Ron Hurt Photos

"I felt once more how simple and frugal a thing is happiness; a glass of wine, a roasted chestnut, a  little brazier, the sound of the sea.  Nothing more."  

 --Nikos Kazantzakis,  from Zorba the Greek

In 1968, I was assigned to Heraklion Air Station on the island.  The air station, shown here from a mountain overlooking the base,  was a U.S. Air Force communications site situated about 10 miles east of the city of Heraklion near the village of Gournes, in the north central part of Crete.  It was my home for several years and the beginning of my lifelong love for Greece, the Greek people and the friendships I made during that time.  Several years after my marriage to Kathy Denton we spent a belated honeymoon on the island.  Kathy also fell in love with Crete.  As the years passed we made periodic  trips back to Greece and Crete  became our special place.

My office was at the edge of the base.  This was my morning view.

Our base bordered the Aegean Sea and if I opened a window in my barracks room I could sometimes hear the waves on the beach.  If I walked outside during the winter and looked south, there would be snow on the mountain range  that ran down the center of the island.  I was a long way from the sand dunes of west Texas.

My first day on Crete as a young airman, I had been assigned  a room and met my roommate, Charles Hardin.  As I was unpacking,  another airman came in our room and  said he was leaving the next day and would anyone be interested in buying his car.  I said I was interested.  He explained it was a 1956 Chevrolet and he'd  take $200 for it. After inspecting the car,  I shelled out most of  the money I had with me and was suddenly the owner of a  car.  It proved to be a good decision.    Crete, a large island, is long and narrow, stretching 160 miles  east-west and varying in width from 7.5 to 37 miles.  Without a vehicle I would have been stuck on the base.  Thanks to my impulsiveness, the old Chevy  carried me to every part  of the island that four wheels could traverse.  The few paved roads on Crete at that time were two-lane blacktops, and not many of those, but the old Chevy never faltered and I later sold it when I left Crete--for $200.   

One of my first friends at the base was Sergeant George Diapolo, our base photographer.  He saw I was interested in photography and at first let me help him in the darkroom. Later he loaned me a camera to use until I bought my own-- a 35MM Pentax Spotmatic.   The car and the camera became my traveling companions as I explored the island.  This photo of the harbor was one of the first I took with my new camera. My early photos were shot with Kodak's Eckachrome 400 for color slides and Tri-X for black and white negatives.   I only wish I had taken more but film was expensive.

One of my favorite drives was the old mountain road from Heraklion to Chania.  As the road ascended west of Heraklion it passed through the small village of Rodia which had a nice view of the coast stretching back to the  east.  I stopped there one day to photograph the vista and five boys appeared at the car window. It was not unusual for kids to follow me around while I took photos.  In fact, at that time, tourists were probably an oddity in some of the mountain villages, so the youngsters were curious.  I asked one boy his name,

po-se le-ne in Greek.  He said Manolis.  As I pointed to each boy in succession they all answered Manolis.  I laughed and wondered if every boy in the village had the same name.  Maybe they each had a nickname.  I learned Manolis is the shortened version of Immanuel and was a common name on Crete.  Evidently, very common in Rodia.

I loved walking the streets of Heraklion.  The fishermen and their boats,  the busy market and all the other other scenes of daily life fascinated me.  The Cretans were not camera shy  although I always asked if I could photograph them before I snapped the shutter.  On this particular day I stopped outside the Church of St Titus when four schoolboys appeared and mugged for me so I took their photograph.  They ran away laughing and I walked inside the doorway of the  small church shown here.  A young priest appeared and motioned for me to follow. We went into another room that was ornately decorated and had a glass case with a skull displayed.  Another priest appeared and they tried to tell me about the skull but I couldn't under their explanation.  I took a photo of the skull but the light was dim and the photo turned out to be blurred.  I thanked them wondering why I had gotten the royal treatment.  Later, I asked my friend Evon Lekkas about the skull.  He laughed and said that is supposed to be the skull of St. Titus who came to Crete with St. Paul.  Evon said tourists never go in there and they were probably happy to have a visitor.

The skull of St. Titus is kept in this  silver reliquary.  This is a Getty photo since my own was blurred.   

This is a taverna I frequented  near Lion's Square In Heraklion and I had gotten to know the owner.  He's the man in the suit.   The waiter looks like he is carrying two bottles of Lemonada.  Some of the other  soft drink flavors I liked were  Portokalada (orangeade),  and Gazoza (a clear soda-like drink tasting like a mixture of cream soda and Sprite).   The square was a popular  place to eat, drink and watch people promenade in the evening.     

The centerpiece of Lion's Square was the Morosini Fountain, named for one of the Venetian leaders and decorated with lions, one of the symbols of Venice.  Nowadays the fountain remains but the tavernas are gone, replaced by upscale restaurants and shops for the tourists.  The church of St. Titus is to the right.

The beautiful Church of St. Minas where the archbishop of Crete presides.  This photo was taken from one of the Venetian battlements that once protected Heraklion from the Ottoman Turks.

Here's a hand in search of  some fruit. The Heraklion market had a wide variety of staples and fruit, all grown on the island.  Although Crete has its share of rocky soil, the island also produces  an abundance of food much of which is exported to mainland Greece.   Many of the staples and spices are the same used by the Minoans nearly 5,000 years ago.

Besides food, the Heraklion market also provided shelter for a few tradespeople.  This cobbler was making boots on a Singer sewing machine that looks like it's up to the job.

This gentleman has finished reading the newspaper and is ready for a nap.  Many of the shops  use to close during the Cretan siesta time, which was about 1 to 3 p.m. This man is getting a head start.

Near the Heraklion market, this Greek artist is making model boats for the tourists.

Fish was expensive on Crete for a young airman so I usually opted for souvlaki which was either chicken, beef or lamb.

This musician was playing a Cretan Lyra at his family's stall which featured woven blankets and shawls.  As I listened I pointed to my camera and he nodded.  So I took the photo.

Although the different types of food displayed at the market were interesting, the people there were even more so.  I love the pose of the butcher with his blood-stained apron and tools.  He caught my attention as he sat, erect and silent, like an ancient Minoan king on his throne.

A slow day for this vendor.

The Heraklion harbor was one of my favorite places where I've taken many photographs.  The massive fortress in the background was built by the Venetians during their occupation of Crete from 1204 to 1669 before they gave way to the Ottoman Turks. 

Fishing at the Heraklion harbor.  Often I would see men fishing there with only a line and hook.  I guess the solitude of fishing is universal, and sometimes you catch something.

These three men, all of whom worked at the Air Force station,  just caught a small octopus.  I knew them and one held up the catch so I could take a photo.  Later, he pounded the octopus against the concrete to tenderize it before it became someone's supper. 

Greek fishing boats with the Venetian fortress in the background.

A grizzled old sailer at the harbor.  The Venetian fortress is in the background.

Cretan fishermen have a tough life.  They often have to go miles out in the Aegean to find fish. Ninety-three percent of the Aegean and Mediterranean fish stocks have been overfished, mainly by the big trawlers such as the one shown here.  The catches are getting smaller and some species have disappeared completely.   

I used to often see this man, recognizable by his eyepatch.  As I walked past his boat one day he was holding this creature.  I asked what is that (ti enay afto)?  He said "salachi"  (stingray).  I made a note and later asked my friend Evon for the translation.  The Greeks had fun with my frequent mangling of their language.  I hope they appreciated the effort.  

A fisherman mending his nets near Chersonisou.  This pretty little village was just a few miles east of the air station and we used to frequent a taverna there because the owner would give us  free shots of raki-- Cretan moonshine.  It was also a good place to snorkel.

The twine and hook method.   Not sure what he's using for bait.

The pretty little fisherman's chapel of St. Dionysios in Galatas Harbor is midway between Chania and Heraklion. Someone is heading out for some evening fishing.

A woman walks home from the market in Heraklion.  It was just another street scene of daily life that caught my eye.

This curious boy came and stood in front of me.  We stared at each other for a moment and I finally realized he wanted me to take his photo.  I did and he left.

Two of my Air Force friends, Ernie Batson (left)  and  Charles Hardin stand at the grave of Niko Katzanzakis.  His grave is on the top of one of the old battlements the Venetians built to protect Heraklion from the Turks.  The Greek Orthodox Church would not sanctify Katzanzakis's burial because he was an atheist.  Still he was revered by the Cretans and you would see passages from his books written on taverna walls.  Among his books were The Last Temptation of Christ, Freedom or Death, and Zorba. His head marker has a simple inscription, "I hope nothing. I fear nothing. I am free."

When I saw these boys walking home from school, I thought of a photograph by Eugene Smith when he captured his young children walking down a garden path. Google Eugene Smith, a great American photographer.  He did some wonderful photo essays for Life magazine.

This family gave me permission to take some photos while they harvested their grapes.  Although the quality of this photo leaves something to be desired,  I've always liked the expressions of the boy and his father.  I'm sorry I lost their names.  The young boy will have a family of his own now.

This family picked the grapes and laid them on long narrow strips of canvas.  When the grapes dried for a few days they became  raisins.  The old ways are always the best, aren't they.

Grapes becoming raisins.  

 This photo on the south side of Crete near Matala is two scenes in one.  In one, a proud Cretan father poses with his young son.  In the background,  two young men share a private moment.  

The old windmills near Limnes, Crete, still wore their sails on the day I stopped to photograph them and met Michaelis, the owner.  He invited me inside the mill to take a look.

 I took this photo of Michaelis as he proudly sat next to the grindstone.  It was dark inside so I used black and white film.   I returned to the  base and made prints of  Michaelis and his mill.  A few days later I returned and presented him with several prints I had made.  In return, he gave me a bag of pistachios which was more than ample reward for my efforts.   I wonder if those photos are still with his family.

This is Michaelis again with his friend who showed up to be photographed.  They were excited that I was interested in the mill.  I like the smile of the man on the right. 

Wife Kathy, daughter Emily,  Becky Jones and I spent several weeks in Fodele, a small working village in central Crete. There were a couple of  shops there but Fodele is off the beaten path and wasn't visited by many tourists.  But just in case,  this Yaya, or grandmother, usually kept an eye on woven goods outside her daughter's shop.  I hope she's not giving me the evil eye.

We spent our time in Fodele exploring the central regions of Crete by car and hikes.  It was the beginning of June and the wildflowers were amazing.   Incidentally,  El Greco was born in Fodele. Here,  we were walking back from a house where the artist grew up.

While in Fodele we would hang out at a taverna owned by Georgios Mikropodaros (George Littlefoot).  George had worked at the base where I was stationed although he came after I left.  However, we knew many of the same Greeks who had been there during my time.  George had a lot of good stories, some true, plus, his wife Eva was a wonderful  cook and would make us some of the traditional Greek dishes.  Her moussaka was world class.

This makes me hungry.  Eva, George's wife, made us souvlaki, a fancy Greek salad, fried octopus, hummus, French fries and a special dish of Moussaka.

Kathy, Becky and I stopped for a soft drink in Viannos, a small village in the south central part of the island.   These village women look like they might be engaged in a bit of gossip.

A Cretan woman moves her goats to a fresh pasture.  This was  near Viannos and shows that some people in the smaller villages still do things the old way.

Lots of vehicles on Crete nowadays, unlike the late 1960s when I first arrived,  but this gentleman isn't worried about the price of petrol as he stops to talk to some friends.

The Katharo is the highest plateau in the eastern part of Crete. The Minoans and ancient Greeks were here because of the fertile soil. Avdeliakos is the main settlement but is almost deserted in the winter due to occasional heavy snowfall. However, in the spring, several tavernas in the settlement open for the Greek shepherds who return, as well as a few tourists. You will  see a few family gardens with potatoes, apple trees and vineyards, mainly grown by the shepherds of the area. The old, rocky Minoan road that leads up to the Katharo is similar to the headache-inducing road  we took from Kritsa to enter the valley.  The first weekend in August is the Feast of the Shepherds where Greeks and tourists alike visit the plateau to celebrate with music and dancing.

This is what remains of an ancient Minoan road that led from the coast to the Katharo Plateau.  The one we drove over wasn't much better.

This shepherd is moving his herd of sheep and goats to another grazing spot in the Katharo.  With a herd that size, the shepherd is wealthy by Certan standards.

A few houses and several tavernas make up the small settlement of Avdeliakos.  We were the only visitors that day.

While in Avdeliakos, we stopped at the taverna of Thespina and Giannis (John) Zervas to eat.  We gave them one of our Texas flag handkerchiefs and Thespina fixed us some delicious pancakes.  We learned John, who had a Che Gueverra poster inside, was a Communist and also former mayor of Kritsa.  They loved the Texas flag.

A Cretan street photographer who posed for me.  What a great camera.  The graffiti on the wall is political.  The KKE is the acronym for the Communist Party of Greece.  Historically, KKE  has been most active  in  northern Greece, Crete, and the Aegean islands of Lesbos and Samos.

Interesting shot of a Greek church with the KKE written on a retaining wall.  Two divergent views on display.  When I first began driving through the mountain villages during the 1960s my Greek friends told me to be careful since some of the villages had Communist sympathizers.  But I never encountered  hostility, only friendliness.

Stone house used for storing cheese.  Near Zaros, Crete.  The Cretans have good cheese.

Near Fodele.  A Cretan farmer at the end of the day.  He's carrying some greens home from his garden.

I was invited to several Greek weddings but this was the most elaborate.  The wedding party that evening at a taverna lasted until the early morning hours and left the  floor littered with broken plates.  The men would hold a stack of plates while dancing Zorba style  and throw them to the floor, one by one.  The Greek tradition of smashing plates at wedding parties was banned in 1969 by the military dictatorship.  The Cretans, however,  ignored the law and continued to smash plates, as they have for centuries.  

You never have to travel too far to be able to see a Greek Orthodox Church.  Ninety-eight percent of Greeks belong but only about 15 percent attend mass.

Once you leave the coastal roads you  never have to travel too far without meeting  a roadblock of sheep or goats.  Here, one appears to stand guard while the others cross the road.

The palace at Phaistos was inhabited from about 4000 BC.  A palace, dating from the Middle Bronze Age, was destroyed by an earthquake during the Late Bronze Age.   Knossos, along with other Minoan sites, was also destroyed at that time. The palaces were rebuilt toward the end of the Late Bronze Age.

The central courtyard at Phaistos where the Minoans gathered for social and religious celebrations.

Becky Jones, Kathy and Emily explore Phaistos.  More tourists see Knossos, but Phaistos is worth a visit.

The path to the northwest court at Phaistos.  During Minoan times this path would have had a smooth covering.

The Minoan palace at Phaistos had a dramatic view of the fertile Messara Valley. Olives, grapes, wheat and many types of vegetables have been grown in this valley since Minoan times. This is also where the Minoans got clay for their pottery.   The harvest is so abundant that it allows Cretan farmers to export their goods to the mainland.  This is a Getty photo.

Knossos is thought to be Europe's oldest city.  This particular scene is a recreation by archeologists to show what the multi-tiered place looked like.  The first Minoan palaces were built about 2,000 BC and eventually thousands of Minoans lived here.

This wall painting  was recovered from Knossos and resides in the Archeological Museum in Heraklion.  The colors are as brilliant as the day they were painted more than 3,000 years ago.  These palaces must have been beautiful. 

These huge containers stand about four-feet tall and held such things as wine, oil or grain.  They were stored underground and could be lifted with rope by the handles on the side.

Knossos had three different water management systems: one for drinking,  another to handle runoffs and this one for sewage.

Because of wall decorations from Knossos we  know how the Minoans dressed, what they ate and what their ships looked like. Archeologists still do not know the their origin.

During our last trip to Crete, after two weeks in Fodele, we moved to the Myrtos, a small village on the south coast of Crete overlooking the Libyan Sea.  Our apartment was situated at the top of the small mountain here behind the  village.  Our place was the one with the blue top.  What a view, but a long walk down to the bakery each morning to get fresh bread.

Kathy enjoyed her morning coffee as we would get ready for a day of exploring.  The landlady's cats, taking an early siesta, would  wander in and out of our apartment. Our view out over the Libyan Sea was spectacular.  We would use our binoculars to watch a Greek Naval frigate steam back and forth every day on the lookout for refugees from Africa.  

We took a long hike up the Perivolakia Gorge, just north of Ierapetra.  It was a windy day and the gorge was like a wind tunnel.  We gave up after a couple of miles.  Wild goats balanced on the sides of the mountains kept an eye on us.

Our days usually ended  with bread, cheese and a glass of wine.  You can see the blue water in the background.

We met Harry Wilton, a retired Englishman,  while we were walking around Ierepetra, the largest city on the south side of Crete.  Harry was standing on his porch as we walked by and ended up inviting us in his house for tea.  The wolf symbol represents the Wolverhampton Wolves, his favorite soccer team.  We stopped once more before we left the island and he gave me a book about Crete during World War II.  What a nice guy.

Kathy photographing a mountaintop chapel near the village of Kalamafka. It was a nice little hike up a million steps, or so it seemed.

An abandoned Greek Orthodox monastery near Prevali.  Many Greek monasteries were abandoned when the Ottoman Turks seized control of Crete.

 The Fishing Village of Bali. During one of our earlier visits to Crete, my friend Evon Lekkas suggested Kathy and I spend a couple of days in Bali, s small fishing village midway between Heraklion and Chania on the north coast.  We were the only visitors that day.   I took a number of black and white photos, but unfortunately I dropped one of my cameras and didn't realize  it had caused a light leak.  I didn't know most of the film from Bali was ruined until we were home and I developed the film. Although I salvaged a few  photos with some heroic editing, the flaws are still visible if you look closely.   Several years later, some friends decided to vacation on Crete so I gave them prints from the Bali photos and asked them to give them to the villagers. The villagers were surprised at the photos but had no memory of ever being photographed.  Such is the life of street photography.

Bali, Crete.  One of the men had good luck fishing and brought back fish.  Kathy and I were invited to eat with the villagers as we all enjoyed the day's catch.  I was always touched by the generosity of the Cretan Greeks.

A fisherman's boat at Bali's small harbor.   Bali was a small fishing village at the time but has now been replaced by a large resort.   That's the story of  many places  on the north side of Crete.

Bali, Crete.

Bali, Crete.

A young Bali fisherboy. 

Bali, Crete.  Baited hooks  for several of the men who were preparing to take their boats out.

Bali, Crete.

Bali fisherman.

Bali.  A couple of chickens happy we were eating fish for supper.