It is a truth, perhaps less universally acknowledged, that some of the best day trips involve getting yourself completely and utterly lost.

It’s rather difficult to get yourself well and truly lost these days. Our phones track our every movement, our smart watches record our every step. Our friends and family, even if we ourselves have settings switched off, have GPS trackers for their maps, phones mounted in places of honor on the dashboard to make sure that no one makes a single misstep, save for missing an important turn. Even then, the satellites looming high above our heads quickly re-route us, helping us stay the course and finding our destination relatively safely. So much of our ‘spontaneous’ trips are still carefully planned out by machines that sometimes it takes good old fashioned human error to course correct and allow some true spontaneity into our vacations.

Such an instance occurred on the way to the town of Sfakia, by way of the castle Fragokastelo. I was intrigued by story that claimed said castle was the sight of hauntings, but Fragokastelo is a story for another time. For now, it is enough to know that it was enough of an impetus to kickstart a drive to the south side of the island, which I had not explored as fully. A temporary stay at Villa Kastello Kalliste resulted in a new hub for my travels, prompting me to explore the south side of the island with more vim and vigor. Joined by my parents, who had destinations for exploration already in mind, I relinquished control of the car to them and bade them lead the way.

I regretted relinquishing control almost immediately when my family decided not to use my grandfather’s 1997 Honda CRV. Yes, the car was old. So old, in fact, that the ‘check engine’ light stayed illuminated the entire time I drove it, despite having been told that the car drove perfectly fine. The fact of the matter was that the car was perfectly suited for driving in Crete: not too big, not too small, and if you prayed to every god in the Greek pantheon, perhaps you wouldn’t find yourself in a standoff with another car in a tiny village road. The mountain roads we drove through on the southern coast were just the same as on the north side, their width was the same, they were equally well cared for. They also, occasionally, took you through tiny mountain villages – just like the other roads I had become accustomed to driving around, in the notably easier to navigate Honda.

But remember, we weren’t in my grandfather’s car any longer. My parents decided to rent a large, wide truck that in my home country is often referred to as a ‘pavement princess.’ I’m sure they meant well: more room, a working a/c, and not a single dashboard warning light in sight. But as I sat in the back seat of that truck while my father desperately tried to make this massive vehicle squeeze through the confined streets of the mountain towns, I wished, oh I wished, I was back in my old car.

My sister, coincidentally, wished for the same. When the ride simply became too much, my father was forced to find a place to rest for a while. Luckily for us, he found the beautiful gem that is Polirizos Beach.  

Located in near small village of Rodakino, Polirizos Beach is a small but incredibly beautiful beach that is far less frequented than some of the more well-known tourist spots. Located at the base of the Rodakino Canyon, the beach is home to brilliantly blue, cool, calm waters, and is relatively shallow. The sand is soft and fine, and for most of the beach the waters are easy to stand in and navigate, with only a few (though notable and easy to spot) large rocks that rest under the waves. For the adventurous, there are some large rock faces that aren’t quite big enough to be considered cliffs that can be explored at the eastern edge of the beach should strong swimmers choose to swim around them. I later wondered if it were possible to swim all the way to Fragokastelo, and one day I think I’d like to try it for myself. For the adventurous outdoorsmen and women out there, you could build a hike around ending at Polirizos Beach should you try to hike down some of the gorges that empty out into this area, such as the Rodakino gorge. There’s even a portion of the E4 European Long Distance Path that runs through Crete, (though I think I will leave most of those adventures to hikers more skilled than I).

Our band of merry (read: carsick) family members parked in the lot of a delightful taverna named Nikos and Anna, which was attached to a small hotel of the same name. The tables were near an outcropping of rocks that jutted out into the sand like giant bones of a long-dead dragon, at the western edge of the beach. The sound of the sea gently coming in and out, washing over the soft sand beach, was a peaceful soundtrack to an unexpected emergency lunch. My father, trying to make the best of our unplanned interlude, ordered a variety of delicious foods in the hopes that it would cheer the family up. Alas, my mother was not hungry and my sister was violently ill, so they did not participate at first in dolmades or the shared sweet treats that my father and I partook in, the tension of the drive still hanging in the air like the delicious scent of the shared moussaka. It was only when one of the three taverna cats parked himself underneath our table, hoping his adorable face would encourage us to pass him some of the excellent anchovies, that my sister finally felt herself recovering.

As all good tourists in Greece should, we all had our bathing suits on our person. Leisurely and in groups of two (so we could keep our table), we made our way to the beach, lounging in the water and enjoying the contrast of the cool water and hot sun on our skin. I risked swimming beyond the beach and around the corner of the rock faces, tempted to explore the crags and crevices. I instead backtracked to the shore, where some of the rock had formed a kind of cave that inspired thoughts of doorways to fantastical lands. It made for some very entertaining photo shoots I shall not be sharing here.

It seemed to me that this unexpected stop had now become the highlight of our day, and I was tempted to remain on this small but beautiful beach for the remainder of it. However, after spending the majority of the afternoon at Polirizos Beach, we decided to continue onward, hoping to see more of the beautiful island that was Crete. But after that day, we all collectively shifted in our attitude to exploring. We took our time, we let our bodies dictate the pace of our days. And sometimes, but only sometimes, we ditched the GPS to let the winding roads of Crete take us where it wanted us to go.

After all, on an island like Crete, is there really such a thing as a bad day to get lost?

By Katarina Kapetanakis