belleelene

Have you ever failed to see a mountain? It might sound unbelievable, but it took me decades to start noticing that huge structure hovering above my hometown. Mt Parnonas (don’t forget to #save_parnonas) has stood magnificent and radiant above the small town of Astros since forever. However, I too suffered from one of those curious cases of looking but not seeing. It was only after my return from Japan that I began to notice my neighborly peaks more and more.

It was a warm weekend in early January, conveniently aligned with a Monday holiday. We decided to spend the weekend in Agios Ioannis, commonly known as Agiannis, in northern Kynouria. There had been quite a heavy snowfall a few weeks prior, so we hoped we would be able to touch some snow if we ventured deep enough into the cedar forest. We limited our night out drinks to less than two liters of local tsipouro and decided to wake up early on Sunday and seize the day. The first stop was the monastery of Panagia Malevi, where the path to Parnon’s summit starts.

I was entirely unprepared for this hike, dressed in a mismatched assortment of my old basketball t-shirt, my grandma’s tracksuit, and, thankfully, a pair of sturdy leather boots. For lack of proper hiking poles, I carried my grandpa’s shepherd walking stick. The mountain trail was dry, surrounded by lush greenery. The heaviest rainfall in Greece typically comes in November and December, leaving the trees well-nurtured and thriving. The unique cedar of this region, found exclusively on this mountain and nowhere else in Europe, bore its distinctive small, ball-shaped seeds. We walked for a while, gasping for breath as the trail grew steeper. I was beginning to lose hope—would we find any snow at all?

At last, we did. As soon as we reached the mountain road and turned left toward the plateau, we noticed the snow beginning to accumulate. It glittered under the sun, stiff and solid from the cycles of melting and refreezing over the past week. This kind of snow is easy to walk on—unlike fresh snow, it doesn’t trap you like a sand dune. We spotted tracks of various kinds of animals, mostly wild boars and a mountain cat.

Mt. Parnonas has a twin-peak setup: the great and the lesser Tourla summits. They rise just above a large plateau, where small ponds sometimes form during the winter. The plateau is also home to the church of Prophet Elias, a common sight in Greece, where nearly every elevated location boasts a Prophet Elias shrine.

On the saint’s feast day, the 20th of July, locals rush to the plateau to camp and celebrate during a two-day festival. The road to reach there, however, is far from comfortable—it’s as rugged as it gets, a dirt road with deep cracks running through it, making it nearly impossible for lower cars. Still, I used to go up there every summer with my family and friends. We’d send representatives ahead of time to secure a quiet spot on the side, far from the noise, so that we could set up camp with a bit of privacy. You might think a ‘panigiri’ (traditional Greek festival) in the middle of nowhere, with no proper road, would be a daunting task. Well, think again, because the party was grand (or at least it used to be, since it’s been ten years since I last attended the Elias festival). People from the nearby villages bring everything—water tanks, power generators, and even set up a temporary tavern complete with plastic chairs, a sound system, and ever-flowing wine.

I’m not sure if this is considered proper behavior on a mountain, but since it happens only once a year under the umbrella of a religious celebration, it seems justified to the locals. However, even in winter, we spotted a few people on the plateau testing out their snowmobiles. Loud and intrusive, they were the only element of the scene I wish to erase from my memory. Nonetheless, we didn’t continue on the final stretch to the summit, as it would have been icy and dangerous at that time without the proper equipment. The trail from the plateau to the summit of Tourla is similar to the top of Mt. Taygetus, with slippery gray rocks. There’s also a ridge connecting the two peaks, a path I used to follow with my parents as a child: first the smaller peak, then the taller one (well, they aren’t that different in size, but a name is a name).

On the way back, we stopped at the Monastery of Malevi for water, coffee, and sweets, as we always did. The doors of this monastery are almost always open, making it a pleasant spot to relax and stretch your legs before heading back. Since we had a bit of extra time, we decided to rush back to Agiannis and then to the Lepida gorge. We parked the car about 2 kilometers away from the waterfalls and continued on foot for the final stretch. Thanks to the recent rainfall, there was still some water flowing at the waterfalls. However, early spring is the best time to visit this place, as it’s when the mountain snow begins to melt. The day ended with a hearty soup made with stock from boiled goat (I know it sounds yuck, but I promise you, it’s amazing and even those who don’t like goat meat love it) at the local tavern.

The next day, we packed our things, hopped on our cars and spent the day walking along the long beach, making our way to the top of the castle at Paralio Astros. It always amazes me to reflect on where I was and where I am, in terms of spatial coordinates. The day before, I was nearly at the top of that mountain in the distance. The next day, I found myself beside the sea. Life feels particularly wonderful on days like these.

Here you’ll find the trail from Malevi Monastery to the plateau. It would be nice to coordinate your visit with the annual music festival Agiannisfest. Be sure to read the articles about the mountain‘s details, the nearby Lepida gorge or the villa of Herodes Atticus. You can read more hiking posts under the tag hiking. Until next time!