The ride measured 38.3 kilometres, with 870 metres of climbing spread across the morning. I spent two hours and thirty-two minutes in the saddle, with one hour and seventeen minutes of that climbing. Gradients struck as hard as +22.3% on the steeper inclines and tipped to –16.8% on the descents. Sixty-five percent of the ride was off-road: stone tracks, gravel climbs, rocky gullies, and old village paths that stitched together the landscape. I departed Kokkino Chorio at 08:30. The morning was cold, the sun hidden by clouds. I headed uphill to Drapanos, looping around the outskirts of the village, picking the ridge line. The track lifted me into a sweeping panorama of Souda Bay and Akrotiri, the water pale under the heavy sky. As I turned towards Paleloni, the clouds broke and sunlight spilled over the land. Paleloni is a quiet place, smaller than its neighbours, its name recalling the “old plain” that once fed it. Venetians recorded it in their censuses; under Ottoman rule it dwindled, yet it has always clung to the ridge above the coast. The old houses stand close, their courtyards shielded from the wind, the village lanes built less for vehicles than for mules and foot traffic. It has the air of a place watching the centuries pass without haste. Kefalas village was next, strangely subdued for the time of day. Then came the drop into the Enchanted Forest, where rocky, stony, dusty tracks curled under the trees. The air turned chilly at the valley bottom, damp and shaded. I picked up the Dry Stone Wall track, its lines sharp against the scrub, before pressing on. As I reached Litsarda the air was already warming, the scent of resin and dust rising as the sun gained height. From there I turned onto the Ridge Track, rolling fast to pick up the Vamos–Georgioupolis road. After 1.5 kilometres I turned off again, cutting across fields and stony lines towards St. George’s Monastery. The path bent into the track to the Church with No Name and then plunged into a rocky descent toward Vrysses. Stones rattled under the tyres, the line uncertain, but gravity was on my side, there I stopped for coffee - at The Cheese Shop - the bitter richness grounding me, the bustle of many other customers swirling around. The return demanded more. A long, steep off-road rocky climb with loose stones and gravel pulled me back towards Litsarda, the gradient biting and the stones loose under the wheels. From there the track took me through Xerosterni, then down past Gavalochori to pick up the Aspro Tracks. The familiar Four Hills Climb followed, then the road through Kambia, before finally rolling back into Kokkino Chorio. As the ride closed, I thought of Cavafy’s poem Ithaca (1911): “Keep Ithaca always in your mind. Arriving there is what you are destined for. But do not hurry the journey at all. Better if it lasts for years, so you are old by the time you reach the island, wealthy with all you have gained on the way, not expecting Ithaca to make you rich.” The words felt apt for such a loop. The ride was less about its finish than the road itself: shrines, forests, villages, and stone paths that remind you the journey has value in itself. And as the dust settled on my tyres, another voice surfaced — not from Alexandria, but from Crete itself: "However heavy the road may be, the joy will be doubled at the destination." Ὅσο βαρὺς καὶ ἂν εἶναι ὁ δρόμος, ἡ χαρὰ θὰ εἶναι διπλὴ στὸν προορισμὸ.