In 2009, I was not fit. I was not a hiker, and I most definitely was not prepared to hike Mount Olympus. For some reason I put these factors aside and signed up for a group trip to climb the tallest mountain in Greece. You would think I would start off with something a little more manageable, no?
I never planned to climb Mount Olympus. It wasn’t on my bucket list or a list of activities I hoped to one day accomplish. I had heard of it before, but at the time, I didn’t even know it was a real place. I assumed it was fictional just like the stories that took place there. A bunch of Greek mythology Mrs. D.O. taught me in my sixth grade English classes. She always spoke of Mount Olympus and the twelve Olympian Gods in such an alluring way. I never imagined that it could actually exist.
It exists alright. It is a 2,919 meter tall mountain. A mountain that would take me two days to climb. As you can imagine, I was ill-prepared for this hike. The night prior I went out drinking and managed to squeeze in a few hours of shuteye before packing my hiking essentials. I borrowed a backpack from a possible love interest to store those essentials and a light winter jacket from my roommate. I crossed my fingers for good luck, and off I went.
When we arrived at the base it was 10 am. This is about five hours earlier than our average rising time in Greece. Three p.m. was a normal time to eat breakfast for me those days. It was raining and dreary. A gray day meant for movies and breakfast in bed. But I was excited. I filled my water bottle from the spigot spouting out fresh water from Mount Olympus and braced myself for my first few steps on the dirt covered path.
Surprisingly, I found an ease in my stride. I felt light on my feet and optimistic for the journey ahead. Maybe this was going to be easier than I thought?
Within the first hour, the incline steepened and the ground moistened. My fellow hikers trailed behind and others leaped ahead. Somewhere in the middle of the pack, I found myself surrounded by nature. Truly alone. I appreciated the beauty of my surroundings and felt grateful for where I was.
Within two hours I was above the clouds. I had never seen the world from this angle before. I had been in plenty of airplanes packed like a sardine elbow to elbow with two strangers. But this was different. I was free. It was like no sensation I had felt before.
My trance was quickly diminished as the trail grew narrower and seemed to disappear in the distance. The tree roots didn’t acknowledge that this trail was a walking path. Many trees had toppled over. They obstructed the path and acted as jungle gyms.
I began to grow a bit hopeless. Luckily, the refuge where we would spend the night was close by. When I arrived at the refuge, I quickly rinsed the filth and sweat from my body and used the hole in the ground also known as a “toilet” so that I could join my fellow climbers for a warm subpar meal.
After dinner, I became ill and feared that maybe I had taken on too difficult a task. I had just spent a summer drinking, eating, and partying too much to call myself a hiker. Plus, I had a rising fever and blocked nostrils. This was mild altitude sickness and I was beginning to regret the vodka sodas from the night before. Unfortunately for my friends, we were all sharing one room. Our thin mattresses kissed one another. It was any eight year old girl’s dream slumber party location. It was not exactly ideal for a good night’s sleep before a long hike.
Thankfully when I awoke, my fever had subsided and the clouds dissipated leaving the earth dry. I was eager for our ascent to the top.
Mount Olympus Refuges – in case you want to go too!
The incline during this part of the trail was less severe than the day before. We passed wild mountain goats and donkeys carrying supplies. Within a few hours we reached our peak. At 2,917 meters above sea level I was relieved and proud of my accomplishments. I felt like Zeus taking my throne as King of the Gods.
At the summit we walked to a building in the distance. Inside was a small café offering warm beverages to hikers. The hot chocolate warmed my blood and for the first time during my journey, I relaxed. One of the hikers that was at the table had an impressive resumé. He had climbed Mount Everest. As we listened, he described his incredible journey up Everest and other experiences he had had all over the world. I almost forgot I myself was on top of a mountain.
My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach. I had to climb back down. And so, our descent began. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that the descent would be more difficult than the climb. My toes were edging towards the front of my sneakers crushing my toenails. The pressure on my shins was causing aching pains that creeped up towards my knees. I wanted to give up right there. Where was that donkey? Couldn’t he give me a ride down?
Luckily, the time passed much more quickly during the descent and I somehow ignored the pain in my body. I was anxious to reach flat terrain. A few hours later, I smiled wide at the site of the last turn to flat ground.
My climb up Mount Olympus was one of the first times I was proud of myself for a physical accomplishment. I stepped widely outside of my comfort zone and tried something new. It is a journey I reflect on often. It was not only a physical strain but an emotional voyage that introduced me to myself and how truly capable I am of accomplishing any task. I know that I am a stronger person because I climbed Mount Olympus and I will be forever grateful for the experience. It was one of my most memorable experiences from the time I spent in Greece.
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