In the Land of the Labyrinth

Greece is the home of many of the myths of western culture.  Crete is renowned for a particular one: the story of King Minos, the Minotaur and the labyrinth, constructed by that great inventor Daedelus, which was its prison. The tale of the hero, Theseus, who liberates the city of Athens from the tyranny of the Minoans through the betrayal of Minos by his daughter, Ariadne, who herself is later betrayed in turn, is in itself a labyrinthine epic whose plot twists and turns through the heights and depths of human aspiration and cunning. So compelling is the story that it was even adapted into medieval Christian theology as a rendition of the death and resurrection of the Christ.
In the epic that has been this family trip, with all the twists and turns of hoping, planning, saving and experiencing, there has been a Minotaur, a threat hiding in the shadows, an unknown monster which would have to be faced if we were to complete the journey. It's name? The Gorge of Samaria. Down that throat we would have to descend; would we emerge safe and sound or would we be devoured in the attempt? In our planning, we were subtly haunted by the challenge it represented; decisions were weighed against that hike: how much could we carry? what about water? would we have the stamina? how long was the hike? 10, 15, 25 kilometres? So serious was the threat, we even postponed shopping until we had bested the beast! And beast it was: 18 kilometres, in heat, with the weight of our packs, over rough, rough ground. But we did it and sore and tired though we be, are now comfortably ensconced on the shores of the Libyan Sea at the Old Phoenix, just over the hill from Loutro. Venus rules the evening sky, Saturn the later night. Scorpio is fully visible to the south with Antares shining prominently on its back, while the teapot of Sagittarius sits on the mat of the Milky Way where it crosses the sea's horizon. Surely, this is a land of myth and memory. (Murray)