Safe Return Doubtful

It was back into Loisos Gorge today to continue on from where I got to two days ago, the monastery built into the cliff, along the Mainalon Trail for four kilometres to the Philosopher’s Monasteries.

I’ve been cavorting with the Mainalon Trail for two weeks now, and can certainly recommend it as a long-distance hike with plenty of variety; typical Peloponnese villages, wild sections above 1200 metres, native forest, steep-sided gorges, and of course, what one might expect from Greece, almost a surfeit of history. It’s also possible to hike it at any time of the year, though in the winter months to may be an idea to keep a day up one’s sleeve for weather.

I did meet a few people on the trail today, it probably is the most popular section. Just out the van I met a French guy living in Dublin who was on a break from work alone, and not being impressed by the coast, he had moved into the mountains. He was doing the section from Dimitsana to Stemnitsa, out, and back, so quite a long day, 25 kilometres in all, with about 1800 metres of ascent.

I also met a young couple travelling for a year by campervan, and walking a slightly shorter circuit from Dimitsana. The guy was Spanish, and his partner Belgian, along with a young bitch dog they had just adopted from Thessaloniki.

The Old Philosophos Monastery is the oldest Byzantine monument in Arcadia and one of the oldest in Greece, founded in 963 AD by an intellectual monk known as ‘the philosopher’. During the years of the Ottoman rule, a “secret school” operated here. The monastery ruins are difficult to see from the monastery itself, their buildings cling impressively to the steep cliffs and their walls are crenelated, which allowed the monks to repel attackers whenever the occasion arose.

The new Monastery of the Philosopher was founded around the mid-17th century. It is located about 400 meters from the old monastery. In 1661 several cells were built, but the old monastery was still in use and lasted another hundred years or so, until a chapter of accidents resulted in monks falling from their mats while sleeping, into the gorge below, led to it being abandoned.

There was a broken door that led into the ruins, but with a sign that warned not to go further. At this time I was with an older German couple, who were good fun. I decided to go no further, as the route was precarious. The guy agreed with me, but his wife strode on, stating that she had survived 70 years so far, and such terrain wasn’t going to prevent her from getting a better view. Her husband just shook his head. She went out of our sight, upwards and through a stone arch, but returned a few minutes later, with no great account of any improved vista.

The drive from where I am isn’t far, about ten kilometres, but the roads are of course very slow. From the car park the road ascends through eighteen hairpins to Stemnitsa, climbing seven hundred metres. It’s narrow, potholed, and scattered with debris from the overnight rain two days ago – better on a bicycle than in a campervan.

After a quick visit to the bakery in the wonderful little village of Stemnitsa it was back to the Artist’s House.