Athos – Agion Oros

The four of us had taken a taxi to the Chalkidiki bus station east of Thessaloniki. It was crowded. A large group of dark-skinned boys were lounging on the seats. We had coffee and bought some provisions for the bus to Ouranopolis. The sluggish atmosphere changed when the bus suddenly appeared. Everyone quickly got on their feet to secure a seat. We gathered our things and waited in line to load our suitcases onto the bus. We had reserved good seats at the front. Unfortunately, the driver made it clear that no food was allowed on the bus. Lunch would have to wait another two and a half hours. After a while one of us exclaimed that he couldn’t find his phone. He got up, checked all his pockets, checked his bag and suitcase, once, then again, checking all his pockets. It was nowhere to be found. We called him, but got no answer. We concluded that he had left it at the bus station. It must have been stolen. Those young boys had obviously taken advantage of our hasty departure. We decided to call the bus station to rule out the unlikely event that it might have been found. To our surprise, that turned out to be just the case. We agreed to pick up the phone the following week. Relieved, we continued our journey. One of us suggested that maybe the next bus could transport the phone so we could pick it up in Ouranopolis. So we phoned again and the woman at the bus station agreed. If we didn’t pick it up, she said, it would be send back to Thessaloniki and we had to wait for  a week. Two hours after arriving, we were able to greet the lost phone. Such experiences are very helpful to restore our faith in the goodness of humanity. And they teach us about our own prejudices. That incident was be a good sign for our pilgrimage to the Holy Mountain.

Once you arrive in Ouranopolis, the pilgrimage actually begins. Shops with religious items, books about Mount Athos, travel supplies, caps, walking sticks, and provisions. Everything is there. Only the fur shops have scaled down, after the flow of Russian pilgrims has dried up. The ferries, the pilgrims, and the monks; everything and everyone gathers here. The strip of restaurants at the harbor are waiting for customers.

We always walk to the pier where the boat will take us to Mount Athos the next morning. The beautiful stronghold, where Sydney Loch lived with his wife, stands peacefully in the evening light. I can’t help but thinking that this bastion was once part of the Holy Mountain itself, a dependancy of Vatopediou. It’s a shame, really, that the secular world has encroached here.

The Agia Anna is already in het harbour the night before. She will take us to Dafni tomorrow.

From the pier, you can catch a glimpse of the Holy Mountain, which rises sharply from the sea and reaches a height of over two kilometers. The chance that we’ll ever stand on the summit again has become very unlikely with our rising age.

Another view of the fortification. There was a pleasant, peaceful, languid evening atmosphere in Ouranopolis.

The hills of Chalkidiki are bathed in the evening light.

Several pilgrims took photos from the pier of Ouranopolis as it slowly grew darker.

The next day, we were supposed to get up before six to collect our diamoniterion, our passport to the Holy Mountain. When we arrived, we saw an unusually long line of pilgrims waiting. We had never seen such a crowd in front of the Pilgrim’s Office. We were afraid we’d miss the boat. Fortunately, the administrative procedures to acquire the diamoniterion went smoothly. We showed our passports, paid cash, and the entrance ticket to Mount Athos was ready in minutes.

We even had some time to eat breakfast on the strip of restaurants before the Agia Anna would take us to Dafni in the early dawn. 

Bas Kamps