I now understand why Greeks in antiquity, as well as other civilizations, devoted so much of their time to pleasing the gods and goddesses they worshipped: deities can unleash their fury in an instant.
I'm not unveiling my adoption of a polytheistic dogma. But I did experience the wrath of Zeus, in full force...literally.
Last week I shared that I would be climbing Mt. Olympus in northern Greece with five other students this past weekend. And everything went swimmingly...for awhile.
We arrived in Litochoro, the village at the base of Olympus, as planned Friday morning after a midnight train from Athens. We began the first leg of our journey around 9:30 a.m., a five-hour hike along a gorge to the trailhead at Prionia. This first part of the hike brought beautiful views and the freshest of air. Because it travels through a canyon along a river, we hiked steeply for about 30 minutes to an hour, but then back down to cross the river, and then back up; this occurred about six or seven times, but the small waterfalls along the way made it worthwhile and less intimidating. The temperature was perfect, not too hot, and it was also a little overcast, which was much more bearable compared to a beating sun.
Caleb was the only one in the group with extensive hiking experience, so we took our time since we were in no rush. We arrived at the trailhead around 2:30 p.m., took a break on some benches, eating the snacks we had packed. The plan was to hike for 3 hours to Refuge A, where we would spend the night and rest up for our ascent to the top, or at least close to the top, the next morning. This time it was a straight climb up along the well-defined E4 trail, which actually starts in Spain and extends across Europe into Greece.
About 20 minutes into the hike, it started to mist and drizzle a little. At this point, we were at an elevation of 1,100 meters, so the vegetation was still rather lush. Walking along the path, listening to the soft drizzle on the treetops and seeing nothing but dense fog swirl around us was quite the ethereal experience; I was in love with this hike.
But then, although we were still ascending, everything began to go rapidly downhill. The thunder started rumbling, and we knew things were going to turn interesting very fast. None of us brought along extensive raingear or extra plastic bags, but we accepted the fact we might get a little wet.
Not yet too worried, I began seeing these little white dots blowing softly around the ground, and I thought to myself, oh, those are pretty petals, I wonder where those flowers are growing. As I raise my head to take a look around, those whisking white "petals" multiply by the hundreds, and I realize they're falling from the sky. Hail. It's hailing, and we're hiking...up Mt. Olympus. Some profanity must have floated through my head, aimed directly at Zeus.
And fitting for the moment, the lightning came, which is when I switched into panic mode. By this point, we were a couple hundred more meters in elevation, where the trees aren't so flourishing, so most of the trail is in the wide open. We all knew we had to just keep going; there was no way we could just stop, and we were too far in to turn around. So we trekked on, hoping we would soon spot the refuge.
But then in the steepest part of the trails, it started to flash flood, and that's when I switched into ultra-panic mode. I can't put into words what ran through my mind, as I stopped, hail pounding my body, a flash of lightning filling the sky, in the middle of the path just a river of dirt and rocks. And I will admit there was a fleeting second where I truly thought I could die. I dismissed the thought immediately, but it was there...
I just kept telling myself to keep going and that I would have a heck of a story to share once I reached safety. With the increasing elevation, I was losing my breath more easily, so I had to keep stopping for a few seconds, so the others got a little ahead of me. There was another party of hikers behind me, though, so that helped me regain some stamina. Finally, the refuge came into view, and I asked one of the guys in the other party how much longer, and he said about 30 minutes. I thought it would have been much longer, so I was happy to hear that and had a renewed burst of energy. With the hail and cold rain, though, it was hard to keep going, but I knew moving would keep me warm and also stop hypothermia from setting in.
After what seemed like a journey through Dante's last circle of Hell, we arrived at the refuge, where a warm fire, dry clothes, a comfortable bed with three wool blankets, hot tea with honey, and a bowl of noodle soup awaited us. We all crashed by 8:30 p.m. and slept until 7:30 the next morning. Although it was only about a 2 1/2-hour hike to the summit, we were somewhat demoralized and taken aback by Olympus' ferocity, and simply lacked the energy to continue. Caleb did make it to the top, so we experienced the peak vicariously through him.
We had planned on taking a bus to Edessa to relax with the waterfalls in the countryside there, but we decided it would be best to just get back to Athens. By early afternoon we arrived back in Litochoro and caught a train home. The ride actually proved a good stress-reliever, as it traveled through the countryside of northern Greece, which has many more rolling hills and plains than Athens. At some points the tracks went through mountains, and it was neat to look back and see the entrance in the side of the mountain and where the trellis emerges.
I'm sure looking back on the experience in a few years, it will just be a crazy story from my youth. I mean, seeing thunderbolts on Mt. Olympus -- how many people get to witness that in a lifetime? It was my first true test of stamina and faith, though, and I think I've had enough adventure to hold me over for just a little while.
Lesson of the story? Do not make jokes about Zeus while climbing Mt. Olympus.