A day-long journey, in search for Zeus

August 10, 2017: the beginning

It was near midnight when our train left the station in Athens, on its way to northern Greece where an adventure was waiting for us. At the time I was only 17, my best friend was the same age, and her sister 19, and the three of us, knowing nothing about backpacking in a foreign place, held our bags tightly as the train packed with strangers made its way across the country. We hardly slept on that six hour train ride, 25% because of the uncomfortable seats, 25% because of the anxiety of being surrounded by people who bore holes into our heads with their stares, and 50% because of the anticipation of what awaited us...

6:00am, August 11th, 2017

Groggy-eyed, we hoped off the train in the Greek town of Katerini. Not much to my surprise, we were the only ones that got off, thus being the only ones in the entire station... if one can even call it that. After a few minutes we found ourselves in a cab, and one kilometer later, we were at the Ktel bus station where 4,50€ bought us a round-trip ticket to the even smaller town of Litochoro. The bus ride lasted nearly 40 minutes, with many sharp turns and bumps. It was all worth it, however, when we were dropped off in the picturesque town. From there we managed to get a cab, that for 20€ saved us 4 hours of walking to our final destination. And after a pleasant ride with the funny driver and his broken english, we were once again left on our own with our growing fears, at the base of Mount Olympus.

9:20am, the climb

At first the path seemed easy, almost too easy. The only bad thing were the swarms of bees the size of a thumb that kept buzzing around us. Then the dirt started turning into rock, dangerously heating up with the fast approaching sun. We were careless with our supplies, and downed half of them within the first third of the climb up. I guess it was understandable as to why we did it: we wanted to get rid of some of the weight on our already heavy backpacks. Two thirds in and the noon sun was burning us alive. The path led us far from the trees and had us desperately searching for any form of shade. We had to stop many times because my friend was nearing heatstroke. We tried to be generous with our water supply, but desperation gave in and we consumed way too much. At one point, both sisters turned to me and nearly begged for us to turn around and go. I felt bad for them and almost agreed, but then I remember all of the  months of planning, the effort and money, but above all the determination that had brought us there. "No," I said. We had not flown half way across the world just to surrender and I didn't care if they'd hate me for it, so I made them keep going, I made myself keep going.

2:00pm, continuing alone

Nearly crawling, we made it to "Refuge A", a small lodge at the base of the path leading to the summit. All three of us layed down beneath a tree, feet throbbing, throats dry. After a few minutes of refueling I calculated the time. We had to catch the last bus in Litochoro by 9pm, we had taken a long time to go up, and the descent was sure going to be even longer. My friends were no longer fond of the idea of reaching the summit, I think they still hated me a bit at that point. However, I was determined to get as close to it as possible. Knowing that the path would be even steeper, I left my bag with my friends and only took with me the mere water that I had and my phone. Despite the evergrowing pain in my feet, I quickened my pace in respect to the time frame we had. At first it seemed like nothing spectacular, but when the path led to an unexpected turn the view was breathtaking. 

At that moment I was the only one on the path, so the feeling of complete solitude was overwhelming; the wind was the only noise. The further I climbed the more beautiful it got. I stopped for a long while just to take it in, a few tears slipping from my eyes, a silent 'thank you' to God whispered in the wind. It was as if for a moment all the pain in my body had gone away, and right then and there it was simply me and the mountain. I wanted to stay forever, or maybe just a minute or two longer... but two hours had gone by without me noticing. I looked at the path leading to down to the refuge, then back up at the summit. Making my choice I bid a silent promise to the mountain yet mostly to myself, and I turned around and left.

Agony and success

Back at the refuge my friends were waiting for me impatiently. I wanted nothing more than to rest my feet for at least five minutes, but I had already taken too long and we had a bus to catch. Grabbing our things, we started to make our way down the trail. At the beginning I willed myself not to think about the stabbing pain in my feet and the burning in my legs, but with every step I took the pain got worse. The three of us tried to distract ourselves from the discomfort by singing songs and recounting old stories, but a point came in which the only thing that escaped our lips were cries of pain. The throbbing in our feet was so unbearable that we didn't know if it was best to sit down or keep moving, so we ran. We ran down the mountain to beat the time, but mostly to run away from the pain. We dodged rocks and trees, keeping our eyes on the path but not really registering what was happening. To our surprise we made it down in three hours, nearly half of the time it took us to go up. Once the base was in sight we ran faster, ignoring the tears in our eyes. We practically jumped into the water fountain that's meant to refill your bottles, and like animals we drank the water we had been craving since noon. Once we had our fill and my thoughts began to clear up, I looked up at the mountain, now far in the distance, and I said, "I did it."

The promise

On the cab ride down to Litochoro I watched Mount Olympus get smaller as we moved away. I looked down at my friends' legs and noticed they were shaking, just like mine. It was a crazy thing that we had done. I started feeling slight remorse for making my friends suffer for a dream that was really mine, but I knew I would have regretted it if I had agreed to turn around and go. We had accomplished something great that day, and the view from the top was worth every tear, every cry, every stab of pain. Looking back out the window I recalled my promise: that one day I will return and make it to the summit of Mytikas, and I will sit on the throne of Zeus. I thought on about that promise as we made it on the bus and then on the train, and despite the aching in my entire body and the pounding in my feet, that night on the train ride back to Athens I fell into a deep sleep, dreaming of Mount Olympus with a smile on my face.