“Impressive isn’t it?”
The man standing next to her pulled her attention. His name was Jim, which she recalled from the group introduction back in Athens. He was an attractive man in his early forties, leanly muscled, with warm brown eyes.
“Yes, it is. Though I wish I could make it to the top.”
“Have you done any mountain climbing?”
She shook her head and chuckled. “No, I’m not that daring. I’ll be stopping at the refuge.”
He gave her a sensible smile. “Yeah, the last stretch to the top is tough. The guide won’t let anyone without climbing experience go near it.” There was a fleeting hint of disappointment in his eyes but his smile lingered. “The trek to the refuge is a decent challenge and the view from there is stunning.”
Enthusiasm bubbled inside her. “I know. I can’t wait.”
The start of their hike began with a leisurely visit to a 16th century monastery named after its founder, St. Dionysios. They entered the courtyard through an opening in the original fortress wall surrounding the monastery. Despite the damage inflicted on the building during World War II, the ruins were an architecture of timeless beauty. Vicky felt an instant tranquility as she walked on the cobbled ground and looked around. The wall rose in compact gray stones around parts of the monastery, forming several rows of hollow arches both near the upper and the lower part. Wooden beams supported a balcony for what seemed to be the monk’s quarters. Among the restored sections of the monastery were crumbled, melancholy stones which allowed glimpses of the lush, green slopes of Olympus.
The main building, which housed the church, was constructed of heavy, smooth stone and turrets at each corner, much like a medieval fort. With few minutes remaining, she took pictures of the main building, a stone fountain, and a section of the ruined wall overlooking the mountain. Vicky pulled out her walking sticks and adjusted her backpack as the guide headed out to the worn path that would take them to refuge A.
They trekked on a steadily ascending path that narrowed in some areas and widened in others. Ancient forests of hardwood and bushes flanked the path, along with the occasional large rock and the unusual cluster of bright flowers. Birdsong carried out to them from the woods.
Within ten minutes, the rush of waterfall drowned out all softer sounds. They’d arrived at the Enipeas waterfalls. The guide announced that they could stop for pictures. Vicky laid her backpack down and took out her camera. Cautiously, she moved to the edge of the path, which dropped down about thirty feet to an active gorge. Her breath caught. Twin waterfalls spilled into an aqua lagoon, which then moved through uneven levels between jutting rocks and low tree branches. She recalled having read somewhere that the gorge was several miles long. Looking further down the chasm, she saw a wooden bridge, which joined the two sides. Though she couldn’t see them from this location, there were several others.
She lifted her camera and took various shots. Pictures simply chronicled her trips, but the experience would stay alive in her heart for as long as she lived.
“Would you like a picture with the falls in the background?” Jim asked.
Vicky felt a blush warm her cheeks, sensing the man’s attraction to her. “Sure, why not?”
He took her camera and she positioned herself in line with the falls. Her smile came easily. He snapped two pictures, viewed them in the digital window and gave a satisfied nod.
“You’re very photogenic. Are you a model?”
She chuckled. “No, but my sister is.”
“No surprise if she looks anything like you.” He grinned as he returned the camera.
Her cheeks grew warmer. “Thanks. Em, would you like me to take one of you?”
“I don’t take pictures on hikes.”
“Never?”
“No. It’s all in here.” He tapped his head.
Kinda like me.
The hike continued for two hours on a steeper, winding path through a dense variety of conifers, their distinct smell a fresh bouquet in the air. At open spaces, she enjoyed the views of lower lush mountain peaks. Olympus had fifty-two in all. Vicky’s stamina was good so far, mostly due to her vigorous workouts at the gym.
They arrived at the refuge a little past twelve and were greeted by the owners, a middle-aged, friendly couple. The refuge was a stone building with a red, slanted roof. Its location couldn’t be better. The tour’s website had described the refuge’s location as being perched on a natural balcony at the base of the highest peaks of the mountain, while overlooking the Aegean to the east.
With barely contained eagerness, Vicky walked over to the railing on the west side and let her gaze run up the alpine slopes of the summit. She fished her binoculars out of her backpack.