We had an intensive interaction with animals on the Way of the Bey. The only human encounter on the long Way of the Bey, about 20 kilometers, was the surprise meeting with a group of Mount Athos Friends (FOMA) who were working on the ridge to get the path walkable again. That is a necessary work; we were full of scratches of thorny plants. The monopati was not an easy walk.Pilgrim Jacques is checking the fresh wounds on his arm and hand at Chera (meaning hand), the famous crossing on the ridge where the paths from Vatopedi to Sografou and the Way of the Bey meet. On the website of FOMA the path is labelled: “passable to good”, but that was probably put online after the trimming work had finished.
The happy men, who came this morning from Vatopedi, working on the path, with their mechanical equipment. I was surprised by their sickle. Herman made a recent post about their excellent and much needed work. Maybe, one day, I will be one of the volunteers.
The path over the ridge doesn’t offer many views over the peninsula. The vegetation is dense. The was one exception where the green curtain opened and we had a wide open view to Vatopedi from a height of approximately 400 meters. The sea and sky merged. We were not given a panorama to the west side of the peninsula. So no pictures of Sografou or Konstamonitou from the ridge.
We took our lunch, consisting of dolmas from a tin and energy bars, near a deserted, but locked, house under a big chestnut tree. The outdoor stairs to the first floor had concrete rot. A fog entered quite rapidly. After lunch the fog changed into light rain and the light rain developed into pouring rain. We put on our rain capes and continued. In the enclosed wet world the path was almost gone. Some very dispersed signs were visible, from time to time. The rain kept pouring down. We had to cross a soaked fern field. The bad weather did not spoil our good spirits.
A humourist gave the sign to Maroudá, our goal for the day, a high hat. The sun had reappeared and a few remaining patches of fog dissolved.
The humourist repeated his joke.
When we arrived in Maroudá we could hardly see Skiti Andreou from the terrace. It lay deep behind us under a thick woollen blanket.
Sometime later we had a clear view of the skete, which we would visit the next day. But first we explored Maroudá and would have a wonderful and inspiring meeting with a singing novice.
Bas Kamps
Very Nice!