Evangeliyacht

We got our first glimpse of the whiteness of the building perched impossibly, like an eerie, into the precipitous cliff face above us. Our silver Mercedes taxi wound up the snaking, mountain approach-road, and pulled up for us to get a better look. We gazed in awe at the limestone landscape that dominated this tiny monastery, yet were also in awe of the monks who had the vision and fortitude to attempt to build their home here centuries before (in about 1500).

It was half a millenium later, in the spring of 2004, and we were taking our first flotilla guests to see the Moni Panagia Elona, in the south-eastern Peloponnese. It is now the home of a few nuns. As we all gaped up at the scene, through my binoculars I could see a black shape plummeting hundreds of feet down the cliff face. And then another. Crikey, were the nuns performing some sort of suicide leap?

We climbed back in the car and curled our way further upwards. I trained my binoculars on the edifice once more, and now the mystery revealed itself. A person – perhaps a nun – was hurling large, black waste-bags over the low, boundary wall and into the void below!

I was relieved and outraged simultaneously. But then, the thought dawned on us, that the waste collection point might have been located at the bottom of the cliff, to save the local binmen the trouble of an hour’s round trip to collect it at source?  

The plain of the river Pineios

Twenty years later, and we were now seeking out more monasteries. We were in a hire car heading across the relatively flat, fertile, cultivated plans of Thessaly, heading north-westwards from the port of Volos. After an hour or so, the plains were abruptly interrupted by a high wall of sandstone ahead. As we closed in along the flat, valley floor of the river Pineios, we saw the many smooth, rocky pinnacles rise precipitously up above us.

One of the six inhabited monasteries

And if looked closely, you could make out walls and roofs perched on top. A sort of medieval, fairytale, and very improbable landscape.

Monks from Mount Athos came here in the 13th and 14th centuries to build a new complex of monasteries on these defensible columns. The inhabitants had to defend themselves against Ottomans, and even thieving Nazis.

Nuns versus Nazis

There were about 24 complexes, but now only six are inhabited and maintained. And very nicely maintained they are: with coachloads of tourists (even in April) paying EU 3.00 per head entry, the revenue stream is strong. And I suspect UNESCO probably contribute significant funds, as the area is a World Heritage Site. The buildings have an expensive, well-finished museum quality about them. It reminded me of a Greek Orthodox Portmeirion. We saw many workmen repairing walls etc., but if there were any of the few dozen or so monks and nuns there, I didn’t spot them. Perhaps they only appear from their daily fasting and prayers after 15:00 when the tourists are kindly asked to descend the flights of rock-hewn steps, whence they came.

The monk doormen can then lift the drawbridges and bolt the thick, wooden doors, I suspect.

A long climb ahead

We passed a sort of yellow, hippy transit van, on the way down to the car. It had the word ‘Evangelibus’ painted in big, black letters on the side. The term “evangelical” comes from the Greek word “euangelion”, meaning “the good news” or the “gospel.”  We saw many number-plates from Montenegro, Romania and Bulgaria, and I wonder how many of these travellers are there to revere the plethora of well-preserved and ancient religious iconography on display inside, as much as admire the amazing landscape and panoramas outside.

There were more tourists than we expected, becuase Orthodox easter is approaching. Many people will go to church services every day of easter week.

We remember to wish everyone we meet “Kalo Pascha”, or happy Easter.

What a landscape!