Greek Odyssey: view of the coast at Mochlos. Photo: Georgios Tsichlis/Alamy
Sometimes, when you're traveling, you arrive somewhere so ridiculously picturesque, such a dictionary definition of what you expect the country to look like, that you half suspect it was built as a movie set, or is just for tourists' Disneyfied'.
This is the feeling I get when I walk to the small, horseshoe-shaped bay at Mochlos, Crete. Six restaurants, all with cobalt chairs, whitewashed tables and blackboards, offer gyros and freshly caught fish. On the narrow strip of stones that fringe the low sea wall, a handful of locals lie drying off after a late swim, the last two heads bobbing in the metallic blue water, the small, lumpy island behind illuminated by the apricot-gold light of the sun, which slowly sinks below the horizon.
I sit down with a cold Mythos and order a plate of crispy gyros, fresh pitta and tzatziki. As I look out over the slowly darkening Gulf of Mirabello, I'm sure that a week here, doing nothing but the ten-minute walk between my hotel, the Mochlos Blue, and this ramshackle collection of tavernas, would be more rejuvenating than a luxury spa hotel.
But this quiet corner of Crete is definitely worth exploring. The northeast, home to the Dikti Mountains, is one of the island's last unspoilt stretches of coastline, and a world away from the luxury resorts that dot the coast around Elounda, and the sprawling 1980s hotels and apartments that characterize places like Agios Nikolaos.
After a lazy first day I looked for a good local beach (the only one Mochlos doesn't have), and followed a recommendation to Tholos, hidden 3km off the main road.
It turns out to be an absolute delight for a beach: a long stretch of sand devoid of loungers and umbrellas, the only shade cast by a stand of tamarind trees sheltering a handful of cars. When I step into the water, there is only one other couple swimming. The water is sparkling clear and schools of small fish swim through the shallow water. The mountains loom at the southern end of the beach, past a whitewashed house on the small road that leads north over the headland.
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Swimming is really just an excuse for overindulgence. Cretan food is perhaps the best in Greece; the island's varied landscapes produce everything from mountain herbs, vegetables and spicy cheese to delicious olive oil, freshly caught fish and crispy pastries, such as spanakopita - golden brown puff pastry, filled with salty feta and herbs. Best of all, because this part of Crete is off the regular tourist trail, even the most spectacularly located taverna is rarely overrun.
I head to the village of Mirsini, where a cluster of whitewashed houses clamber up the mountainside and Mochlos is little more than a faint white edge along a small strip of sea, hundreds of meters below. As I climb the steps of the Taverna Kathodon, I pass round containers of tomatoes, slowly drying in the sun. I emerge onto a series of small terraces, full of terracotta pots and mismatched chairs and tables. The bright yellow walls are covered in everything from straw hats to fake flowers and old cooking utensils.
Because this part of Crete is off the regular tourist route, even the most spectacularly located taverna is rarely overrun.
The view is so spectacular - big mountains with scrub, the distant contours of Crete's jagged northern coast like a huge sleeping alligator by the sea - that it wouldn't matter if the food was average. Instead I eat crunchy mizitropita - a flat bread filled with cheese, hot from the pan and drizzled with honey, and dolmadakia - the most juicy vine leaves I have ever tasted.
At the table next to me, an older couple is working their way through a carafe of wine and taking photos to send to their grandchildren. On the other side of the terrace, a Greek family is bickering over huge plates of meatballs and calamari. Underneath it all, the crickets continue their rhythmic chorus. It occurs to me that I may have reached peak Greek.
All the food makes me decide to tackle the Richtis Gorge, a short half-hour drive from Mochlos. I take the easy option (though it's all relative) and drive up the steep, winding road from the upper parking lot to the beach, cutting the walk from two hours to about 40 minutes (and cutting out most of the uphill sections). Still, it is quite a climb and more of a walk through the rainforest than a gorge. Small waterfalls flow through holes in the rocks, understudies for the main event: a shimmering aquamarine pool with kinetic water tendrils snaking down the rock face above.
The Richtis proves to be quite an adventure and justifies my last day of doing little other than lazing by the tranquil pool at Mochlos Blue. The hotel is adults only (apart from summer holidays) and with just six rooms it feels more like a spacious villa; the honesty bar is well stocked with snacks, cold beer and local wine, and the small breakfast buffet is supplemented every morning with a traditional, home-made treat: scrambled eggs with tomato, spanakopita and, my absolute favourite, loukoumades - fried dough balls, soaked in honey and nuts.
On my last evening I drive up from the village for dinner at the Taverna Natural, where the tables are set in a charming tree-dotted garden. The view over the Gulf of Mirabello is perhaps one of the most beautiful on the entire island. I time it just right for the sunset and watch in fascination as the sky blazes with an extraordinary palette of colors as the sun slowly burns towards the purple-maroon mountains. I order a tomato salad and moussaka, with the aubergines lying like silk over the dish. The view is extraordinary, the food delicious, the beer perfectly chilled... Would it be wrong to stay another week?
A week in Mochlos Blue costs from £899, including car hire and B&B accommodation, through Simpson Travel. For more information, visit simpsontravel.com
