Mt. Olympus

This weekend I went up to Mt. Olympus, famed home of the Greek pantheon. The ancient Greeks, of course, never attempted to scale the mountain; that would be pure hubris, and would likely get you struck down by Zeus. We decided to ignore that and go up anyways. The ride was between six and seven hours by bus, and I got the chance to observe what northern Greece looked like. Lots of little villages, power lines, and olive tree farms. Everyone knows that Greece makes damn fine olives and olive oil, but the damn things lines the road for practically the entire trip!

We arrived at the last village before the mountain pass at around 2-3. There were many internet cafes, and the place was a pleasant tourist town. I found a park with a water fountain and, more importantly, pinecones! That really hit home how much I miss New England flora. After lunch in the town, we hopped back onto the bus and proceeded up the valley for about ten kilometers, leaving civilization behind. Except for all of the other hikers, of course.

The first day of hiking took us from 4 until sundown, pausing occasionally for a rest or to see just how high up the mountain went. Most of the mountain was hidden by clouds and mist, and there was enough rain that day to remind us that this was the home of a weather god, but not enough to drive us away. Arriving at the shelter and sundown, we ate a warm (and expensive) dinner before huddling up under as many blankets as there were and sleeping.





Wake up was at eight, followed by a light (and expensive) breakfast. We started moving again at 9. Decimus found the struggle great, but persevered "for the seven hills of Rome and the Tiber!"

And it certainly was worth it. The view near the top (several of us decided to stop and enjoy the view rather than make ourselves miserable with more hiking than was fun) was astounding.













It was morning, and clouds of evaporated water from the ocean would rush and fill the valley below us, on the grand scale of Olympus moving slowly, but still going faster than us on foot. A wave of mist would hit (and it really did move in waves), and there would be clouds below my feet and clouds above, stranding me in mist and mountains before it moved over and erased the nearby peaks in whiteness. Then it would pass and another would come later. I have no pictures to capture it, but this is a place where one can imagine titans and gods with ease, the kind of landscape Wagner would set an opera in. I only wish I had thought to wake early enough to see sunrise on the mountain. I have not found Greece to be the best fit for me, but Mt. Olympus is a persuasive argument to return one day.

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