CASTLE OF THE FRANKS

Over the mountains and down to a Venetian fortress haunted by the ghosts of dead warriors

Over the White Mountains we drove, north to south. Long, easy curves on the way up, tight hairpins on the way down, and a spectacular view at the top. On the high ground you can stop at any one of several taverna/coffee bars (all seemingly called ‘Panorama’) and whip your iPhone out to capture the view over the Imbros Gorge and down towards the sea. In 1941 the Allies marched down this gorge when they were evacuating in the direction of Egypt. Today coachloads of tourists walk it - a fairly undemanding but picturesque stroll in the sun which takes a couple of hours.

We gave the trek a miss, ate some Sfakian pies and got back in the rental car. We were on our way to a castle.

That castle is Frangokastello. It was built by the Venetians in the 1370s, to control rebels in the south of Crete and warn off pirates cruising the southern Mediterranean. The name is not supposed to be flattering. It’s the ‘castle of the Franks’; in this part of the world during the later Middle Ages a ‘Frank’ meant anyone from western Christendom, but particularly a nasty crusader type. So like most castles this one is far more popular today, now that it is effectively a dead shell, than it was when it was fully operational.

But be that as it may. Today Frangokastello occupies a rather nice spot just above a curved, part-shingled bay where the water is cold and clear, and good for swimming. It takes about eight minutes to inspect the entire site, which is, in my experience, the absolute maximum that my children will tolerate being shown old shit under a hot sun. You can’t go inside the solid crenellated outer walls at the moment, because there’s renovation work underway. I tried to climb through a small window - or perhaps a cannon-hole - in the stone. I was halfway through with just my Orlebar Browns and bare legs sticking out when someone (child) told me I was an embarrassment and a liability and made me scramble back out. Here’s the photo I took. Under the circumstances I think it’s quite good.

Anyway. There’s a good myth about Frangokastello, relating to a non-medieval battle that took place around it on May 17th 1828, between a Cretan force and a Turkish one. The Greeks who died in the battle are said still to appear around the castle in the form of shadowy ghost-warriors, known as Drosoulites or ‘dew-people’. I regret to say that I did not spot any Drosoulites during our trip. But it would make a very good reason to go back one day.

Okay. Chicken to barbecue, people to see. I’ll check in again soon…