Tour guides Greece > Crete

5 ideas for guided tours in Crete

• The Samaria Gorge

  

  Southwest Crete. That’s where the Samaria Gorge runs—long and rough, over 16 kilometers through land that still feels untouched. It’s not just a hike; it’s a stretch of time and silence. May to mid-October, that’s the window.

  Start from Xyloskala, near the village of Omalos. You’re already high—1,200 meters or so. The cliffs? They rise like blades on both sides, sometimes 30 meters above. And then the path tightens. One spot, they call it the “Iron Gates”—barely a few meters across. After hours of descent, heat, and rock, the trail just ends. Agia Roumeli appears. Small houses. Sea breeze. Nothing else.

• Chania

  

  About 160 kilometers west of Heraklion, Chania still holds its past close. The harbor, that soft Venetian curve, stays busy—fishing boats bobbing next to polished yachts. Along the edge, restaurants drift between local and expected.

  Old town opens slow. Stone paths, uneven walls, shutters faded in every shade the sun allows. Some houses lean. Some stand proud. Around Halidon Street, museums anchor it all—maritime stories, quiet objects, time folded into displays. It’s not loud here. And that’s the point.

• Agios Nikolaos

  

  East side of the island. Agios Nikolaos leans into the bay of Mirabello, looking out across the blue. At its center, Lake Voulismeni sits calm, surrounded by cafés, fishing boats pulled close. A narrow cut, almost hidden, links it to the sea.

  The town climbs in layers. Pastel walls. Stairs that don’t always lead where you expect. You walk. You pause. Somewhere, there’s shade and a view. Along the coast, clear little coves appear—barely marked, barely large enough to sit. But just right.

• Elafonissi

  

  Down south, where olive trees begin to thin, the Elafonisi peninsula changes the tone. White sand. Pinks, too—soft, almost unreal. Coral bits caught in the mix. The sea doesn’t settle on one color. It slides—green to turquoise to something paler.

  Even when it’s crowded, it doesn’t feel pressed. Walk away from the main beach. Just a few minutes. Quiet returns. And when the tide pulls back, a line of sand stretches out—barefoot, you cross. Another island. No signs. Just wind and salt.

• Loutro

  

  Some 70 kilometers southwest of Chania, the road stops. There’s no road, actually—not to Loutro. Just boats. Or trails.

  White walls. Blue trim. Silence, mostly. No cars. No buzz. Just water and the soft sounds of people moving slowly. Loutro stays as it was—fishing lines, low cafés, the sense that it’s not in a rush to be anything else. Paths leave the harbor, winding past dry rock, down to small beaches, or up toward the plateau of Anapoli. You don’t always know where they lead. That’s part of it.