was combining my trip with work, we rented a house there for three days. The idea was that I'd work in the morning, occasionally running for a swim in the lake (it's a leisurely 10-minute walk away), and then we'd hike the trails, paddle an inflatable kayak down the Sheboygan River, swim in the lake again, and admire the sunsets. And I must say, we followed our plan. But there was a catch: the water in Michigan turned out to be surprisingly cold. It felt like 15 degrees, no more. It's completely unclear why this was so—the water on our side of the lake was perfectly comfortable. We still swam, of course, but not for long and without much enjoyment.
We also went for a walk along the paths in the nearby park.
But I liked the town itself—quiet and green. There's a nice little neighborhood in the center you can stroll through, and there's a path along the lake. I don't know what it's like in the winter, but it's quite pleasant now, despite the cold lake. There's also a smoked fish shop and a local brewery. And the sunsets weren't bad either.
Do you see the fire? But it's not there!
Green Bay.
This town looked like an interesting place to spend a couple of days—a river, a long, narrow bay, and several large Wisconsin state parks in the surrounding area. But I was a little disappointed. Everything was as expected—a nice downtown, a long riverside path for walking or jogging, and the parks were nice. But all these advantages were negated by the factories—it turns out Green Bay has quite a few of them. They were on the other side of the river, but they still spoiled the view. And the air, too (in places), smelled just like my native Chelyabinsk. Overall, the town felt a bit uninviting. I probably should have chosen a smaller, more compact town further up the peninsula.
We still had a great time there though.
And there were pelicans! This still amazes me: I always thought pelicans were seabirds of southern latitudes. Before that, I'd only seen them in Florida, never in Michigan. It was very strange to see them on a freshwater lake and so far north.
Picturesque cliffs
After leaving Green Bay, we reached the border with Michigan quite quickly. It really warmed our hearts!
We were set for a three-day hike through one of the most beautiful places in our state, the Scenic Rocks National Seashore (Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore). This is no longer Lake Michigan, but another great lake - Lake Superior.
I'd been dreaming of hiking this route in this park for a while, but technically it wasn't that easy. Since it's a national park, overnight stays are only allowed at designated campsites (unlike in a national forest), and the number of spaces at these campsites is severely limited. So, every time I tried to reserve a campsite, they were already taken. Especially since I needed to find two campsites that would split the entire route into three roughly equal sections.
But this time, I planned the route in advance, and campsites were fairly easy to find. We decided to spend the first night in the car at a "wild" campsite near the start point. In the morning, I dropped Natasha off with both backpacks at the start of the route and drove to the finish line. There, I parked the car in the parking lot, and a special bus picked me up and took me back to the start (all of this was planned in advance, of course). This way, we would head back to our car and wouldn't have to retrace our steps.
What can I say about the hike? It exceeded all my expectations and was undoubtedly the highlight of the trip. For some reason, this route reminded me of another coastline we hiked along two years ago: Cinque Terre in Italy. Although the landscape here was quite wild, unlike Italy, the common thread was that both coastlines were incredibly beautiful. We were very lucky with the weather: we got caught in a light rain on the first day, but the rest of the day was clear, allowing us to fully admire the beautiful Lake Superior.
Besides the rocks, the route was memorable for the mushrooms. There were plenty of them, often right on the trail—mostly milk mushrooms and porcini mushrooms.
For the first two days, we bravely passed by, but on the third, final day of the route, we decided to indulge our souls and adjacent body parts (our stomachs) and gather some porcini mushrooms for frying. Sometimes, we had to risk our lives to gather them…
Oplus_0
Imagine our indignation when, arriving at yet another rental in the town of Manistique and frying a pan of mushrooms, we discovered that many of the porcini mushrooms were inedible because they were bitter! An internet search revealed that in these parts there is a type of boletus called "“gall mushroom”(also known as "bitter"), which are almost impossible to distinguish from normal white ones. Especially if you don't know. The main difference is that they change color when cut (not always) and taste bitter... I had to throw them all out. Now we know.
Manistik
Manistique is a small town on the northern shore of Lake Michigan. It once made a fortune in logging: the town boasts a convenient harbor, and valuable Michigan white pine was shipped from here throughout America and even to Europe. Today, it thrives primarily on tourism. It has a pleasant downtown, a beach, and a lighthouse.
And also, very close by, is the largest spring in Michigan with a hard-to-remember name. Kich-iti-kipi. We've been there a long time ago, but now we were happy to go there again.
The Ghost Town of Fayette
We'd been to this place before, but we decided to go again, since we had some time left after visiting Kich-iti-kipi. And we didn't regret it at all!
In the 19th century, Fayette wasn't a ghost town. It was a pillar of local industry—the iron smelter located there was the most productive in the entire Upper Peninsula. The smelter, and the settlement around it, weren't built here by chance: the Jackson Iron Company, which mined iron ore in the surrounding area, needed a smelter in a location that would allow for easy export. In the Great Lakes region in the 19th century, "export" meant shipping by ship, so a convenient harbor was needed. And in 1867, a company agent named Fayette Brown decided the location was suitable. The settlement was named after him. There was a bay, abundant timber and limestone, essential for iron smelting, and a railroad nearby. The smelter operated for 24 years, after which it became unprofitable—the market had shrunk, so the company simply shut down operations. People continued to live there, hunting and fishing. There were attempts to create a tourist center here, but it seems they failed. Since 1959, it has been a Michigan state park.
What struck me was how well-built and neatly constructed the housing for the workers and employees was. I had something to compare it to: I'd seen plenty of workers' settlements at factories—the entire Urals was built from such settlements. There was no trace of barracks here: small but separate houses for family workers, perfectly decent dormitories for single workers, and decent enough, even by today's standards, housing for white-collar workers. Of course, with the ironworks rumbling and smoking right next door, the picture was far from idyllic, but still: compared to the factory settlements of Russia, this was the very "garden city" dreamed of by the workers in Mayakovsky's poem.
The sky is blue over Canada.
I had planned to spend the final leg of my trip on the east shore of Lake Michigan, somewhere around Petoskey. But while I was looking for a place to rent, I saw a really nice house on the shore of Lake Superior, on the Canadian side. I'd been wanting to see that part of the coast for a while—I'd heard it was so beautiful. And the house itself looked wonderful—with its own beach, right at the edge of the world: a 10-minute walk from the house, the road ended and the cliffs began. It was a wonderful place to go! So we went. And it was a great choice.
Besides the beautiful (and quite warm) lake, we had cliffs, waterfalls, kayaking on Lake Superior (a little scary, our inflatable kayak is not designed for this, although the waves were small and we paddled close to the shore), a campfire on the shore and breakfasts with a view of the lake.
The way home
Well, then everything was simple - we left in the morning, stopped along the way above the bridge buy some smoked fish, then stopped again below the bridge — take a swim in Lake Huron (our third Great Lake of the trip) with a view of the bridge, and then just four hours and we're home. Circle complete!
Above the steep waves on stormy days, And in tropical calm, and in polar fog, They all beckon us with their lights, Islands in the ocean, islands in the ocean. (A. Gorodnitsky)
Arrival, first accommodation
Don't grab other people's waists, Breaking free from the clutches of her friends! Remember how to the shores of Australia The late Cook swam up (V. Vysotsky)
This song has been spinning in my head for several days now. The thing is, with all due respect to Vladimir Semenovich's work, it can't serve as a history or geography textbook. I'm currently writing this text in a village called Captain Cook, in the state of Hawaii.
The place where Captain James Cook's illustrious life ended, Kealakekua Bay, is a half-hour drive from here. Apparently, no one ate it; this myth arose from the British misunderstanding of Hawaiian cultural traditions surrounding the funerals of chieftains (which they considered Cook to be one of them). Although I have some doubts: part of the ritual involves separating the meat from the bones and then burning it. Considering that Hawaiians weren't exactly known for their meat-rich diet, I fully understand that they might have sampled a piece or two during the burning process.
We'd been thinking about a trip to Hawaii for a while. The only thing that held us back was how far it was, almost like Europe—over 10 hours of flight, with at least one layover. And you're still in the US, so there's nothing exotic about it: just McDonald's and Costco. But we finally decided to go, especially since staying in the US is a big advantage for a "workation" trip (combining travel and remote work).
The flight was smooth. Delta now offers free internet for all passengers, so I've been working quite productively on my own project. The airport in Kona resembles a bus station—the seats are under a canopy. There are no connections from the plane to the airport—there's a special ramp you take onto the concrete, fortunately it's not far. This is the tropics: it's 23-25 degrees Celsius during the day and 17-19 degrees Celsius at night all year round.
We went to pick up the car, and a big (literally) surprise awaited us. The thing is, I'd chosen the cheapest option, "at the manager's discretion." American rentals are basically impossible to find completely crappy cars, and any cheap car would be fine for the two of us. Besides, this is an island, so you don't have to travel far.
So, we were given a truck. A truck is basically any kind of truck in American slang, from a pickup to an 18-wheeled behemoth. In our case, it was a huge (much larger than any car) Ford F-150 pickup truck. It seated five, was very comfortable, had three different types of all-wheel drive, ventilated seats, two power outlets, and basically every electronics imaginable. Our expensive Toyota, compared to this truck, falls into the category of "poor, but neat." In fact, I've long noticed that when it comes to electronics, Ford is far ahead of the Japanese.
It wasn't a long drive, but it took a long time 🙁 Hawaii doesn't seem to have any highways at all. The road we took to get to the cabin had speed limits of 45 to 25 mph, mostly 35 miles. So it took us over an hour to cover the measly 43 miles. We found our cabin easily. The owner had written that the door would be open, so checking in, despite the late hour, was no problem. This practice of opening the door in advance for residents is familiar to us; it's practiced everywhere where there aren't many people: strangers won't come here, and our own won't wander in.
We arrived and fell asleep - it was already one in the morning by our time.
Hawaiian houses
We started the morning with a house tour. We actually rented houses in two locations in Hawaii, and both houses had similar features:
There's a lot of fresh air. There are plenty of mesh windows, often wall-to-wall, and they're always open. Sometimes it feels like a shed rather than a house.
There's no heater or air conditioning anywhere. It's a tropical island, the weather is very comfortable. If it weren't for the volcanoes, it would be practically paradise.
Instead of running water, they have huge water tanks. They fill them from water trucks: in our second house, we ran out of water one day. I wrote to the owner, and a couple of hours later, a truck arrived and filled the tank.
Large plots with lush tropical vegetation. Flowers everywhere. And yet, there's lava everywhere (probably, they import black soil from somewhere).
There were differences, of course. I really liked the first house—everything was comfortable, a washer/dryer, a large porch, and a bedroom separated from the living room (which was important to me because I was getting up at 4 a.m. to work—in Michigan, that's when the workday began). Overall, it was the perfect place. The second house, we thought, was a bit of a clunker—lots of space, but it wasn't used very efficiently. The whole house was designed as an open-plan space, making it harder to work in the morning, and the kitchen wasn't as well-equipped. But we really liked how this house used lava rock for the walls (the house was made entirely of lava rock) and for the interior design. And the hot tub in the garden was a real treat after a long climb. Mauna Kea.
Beaches and scuba diving.
The next day, I have to head back to town to the dive shop to rent diving gear. One of the reasons I chose this particular place we're staying at is because the owner, Gary, is a certified instructor and offered to organize a scuba dive. He even provided air tanks. I have my fins and mask with me, so I need to rent the rest of my gear and dive. It turns out, though, that Gary recently had surgery and can't dive right now, but he arranged for a friend of his to be my diving buddy. Diving alone is not allowed, though I suspect the locals don't respect that rule.
Driving in daylight is much more pleasant. The road runs high above the ocean, and you often want to slow down and admire the views. But the car, of course, is completely unfamiliar. The word "barge" comes to mind—it's just as massive and unwieldy. Although I must admit, it's very comfortable to drive (once you get used to the soft suspension). Parking it, however, is a nightmare: in a standard parking space, I only managed to get within the limits on my third attempt.
After grabbing our gear, we went for coffee and then headed to a pre-marked park to snorkel and watch tropical fish. What I liked was that there are equipped beaches scattered all along the coast, completely free. We parked on the side of the road near one, donned our fins, and waded into the water. The reefs there are right offshore, and the fish are great.
That's how the day went. The next day, Harry's friend Kevin arrived, and we piled into two big cars (he also has a huge black pickup truck) and headed to a beach known only to the locals for a dive.
I must admit, I've forgotten everything in the three years since my last dive, but my skills quickly came back to me in the water, and we had two great dives. The water was warm and clear, and we saw a shark (about my length), a large eel, and a sea turtle. Basically, I need to get to the next level (I'm currently at the very beginning level), and Natasha needs to get to the beginning level, and then we can dive together.
In the afternoon, we went back to Kona to drop off our gear, strolled through the historic park at the site of a Polynesian settlement (not much remains, but that's understandable—no one would build permanent structures in this climate, and awnings made from branches don't last long), and on the way back, stopped to watch the sunset.
Green sand
We have two destinations planned for today: the southernmost tip of the United States, and then a green-sand beach—luckily, they're close together. Everything is close here, though—you can drive from one end of the island to the other in a couple of hours, if you don't stop at any interesting places along the way. We certainly did.
Right now, while we're driving to the southern cape, we spot a sign that says "Coffee Plantation." Hawaii is the only part of the US where coffee is grown, so it's a shame to miss this opportunity. We park our black monster (I still can't get used to its size) and go for a walk around the plantation. It turns out coffee berries come in a variety of colors: red and yellow, and taste pleasantly sweet and sour!
As we leave, we stop by the plantation's shop, sample several varieties, and buy two small bags of our favorite beans. It seems Hawaii isn't destined to become America's leading coffee supplier: even here, on the plantation, coffee costs four times more than Colombian and Peruvian coffee at Costco. So, the only thing you can buy here is souvenirs.
Here we are at the southern tip of America! The place is not at all pretentious—at the far south, there's a cliff, and people jump off it. The water is about 10 meters or more away, so I think I'll hold off.
But the southernmost point isn't here, it's a little further—a ten-minute walk or two minutes along a rutted track suitable only for large trucks (like ours). I don't understand this American desire to drive everywhere, even if walking would take almost the same amount of time. Walking is so much more pleasant!
We take a photo of the southern cape and head back – a beach with green sand awaits us.
Hawaii is famous for its black sand beaches, but I only learned about the green ones when I started planning our stay on the island. There are only four such green sand beaches in the world: in Hawaii, on the island of Guam, on one of the Galapagos Islands, and in Norway. They are made of crystals. olivine- it is a volcanic (who would doubt it) mineral, a silicate with inclusions of magnesium and iron.
You have to walk to the beach—about an hour along an easy trail. As you've probably guessed, you can drive there if you have a big truck. But that's not our route; we want to walk on trails, not bumpy roads.
Incidentally, there are no fresh water sources there, and this is something to keep in mind: you'll need to carry all your own water. But Hawaii isn't hot, so this isn't a problem.
We reach the parking lot at the trailhead. There are quite a few cars, and some savvy locals have set up a business: several pickup trucks with railings welded to the back for standing are transporting those willing along the rutted trail to the beach.
Judging by the speed, this pickup truck takes 20-30 minutes to get to the beach. I can't understand why anyone would want to stand there, swallow dust (and there's a lot of it) and grind their teeth on the bumps instead of enjoying a pleasant stroll. But, as the saying goes, there's no accounting for taste.
The vehicles have made a significant rut in the local soil.
As we walk, we stumble upon the first patch of green sand. It really is green!
And here's the beach. You have to descend a steep slope to get to it, but the beach itself is very pleasant. The sand, by the way, is less green than we saw on the way; it's more of a khaki color. The water is warm and clear, and you can easily see all sorts of fish. They said there might be strong surf, but we were apparently lucky.
Lying on the beach for long isn't our style, so we head back after a couple of hours. On the way home, we stop at a farm we spotted along the way—Paradise Meadows Orchard. It's a very green and pleasant spot to relax after the rocky trails. Mangoes, avocados, bananas, and other tropical fruits grow there. The signs in the parking lot stuck in my mind: "Do not park under an avocado tree, as the fruit may fall and damage your car." Incidentally, yes, it very well can; the avocados here are enormous.
