Odyssey to the Home of the Gods

School was closed Monday through Wednesday, and I was itching for a road trip. Mr. Kasapidis, my boss, recommended a two-day trip to Mount Olympus, the fabled home of the Greek gods and the highest peak in Greece. It was the last week that the mountain was open before the climbing season ends for the winter, so it was definitely "go time". My intentions were to climb as high as possible without proper shoes or gear in order to do some reconnaissance for a climb to the summit in the Spring. After some logistical research, I figured that we'd need to arrive in Litohoro, a small town which serves as the starting point for an Olympus ascent. Once there, we could either hike for five hours or take a taxi to Prionia, a tiny outpost halfway up the mountain. From there, it was a 3 hour hike to "the refuge," a large outpost/hostel which serves as a base camp for those who intend to reach the summit or don't feel like making the trip back to Litohoro for the night. My ultimate goal was to reach the refuge then see what happened in the morning. Zeus had other plans.

Emily and Vered, a lawyer from Los Angeles who is serving as a visiting professor / intern at the college, wanted to come along, so we planned to rendezvous at the bus stop at 8:00 Sunday morning to begin our voyage. Emily and I sauntered to the meeting place around 7:55, but there was no sign of Vered. Around 8:15, I jogged down to the college to make sure she was awake. She had just gotten out of the shower and was shocked that it was already 8:30. Fifteen minutes later, she arrived at the bus stop frazzled and breathless exclaiming that it was actually 7:30 - daylight savings time had gone into effect overnight. After making a few phone calls to validate her claim, we realized that we had indeed gained an hour an were an hour ahead of schedule. So it goes. At the real 8:15, we boarded a bus to the train station. We arrived at the train station with time to spare and the hour-long trip breezed by. We were at the foot of Mount Olympus and things were all good...then came the rain.

As we stepped off of the train, a few raindrops fell - nothing serious. The sky looked a bit ominous, but we had gone far enough that it would have been pointless to turn back. As we entered a taxi to take us up the mountain to Prionia, the rain increased and the fog began its descent. Legend says that Zeus controls the weather from Mount Olympus based on his mood; I don't know what we did to anger the supreme god, but apparently he was irate. As we wound up the steep mountain road, fog engulfed the taxi. The higher we got, the denser the fog. It got to a point where we literally couldn't see ten meters (I've gone totally metric) in front of us. The cab driver spoke no English, so even if we had wanted to go back to Litohoro, it was out of the question. As the fog got thicker, the rain got harder and by the time we arrived in Prionia, a torrential downpour was underway.

We sprinted with our backpacks from the cab to the drafty, wooden cabin restaurant which apparently comprises all of Prionia. There was a "Welcome to Prionia" sign and this restaurant - nothing more. The restaurant was packed with locals who were snacking on soup and ogling the drenched, stranded Americans. We had lunch and watched the rainfall somehow get stronger and evolve into a thunderstorm. Our hopes of climbing to the refuge were washed away by Zeus' crabby mood. As the hours past, sleeping in the restaurant became a more realistic prediction because there was no lodging to be found and no taxis would dare drive up to Prionia in this epic storm. Luckily, Emily struck up a conversation with the neighboring table and some Greek men offered us rides down to Litohoro. Amid steady sheets of rain, we fled into two cars: Emily and Vered with two men in one, two men and me in the other. As if the treacherous weather and unpaved, windy mountain road wasn't enough of a concern, we had watched all of the men guzzle ouzo and beers in the restaurant for hours. We didn't have any other options and as they say, "When in Prionia"... So we somehow rode / floated down to Litohoro, and I actually had an intriguing conversation with the driver of the vehicle that I was in. He grilled me on my political beliefs in flawless English, then switched into French for the last 25 minutes of the trip once he asked me about my language studies and I told him I that je parle francais. Our substantial conversation took my mind off the weather but thankfully didn't distract him, and we arrived safely at our destination. Once in Litohoro, we thanked our escorts for the ride and found a small inn where we could stay the night. I was bummed that Zeus had stymied our ascent and we weren't able to climb from Prionia.

Litohoro was a quaint village which reminded me of a ski resort town. The atmosphere was relaxed, the terrain was hilly, and the king of Greek mountains was overlooking our every move. The rain fell all night, but we still had a blast. We went to a hole-in-the-wall gyro joint for dinner. The only other customers were about ten old men who were gulping down retsina (a sweet white Greek wine) and chain smoking cigs. One of the charming grandpas even started to serenade us and bought us a bottle of retsina to enjoy with the locals. It was a unique experience and we mingled with the geezers all evening. On a small TV on the wall of the restaurant, we saw footage of the severe flooding that was happening in the region and considered ourselves lucky not to be stranded in Prionia or at the refuge.

The next day, the weather was clear and we visited Mount Olympus National Park, a fifteen minute walk from Litohoro - it was spectacular. During the hour or so in the park, we satiated our desire to hike and experienced unrivaled views of Mount Olympus. We walked along a massive canyon which was serving as the main drainage outlet for the floodwater. As we walked, the water got closer and closer to our exact altitude through a series of waterfalls and streams. At one point, we were so close to the torrent that we were showered in mist and could barely hear each other speak; we could see rocks and other debris which has been swept away by the violent floodwater. It was intimidating and humbling to stand next to such a powerful force.

After the park visit, we hopped a train back to Thessaloniki and arrived home sweet home. It turned out to be a memorable trip. If Zeus allows it, I still plan to climb Olympus in the Spring. Although I can't say that I have technically hiked Mount Olympus, I can proudly claim that I have hitchhiked Mount Olympus in a life-threatening thunderstorm - a feat much less common than simply climbing the mountain.