I ‘Climbed’ Mount Olympus

For most of the time I lived in Greece I lived on the mainland about an hour south of Thessaloniki and about half an hour from Litochoro, the village at the base of Mt. Olympus. My best friends in Greece were Jane and Stathis – she Scottish, he Greek and we did most everything with them. Jane liked both me and my husband, B and I liked Stathis so we got along well. They were all younger and fitter than me which will explain why I put ‘ marks around the word climb in the title.

Many times I traveled by bus to the base of Mt. Olympus and climbed a short way up but never as far as the hostel farther up the mountain. Mount Olympus is not that high but it is massive. On a side note, there is a village way up on the back side of the mountain, Livadi, that has the best feta cheese I have ever tasted and the biggest most beautiful plane tree in the village square (platia).

One spring or fall day, I can’t now remember, Jane and Stathis, I and B decided to go up to the Spilios Agapitos refuge and stay over night. I knew that the climb would be too steep for me – I have never been good, even at my fittest, in going up hill…or up mountain in this case. While Jane, Stathis and B would hike up the mountain, I would travel up by mule. Mules went up the mountain every day to stock the refuge and some mule drivers offered rides.

This may not have been the best idea I’d ever had. It started out well. We gathered near the mules and made an arrangement with the happiest old Greek man I’d ever met. Later I discovered his spirits were inspired by his consumption of liquid spirits but at the time he just seemed cheerful. I’m guessing he was about sixty or so and fit, of course, since he hiked up the mountain most days. I climbed aboard and my escort was suitably or perhaps overly solicitous. Should have been a small warning signal.

We started out at a slow and steady pace. It didn’t take long to discover that a sharp-edged wooden saddle was very uncomfortable to someone wearing anything less that mattress padding; I was wearing knee-length shorts. Now this was no steady climb. We went up, we went down, we wove from side to side. I clung on as each jolt from the mule caused the saddle to dig into me in some new spot. Ouch!

By this time my climbing partners were well ahead of us. My escort kept trying to touch my legs. He offered me a massage – or at least I think that’s what he was offering. My Greek did not include words for that. He suggested we rest and he could help me with the pain in my legs. I talked enthusiastically about my HUSBAND who was just up ahead and might come back to check on me. I continued refusing the ‘rest’ and ‘massage’ and he didn’t seem to mind much. Perhaps he just thought he’d give it a try. He was pickled enough, I had realized by this time, that nothing was bothering him. I think my ride on the mule would have been better had I prepared with some pickling of my own. However….

I can’t remember now how long it took to arrive at the refuge. I’ve read online that it takes six to eight hours. I can’t image how I stayed on that mule for that long. The refuge is not at the top of the mountain but is a beautiful location with spectacular views. Lots of pine trees and fresh mountain air. I staggered off the mule and swore that I wouldn’t do that again. Of course, if I’d hiked up I’d probably have said the same thing but had fewer bruises.

Lots of mountain tea was available which is similar to a Rooibos tea. Actually tastes like straw boiled in water although some would have a better impression of it. No caffeine of course. We had a pleasant evening meal and eventually retired to our bunk beds in a room with many people. A chorus of snores ensued to which I added a nice soprano. I’m not sure how much sleep everyone got. I’ve blanked this part of the trip out.

The next morning we attempted to climb higher up the mountain. It was rough going. I had never planned to reach the peak. I knew it was beyond my capability but just being up above the refuge and taking in the spectacular views and breathing the fresh air was exhilarating.

Later that day we managed to hike back down in about three hours. Fortunately my knees were up to the stress and I didn’t have to travel down by mule. Despite the difficulties, the trip was an experience I do not regret. How many people do you know who can say that ‘climbed’ Mount Olympus?