I've decided to give kayaking another try. I want to see if it was a fluke, after all, and the day's planned paddling, while extensive, is mild compared to the 18- and 25-mile days ahead, which I will of course skip. I couldn't possibly kayak - oops, paddle, that's the term everyone is using- that far.

More of this Feature • Part 1: Quick Look at the Tour • Part 2: The Destinations - Coastal Villages of Crete • Part 3: The Sightseeing - Beaches, Fortresses, and Minoan Palaces • Part 4: Crete Photo Gallery • Part 5: My Sea Kayaking Journal

Join the Discussion "I was wondering if anyone knew anything about the ATM Machines in Greece and in the islands. Friends have told me that I may have problems withdrawing cash ? " Vivienne

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This time I'm in one of the pooks with Adam, and today the water is immensely clear. One section of water looks like liquid malachite, swirling deep green curves and spirals enhanced with lighter stones reflecting through the water. We are kayaking to Loutro, a small village I saw yesterday from the ferry. It's about 8 miles away, a distance that sounds incredibly vast, but the sea and winds are with us and it's easy.

We stop at Agios Pavlos beach, where an ancient chapel to St. Paul stands, and Marmara Beach, a famous nude beach at the mouth of the Aradena Gorge with a taverna sitting on top of a marble cliff. Brave souls can jump from the cliffs into the water; I have trouble just getting up the rough marble steps to the taverna.

The kayaking goes well. Other than reversing my paddle once, I seem to be doing okay. Whatever skill I have at this has held, but I'm not teasing myself that the vast majority of the power propelling us through the water isn't coming from my paddling. Still, unless Adam is being amazingly tolerant, I'm not doing much that needs correcting, either.

We arrive at the calm bay of Loutro and some of the participants practice some rolls, a necessary skill to get out of bad situations. Michael loses his glasses, and we help look for them, gliding over the clear waters, peering below at sponges and shells and stones. It's just as engaging for me as any underwater exploration show on television. Adam dons goggles and gets into the water to help look. Using my Natural Center of Gravity, I find it easy to keep the boat stable as he exits and later gets back in. Teamwork prevails: Vicki remembers where Michael went in, Theresa spots the gold frame, and Josh retrieves them. The group undersea search and rescue is over. I realize I'm disappointed. It's been a pretty short day of kayaking. The next day is much longer, but there's an opt-out point midway. Maybe I could do just the first portion...

Day Five: A recent earthquake across the sea in Algeria seems to have stirred up the waters today, but it's not too bad. This morning offers several options: taking the ferry to Chora Sfakia to join the group for lunch, hiking along the shoreline trail to Sweetwater Beach (Gliko Nero), or kayaking the distance to Chora Sfakia.

The late start for the ferry ride is tempting, but I'm in the pook again, this time with Theresa, a cheerful participant who has kayaked before. We scoot along pretty well; by this time, it seems obvious that I'm at least pulling (or paddling) my own weight. Our main problem is that she doesn't like to face toward shore, and I don't particularly like to be facing out to sea. Between these two extremes, we end up zigzagging, adding to our mileage considerably as we first head toward the cliffs, then out to sea, then back toward the cliffs. The waves are rougher than before; one participant ends up needing a tow, tired out by the constant swells and opposing breeze. But we make it back in under our own power, covering the entire 18 miles.

Back in the bay, now that I seem to really be doing this "sea kayak thing", I ask to be shown how to do a wet exit from the pook. This is what I will have to do if my Natural Center of Gravity ever fails me and the incredibly stable pook turns over, or if there is some other incident at sea that makes it necessary for me to get out of the kayak quickly. I'm scared of doing this exercise, but more terrified of not knowing how, and I'm determined to give it a try, though it means going willingly into water well over my head and risking tangling up in the pook as I do so. If I have to do this, the clear calm waters of Loutro seem to be the best possible place for it. But I still feel as if I'm willingly setting up my own execution. We go out a short distance from shore and Mike gets out of the pook and into the water; then he deliberately tilts the pook and tells me when to get out. I do, flailing around, but successfully exiting the boat and swimming the few feet until I can touch bottom.

In the evening, there is another sunset hike. Not wanting to repeat my performance on the first one - while I don't exactly mind having a triple escort, it does seem like I'm taking more than my fair share of available resources - I quiz Rick on it; he seems to think I can do it. I do notice he doesn't refer to it as "easy", meaning that he has now revised his scale to suit my fitness, or lack thereof. But he says he thinks it's manageable and that I should try to do it. Though nothing is said, I notice both Mike and Adam hovering around me on the way up. But I basically keep up, and only take a hand a couple of times. I'm not slipping so much; my feet seem to be choosing the more stable spots automatically, and my legs, after clambering in and out of the kayak in the surf a dozen or so times so far, seem to be able to stretch and take bigger vertical steps. I've also learned that not every slip means a fall, and that you can keep on scrambling even over unstable stones if you keep moving quickly.

We make it to the top, where an ancient fortress stands abandoned, surrounded by even more ancient ruins of a lost city. In front of it, in what looks to be the base of a vanished tower or other circular enclosure, someone has created a labyrinth of rocks. Nearby there is another, smaller one. While it's modern, it feels like a homage to the ancient Minoans and I'm delighted with it, prancing through the turnings.

Rick and the other staffers set up an impromptu bar with more ouzo and champagne, and then we make our way down, a little more of a challenge than the way up but still, with the exception of one steep downhill stretch, I manage it on my own. Then we dine outdoors at another delightful bayside taverna.

On my way upstairs to the roof to get a massage from Mike, I notice Georgiou grimly monitoring the weather report on the hotel's big-screen television. A very unusual May storm is looming; it doesn't look good for kayaking in the morning.

In any case, I'm not insane enough to go sea kayaking under the threat of an approaching storm. What a good day to choose to stay with the van. Right? Right?

Read on....

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