Article by Dimosthenis Seitaridis
Cover photo by Pantelis Ainalis
Edited by Harrys Pourouzidis
May 2021. Lockdown. Covid-19. Self-test. Rapid test.
Many foreign words had forced their way into our lives. Confinement had affected us all. The need for clean air, for human contact, and for our beloved hobby, photography, was great. And what do we do in our group? Once again, we take to the mountains, the wild mountains.
Our destination was the Pierian mountain range. Our goal: the summit of Avdella, at 2,120 metres, and the picturesque location of Bara, on whose western side lies the mountaineering refuge of the Kozani Mountaineering Club. On Saturday night, the final instructions were discussed online, and the more experienced members gave advice about clothing, footwear, and photographic equipment. On Sunday, before dawn, we set off by car for Ano Milia. Though still half-asleep, our joy at being together again was immense. The cars felt like a school trip, with laughter, teasing, and jokes under the sound of Led Zeppelin.
The first light of day found us parked and preparing for the climb. We were all completely ready. With morale at its highest, we began the hike, crossing wonderful forests of black and red pines. To our right we saw the peak of Kteni, while on the opposite slopes stood the Sarakatsana Refuge and the peaks of Arvanitis, as well as Mikro and Megalo Lepousi.
Before long, we emerged into the alpine meadows. Thick green grass and wildflowers dominated the landscape. Before the peak of Toufes Karagiorgi, we made a small detour and, at the edge of the cliff, admired the view. Opposite us stood the many-folded, snow-covered Olympus. In the distance lay the plain of Katerini and the Thermaic Gulf. None of us spoke. We listened to the sounds of nature and breathed in the delicate scents of the wildflowers. Our cameras caught fire from the clicks that followed one after another.
“Come on, boys, we’ll fall behind schedule,” one of us shouted, and we continued our route.
Our next stop was the Avdella spring, which for hundreds of years has quenched the thirst of passers-by. Armatoloi and klephts, rebels and shepherds, hikers and hunters — how many people have drunk from its crystal water?
We sat for a while in the kiosk to rest. Morale was still high. Laughter, teasing, and photographic clicks.
Until the familiar voice was heard again:
“Come on, boys, let’s go. We’ll fall behind schedule.”
From the kiosk begins a demanding uphill climb all the way to Avdella peak. We climbed with steady steps, passed Toufes Karagiorgi, and continued our slow upward course.
But the laughter and voices were over. Everyone was conserving strength to manage the climb. Between the kilos gained during lockdown and our poor physical condition, our legs grew heavy and the uphill path seemed endless.
At last, shortly before Avdella peak, we made a brief stop for rest and photographs. This time, we photographed Mount Titaros and the alpine pastures belonging to Livadi of Elassona.
A little higher up, we came across a seasonal little lake, a “bara”. Another opportunity for photographs and rest. The group gathered to recover, waiting for Pantelis, who was lying face down in the thick fresh grass beside the little lake, giving the impression that he was trying to photograph using the long-exposure technique. The minutes passed, and Pantelis still seemed to be photographing.
“How long an exposure did you set, Pantelis?” a voice called out. No answer.
“Pantelis, what ND filter did you use?”
Again, nothing. Until someone’s voice was heard:
“Guys, he’s asleep. He’s not photographing!”
We all burst into laughter, as Pantelis had found a clever way to take the time he needed to regain his strength without anyone disturbing him. More teasing, more laughter, until the familiar and now irritating voice was heard again:
“Come on, boys, let’s go. We’ll fall behind schedule.”
We continued the hike with enthusiasm, since after Avdella peak the path becomes slightly downhill and crosses meadows full of crocuses, seasonal ponds, and patches of snow. Our final destination, Lake Bara, was now close. The lake lies on a small plateau, on the border between two regional units. At the sight of the lake, the group broke apart for the first time. Nothing could hold us back from photographing the landscape. When there is no wind, the still surface of the lake reflects the nearby mountain refuge and the surrounding peaks. So each of us tried to find the best point of view and achieve the best possible frame. After a while, the familiar irritating voice was about to be heard:
“Come on, boys, let’s go, we’ll fall…”
“Don’t say a word. I swear to God I’ll throw you in the lake,” another voice cut in.
After quite some time and many clicks, the group gathered at the Kozani Mountaineering Club refuge, “Merkouris Kyratsous,” built on the edge of the plateau at an altitude of 1,945 metres. It can host up to 80 people overnight and meet their food needs with a fully equipped kitchen. The paths leading to the Kozani refuge start from Velventos, the village of Katafygi, the Elatochori Ski Centre, and Ano Milia, while there are many routes around the refuge. From here, the view is fantastic. Katafygi, Velventos, and Servia lie in the foreground. Lake Polyfytos, the High Bridge of Aliakmonas, and the city of Kozani stand in the middle distance. Far beyond them stretches a magnificent panorama of the mountains of Macedonia: Kamvounia, Askio, Voio, Vermio, and others.
Memory cards filled, batteries emptied, and the clean oxygen and high altitude opened our appetite. Within minutes, the group set up a magnificent alpine picnic, with tsipouro in the starring role. There, at around 2,000 metres, the group truly felt free. Covid-19 seemed like a nightmare that had passed. Wine gladdens the heart; tsipouro even more so, and somehow it loosened our tongues further. The sound waves of our voices laid out jokes and stories: stories about bears and little bears, about aeroplanes that nearly fell, and stories from the army. Lockdown had affected us all, and the need to speak face to face with our fellow human beings was great.
Time passed pleasantly, and before we knew it, the time for return had arrived. Forces regrouped, equipment checked, everyone ready to depart.
After only a few metres, we stopped before an astonishing sight. The sky suddenly darkened. A great cloud crawled over the plateau, trying to cover the lake and embrace everything. The landscape had now become dreamlike. We were walking inside the clouds, through a scene that seemed to have come straight out of a film by Theo Angelopoulos. The cameras came back to life, and one click followed another without pause.
“Guys, where are we? Pieria or Kozani?”
“We’re in Paradise, my friend… in Paradise.”
