Crete might not be the first place that comes to mind when you think of bikepacking destinations, but it has plenty to offer compared with some of the more popular spots. The island enjoys a good chance of favourable weather during the shoulder seasons of March, April, October and November, plus it’s easy to reach either by ferry from mainland Greece or via direct flights from many European airports. Add to this the incredible scenery and the fact that, once you leave the more developed areas behind, you can often feel like you have the island almost entirely to yourself. Last spring, Alessandro and Nunziella from The Bike Challenge headed to Crete with their friend Iason and sent us this fantastic story from their travels.
Every good adventure starts with a line drawn on a map. Ours was a 700-kilometre figure of eight across Crete, packing in 13,000 metres of elevation over eight days. The route split neatly into two distinct halves. The longer East loop would take us to Anogia, across the Lasithi plains and down to the south coast. The West loop promised the towering Samaria Gorge, Paliochora and a rugged coastal return to Chania.
This ride also served a practical purpose. It was our first time putting the Carradice Colorado seat pack to the test. Relying on its saddle-mounted Bagman frame and 17-litre capacity, we were hoping for stability over the rocky Greek terrain. We were fortunate to have a starting base at a friend’s house near Chania. His local friends even rescued us from the airport, a vital favour since no standard taxi could swallow our bulky bike boxes.
Things kicked off with a scramble. We had originally planned a rest day in Chania, but the upcoming Easter holidays forced us to shift our schedule. That meant building the bikes straight out of the boxes on arrival and hitting the road east towards Heraklion the very next morning. We also spent time with our friend Iason and his family. His dad was the mastermind behind the route, handing over vital local knowledge about which roads to dodge and where the real highlights were hiding.
Day 1: Ambition and Calamari
Our ride plunged from Chania down to Souda Bay, where we encountered our very first Grigorios. This popular food and coffee chain is a lifeline in Greece, serving up fresh coffee and traditional treats that fuel long days in the saddle.
Fully loaded with caffeine and pastries, we pointed our wheels towards our overnight stop in Anogia. The heat was relentless right from the start. We ground our way up several climbs to Lake Kournas and traced a stunning coastal off-road trail into Rethimno. The town is famous for its Venetian harbour and fortress, blending Venetian and Ottoman history perfectly.
By the time we arrived, we were running on empty. We hunted down a fish restaurant called Zampìa near the port and ordered entirely too much food. We had zero regrets. The calamari alone was worth the stop.
There was just one catch. We still had a 14-kilometre climb with over 600 metres of elevation separating us from our beds. Starting late and not quite having our bikepacking legs under us made this a brutal adjustment phase.
Grinding up towards Anogia in the fading light, we replayed the day. We thought about the friendly hospital staff we chatted with in Chania and passed houses billowing smoke as locals prepped wood for the island's famous meat barbecues. Anogia, perched high near Heraklion, promised a quiet night. We arrived late and hungry. Unsure if anything would be open, we swapped cleats for flip-flops and hiked up the steep town roads in our technical shirts. Aetos Tavern saved the day, serving some of the best meat of the entire trip alongside some much-needed greens. We rolled back to our B&B near midnight, amazed at how little the massive feast had cost.
Day 2: The Ice Cream Hunt
Breakfast was the only motivation we needed to climb the same steep road we had walked the night before. It felt significantly easier on two wheels. We hit two different bakeries, sampling almond sweets and strong coffee before rolling out. The morning air at elevation was sharp and chilly, but it warmed up fast as we descended towards Heraklion. We bypassed the chaotic city traffic by threading through back roads and tunnels beneath the state highways.
Our target for the afternoon was Knossos, the political centre of the ancient Minoan civilisation and the largest Bronze Age archaeological site on the island. The crowds were thin, giving us plenty of time to explore the ruins while Iason watched the bikes and inhaled an ice cream.
History is great, but bikepacking requires calories. We left hoping for a proper lunch but settled for an artisanal ice cream shop in the absolute middle of nowhere. It was a perfect escape from the midday sun. A steep climb brought us to Myrtia, the picturesque ancestral home of author Nikos Kazantzakis. We rested outside a local shop with cold drinks and, inevitably, more ice cream.
The final flat miles to Kastelli should have been a victory lap, but the rugged terrain finally claimed a casualty. Iason’s tyre sidewall gave way. We limped to our B&B and went through our bag of tricks, finally keeping it together with a TPU inner tube. We eventually figured out the tyre was defective, and the split bead only worsened as the days went on. Dinner that night was a massive pot of homemade Carbonara to prep for the mountains ahead.
Day 3: High Plains and Rocky Drops
We fuelled up on another massive breakfast before tackling the biggest climb of the east loop. Our destination was the Lasithi plain, a massive fertile plateau sitting 900 metres above sea level. It was once famous for thousands of white-sailed irrigation windmills. The climb offered sweeping views and a few rough 4x4 tracks, but it remained blissfully quiet.
I was incredibly grateful I chose to ride my MTB for this section. The drop into the plain was a rocky, bumpy mess, and I had an absolute blast flying down it while the other two wrestled with their gravel bikes. The tables turned completely once we hit smooth tarmac, where I was left spinning out while they cruised. Through all the bouncing, our Carradice bags didn't flinch. The Bagman rack kept everything completely locked down without any lateral sway.
We explored the plateau before finding a local spot for lunch. The food was spectacular, featuring the best lamb of the entire journey. We weren't done climbing, though. We had to push up and over the far side of the plain before dropping all the way down to the south coast.
The final stretch was a flat, uninspiring slog. We linked up straight country roads with little scenery, eventually rolling into Moires. We found our tiny B&B, greeted the resident cats, cooked some pasta, washed our grim riding gear in the sink and passed out.
Day 4: Coastal Returns
We finally reunited with the sea, grabbing breakfast in Kokkinos before pointing our wheels north. The route back to Rethimno took us off-road, having us ride the beautiful coastal trails from day one in reverse.
The day ended at a stunning hotel perched high above the water. The host was incredible, welcoming us with cold beers, intensely strong local liquor and sweets. We certainly earned the drinks. Reaching the hotel lobby required grinding up a brutal 25 percent gradient ramp straight off the main road.
Day 5: The Malaxa Bake
This was supposed to be our rest day, a simple transit back to Chania. We backtracked for breakfast before taking a new inland route west. Armed with Grigorios sandwiches, we snaked through a few beautiful gorges before starting the climb to Malaxa.
Malaxa is a sleepy, almost silent town near Souda Bay. On paper, the climb looked entirely reasonable. In reality, it was a roasting oven. Nunziella and I suffered under the intense sun, and I walked away with a severe sunburn exclusively on my calves. Iason, seemingly immune to the heat, waited for us at the summit alongside an incredible view of the bay.
We coasted into Chania, grabbed some supplies, and tackled one final climb through a maze of unknown backstreets to reach Iason’s house. His family was waiting with oven-baked potatoes, chicken, and cheese. We demolished everything in sight.
Day 6: Into the Gorge
There is no rest for the wicked. Knowing we were halfway through the trip, we woke up early to start the west loop. We were staring down the barrel of the longest climb of the route. Covering 33 kilometres and climbing 1,300 metres, the road to Samaria Gorge was going to take everything we had.
The ascent was mostly smooth tarmac. We even found an isolated shop halfway up for a quick sugar hit. Above us, vultures circled in the thermals, perhaps keeping a close eye on our progress.
We crested the top sooner than expected and rolled to the gorge viewpoint. After petting a few stray dogs and snapping photos of the massive ravine, our minds immediately turned to food. A nearby restaurant delivered yet another flawless meal. We ate rare traditional sweets, lamb, fries, and dessert. Iason was particularly thrilled with this find.
The descent to Paliochora was pure magic. We dropped through a narrow valley framed by yellow bushes, the rock walls lighting up perfectly in the golden hour sun. We crossed multiple small gorges on empty, twisting roads. It was a flawless end to a tough day.
We smelled the salty sea air just before dark, rolled into the beach town, cooked a quick pasta dinner and crashed.
Day 7: Type 3 Fun on the E4
Sometimes, looking at a map makes you overconfident. We decided to skip an inland climb and hug the coast to Elafonisi beach using the E4 hiking trail. It was a spectacular mistake.
The detour started innocently enough on a scenic gravel road traversing the cliffside. There were a few spots where we had to dismount, but it was highly rideable. We kept up a good pace for the first hour, enjoying the crystal clear water below and the confused stares of the local goats.
Then the path vanished.
The trail narrowed to a rocky ledge with a sheer drop to the sea. Pushing fully loaded bikes turned into lifting them over boulders and dragging them up rocky steps. A few slips near the edge quickly erased any sense of fun, making us realise we were entirely committed to a very bad idea.
What should have been a quick coastal cruise turned into a punishing six-hour hike-a-bike mission. Our water bottles ran dry and morale hit rock bottom. Iason scouted ahead, got separated and accidentally stumbled into a naturist beach. I will spare you the details of his detour.
After hours of shouting, sweating and swearing, we found a path up the cliff face that connected back to civilisation. We hit a small shop around 3pm and drained their fridge.
Thoroughly defeated by the coast, we altered our route to take the shortest path to our beds, cutting through a beautiful gorge near Topolia instead of risking more trail drama. The delay meant we rolled into Kissamos well after dark at 8 pm. We bought every snack we could carry and collapsed into a spacious apartment for our final night.
Day 8: The Final Blowout
We started our last morning at a local bakery. By this point, the locals were staring at us like we had dropped in from orbit. We were exhausted, sunbaked and carrying an absurd amount of baked goods.
Just a few miles outside of Chania, Iason’s defective tyre finally gave up the ghost. The split sidewall opened completely and the inner tube exploded with a loud crack. Fortunately, duct tape solves most bikepacking problems. We wrapped the tyre, slotted in our last spare tube and hoped the bead would hold together just enough to keep rolling. Iason decided not to push his luck and stopped at a bike shop on the outskirts of the city for fresh rubber.
We rolled into old Chania by 2pm. The town was buzzing, showcasing its rich history as a major commercial hub for both the Venetians and Ottomans.
The old harbour was stunning, but we had a singular focus on protein. We found the best Souvlaki spot in town (Chop!) and ate until we couldn't move.
The final hurdle was a 230-metre climb back to Iason's house. We arrived just in time to celebrate Easter the following day. It was a rare and special occasion since Orthodox Greek Easter aligned perfectly with the Catholic one on April 20th, 2025.
The riding didn't completely stop there. After a massive Easter Sunday meat feast, we took the bikes down a steep hill to the beach for a swim, picked up some souvenirs and finally packed the bikes away into their boxes for the flight home.
Final Thoughts on the Carradice Colorado Bags
We had initial reservations about relying on a small rack mounted directly to the saddle. Those worries vanished on day one. The Bagman setup is incredibly lightweight, and holding the seat pack firmly away from the wheels and legs completely changes how the bike handles.
The biggest advantage was the speed. Slipping the bag on and off the frame took seconds. When you are packing and unpacking every single day for a week, that convenience is unbeatable. Leaving the bikes in dark garages or outside cafes was stress-free, as we could just unclip the bags by the handle and walk away.
Trip Stats
- Distance and Elevation: 700 km and 13,000m
- Total cost each: £850
- Accommodation each: £160
You can find the route details for The Crete Divide below: