Few villages justify their name as convincingly as “Katarraktis” (Waterfall) in Tzoumerka. Which might as well be called “Katarraktes” (Waterfalls), since nature has endowed the place with more than one waterfall. The largest, however, the most famous is the one to the north. Not because it’s the highest on the bay. But because it collects the largest amount of water, with the longest flow duration.

However, it was not only the waterfalls and the majesty of Tzoumerka that attracted us to the place. It was also the existence of a lodge, one of the few of its kind in Greece. It was “Dasiko Chorio” (Forest Village), a complex of detached wooden houses, an ideal base for any touring, hiking or mountaineering activity in the region. The inspirer and exponent of every activity of the Forest Village is Christos Lambris.

FIRST NIGHT IN THE FOREST VILLAGE

The fireplace burns loudly in the living room of the Forest Village. But the radiators are all on. Not for nothing. At this time of the night, the temperature at the altitude of 900 meters does not exceed three degrees. It’s crowded, both in the living room around the fireplace and at the tables lined up along the glass wall. Wood is predominant everywhere: on the floor, on the walls, on the ceiling. A feeling so different. A light construction, in the natural colour of wood and in perfect harmony with the mountain environment.

Nice foreign music at the right volume. On the walls are photos of landscapes of the region and of mountain ranges of Greece and the world. In front of one photo I stop more. It doesn’t look like a Greek landscape. Not even a trace of land can be seen, everything is covered by frozen snow, from the lowest points of the landscape to the pointy top. In this unreal place, there is a single human figure. No distinguishable features at all. The eyes are unseeing, behind dark glasses. Face and head are covered, completely protected by a cap. Mountaineering jacket of strong cold and boots with gaiters complete the disguise of the human silhouette. I wonder who the man is and who the place is.

–Exactly 9 years ago, says a voice behind me. In December 1999 I was there.

I turn around and come face to face with Christos Lambris, our host at Dasiko Chorio. We embrace. In the 11 years that have passed since we first met in the shadow of Meteora, his physiognomy has remained almost unchanged.

-And what was this place where you found yourself in December 1999?

–The peak of Vinson Massif, at 5,140 meters, says Christos with such a casual tone as if he were talking about the Katafidi peak of Tzoumerka.

–You have climbed much higher, says Anna.

–Yes, Christos replies, with the difference that it is at the South Pole. In December, which in the southern hemisphere is summer, the temperature was 47 degrees below zero.

Our friend has completed 30 years since our friend, still a young man, started climbing the peaks of Greece and the world, participating in some of the most daring mountaineering expeditions. A founding member of TREKKING HELLAS, he has trained and accompanied thousands of people in every kind of activity in nature. Something, of course, that he continues to this day, here in Katarraktis of Tzoumerka. Providing, in addition, accommodation and catering in the Forest Village. Which, along with five others in various parts of Greece, was created by the Ministry of Agriculture of previous governments to contribute to the development of mountain tourism. So Christos has been in charge of the operation of this particular Forest Village for five years now, which has the added advantage of being close to his place of origin, the Raftanoi.

Since my childhood, two of my great loves were the nature of the region, says Christos. Arachthos and Tzoumerka. More than a thousand times I have descended so far by rafting the river. Sometimes it is roaring and stormy and sometimes it is mild and peaceful. But always spectacular and beautiful. The most beautiful river for rafting in Greece, aimed at a wide audience. Thousands of people have had truly exciting experiences with me on the river.

-I guess you have taken your first mountaineering steps in Tzoumerka, I say to Christos.

-Surprisingly not, he replies. I left the village when I was 12, right after primary school. By then I hadn’t had time to climb the mountain. What I do remember, however, is that I kept asking my grandmother to tell me what was behind the peaks, behind that huge mountain fence that blocked the horizon. Such was the location of our house that the peaks of the Jurmurs were the first thing I saw in the morning and the last thing I saw at night. To the eyes of my childhood, they seemed as far as the sky. It was a constant challenge, an irresistible call. Yes, I can say with all certainty that those peaks of Tzoumerka had a catalytic effect on my subsequent love of the mountain world.

Christos gets up to throw a log on the fireplace. I think that this powerful attraction that the mountains had exerted on him, even from childhood, was almost fatal for his life. It is impossible to forget his incredible adventure and his equally fictional rescue from the tragic accident that struck Greek mountaineering on October 22, 1985 in the Anapurna South mountain range in Himalaya. The giant avalanche had then taken the lives of two of Christos’s companions, Takis Boudolas and Climis Tsatsarangas. He himself, badly wounded at the hostile altitude of 6,400 meters, fought all night all alone against the elements, without supplies, without a tent. In the morning he was found dying and was picked up by the other members of the expedition. After six months in hospital, Christos emerged victorious. And he never stopped climbing the mountains.

The night goes on. Finally, at some point, our friend Kyriakos Papageorgiou, arrives, suffering from snowstorm and fog at the mountain crossing of Baros, above Kalarrytes and Matsouki. It’s a route that climbs up to about 1,900 metres and crosses landscapes of unsurpassed beauty. In adverse weather conditions, however, the undertaking can lead to adventures.

-Shall I pour some local “tsipouraki”?, asks Christos.

None of us denies it and, even more so, our friend, after his long suffering in the mountains. We retire to our little wooden house. High-ceilinged, spacious, with a large living room, full kitchen, bathtub in the bathroom and a bedroom for three. The many construction flaws that existed have been kept to a minimum by Christos. Our fireplace fires right up and draws beautifully, with no trace of smoke. The noise of the rain is amplified on the tin roof, coexisting beautifully with the crackling of the wood. The first night in the bosom of Tzoumerka is as it really should be.

It is not only the rain that wakes us up at dawn. It’s the wind that makes the windows creak. It’s a real disaster. Covered by a veil of mystery, an impenetrable fog. Even though it’s dawn, we’re shrouded in darkness. We tidy up the coals left on the fireplace and in a few minutes the fire is alive.

We patiently await the gradual retreat of the fog and night, the prevalence of day. It doesn’t happen before 10 o’clock. I step out onto the balcony for a moment. A noise, like a growl, reaches my ears. I search around, trying to locate the cause of the hum. Everything is quiet, nothing is moving. My gaze stops a few kilometers away, in Tzoumerka. It is the first time that the impressive volume of the mountain is revealed. The peaks, of course, are still unseen behind heavy, ashy clouds.

There, in the centre of Tzoumerka, two giant, all-white waterfalls spill out of two passages in the bowels of the cliffs. At least three kilometres separate us in a straight line. But they are unable to stand between the terrible thunder of the falls and us. Never before have we seen, and more importantly, never before heard, the noise of a waterfall from such a distance. It’s an unprecedented experience. The rain is still falling, but the place is not holding us. The waterfalls of Tzoumerka draw us to them with the power of a magnet.

We first pass by the Monastery of Agia Aikaterini, which attracts crowds of people on its feast day. The entrance to the precinct is dated 1858, while the entrance to the Katholikon is dated 1827. Wood-carved chancel, several frescoes on the walls, floor with the original paving. The monastery is in a top position below Tzoumerka and the view is excellent. The Katholikon is stone-built but unfortunately whitewashed. Its stone reliefs are barely visible. The structure of the old aqueduct that still remains is also impressive, with the water groove in the upper part, the sturdy masonry and the arches.

We are afraid. With a concrete bridge we cross over the stream formed by the waterfalls. But this is not a stream. It is a raging torrent, which collects the incredible amounts of water from both waterfalls in its rocky bed. Even in the safety of the bridge, we are awestruck by the indescribable power of the water flowing beneath our feet. Our awe is even greater when a few minutes later we get very close, almost under both waterfalls. I can never remember such a deafening noise, such a magnificent natural flow from such a huge volume of water. It is as if all the streams and micro-streams of the Jumeirahs have merged to create these two mighty waterfalls.

-And to think, they are not the only ones, Christos says. There are other waterfalls in Tzoumerka, formed in other, unseen trenches. If it doesn’t rain tomorrow morning, we can go to one of them.

Kyriakos and I are trying to calculate their height. We conclude that it shouldn’t be less than 70-80 meters.

-In reality it is much more, says Christos. You are simply fooled by the distance. If it were possible to have a man at the base, he would look really tiny. On one climb we did on the cliff we needed more than 100 metres of rope from the base to the water exit passage.

Apart from the rain that falls non-stop, we also have the artificial rain, the countless minute droplets that are carried away by the force of the gusts of air from the main flow of the two waterfalls. We, however, undaunted, admire and photograph the magnificent spectacle of the two water giants. The waterfalls of Tzoumerka, especially after such a downpour, are a boon of nature that we should enjoy and make the most of.

We return to the plateau where we have left the car. Here there is a well-established tourist refreshment centre. Unfortunately it is closed, despite the fact that it is Saturday noon. So we miss the opportunity to have a coffee while gazing at this unique view of the mountain nature.

There is another road access to the waterfalls. It is the narrow asphalt road that climbs up to the right, before the bridge over the rushing torrent we had encountered. This road reaches opposite the tourist pavilion, turns into a paved pathway that approaches the waterfall drop points and gives another perspective of the two waterfalls.

In the afternoon we leave the waterfalls and return to the settlement of “Katarraktis“. A well-established village at an altitude of about 800 meters, with a central paved road, several stone houses and a wonderful grassy square in front of the church of Koimisi. Very beautiful is a four-sided marble fountain, but running water is scarce. The hotel “Katafygi“, next to the square, is particularly picturesque. In the large sitting and dining room the fireplace is lit and the atmosphere is welcoming. From the peripheral glass window we have a view of the square and the centre of the village. Our meal is wonderful, with tsipouro “zampella” of excellent quality, grass pie with handmade pastry and authentic ribs of the best you can taste.

In the Forest Village, smoke is coming out of the chimneys of the main building and some houses. Through the night fog and diffused lighting, the wooden walls and wet red roofs stand out and give the mountain complex a fairy tale image.

-The current forecast for our area was for snow, says Christos. As far as I can see, it didn’t come true.

Late at night the temperature has dropped to two degrees. A few thin flakes are swirling in the air. But they are too few and too weak to survive in the damp soil of the Forest Village.

SAINT PARASKEVI and THE REFUGE OF TZOUMERKA

The sound of the waterfalls still reaches our balcony. The flow, however, after the downpour has stopped, seems to have diminished imperceptibly. Unlike yesterday’s gloomy morning, the atmosphere today has cleared up noticeably. For the first time we face the peaks, with Katafidi the highest at 2,393 metres. But the snow forecasts have very little come true. Only above about 1,500 metres was the volume of Tzoumerka slightly sprinkled and whitened.

Our first destination was the chapel of Agia Paraskevi. Just before we reach the waterfalls we go up a dirt road on the left, suitable only for 4×4. We quickly enter the fir tree belt and, 900 metres further on, we come across a renovated traditional threshing floor. At 2.5 km the road ends in a furrow with a paved plateau. The same slab is paved on the uphill, steep path to the top of the hill of Agia Paraskevi, at 1,413 metres. We wouldn’t mind at all if the path were dirt or rocky or – of course – a traditional cobblestone path. Instead, we are alienated and disturbed by this paving, so alien to the nature of the mountain and yet so ill-conceived. Already many of the slabs have become detached and the concrete joints have crumbled. Winter with ice must be extremely dangerous. A little further up the situation improves somewhat as the slabs have been replaced with smaller, less slippery stones.

Anyway, in less than 10 minutes we reach the chapel of Ag. Paraskevi and in another two minutes we reach the smooth top of the hill, the concrete pillar of the G.Y.S. In the exposed spot where we are, the wind is cold and strong. But the view is one of the most spectacular. Very close to the NE the almost vertical slopes and gorges of Tzoumerka are covered, exclusively by fir trees. All along the eastern horizon rise, one after the other, the peaks of Tzoumerka, bare of vegetation, pure stone, accessible only to climbers and eagles. Low to the south stretches the long, narrow valley of the Arachnos, half-hidden in the mists. In the distance, the surface of the Amvrakikos glistens. Further back are the Akarnanian mountains, a horizon of several tens of kilometres. To the SW and W, however, our visual range is limited by the long mass of Xerovouni. Behind it are the mountains of Souli and the half-snow-covered Tomaros. Further north, Paristeri, Nemerchika and Tymfi. Low down, scattered among the dense vegetation, dozens of villages and settlements. It is fascinating how many varied landscapes we can see from a humble hill at an altitude of only 1,400 metres.

We return to Dasiko Chorio and after a few hundred meters we find the dirt road that climbs up the mountain. At 3.3 km. from the asphalt road we reach a plateau with the chapel of Prophet Ilias and a fountain built with chipped stone by the Forestry Directorate of Arta in 1998. Rich flow of perfectly frozen water. Impossible to drink more than three or four sips. Here we meet with his goats Christos Salamouras, from Katarraktis. Of medium stature, physiognomy sympathetic and picturesque. Although he is 70 years old, he doesn’t look over 60. It is, apparently, the favorable influence of the mountain, where Christos has lived all his life.

-Since I was 12 years old I have been climbing up and down in Tzoumerka, says Christos, 365 days a year.

-Haven’t you had enough?

-I like it, this is my life.

A lesson in simple philosophy from the pastor of Tzoumerka.

We continue. The road gets rougher and so does the weather. At 5.5 km. we come across a small concrete hut and a watering trough covered in a sheet of ice. The light snow that has fallen overnight is also frozen.

-We are going to find an occult waterfall, says Christos.

Rough ground, with stones and thorns. 7 minutes later we come across a built canal, which once channelled water from the Tzoumerka highlands to the fields below with farms and cereal crops. It is a remarkable, long project. Now and then we crossed the marked path leading to the top. There is a buzzing sound. A few dozen metres later, a ravine with almost vertical cliffs is revealed very close to us. Here a waterfall is formed with an impressive flow and a height of more than 50 meters. It ends in the stream that runs to the left of the settlement of the waterfall, without meeting the other two.

We return to the car. It is snowing lightly and the temperature is one degree above zero. The shelter lodge can be seen higher up, above our heads. We leave the car at a sharp turn and continue on foot on uneven, icy and slippery road surfaces. Almost 10 minutes later we reach the shelter, at an altitude of 1,650 metres. Earlier we have barely jumped over the rushing stream that crosses the road and feeds the unseen waterfall below.

The lodge is built in a top viewpoint and is 9 km from the asphalt road. It is two-storey, stone-lined and slab-roofed. Temporarily, however, it is not operational. High to the SE rises the Katafidi peak. A rough road, maintained in summer, continues to the summit and then lowers eastwards to Theodoriana. Something, of course, that is opposed by all idealistic walkers and climbers. We expect to climb to the top this summer, not by car of course.

Outside the Forest Village, we find to the SE the dirt road to the chapel of Patrokosmas. Accustomed as we are to hard surfaces by now, we are surprised by the soft dirt road, which has been transformed by the rain into a vast muddy pavement. Fortunately, four-wheel drive helps us overcome the difficulties. We can therefore enjoy landscapes of rare beauty with extraordinary colour tones from a combination of deep green fir trees and colourful deciduous trees. Now and then we also come across “erosion landscapes“, these striking geological formations, with their characteristic folds of loose ash rock. A phenomenon well known to those travelling towards Konitsa, in the area of Eptachorio.

The mudfight on the recently widened forest road, which is planned to be paved, continues for 7.7 km, as far as the chapel. It was built with chipped stone in 1947. The most important feature of the area, however, is the forest of huge mountain cypresses or cedar trees, many of which are several centuries old.

At 12 km we reach the tarmac. Here we part with Kyriakos. Our friend continues left towards Voulgareli and Mesochora. He will cross the mountains and the dangerous mountainous neck of Gropa and then descend to Pyli and the plain of Trikala. We continue right towards Kypseli. A beautiful village with houses made of hewn stone and a large church of St. Nicholas built in 1904. We are hungry but find no shops open. We do however, at the last minute, come across the itinerant newspaper vendor, who sells newspapers in the villages on Sundays with his car loaded.

FROM THE FOREST VILLAGE TO MIKROSPILIA

This morning only someone with acute hearing could have perceived the sound of the waterfall. The flow of the big one has been reduced to a third, while the other is barely discernible.

-That’s about their picture at the moment, says Christos. Only in spring when the snow melts, they maintain a steady water flow for about two months.

Our last day in Dasiko Chorio. Monday today, there are very few of us left. But tomorrow the place will come alive again. It’s the festival of the Monastery of St. Catherine.

-Are there any easy paths near us?, I ask Christos.

-It is not enough for a place to have a marked path; it is equally important that the path remains open and maintained, especially when it is in a forested area.

Our friend is not wrong. Countless trails in the top spots of Greece, both on the mainland and on the islands, have been condemned first to disuse and later – inevitably – to disappearance and oblivion. The reasons are of course well known: on the one hand, the inevitable change in living conditions and, on the other hand, the undeniable indifference of private individuals, local authorities and the state. Stunning cobbled streets, true works of art, which for centuries were the only link between the micro-communities of the villages, are now drowned in jungles impenetrable by bushes and thorns. And, as the old people who knew them pass away one by one, the last evidence of this place’s past disappears with them. A place that could have become a hiking paradise in Europe, a magnet for the elite of European travellers. This is not an exaggeration. It is enough to consider the incredible variety and beauty of the landscapes that cross the trails, the natural monuments and the countless archaeological sites that they encounter, the stunning architectural monuments of orthodoxy and traditional villages, the countless divine peaks of famous and unseen, unknown mountains. Every trail that is closed and forgotten, every trail that, due to inadequate or non-existent signage, misleads and inconveniences the traveller who has entrusted it, is a blow to our sensitivity as a place to the love of nature and the natural way of life.

-That’s why we decided to give life back to an old path that once connected Katarraktis with the settlement of Mikrospilia, says Christos. In recent years it had been closed by the mountain jungle. After the paved roads, the fast and comfortable way to get around, who felt like walking the trail? Only foreigners and a few of our own “crazies”. So for them, but also for the preservation of the tradition of the place, we formed groups of volunteers, opened and maintained the trail as much as possible. Let’s get to know it.

Narrow and earthy, unseen until the last moment, the path descends steeply from the plateau of Dasiko Chorio and immediately plunges us into the depths of a mountainside. Purnums, cedars and heather, wild asparagus and brown ferns, anchovies and reddish goldenwoods, ferns and young kumarias, further down oaks and plane trees with vivid colours. A botanical paradise, a perfect backdrop of nature with all these beautiful representatives of the bush and tree vegetation of the Tzoumerka region as protagonists. But how many people in the city can boast that they know even a part of all these trees and shrubs by name? I suppose not many. So Christos has shown an active interest in broadening the knowledge of those who come into contact with the nature of the mountain. He has made sure that stylish information boards are placed with the Greek and official international names of many plant species.

We mention, for example, the “Blister” (Colutea arborescens), a small shrub with tall, slender branches, the well-known Bushy Cedar (Juniperus oxycedrus), the ubiquitous Carpinus orientalis and even the tree-like Rip (Erica arborea) and the all too familiar Eastern Plantain (Platanus orientalis). However, some of the signs have been damaged.

-There were more, says Christos, but they are no longer in place. They need to be replaced.

Covered by dry leaves the path and soaked by the rain. It is slippery in some places with steep slopes. The dense branches of the trees above, as they are unraveled, create a natural tunnel that is continuous and perfectly shaded.

-It’s a great pleasure to walk on such a path in the summer, says Christos. The autumnal images, of course, are incomparable.

The first chestnut trees appear. Their lanceolate, saw-toothed leaves stand out among the leaves of the oaks and sycamores. Here’s another billboard, set on a tufted Phillyrea (Phillyrea latifolia). Rhizomes and blackbirds. A few well-made dry stones. Now and then the horizon opens up. Colorful slopes are revealed, the long massif of Xerovouni, the valley of the Arachnos. At 25 minutes from our departure from the Forest Village the path stops at a wonderful forest road. Immediately afterwards, lost in lush vegetation, Mikrospilia emerges.

-The old path is a little further down, says Christos. It’s just closed. We’ll make sure to open it all the way to the village.

We start the dirt road, which with its long bends takes us another 25 minutes to the first houses and the superbly preserved watermill of the settlement of Mikrospilia. A beautiful place, courtyards, flowers, several old stone houses, a modern large church with chipped stone and a bell tower with masonry blackened by time and numerous stone reliefs. Just below is a large stone covered fountain.

-I want to have a cigarette, says Christos.

None of us have any objections. The small coffee shop “To Kentro” is open. This lunchtime some local patrons are enjoying the special product of the wider region of Tzoumerka, the tsipouro from the “Zambella” variety. It has been 4 years since we first tasted this tsipouro with such a characteristic aroma and taste in the beautiful and hospitable settlement of Rodavgi in the welcoming Guesthouse Maroussio.

The café has a long history. It was originally opened in 1922 by grandfather George Retzos. Today, three generations later, it is run by Anastasis. Back and forth to our table come the “zabelles” offered to us by the hospitable people. At some point, though, we are obliged to stop. The road ahead of us to Thessaloniki is long and in some places difficult.

We hope to return to Tzoumerka soon. The place has so much to offer us.