Balos is a sandbar between the northwest tip of Crete and the rocky cape of Tigani, and the water it holds is barely thirty centimetres deep. It lies over pale sand all day and warms to something like bath temperature, and you can wade a long way out with the sea still below your knees. The colour changes from white to green to turquoise under your own feet, and the pink is not in every grain. It comes from shells the waves have ground down into the white sand, so it gathers in patches and streaks, strongest where a wave has just pulled back. None of the shape shows from down there. The footpath from the ridge keeps the lagoon behind the slope for twenty minutes. Then one bend gives you all of it: the bar, the ring of shallow water, the cape, and the castle on the islet beyond.
The day boats tie up at that islet, Imeri Gramvousa, and a steep stony path climbs to the Venetian walls on its summit. The small harbour below them was a pirate base. Three or four hundred Cretan rebels seized the fort in 1825 and held it for two years, and since they could not feed themselves under siege they raided Aegean shipping instead. They built a school up there, and a church to Panagia i Kleftrina — Our Lady of the thieves. A British and French fleet burned their ships in 1828. A cargo ship still lies half sunk in the bay where the boats moor, aground since a January morning in 1968 when its anchor chain snapped, and nobody ever took it away. The cliffs here keep their own schedule. Eleonora's falcon breeds later than any other bird of prey in Europe, laying only in late July. The chicks hatch in August and September, exactly as millions of songbirds funnel south across the Mediterranean, and the falcons take them out of the air over the sea. When the young can fly, the whole colony crosses the length of Africa to winter in Madagascar.