Samaria Gorge Reopening Welcomed 1,251 Visitors on May 6

The Samaria Gorge reopening did not disappoint anyone with a penchant for crowds. The park’s data shows 1,251 people powered through on the first day—each armed with hiking boots, water bottles, and probably someone else’s idea of fun. The gates threw open from both entrances on May 6, 2025, luring nature aficionados and the merely curious to the rocky halls of Crete’s iconic ravine.

Nature or Nonsense? Samaria’s Stricter Standards

According to OFYPEKA, this year’s operation comes with its standard love letter to bureaucracy: strict rules must be followed, the natural environment must be untouched (by everything but thousands of feet, naturally), and everyone is responsible for their own survival. The staff is always ready with a whistle or a warning, though whether either will work in an emergency remains to be seen. Unpredictable weather? New nowcasting tech promises two hours’ notice, assuming lightning checks its inbox.

Visitor responsibilities:

No destruction or removal of park infrastructure, materials, or technical installations.
Cutting tools are banned—nobody wants a lumberjack cosplay in Crete.
Uprooting or collecting plants, trees, bushes, and seeds is strictly off-limits.
Taking souvenirs in the form of soil, firewood, or plant matter? That might land you a stern lecture and a fine.
Lighting fires is less of a prohibition and more of an existential threat. Just don’t.
Smoking is forbidden everywhere except in areas with clear signs. If you can’t read the sign, assume it’s forbidden.
Forget about camping—erecting tents or sleeping overnight in the Gorge is out.
Pets are only allowed on leashes, and, as the official notice points out, “under the supervision and responsibility of their owner.” So no, your dog cannot be responsible for your other dog.
Bicycles, scooters, and other vehicles are restricted—good luck outpacing a park ranger on foot.
Unauthorized signs and posters are not allowed, unless you relish single-handedly confusing lost tourists.
Street food sellers, home-grown kombucha evangelists, and everyone in between: the Gorge isn’t buying.
Alcohol is forbidden along every dusty footpath.
“No commercial filming or photography without a ministry permit,” officials warn. Influencers, take note.
No launching, landing, or flying of drones unless released from bureaucracy’s iron grip by special permission.
Fireworks, explosives, and weapons (even holstered!) are not invited to the reopening party.
Feeding wildlife is forbidden, because “a fed animal is a dead animal,” as the rangers grimly intone.
Hunting season has been permanently canceled.
Climbing activities are restricted, with reference to the arcane doctrines of Article 3, Paragraph 7.
Disposing of waste is not just frowned upon, it’s strictly punishable; waste must leave with you.
No damage, graffiti, or vandalism to rocks, trees, or cultural monuments.
“Annoying other visitors or staff in any way will not be tolerated,” says a senior warden.
Making noise, blasting music, or hauling in loudspeakers is not a Mediterranean tradition the park recognizes.
No entry or overnight stays inside outpost buildings unless authorized or directed by staff.
Fire extinguishers are for emergencies only, not for practicing your superhero landing.
Assume all hazards are your responsibility—even the ones you didn’t know could happen.

Local Perspective: “War Zone” or Comedy of Errors?

In the days leading up to the Samaria Gorge reopening, Agia Roumeli community president Yiannis Tzatzimakis voiced what everyone was thinking. Still, only the brave would say—park management is a tangled mess. In his interview with Tornos News, he described the operation as a “war zone,” with multiple authorities “often overlap[ping] without clear coordination.” He clarified: “We remain victims of decisions made in the absence of local reality.”

He also remarked, “Others decide when the gorge will open or close, without having a full picture of what is happening inside it.”

According to Tzatzimakis, visitors would have a better shot at hiking the moon if officials closed the park every time things got interesting—like gusty winds or 35-degree heat.

Main complaints:

Decisions made far from the canyon, by people with better air conditioning;
Local businesses threatened by unpredictable closures;
“If this happens, it will be a very bad development for the operation of the park,” Tzatzimakis explains, worrying about the impact on livelihoods.

New This Year: On-Call Medicine and Troops of Staff

Break out the confetti—Samaria Gorge finally has a doctor on contract, earning €3,500 a month, thanks to OFYPEKA’s latest “positive development.” Local leadership appears almost surprised that basic medical coverage is now included. And with 45 staff deployed, visitors are gently corralled through the park, all while hoping the next twist isn’t a medical drama.

Upgrades:

On-site doctor for the first time—someone to confirm that yes, you do need to drink more water.
Nowcasting weather alerts for severe conditions—assuming tourists read the signs.
Increased staff to wrangle, guide, and occasionally rescue.

Money Talks: Ticket Prices (and Muted Family Discounts)

Hiking the Samaria Gorge costs 10 euros per person, a modest sum for the promise of natural splendor (and shared suffering). Family groups get a slight break, with the rate dropping to 6 euros per person. The price tag comes with a free side of hope that someone, somewhere, knows who’s in charge that day.

What to Expect at Samaria Gorge in 2025

When it comes to the Samaria Gorge reopening, tourists can expect crowds, rules, and more rules. OFYPEKA confidently claims all maintenance is up to date, the path is ready, and safety is assured—unless the weather, bureaucracy, or a stray goat interfere. Local leaders are convinced it’s a farce held together by tape and tradition. But the gorge itself? Unmoved, waiting for the next wave of eager hikers and reluctant families.

To summarize:

One thousand two hundred fifty-one people swarmed the gorge on day one.
OFYPEKA’s rules are non-negotiable—unless you’re in charge, in which case they’re interpretative.
Locals, especially Yiannis Tzatzimakis, remain unconvinced by all these improvements.
Staff and medical support are expanded; expectations are, at best, cautiously optimistic.
Nature gets the last word, right after the bureaucrats.

One thing’s certain—tourists will keep coming. They always do. The Samaria Gorge belongs to everyone and to no one. Respect is not optional.