“Kastron Vyliza, village of Matzuki, Akalarrytis mahala and Syrako pentespitia”

This is how the 19th-century English colonel and traveler William Martin Leake describes the area in his characteristic laconic style. The importance of this unique place is also evident in General Makrygiannis’s reference to Matsouki in his memoirs. But even the Syrrako poet Kostas Krystallis does not leave Matsouki unmentioned. Many of his poems, which I have studied with particular care and love for their language and the exquisite Epirotian verse that inspires them, are inspired by and filled with the hills and beautiful natural divisions of the Epirotian landscape.

However, the most beautiful and informative reference to Matsouki is made by the famous French traveler and diplomatic attaché François Pouqueville:

“Built in tiers from the river, insatiable in ravines, it spreads over an area of 600 acres on the southern slope of Mount Padoure-Moure [meaning mountain with forests]. It is said that the choice of such a location was inspired by the Vlachs’ desire to preserve their freedom and the even more pressing need even more urgent, to be vigilant for their personal safety against the raids of the barbarians and the last emperors of the East, who treat their subjects like conquered peoples.

Matsouki, according to Pouqueville, was built on several levels. What a wonderful and succinct truth. Notaries would call the structure of the village a vertical property, at least as it appears from the bends as you descend the new road from Baro to the village, which seems submerged in the quasi-valley of the two ravines and streams that surround it.

The wild natural environment is one of the most impressive in the mountainous mainland region. Matsouki is located in a basin at an altitude of 1,100 meters, dotted with rugged rocks that make up the authentic landscape of the Pindos mountain range. Above the village, to the east and south, rises the steep and towering ridge of Kakarditsa (2,429 meters, according to some 2,440). On the other side, to the southwest, stand the rocks of Mount Kritharia and, to the north, Mount Katarrachias. It is a rather inaccessible area, with wild deep crevices and ravines that are not visible to the eye due to the uneven terrain and the impressive faults of the mountainous field.

I first visited Matsouki in Tzoumerka in the 1980s. Passing then through the western side of the ravine that leads to the village and before it joins the ancient iron bridge of Belei, at the location of Stafyla, (400 meters below is the stone bridge of Stafyla, from which a path leads to the Monastery of Vyliza), my gaze was captured by a 50-meter waterfall “Kamili” waterfall, 50 meters high, roaring in the depths of the ravine. That was all. The waterfall, which initially bursts out of a narrow strainer that unfolds its flowing virtues, enchanted me so much that it left me no room to claim a share of the other wonders of the place. I left dazzled by the impressive relief of the mountain range, without my eyes detecting the phenomenon of the opposite slope, where the Monastery of Vyliza hung.

I returned to Matsouki in September 2009 with Theophilos and Anna—just passing through, however—with our destination being the village of Katarraktis, where we spent the night, so that we could climb Stroggoula the next day with our good friend Christos Lambris. We had come from Tria Potamia via Katafyto and Anthousa, one of the most beautiful routes in the mountainous region of Greece.

The road climbs with constant bends to the subalpine meadows of Lakmos (Peristeri) and, when it reaches the pass of Baro, it splits so that one branch the right one heading towards Kalarrites, while the left one descends towards Matsouki. Shortly after the bypass of Baro, above which Katarrachias dominates at an altitude of 2,148 meters, the road becomes impressive, combing the steep slope, while opposite, the extensive mountainous enclave of Kakarditsa unfolds imposingly. At the bottom of a double ravine that unfolds the craggy foothills of the mountain, a multitude of red tiled roofs dot the gray landscape of the mountainous enclave: the houses of Matsouki.

After twelve dangerous kilometers of downhill driving, we arrive at the village that jealously guards its secrets, as it is built in a strategic location, wisely chosen, in the midst of a series of successive mountain slopes. Whenever I wanted to visit or pass through Baro, I preferred this route, wherever I was headed, whether to Katsanochoria or Chouliarochoria, or even if I wanted to cross the magnificent gorge of Arachthos with destination Melissourgoi, the bridge of Plaka, Pramanta, Aganta, and Katarraktis. The choice of route to Matsouki always involved the mountain road that passes through Trikala – Pili – Tria Potamia – Baro. I consider it one of the most beautiful and most difficult routes that anyone can take to Matsouki and beyond.

Matsouki is the most isolated of the three large Vlach-speaking villages of Tzoumerka (the other two are Kalarrites and Syrrako). For decades, it remained untouched by the cognitive experience of travelers. It is a Vlach-speaking village but with a very Greek spirit, as noted in the excellent book Matsouki of Ioannina by the Matsoukian writer and professor Dimitrios Kalousios. It is a living bulwark in the wildest and most inaccessible part of Epirus, especially in Tzoumerka, this magnificent mountainous region of the Greek landscape.

In August 2019, I accompanied the former Deputy Minister of Rural Development, Mr. Kokkalis, whose wife is originally from Kalarrites, to Matsouki, where we took a pleasant stroll through the village’s narrow streets, the upper square, the watermill, and the chapels of Agios Athanasios and Panagia, which are located in prominent and impressive positions on the mountain. But because it was August and the sun was scorching, we did not take the route that my friend, the politician from Larissa, wanted so much to take to the Monastery of Vyliza. However, the view from the opposite slope towards the monastery whetted my appetite, so the following month, together with my friend and fellow lawyer from Farsala (and Lystra) and fellow lawyer Manthos Paleogiannis, we took the beautiful path (as it has recently been paved with slabs and stone parapets) from the central square of Matsouki to the Monastery of Vyliza.

Passing by the western side of the ravine last fall, my gaze was captured by a “fountain” of silver rays piercing the earth with the chisel of divine substance. Was it a true work of art crafted by renowned stonemasons, or perhaps a beam of heavenly fire? In any case, if the light flooding the opposite hillside was extraterrestrial, what did it want to illuminate and to whom did it want to show that steep path?

What I saw, however, was completely real and bursting through a huge crack. Then I realized it was a strip of land planted on the wild slope, a serpentine strip carved into the already sculpted body of the mountain, which channeled its tail into an old celestial structure at the edge of sight and the precipice. I believed that this transcendent ensemble reflected ideal lines from the hymns of the prophets and the astral universe. No, it was not a temple of ‘the Unmade’, nor the distilled vision of an unbeliever illuminated by the astral grandeur of the heavens. It was a completely handmade temple, built with sturdy local materials, which communicated with the rest of the world through a cobbled path carved into the side of the mountain, the likes of which my eyes had never seen before. These eyes have seen temples and temples of wisdom and art around the world: in Egypt, in Sinai, in Thebaid, on the godly peninsula of Mount Athos.

But here, at the Church of the Annunciation of the Virgin Mary in Vyliza, outside Matsouki, with everything that surrounds, composes, and supports it, I saw it after a vision, impressively grounded on that ridge of the nameless mountain, far from the crowded gatherings and conventional landscapes. The monastery hangs over the cliff, like an ethereal gem suspended between chaos and utopia. It is built on a steep slope of the humble mountain of Kritharia, just above the confluence of the Matsoukian stream, which flows into the Kalarrytiko and from there into the Arachthos, in an area that hosts traces of ancient ruins and a wall to the northeast of the monastery. The surviving buildings of the monastery date back to around the last quarter of the 17th century, a period during which the Catholicon was renovated, as evidenced by the engraved dedicatory inscription in the shallow niche, under a relief arch, on the outside of the apse of the sanctuary.

This entire route is a challenging and arduous walk, starting at the Museum of Post-Byzantine Icons of Vyliza of Matsouki in the center of the village and ending at the Kalarrytiko stream, combined with the bridge of Kouiassa and the amazing landscape of the homonymous Watermill of Kalarrites.

About halfway along the route, we come across the almost invisible, due to the dense vegetation, single-arch bridge of Karlimpos over the stream of the same name, which connects Matsouki with the neighboring Vlach villages of Kalarrites and Syrrako. Beneath the bridge, an unseen world is revealed. As the inexhaustible waters of Karlimbo erode the limestone rocks along their course, they create impressive canyons for canyoning, such as that of the “Gate of Paradise.” The residents of Kalarrites call it the “Gorge of the Demon,” and not without reason. Not having the means to descend its rushing waterfalls and see its amazing folds and lush vegetation up close, it is a place of terror and awe for them.

Matsouki was once a large village, almost a capital village. The last census counted 540 inhabitants, but most have left, as everywhere else, for other places. However, they do not forget their homeland and visit it often.

One such patriotic expatriate is Nadia, born and raised in Matsouki, who now lives in Patras where she works as a civil engineer. Nadia remembers with nostalgia and describes with passion the daily habits of Matsouki, which, let us not forget, is one of the most isolated villages in Tzoumerka and in the whole of Epirus.

Matsouki is one of the Vlach-speaking villages of Tzoumerka, whose name sometimes makes people laugh when they hear it. For me, it is my place of origin and is intertwined with my summers.

All my childhood memories involve Matsouki. Where to start? During the first summers of my life in the village, when there was no electricity or running water in the houses, we used oil lamps and got water from the village tap. Our breakfast (trípsa) consisted of milk from our neighbor’s cows and grated bread made by my mother. We would gather in large groups of friends, siblings, cousins, and friends, would gather and spend hours playing games on the cobblestone streets, in the square under the plane trees, and by the river. At christenings, we would run to tell the baby’s father, who was waiting at home, the name so we could get our gifts (a tip). At weddings, where the whole village was invited, we kids carried the bride’s dowry in our hands to the groom’s house, and he “paid” us to deliver it, as custom required. The elderly women of the village always learned and spread the news with incredible speed (5G has nothing on them). At the festivals in the crowded square, the local orchestra played until dawn, hours, playing heavy mainland tunes for the dancing crowds. I used to listen to the mainland dirges on Sunday mornings when I was little, as our house overlooked the cemetery. The steep but beautiful path to the Monastery of Vyliza continues to draw the entire village every August 15th for church services. I admired the view of the mountainous landscape from the picturesque little churches perched on the surrounding slopes: Ai-Thanasis, Agios Petros, Agios Theodoros.

The natural beauty of my village and the simplicity of life there were things I took for granted and did not appreciate. As I grew up, I longed to come back to the village, to walk along the cobbled streets, dip my feet in the icy river water, drink from the fountains, visit Agios Thanasis, gaze at the horizon, experience the tranquility, and be surprised by beautiful encounters.

The village guesthouse has been operating in recent years, giving visitors the opportunity to get to know Matsouki and the surrounding area. I am sure that the wild beauty of Tzoumerka will charm you and reward you.

As a visitor, I also experienced this wild beauty with admiration and surprise:

The enchanting route from the Icon Museum to the Monastery of Vyliza. The climb to the village’s three chapels, especially Ai-Thanasis, which is built at the top of the village on a rock and overlooks the universe of the Tzoumerka mountain range. The beautiful square with its magnificent church, the open-air theater right above the dew-covered stream. The preserved and extremely efficient watermill. The cobbled streets in the alleys and neighborhoods of the settlement, which are the trademark of this exceptionally well-preserved village of Tzoumerka. And finally (although there can be no end to the wild beauty of the mainland landscape), the waterfall down in the Matsouki stream.

Note: The hiking trail from Matsouki to Kalarrites is difficult but magical. It passes by the Monastery of Vyliza, through a centuries-old forest of oak trees, and then follows a wonderful forest path downhill, passing by the bridge of Karlibo, above the “Gate of Paradise.” It then crosses steep slopes and joins the asphalt road that climbs to Kalarrites after about 3 kilometers.