Pelion Adventure Highlights
- Exploring the mythical landscapes of Pelion.
- Staying at luxurious accommodations with local flavors.
- Engaging in scenic hikes along historical trails.
- Experiencing local culture and cuisine amidst ancient ruins.
- Discovering the lush greenery and wildlife of the region.
In the mountains and villages of Pelion, I looked for clues about popular Greek legends. Along the way, I found the perfect (modern-day) vacation.
Writing a manuscript is a long, lonely, indoor job. While I was working on “Greek Myths: A New Retelling,” which weaves together classical stories from Homer to Apuleius, that sense of isolation was compounded by the pandemic. There was no chance of travel, no escape from the island of my London study. However, the landscapes of Greece were a crucial reference point for my work, so I spent extensive time searching for sunlit mountains, tangled coastlines, island harbors, and flower-dappled meadows — places that, at the time, I could visit only in my imagination.
With the manuscript finished and out in the world, and the pandemic more or less behind us, I needed to visit the country whose literature and visual culture I’d been immersed in for so long. I decided on a late-summer visit to Pelion. Friends had raved about this unspoiled, mountainous peninsula in Greece, which curves like an apostrophe around the Pagasetic Gulf, north of Athens. Pelion is layered in classical myth: its namesake mountain was the land of the centaurs; and the city of Vólos, which stands at the peninsula’s head, was ancient Iolcos, from where Jason launched the Argo in pursuit of the Golden Fleece.
When my partner, Matthew, suggested starting the trip by flying to Thessaloniki and visiting Mount Olympus — the mythical home of the Greek gods, where their gleaming palaces stood among the clouds — I was sold. I should say right now that we didn’t climb Olympus — which, at 9,570 feet, is the tallest peak in Greece. Not for me the epic scramble of one of my favorite characters, Psyche, who went in search of her missing husband, Eros, while heavily pregnant, and scaled Olympus to confront her formidable mother-in-law, the goddess Aphrodite.
It was more restful by far to consider this feat from the comfort of Ktima Bellou, a quietly luxurious hotel with seven rooms and five stone guesthouses on the western side of the mountain. Afroditi Bellou, the managing director of the guesthouse, is not only named after a Greek goddess but is also a mythology enthusiast. She reminded me that, according to legend, the nine Muses were born at the base of Olympus, in the region known as Pieria.
Afroditi’s mother oversees the kitchen at the hotel, and her father manages the farm. Konstantinos, Afroditi’s partner, is the sommelier and served us our delicious breakfasts: cheese pies, house-made bread and preserves, fresh eggs, honey, and walnuts from their trees. Before that daily feast, we would swim a few lengths in the glorious, if bracing, hotel pool, gazing out over Olympus’s slopes, hoping for the Muses to bestow inspiration.
Afroditi recommended walks on the mountain slopes and provided us maps, sending us out one day to try the Phaethon Trail, an 8.5-mile route that begins in the nearby village of Kokkinopilós. The name of the path is slightly ill-omened, since Zeus famously killed Phaethon with a thunderbolt after the boy failed to control a chariot belonging to his father, Helios, the sun god.
No such fate awaited us, however, as we followed the well-marked trail through a forest of oak, beech, and poplar trees. Afterward, we drove up to admire the remote chapel of the Prophet Elias, as Elijah is called in Greece. Built in the 16th century on the slopes of Mount Titaros, it provided a breathtaking view as the great peaks of Olympus spread out in front of us, glimmering in the early evening sunlight, while an eagle, Zeus’s bird, floated gracefully by.
Upon checking out of Ktima Bellou, we took Afroditi’s suggestion and drove south to the ruins of the ancient city of Dion. The remains of its Hellenistic and Roman buildings lay amid rivulets and lush vegetation. It was awe-inspiring to stand on the altar where Alexander the Great made sacrifices before embarking on his conquests through Asia in the fourth century B.C. This encounter felt like a powerful touch with history.
A couple of hours later, we arrived at the edge of Volos. The grid-planned city is not redolent of ancient myth, except by virtue of its location, since it was almost entirely rebuilt following a 1955 earthquake. Shortly after, Matthew and I were climbing higher and higher up Mount Pelion, passing through olive groves, then apple orchards on the lower slopes, finally reaching stands of richly fruiting chestnut trees.
In my manuscript, I delve into the story of Medea, Jason, and the Argonauts, where the hero describes his homeland with “lovely, sheer cliffs that career down into the foaming sea.” This portrait turned out to be remarkably accurate. The cozy, nine-room Amanita Guesthouse comprises a traditional stone house and a couple of apartments, all set in a medicinal herb garden that clings to Pelion’s precipitous slopes.
Today, the villages dotting the mountain are connected by convenient, if winding, roads. However, the old donkey paths, once the only routes across the peninsula, now serve as a diverse network of walking trails. From our guesthouse, we walked to the village of Tsagarada, where an ancient plane tree has been shading the village square for generations. From there, we could climb directly down to Damouchari Beach, where we swam in the turquoise water before wandering to its charming harbor, overseen by a couple of simple but lovely fish tavernas. This picturesque location was even a filming site for the movie Mamma Mia.
Pelion in September is remarkably lush and green — no surprise, to have a day of gentle rain. We donned our raincoats and roamed through the chestnut woods above Tsagarada. Occasionally, we would stumble upon a clearing filled with beehives or a portion of the forest floor bursting with wildflowers.
The next morning, I showed the owners of the guesthouse, Filaretos and Marianna Psmimmenos, photos of fungi I’d encountered during my explorations. This piqued their interest, and they prepared to join us in the outdoors; when we returned that night, they presented their impressive collection: baskets full of various mushrooms.
Given this tremendous harvest, the obvious choice was to enjoy dinner at the guesthouse. Served in the garden as a blood moon rose, the meal featured pickled fern, rock samphire, and pistachio shoots; local cheese accompanied by black garlic and bergamot chutney; topped off with a richly flavored wild-mushroom risotto. We concluded our feast with yogurt dressed in house-preserved quince and orange, complemented by a bottle of tannin-rich Thessalian Xinomavro.
Pelion is the mythical home of Chiron, the wisest of the centaurs, who educated Achilles in the healing arts. Surely those elegantly curled fern shoots were precisely what a hungry centaur grazed upon. On the slopes of Olympus and the story-laden peninsula of Pelion, it felt entirely appropriate that we roamed and feasted like the immortals.
