Orchid Odyssey
From the Daily Mail
We were walking above the picturesque town of Lindos, enjoying the heavenly scent of thyme crushed underfoot and the sight of pretty pink cistus bathing in the springtime sun, when we encountered our first specimen of orchid hunter.
They are often to be found singularly, with a camera slung around their neck, wandering around in circles. With a schoolmasterly air and a shock of grey hair, this one was expressing some disillusion.
'I should have gone to Crete,' said Richard, pointing out not an orchid but a red dragonarum, an insect-eating plant that smells disconcertingly of old meat. 'I've seen a few uninspiring specimens so far, but nothing striking,' he added, before scrambling over the rocks towards the narrow, cobbled streets below.
Doubtless the heavy spring rain had much to do with his temporary lack of enthusiasm, but I was intrigued by the idea of searching for wild orchids. In Rhodes, these wonderful, varied plants thrive on the baking summer heat, which ripens the tubers, and the spring rain that encourages flowering. Consequently, the blooms are large and spectacular.
My wife Kari-Ann and I were staying for two weeks at a friend's house, tucked into the hill beside an ancient amphitheatre. On our first night, I had stood on the roof and watched in wonder as the moon, drifting between fluffy clouds, shone over St Paul's Bay and covered the whitewashed town in a milky film. There was no distant drone of cars; only the breeze and the occasional heehaw of donkeys on the hill broke the silence.
Next day I watched the tourists wandering aimlessly through the town's alleyways picking at trinkets and gaudy pottery like so many hens, and began planning an escape into the hills.
Travel Guide: Greece