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Athos: At the peak of Orthodoxy

-Welcome. Sit down and rest, says the monk.
Five o’clock in the afternoon, July 11th. Breathless and hot, the sun is still high. Most people’s shirts are soaked with sweat. The young, in age, monk notices.
-If you want to change, come and I’ll show you your cells.
A little water on the face, a change of clothes and we all feel better. The monk appears on the shady balcony with the monastic treats: chippuraki, loukoumi, cool water from the spring. A procedure so characteristic and so dear, which the pilgrim expects to find – and always finds – in every Orthodox monastery in Greece.
We relax, we calm down. Hardly anyone is in the mood to speak, to break the silence. I let my eyes wander to the deep blue waters of the sea, whitewashed by the foaming peaks of the garbi waves. And I let my mind rewind back some 30 or so years ago, to the years of youth, when everything was better…

Text: Θεόφιλος Μπασγιουράκης
Photos: Κυριάκος Παπαγεωργίου, Γιώργος Μιχαηλίδης
Athos: At the peak of Orthodoxy
Categories: Activities
Destinations: MACEDONIA, Chalkidiki

Α-

-Welcome. Sit down and rest, says the monk.

Five o’clock in the afternoon, July 11th. Breathless and warm, the sun is still high. Most people’s shirts are soaked with sweat. The young, in age, monk notices.

-If you want to change, come and let me show you your cells.

On the shady balcony the monk appears with the monastic treats: tsipouraki, loukoumi, cool water from the spring. A procedure so characteristic and so dear, which the pilgrim expects to find – and always finds – in every Orthodox monastery in Greece.

 

-Β-

We relax, we calm down. Hardly anyone is in the mood to talk, to break the silence. I let my eyes wander to the deep blue waters of the sea, whitewashed by the foamy tops of the garbi waves. And I let my mind rewind back some 30 years ago, to the years of youth, when everything was better…

 

PREFACE

How was it? I ask my father.

Hardly, he replies. One of my most strenuous climbs.

We are in the late 70s. My father has just returned from climbing Mount Athos. He looks exhausted, his steps are unsteady. I’ve rarely seen him like this after a summit. Although he is approaching 70, he is still an active member of the SEO Thessaloniki and participates in most of his mountaineering expeditions. Slim and fit, with excellent eating habits and a fanatical anti-smoker, he enjoys as a young man the pleasure of walking, the beauty of Greek nature and the thrills of the peaks. For many years he has been my constant, irreplaceable companion on our climbs on Mount Olympus. He has climbed dozens of peaks, higher than Athos, which is just over 2,000 meters (2,033). So I am surprised by his effort on this climb.

-Don’t be surprised, he replies. Uneven continuous, rough trail, high altitude difference and heat.

And my father concludes:

-I don’t know if and when you will decide to climb Athos. But make sure you do it while your legs are strong enough. And remember: don’t give up, no matter how tired you feel. You’ll forget it once you reach the top.

 

30 YEARS LATER

Procrastination is one of the greatest enemies of efficiency and action. Even the strongest desire can degenerate it. Something similar happened to me. My initial excitement of climbing Mount Athos was succeeded by a vague promise to myself that it would come true at the first opportunity. A goal without a specific timetable is, as a rule, doomed. So the years went by, the obligations, both family and professional, increased, and the body was burdened by increasing age and the use of tobacco. Moreover, my father was no longer there to inspire me with his presence. The peak of Athos was forgotten. And shall I say that opportunities were missing? Four times, at various times, my steps led me to the monastic state. But always I gazed in awe at the sharp rocky nose of the mountain. I did not dare, I kept putting off taking it on.

Recently an extremely pleasant and unexpected event happened in my life. After many decades, cigarettes no longer dominate my life. One afternoon – just like that – I decided to take on my overwhelming – as I thought – nicotine addiction and habit. It was a great surprise to find out what a powerful weapon against cigarettes was the will! How naturally I could drink my morning coffee without the accompaniment of three cigarettes! How comfortable I felt among smoking acquaintances. And how indescribably simple it was, after all, to think and write without holding a cigarette in my left hand. My confidence, self-esteem and pride skyrocketed. And – I make no secret of it – “sounded very pleasant to my ears“, the compliments of those who knew me.

One of the first people I was happy to announce it was my dear friend, colleague and great hiker Kyriakos Papageorgiou from Volos. I even had the courage – if not the audacity – to suggest to him that we cross Pelion together, from Makrinitsa to Puri. He was surprised but accepted. And when the project came to a happy end, he made no secret of his enthusiasm for my “total reset”, as he described it.

Do you think I am ready for Athos? I dared to ask.

-After this eight-hour march, yes. Although on Athos things are a little different. However, with a little training even with a few less kilos, you won’t have much of a problem.

The second event, which had a catalytic effect on my decision to visit Athos and, above all, contributed to setting a date, was my acquaintance with the biologist, educator and botanist Stelios Charalambidis. In 1992, within the framework of the activities of the “Thessaloniki – European Capital of Culture” Organization, Stelios participated in the research team that recorded, photographed and then published the most important species of the flora and wildflowers of Athos. Stelios willingly agreed to return to the sacred mountain on the condition that the visit would take place no later than the beginning of July. Then we would catch the last wildflowers in the highlands. At last, there was a binding date for Athos. It was the 11th of July, Friday.

 

11 JULY 2008

Uranupolis. I first met it one winter in the 60s, with few people and even fewer shops. It was the humble secular gateway to the Athonite state. Today it is cosmopolitan, unrecognizable. Restaurants, bars and cafes are clustered suffocatingly next to each other all along the coast.

St. Panteleimon. A large ferry boat for the standards of Mount Athos. Once monks and pilgrims were transported by boat. Now these have changed too. Only the seagulls keep their habits unchanged. They are permanent companions of the ship, from Ouranoupolis to Daphne. With no compensation, of course, since they never fail to throw the pilgrims various snacks at them.

The stunning coastline with its pristine, unpolluted waters begins to unfold. One by one the famous monasteries appear, some by the sea and others perched on steep slopes. 10 centuries of fascinating history, monastic life with countless hours of contemplation and contemplation, solitude and prayer. A global phenomenon, an aspect of orthodoxy with unique characteristics.

Daphne, the port of Karyes. Small port, restaurants and cafes, gift and souvenir shops of Mount Athos, customs, port authorities and rooms to let. Crowded: pilgrims, foreign workers and monks. Lots and lots of cars, noise and dust. It could be any secular port, if it were not for the exclusive presence of men everywhere. We long to be away from the crowds, in the authentic tranquility of Mount Athos. This is taken care of by “Agia Anna”, a smaller boat that takes us from Daphne.

New renowned monasteries in the series. Pilgrims and monks descend on each arsana. The passengers are getting fewer and fewer. Skete of St. Anne, perched on steep slopes. The landscape grows wild, abyssal cliffs plunge precipitously into the bottomless waters. We are in the Desert of Mount Athos. This arid, inhospitable region, with its “Canes” and the terrible “Carols“, chosen as a place for the hermit monks to set up their retreats in the hardest caves. All alone, with the rocks and the sea, their faith in God. The complete submission of matter to spirit, of ordinary human needs to the power of will.

We climb the Pinnes Cape and reach our destination, at the southernmost tip of Mount Athos. It is the arsana of Kerasia with the place name Kleftiko. Apart from our five-member company there are no other passengers. Sorokos all alive creates a terrible ponzi, which makes it difficult to approach the boat. The iron hatch opens, we reach the edge and wait for the right moment to jump one by one to the safety of land. The last sound of the St. Anne’s engines can be heard. Then there remains the sound of the waves on the rocks of the shore.

A desolate, inhospitable landscape, strewn with hostile rocks. A ruined stone chapel. The sun is blinding and the heat is terrible. It is noon, two-thirty on the dot. Above our heads, five hundred meters higher, we suspect the existence of “Kerasia”, our base for Athos. The hour is by no means favourable for such an ascent, which is merely the prelude to tomorrow’s great undertaking. So backpacks on shoulders and off we go.

The path begins, uphill and rough. Very quickly it gives way to continuous concrete steps. I count about 450. A short break and then another 200. The road surface alternates: steps, rough path and cobblestone. The uphill is uninterrupted, with no flat intervals for respite. I’m beginning to realize what my father meant three decades earlier. Of course, we’re only at the beginning. Our only ally is the dense forest and the beneficial shade. And the comforting thought that every step above sea level shrinks the altitude difference between us and the 2,033 metres of the summit.

An hour after our departure we come across a water pipe weeping from a crack. We cool our sweat for a moment. Here are some tall wild gum trees with their distinctive smooth trunks. Arias, oaks, oaks, gorse, ferns and many more trees. And at an altitude of only 450 metres some first beech trees appear, in deviation from any forestry theory of vegetation zones, since beech is considered a tree of high altitudes.

At exactly 5 o’clock we arrive at the Cell of St. John the Theologian in Kerasia, at an altitude of 550 meters. The monk welcomes us with great cordiality with the traditional monastic treats. From the cool balcony I let my eyes wander low, to the edge of the coast. Two and a half hours ago, we jumped ashore from the boat door of “Agia Anna”…

Very close to the southwest, a steep mountain rises, the verdant slopes of which we crossed by climbing uphill from the sea to Kerasia. It is the Carmel Mount with an altitude of 895 metres, which ends at the Pinnes Cape, the ancient Nymphaeon extremity. According to Gabriel Nikos Pentzikis, its name refers to the Mountain Carmel of Palestine, on whose slopes there were more than a thousand caves where ascetics monasticized. The naming is apt, considering that the vertical western folds of Mount Carmel are home to cave-dwelling ascetics at Karulia and Katounakia. At the top of the mountain, the white-white chapel of Prophet Elias can be seen.

Kerasia is a beautiful place with pear, cherry, apple and walnut trees as well as a well-kept garden. In the area there are 12 small and large cells that are considered among the oldest on Mount Athos, since they were granted by the Monastery of Megisti Lavra to ascetics as early as the 14thth century. Very close to the cell of St. John the Theologian, where we are staying, is the wooden church of Agios Patapios and then another cell in a spot with a stunning view. The place is fragrant with blooming agrabelle, lavender and oregano. From a spring flows scanty but cool water.

The monk prepares a simple but delicious meal with zucchini, okra, potatoes and onions. Later, on the balcony, it is true happiness to sip our coffee and gaze at the wooded mountains and the sea to the edge of the horizon. The tranquility is suddenly interrupted by a strange distant sound that sounds like a long howl.

-“It’s a pack of jackals,” says the monk. I’ve seen them several times. Wild boars, deer, foxes and weasels still live in the area.

The night falls sweetly, with a moon half-lit but bright. But with it comes mosquitoes. A bunch of fragrant lavender on my headrest is the perfect natural repellent. Besides, with the overall fatigue of the day, sleep comes quickly and effortlessly.

 

AT THE TOP OF ORTHODOXY

The day dawns that I have put off for so many decades. I finally feel ready to fulfill a debt to myself and to the memory of my father.

The first morning rays reveal a foamy sea. In such weather it would be impossible for the “St. Anna” to “catch” in the arsana. Several alarm bells are heard. The members of the group give up the bliss of sleep and wake up. Despite our best efforts, however, we do not manage to start before half past seven. In 10 minutes we reach the first fork which on the right leads to the Cell of St. George while on the left it climbs uphill to Top, Agias Anna, Catounters, Saint Basil. A dirt path, in a forest, with slopes sometimes steep and sometimes bearable. At 8 we meet a main fork. To the right (NE) is the starting point of a long path, which crosses the entire NE part of the peninsula below Athos and then, heading N, leads to the Monastery of the Great Lavra. To the left (SW) the path continues in the direction of our destination. It is a wonderful route through century-old oaks, maple trees and hedges.

In a quarter, on the fourth, on the fourth, on the fourth, on the fourth, on the fourth. 8:15′, we arrive at the Stauros position, at an altitude of 780 meters. This is actually the main starting point of the march to the summit. A sign indicates a time of 3.5 hours to get there. In our case this time proved unrealistically optimistic.

The view is magnificent on the west coast and the monasteries of Stavronikita, Gregory, Agios Pavlos and the Skete of Agia Anna. At Stavros we make a short stop for a breather. Just before half past eight we start. On the map our route looks roughly like a straight line that intersects vertically all the isopithec curves that are successively inserted up to the top. The distance on paper does not look particularly long. Very quickly we find that the reality is quite different. The trail thoroughly deserves its designation as hostile. We are greeted by a very narrow, very steep and choked with dust. The intervening stones make our steps difficult. At 840m. we come across a lone fir tree, healthy, with a bole of at least 6 meters. To the SE the forested ridge and the top of Carmel can be seen.

The climb continues to be terrible with loose ground. The vegetation thins out. Only low oaks and holly trees cover the slopes. At an altitude of 980m. Stelios shows us the first pink wild carnation. Down low, the exotic beach of Agios Pavlos, the entire Mount Athos coastline as far as Ouranoupoli and the island of Ammouliani looms. Our stops are short but frequent. The sun beats relentlessly and unhindered, the low bushes offer no shade. We regret not having been able to start a couple of hours earlier. The heat proves a particularly hostile companion.

The climb to the sun takes an hour. At nine-thirty, and at an altitude of about 1030 metres, we enter a forest of towering oaks, cedars, ferns, maples. A little further up we encounter a gentle clearing of grass, ferns and century-old chestnut trees. We pass a neck of land with views low down to the beach of Kleftiko and high up to the peaks of Athos. To the south-southeast the long and low outline of Lemnos can be seen.

From Kerasia to here we have completed two hours. With the ascent and the micro-mountains we have not managed to cover more than 500 meters of altitude difference. This does not bother us at all, since the day is exclusively dedicated to the route to the summit. At about 1070 metres we encounter the first young pine trees and a blossoming oak tree. Further up a hawthorn bush with greenish fruits that turn red when ripe. Here is a large shrub with greenish fruits. The variety of shrubs and trees is impressive and varies according to the altitude that shapes the vegetation zones. The path is still very steep, of course, and is strewn with boulders, which are not only annoying but also dangerous, since a stray step can have unforeseen consequences.

Not missing is the presence of the “cavalry”, the mules that, under the guidance of Albanian conductors, go uphill loaded with water and building materials for the work that is in progress at the shelter of Panagia and at the top. When the mules go downhill unloaded, they do not walk but almost gallop, raising clouds of dust. I can’t say these encounters are particularly pleasant since, by all means, we have to get off the trail to make room for them to pass. The only allies in these miserable marching conditions are the shade of the forest and a breeze that never ceases to blow.

At 11 we are at 1400 meters. All around us are fir and pine trees, sorbir trees with silvery foliage waving in the breeze. All-weather slopes are covered with sorbia. I have never seen such a concentration. There are even lots of wildflowers. We find a spot of shade and coolness. There we treat ourselves to one last few minutes of rest before the final stretch of the hostile climb that awaits us to the shelter of the Virgin Mary.

The forest ends with some impressive, perennial black locusts. Opposite us, the horizon is blocked by the ridge of Athos, steep, rocky but also scattered with fir trees, which have climbed to places sheltered from the north wind a little below 2000 metres.

At 11:30′ exactly we arrive at the shelter of Panagia having covered in 4 hours the altitude difference of 1000 meters from the Cell of Kerasia. I can already feel the fatigue from the constant uphill, the rough terrain and the weight of the 15 kg backpack. And we haven’t even reached the top yet! I gaze in awe at the winding path on the bare, rocky and steep slope leading to the top. Climbing this hour would be a real test. It is a very good decision to shelter in the shade for a few hours and continue in the afternoon. We look for such a shady place, but there is nowhere to be found. Extensive construction work is being carried out on the stone building with the church of Our Lady and the shelter by a large crew of foreigners. The whole area, inside and outside the house, has been turned into a construction site with tools, building materials, clothing and utensils of the workers staying here strewn everywhere. Everywhere there is clutter, rubbish and dust. But also the constant, irritating noise of the generator, not counting the human voices. Kyriakos with Stelios and Dinos (a teacher from Volos and a friend of Stelios) end up lying on their backs on the stone terraces under  the sun, with backpacks as headrests. We with Giorgos (who is an art conservator and son of my childhood friend Simos from Kavala) take our boggies, walk 300 – 400 meters and reach the edge of the forest. We are lucky. We find a century-old cedar tree with thick shade and an excellent view of Sithonia and the sea. Our happiness is complemented by a constant, cool breeze and the absence of any noise, mechanical or human. After a simple meal we relax in the shade and effortlessly fall asleep…

At first I think it’s in my dream, but I quickly realize that someone is calling my name. I jump to my feet. From the top of the hill, Dinos announces to me the desire of the others to start for the top. The conditions in the shelter of Panagia are completely unsuitable for rest or relaxation.

At exactly 14:30, the hottest time of the day, the signal for departure is given. At the same time, the final test of the summit begins. In two minutes the dry T-shirt is soaked. The trail is very steep and loose, perhaps the roughest part of the route so far. After about 10 minutes the trail ceases to be vertical, the maneuvers begin. We also rediscover our loyal ally, the cool breeze. Now and then we encounter a few black locusts and fir trees. For a minute or two their shade gives us temporary shelter. Then we’re back out in the sun and heat. The subalpine zone is already dominated by low vegetation and a variety of wild flowers. Stelios seems excited, not bothered by the uphill and the heat. As soon as he spots a kind of flower that interests him, he approaches it, and with a special lens, he photographs it almost at close range.

We reach a steep, rocky slope that offers us an unusual sight. It is covered from edge to edge with a grassy meadow consisting of a kind of grass with a gossamer top. It is so thin and transparent that it looks like air. Flexible as they are, they shake with the slightest breeze. The sun that illuminates them and passes between them creates magical images. I am very happy that despite the adversities of the journey, I am able to observe and admire these humble but so special creations of nature.

My fatigue, however, is growing. I’m starting to feel it in my leg muscles and especially in my thighs. Steps on this absolutely bumpy path, with the extra 15 kilos of weight, are becoming more and more difficult. My father often comes to mind. I’m sure he would have suffered the same way 30 years ago.

At 16:30′, 2 hours after our departure from Panagia, we are at 1800 meters, having covered an altitude difference of only 300 meters. It is, of course, not a remarkable mountaineering achievement, but this pace provides us with the luxury of enjoying as much as possible the strenuous climb, of making many mini-mountains, of taking photos, of talking and exchanging impressions, of observing the landscape around us. Even at this altitude, there are still sparse fir trees and sorbia, and for the first time a small part of the summit cross is visible. Kyriakos Papageorgiou, our geographer, shows us on the sea horizon, just to the south, the uninhabited Piperi of the Northern Sporades with its conical mass, next to it on the right the Skantzoura and further back faintly the peak of Dirfi. Further east and farther away is the outline of Skyros. The eastern part of the Athos massif forms an oblique, steep cliff, which after a path of several hundred metres, ends at the surface of the sea.

17:30′. There are only a few dozen yards to go. The moment that every climber dreams of is approaching: to find himself at the top of his mountain, the peak of his desire. We, moreover, are at the “Peak” of Orthodoxy.

 

AT 2,033 METERS

A solid rock is the highest point of the peak of Athos. It is this sharp outcrop, which for years has captivated my gaze but remained a distant target. Well supported on the rock stands the symbol of our faith, a large bronze cross. On it is engraved the date 1897. A few metres lower is the chapel of the Metamorphosis. The date 1895 is embossed on the marble lintel. For over a century the chapel and cross have withstood storms and lightning, ice, snowstorms and mighty winds. These two symbols, however, which have so successfully faced the elements, seem defenseless against the brutality of man. Just as a few hours ago in the temple of the Virgin Mary, so now, here on the summit of Athos, the image resembles a yagi from end to end. It contains not only building materials and tools scattered here and there, but also all kinds of rubbish, which sully not only the sanctity of the place but also every sense of decency and civilisation.

So many times in Mytikas, on the top of the Olympian Gods, I never happened to see the slightest trace or object that could contaminate the place. Naturalists from the ends of the world would arrive as pilgrims at the “Parthenon of Greek Nature“, admire it and leave happily.

And now here, a handful of foreign workers have turned the top of Orthodoxy into their own dump! I cannot describe the shock of the sight and the indignation of all of us. I am sure that, had there been crew workers present at the time of our arrival, it would have been very difficult to avoid a “hot incident”. Fortunately for them, we had met them several hours earlier as they were driving downhill after finishing their work. There are only a few Moldovans at the top. They have occupied with bodies and luggage the terrace of the temple, the only place that is clean. We are looking for a flat, clean corner to deposit our backpacks, our tired bodies. It’s almost impossible. Everywhere uneven stones dug out of the ground, sand and bags of cement, old soiled clothes, an indescribable situation. We try to eliminate the ugliness from our field of vision, to keep only the beauty. We let our eyes wander to the distant horizons, to Thassos and Lemnos, to Samothrace and Ai. Stratis, to the peninsulas of Halkidiki, to the moon that is a little past the halfway point, to the sun that is about to hide behind the islet of Ammouliani. And then we turn our gaze towards the East, there on the vast surface of the Aegean, where the giant pyramid created by the shadow of the Athonite peak is imprinted, as the rays of the West fall upon it. At some point the top of the pyramid touches the southern part of Lemnos with its nose.

We have much to gaze at, admire and enjoy on the top of Athos: mysteries of nature, a divine aura and strong breaths of wind, moments of intimacy and companionship, a simple dinner in the cottage, with two sips of a cigarette each and later the moonlight that dominates the darkness of the night and a sweet fatigue that bends our strength and our desire to stay awake for hours…

Inside the chapel the crowds are great and the heat is stifling. George and I can’t stand it. We go outside, find a niche next to the chapel, which with a low wall seems protected from the wind. After the terrible heat throughout the day, the temperature plummets. Just before 10am it is 10.40c. So sleeping bags with George, backpacks for headrests and the sky as our roof. The stars are myriad above us. With total darkness surrounding us, the eye penetrates the depths of the universe, discovering the most elusive stars.

Two or three chats with George. Then sleepy good nights. I try for a while longer to prolong my eye contact with the sky. Every now and then I am touched by cold breaths of wind. They are pleasant to the face that protrudes from the sleeping bag. Sleep comes effortlessly, the night seems magical…

Alas, it was not to last long. I first felt a strong gust of wind and then immediately felt as if my face was being pricked with pins. I wake up and raise my head. What a sudden wind this is! Powerful and chilling. It shoots countless grains of sand at me, hitting me in the face. I look at my watch. Quarter to 11:15. I haven’t had half an hour’s sleep. I wrap myself as best I can in my sleeping bag but the wind is raging, the sand is blowing in from all sides. An endless torment begins, which lasts until 4 a.m. It was the last time I saw my watch. The next one is at 6:10 sharp. That’s when the sun breaks through a layer of clouds and looms over Lemnos. At almost the same time George wakes up. He slept a little longer than I did. One by one the rest of us come out of the chapel. They didn’t sleep on silk sheets either. But they were spared the wind and the sand.

We are all looking to the West. The conical shadow of Athos is now imprinted on the waters of the Sighian, the nose intersects the Sithonia Peninsula. With frozen hands we photograph the phenomenon. Then we ascend for the last commemorative photos at Stavros. The wind is raging, driving us away, Sunday morning, 13th of July 2008.

The programme does not include coffee or breakfast. The priority is to move away from the summit, to move to more temperate climates. The descent begins at 7 o’clock sharp. In the next three minutes the wind magically disappears. The morning sun warms us pleasantly, jackets come off. We now walk at a much faster pace, but the strain on our feet from the steep and rough path is great.

At 08:30 we arrive at Panagia, in exactly half the time required for the climb. During the 20-minute break, some people eat a simple breakfast. I only need water. From the morning before the climb began until now, I have consumed incredible amounts of water in an effort to deal with the sweating.

We continue to our next stop, the Cross. The more we descend the steep and, almost permanently, rough path, the more the muscle fatigue increases. The last section, which is particularly slippery, is a real test for the calves and thighs. We finally reach the cross. It took the Virgin Mary two hours and a quarter.

The dense shade of the trees beneficially filters the heat of the sun. We take a half-hour stop to try to revive our tired muscles. But our suffering is not over yet. Our next stop is the Monastery of Megisti Lavra, at the northeastern end of the peninsula. A glance at the map realistically reveals the length of the route. It is one of the longest hiking crossings of Mount Athos, at least two and a half times longer than the Stavros – Summit distance.

-It is a very long route, Kyriakos confirms, but perhaps the most beautiful on the mountain. A nice path, continuous forests, small differences in altitude and, in some places, the existence of cool water. This is of particular interest to Theophilus, the biggest water consumer of the companion.

At 11:30′ we depart from Stavros. The conditions are ideal: century-old forests, a variety of vegetation, a nice path and shade. Sometimes the cliffs of the peak appear high up and sometimes the sea. But the overall situation is not so idyllic. After so many hours of ascent and descent and a night with such an unexpected development, the fatigue becomes more and more apparent. It is a real misfortune to make this amazing crossing after so much physical exertion. At some point we are cut off by “Cold Water“, a divine stream. Filled with gratitude for this God-given gift, we drink and fill our canteens, and take up our strength for the long trail to Lavra.

I will not describe the details of the route. Perhaps I will do so another time. I will only suffice to say that this crossing of the eastern part of the Mount Athos peninsula from south to north is a true hiking experience, worthy of every nature lover.

We arrive at 6 in the afternoon in Lavra, after a 6 hours and 30 minutes march. Having already completed 10 hours of hiking, we have every reason to feel tired.

 

GUESTS IN MILOPOTAMOS

The tray is steaming 5 coffees. The other tray holds the glasses and the brass pitchers with the cool water. The sunset light brilliantly illuminates the manicured vineyards, the perfect curve of the creek, the sharp-edged peak of Athos. It seems like a lie that the night before I was up there, almost awake from the fury of the wind. As the evening light falls upon it it seems so gentle, so peaceful, so friendly.

We are in the open-air pavilion of the Cell of St. Eustatius, the well-known Millpond. The Margaritis who works here has just set out coffee and cold water on the large wooden table. He’s being helped by his young son Lambros, nice and bright. An hour ago they came and picked us up from Lavra in the Mylopotamos van, at the behest of the elderly Epiphanio.

This coffee, this water, this cool sea breeze and the sound of the waves fill us with happiness. Which is made even greater by the prospect of a hot shower and a dinner prepared by the hands of old man Epiphaneus. The moment is not far off. I see again, after several years, the serene face of the monk whom Anna and I first met 15 years ago, in one of those legendary gatherings of Anestis Babatzimopoulos, the famous “Babatzim“. Back then, the monk Epiphanios had astonished the 70 or so guests with the contents of a huge cauldron, which had been boiling for hours over a slow wood fire. It was a fish soup, the like of which I had never tasted, nor have I tasted any equal since.

-You haven’t been here in years, the old man says to me as he embraces me.

Two large pots are steaming and fill the room with wonderful scents. One has green beans and the other green and red peppers, with tomato sauce and various herbs from the orchard. We eat and drink Mylopotamos white wine, which, along with the red and tsipouro, have made Mylopotamos famous throughout Greece. Is it hunger after so many hours? Is it the deliciousness of fresh produce? What is certain is that this simple dinner at Epifaneio is a true dining experience for all of us.

Outside the gazebo the night continues its course. The moon, now quite large, climbs towards Athos. The wind has long since dropped. The sound of the waves sounds like a whisper. Passing sweetly through the open window of my cell.

 

EPILOGUE

At five-thirty in the morning I thought I would be the only one awake in the company. But here I am in the gazebo, and I find Stelios standing up. He slept outdoors in the cool of the night. One by one George, Kyriakos and Dinos emerge as if in concert. All holding their cameras. The sun has not yet risen. However, Thassos and Samothrace are clearly outlined. Lemnos, with its low altitude and farther distance is lost in the haze.

At exactly 6 and 5′ the sun leaves its nightly marine residence between Samothrace and Thassos. Every second that passes it changes volume and shape, quickly becoming a perfect purple sphere, touching the surface of the sea for a short time. Then it begins its ascending course in the sky. A new day begins on Mount Athos. I turn my eyes to the south, to the awesome rocky massif of Athos. In the sunlight, the hazy, greyish veil of night is dispelled, revealing all the details of its stunning crags. Where for so many hours we have tired and sweated. But we also have every reason to be happy and proud.

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athws-stin-korufi-tis-orthodoksias athws-stin-korufi-tis-orthodoksias_1 athws-stin-korufi-tis-orthodoksias_2 athws-stin-korufi-tis-orthodoksias_3 athws-stin-korufi-tis-orthodoksias_4 athws-stin-korufi-tis-orthodoksias_5 athws-stin-korufi-tis-orthodoksias_6 athws-stin-korufi-tis-orthodoksias_7 athws-stin-korufi-tis-orthodoksias_8 athws-stin-korufi-tis-orthodoksias_9 athws-stin-korufi-tis-orthodoksias_10 athws-stin-korufi-tis-orthodoksias_11 athws-stin-korufi-tis-orthodoksias_12 athws-stin-korufi-tis-orthodoksias_13 athws-stin-korufi-tis-orthodoksias_14 athws-stin-korufi-tis-orthodoksias_15 athws-stin-korufi-tis-orthodoksias_16 athws-stin-korufi-tis-orthodoksias_17 athws-stin-korufi-tis-orthodoksias_18 athws-stin-korufi-tis-orthodoksias_19 athws-stin-korufi-tis-orthodoksias_20
Article Issue
Issue 65
Σεπτέμβριος 2008
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