As a young girl, I was captivated by Greek mythology. Zeus enthralled me. Born and raised in exile in the caves of Crete, Zeus grew up to become the ruler of the 12 gods of Olympus by over-throwing his father. To a 10-year-old growing up in the steel valley in the early 1960s, the stories of Crete became an intellectual oasis for me, transforming everyday life into an imaginative adventure.Those adventures stayed with me throughout my life and in many ways made me strong and willful in my endeavors. This year, for our 46th wedding anniversary, my husband, Mark, and I made the journey to Crete. Our week-long visit was a short leg of a two-month European journey to five countries that my husband meticulously planned for me. Flights and lodging had been prearranged. He chose homes and apartments available through Airbnb and a spattering of hotels to accom- modate my attending the occasional International Rotary meeting as a newly inducted Rotarian from Elkins, WV.

Beginning our visit to the island of Crete, we landed at the Heraklion International Airport on a windy and chilly mid-February night. The airport snoozed in an off-season sleep but hinted at a bustling tourist season. Bright signs and sea art shouted where to go and what to see, but the 50 or so passengers who disembarked the Aegean Airlines commuter plane from Athens, Greece, that evening were not interested. We were there for peace and quiet. After renting our four-wheel-
drive Suzuki, picking up our luggage and locking in the GPS,
we looked forward to the seaside GDM Megaron Hotel for a
good night’s sleep in a king-size bed fit to fight off jet lag.
Many shops and cafes, including the Zafiria Internet
Café, display arts and crafts of the 1960s era.
The caves of Matala.
W E S T V I R G I N I A E X E C U T I V E122
Over a breakfast of locally grown eggs, olives, honey, herbs,
grains, fruits and vegetables and locally produced breads,
pastries, cheeses and yogurts—most bathed and brushed in
Cretan olive oil—I discovered why my husband chose Crete.
Yes, he remembered the stories of my childhood, but mostly he
was following the history of civilization as we know it through-
out this European journey, and Crete was the gateway to that
journey. Just as I was intrigued with mythology, Mark’s interest
in history was even more poignant. “Crete is the cradle of civilization,” he said. “The Minoans were the first Europeans to create a literate civilization 6,000 years ago. They were the first to record history . . . and they lived right here, in Crete.”
Ancient history goes back even further, back to Knossos, the
largest Bronze Age archaeological site on Crete and considered
to be Europe’s oldest city. Located less than 10 miles southeast
of Heraklion, the Minoan palace of Knossos draws visitors from
around the world. A mosaic of cultural layers colored with time,
Heraklion, the municipal center of Crete, is the social hub of the
island and has survived as a strategic seaport through the ages
as well as the rule of the Byzantines, Venetians, Turks and even
the Germans during World War II. Architecture throughout the
old city mirrors the phases of rule over the Cretan people, but
the liveliness and business of the city today suggests these people have not been defeated by conquest and rule. There’s a sturdiness about them and a respect for all things Crete.
We did not stay long in Heraklion.

Our destination was a Cretan home in Tris Ekklisies, a small village nestled between the Asterousia Mountains and the Libyan Sea. We found the home on Airbnb, and George and Anna, the owners of the home, were to meet us at a roundabout near Pirgos, the largest village near Tris Ekklisies, which offered shopping options.
Tris Ekklisies is a 90-minute drive from Heraklion through
foothills and small valleys of farmland. Olive and citrus trees
dominate the landscape. Vegetable gardens hug Cretan homes
made of rock and concrete, accentuated by bright blues and
orange. To the west, the snowcapped Ida-Gebirge mountains
loom high over the Mesara Plain, an expanse of olive and
grape groves made green by expert irrigation techniques. I
imagined Zeus growing up in a cave on one of those moun-
tains, being entertained by the Cretan people who lived and
worked around him. It is documented that Crete is home to over 1.5 million olive trees, and if you are born on Crete, it’s a birthright that you own at least one or two. Cretan olive oil, the base of all prepared foods in Crete, is considered to be the best in the world, and just about every farmer on the island knows how to prepare and store it.
Cretan food is known for its freshness and fragrance. More
than 30 species of native herbs grow wild on the island. Cretan
women, through the ages, foraged and dried the herbs, as they
still do today, and sheep and goats find the herbs to be a sustainable diet on the rocky cliffs of the mountains. The grocery store in Pirgos did carry canned goods, but unlike the U.S., the vegetables, olives, dried beans, fruits, herbs, honey, eggs, meats and cheeses and even milk was locally produced and sold in the village market. Our shopping experience happened to correspond with Tsiknopempti, or Burnt Thursday, of Apokries, or Carnival. Celebrated in all of Greece, the three-week Carnival is a feast of dance, wine and meat before the sacrifices and fasting of Lent. The grocery was abuzz with festivities—costumed family members, the burning of fresh lamb and the drinking of the Cretan beverage raki or Tsikoudia, a strong spirit made from crushed grape skins.
Although Tris Ekklisies is only an hour and a half from Her-
aklion, it takes 45 minutes to travel from Pirgos up into the
heights of the Asterousia Mountains and down to the seaside
village. The road from the mountaintop to the village is not for
the faint hearted but lends views of the Libyan Sea that are so
breathtaking, they are not soon forgotten.
George drove in front of us, leading the way, and I was so
glad he did. The wintry winds shook the Suzuki back and forth,
and water spouts formed on the sea 2,000 feet below us.
We counted 21 switchbacks on this gravel road with no
guardrails.
The road to Tris Ekkli-
sies was the highlight of my
trip. After meeting Anna
at our lovely home in the
village and thanking her for
the homemade dolmades—
stuffed grape leaves—she had
made for us, we relaxed in
our very own Cretan village.
Friday morning, the Earth
goddess, Gaia, ushered in spring—just like that, as though a
switch had been turned on. The Mediterranean sun sparkled
on the sea, and a goat bleated from our rooftop. The aroma
of awakening thyme, sage and rosemary drifted in from the
mountainsides where herds of goats and sheep sang songs of
the plenty to be found on the island.
Although we stayed only a week, the incredible memories
of Crete will be with me forever. The rugged and craggy land-
scape, made soft and green by the people of Crete, is a testa-
ment to their determination to end the struggle of hardship.
With strong will and a strong back, anything is possible. This
place, the beginning of civilization, and these people, descen-
dents of the gods, are a testament to that. 
Breakfast at the Megaron
Hotel in Heraklion.
The village of Tris Ekklisies.
Breakfast at the Megaron
Hotel in Heraklion.
Breakfast at the Megaron
Hotel in Heraklion.
Breakfast at the Megaron
Hotel in Heraklion.
W E S T V I R G I N I A E X E C U T I V E124
Nestled in the southern part of Harrison
County, WV, a winding stream runs through
a 180-acre piece of land known as Lost
Creek Farm. For more than 150 years and
six generations, Lost Creek Farm was a full-
scale, highly productive vegetable, poultry
and cattle farm cared for by the family of
Amy Dawson. Today, Dawson and her
partner, Mike Costello, are working to
reinvigorate the land and restore it to a
fully operational farm.
In addition to re-opening the farm, the
duo has also launched an Appalachian-in-
spired traveling food business. The mission
of this new business is to tell stories of the
people and food in Appalachia, preserve
the Appalachian heritage and build the
economic landscape of West Virginia and
the surrounding region.
[ lifestyle ]
BLAIR DOWLER
SHAWN POYNTER
That’s the story I think is important when we’re talking
about Appalachian food—the way so many different
cultures influence what West Virginian and Appalachian
food actually is.”
Preserving
AppalachiaOne Meal
at a Time
Mike Costello and
Amy Dawson.