belleelene

My biggest regret from my mountaineering course was that we never got to hike up Mt Giona in the winter. I blame for this the unstable weather and the avalanche risk it brings. This year, however, it was meant to happen. Surprisingly, snow-capped Giona felt more relaxing than my previous summer ascent.

It was warm spring morning when we started our long, long hike from Viniani along the gorge of Rekka. Tall, rough rocks hover above my head. They are intimidating to say the least. The pebble-covered bed of the gorge is not my cup of tea, but it’s a nice option to cover some mileage and reach the mountain hut comfortably. After two hours, we entered the forest and at 1700meters altitude we were greeted by the first snow patches. As you climb the neck of the last slope, the mountain hut is visible, guarded by a huge solitary boulder. It seems like this boulder was intentionally placed there, to provide protection to hut from privy eyes. Oh well, who cares about the fact that someone chose to build the hut directly next to it, I prefer my own version of the lore.

This specific hut is called Grigoris Perdikis and belongs to POA (Athens hiking club) and is unmanned, meaning that one needs to obtain the keys from their offices and take care of the space and provisions. It is the most difficult to approach mountain hut in Greece and a real pain to repair and equip each spring, according to a friend who is a member of POA. For this reason, I get extra pissed when I hear news about entitled brats using up the entire stock of firewood just because it’s accessible to them. The next hiker is going to turn into a frozen column, but it’s alright, they will be far away from there by that time.

Although we planned for a few of us to sleep outside in tents, we somehow managed to cramp ourselves inside the hut, transforming benches into beds. Running water was available and we cooked dinner at the well-equipped kitchen. The plan was to wake up early the next morning, before sunrise, in order to avoid soupy snow. This plan ended up being a complete sham; it was the Sunday of the daylight-saving time switch, and the alarm clocks of half of our group decided to ring one hour earlier, causing everyone to wake up begrudgingly. We prepared our headlights, and started going uphill, from the backside of the Pyramid.

Thankfully, the fresh snow was nice and compact. The slope was a bit sharp at times, but we stayed close to the rock formations and hiked up leaning a bit towards the left. Looking back,  a clear view all the way to the sea and the peaks of the Peloponnese at the opposite shore, helped a lot with in keeping morale up. With Platyvouna (translates as Miss Wide Mountain) on our right, easily distinguishable by its wide profile, we turned left and continued straight up towards the summit, the Pyramid of Giona. The snow was pretty deep, but we could still make relatively-sturdy steps with the crampon. Oh, how much easier it felt to hike up with such conditions! Last May, I was sweating like a horse, wearing my thighs out, as I was trying to reach the top. This time, the snow was levelling the slope, while keeping me cool and fresh despite the effort.

Once at the peak, the landscape steals your breath in a second. Megas Kampos of Vardousia to the west, Oiti to the east. It was a miracle that it was not windy at all, we were so lucky. On the way down, we turned left again, towards Vathia Lakka. Although we decided to take off the crampons there, it proved to be an unwise choice. Two days ago, it snowed a lot, and trail traversing towards Kedro was on slopes heavy with fresh snow. We put crampons back on and continued careful, especially at the rapidly descending couloir just before entering the proper forest again.

We followed the path to the left once more and eventually saw Karagiannis path, a harder trail at the north-western side of the peak that includes scrambling and exposed sections) and finally the wall (Orthoplagia) of Sykia, the tallest in the Balkans with 1100 meters height. Climbing it is a great feat for all Greek climbers, and usually takes two days for less experienced climbers. That last part is rocky and rough, and quite boring also, so prepare your knees and your nerves. As the trail levelled, we caught a first glimpse of the village of Sykia, our final destination for grilled dishes and well-deserved rest. At the entrance of the village, a stream and a spring welcome you to wash your tired feet. Don’t miss the opportunity to try the lamb chops at the tavern, I vouch for them.