Cyprus Hiking in the Troodos Mountains 1 October 2024 Today in Cyprus, it's a public holiday as the Cypriots celebrate their independence from Britain. To mark the occasion, some colleagues and I decided to go for a hike in the Troodos Mountains, doing a bit of wandering around Mount Olympus. Four of us were game for the adventure, including me: Maxim, the initiator of the idea and our driver for the day, and George and Anton. We set out around ten o'clock after Maxim picked us all up from our homes. We stocked up on food and water at the nearest shop, loaded everything into the car, and our journey began. Maxim only recently got his driving licence, so this was one of his first significant trips. We were aware of this, so we kept a close eye on the route and the turns. Nonetheless, at some point, we got so engrossed in our conversations that we missed a turn, resulting in a considerable detour. No big deal: along the way, we enjoyed the quirky views of Cyprus' flora. A bit later, we found our way back to the correct route and continued towards the mountains. We had over fifty minutes of driving left to reach Troodos, but despite the mishap with the route, we remained full of enthusiasm. Upon arriving in Troodos, we checked our route on the maps and set off. Organic Maps surprisingly does a great job of showing trails even in Cyprus, making it an essential tool for our outing. Nevertheless, sometimes we had to guess where to turn, because, for example, at one fork, we had to choose between a narrow, well-trodden path and a wide road strewn with large stones. The spirit of adventure led us to choose the second option, which we did. We continued our hike, observing the picturesque landscapes that unfolded before us. We could even spot Limassol in the distance, dotted with stone buildings and the sea beside it. Our gaze would glide over the endless forest before alighting on the city. Then we stumbled upon a colossal black pine tree: a nearby sign indicated that the tree was over five hundred years old. The bark, however, was marred by someone's vandalism in the form of a heart and an inscription. My friends and I were awestruck by the tree's height, its age, and the fresh mountain air filled with the scent of pine needles. The tree stood precisely at a crossroads: we could either turn right to stay on our route or turn left towards some abandoned mines. George and I were very curious about exploring the mines, although it required a significant detour and then a return to the regular path. The others didn't object, so it was decided: we would head to the mines. The trek took us about 15-20 minutes, and soon we arrived. Or almost arrived: the main mine was still about five minutes away, but we encountered another, unmarked on the map. The entrance was open. Of course, George and I were immediately eager to go inside, especially since there were no warning signs in sight. As we got closer, we saw an authentic abandoned mine with its characteristic attributes: scattered stones and a wooden support structure that unsuccessfully tried to convince us it was safe. We didn't have a specialised torch, so we used our phones to light up the tunnel. However, they proved insufficient as we ventured further from the entrance. Two of our friends stayed behind to watch the entrance while we explored the mine. In our first attempt, we didn't go very far, thinking that the main mine marked on the map would be more interesting: perhaps it had more than just one straight tunnel, with branches or something else. Therefore, we decided to go back and continue towards the main mine. Unfortunately, the marked mine was fenced off, and upon sneaking in, we discovered it had collapsed and was no longer accessible. There was also a sign reading "Hadjipavlou Chromite Mines. No Elves Allowed" translated into Elvish. Though a bit disappointed by the turn of events, we didn't lose heart: we decided to take a break, have a snack, and return to explore the earlier mine. Observation: it's quite engrossing to throw stones down a steep slope and watch others join in the cascade. Upon returning to the previous mine, George and I resolved to reach its furthest end, leaving our two comrades to keep watch at the entrance again. The mine proved not to be very large: we found two branch-offs to the left and right, but ahead, everything was blocked. The same was true for the branches, and the right one ended in unprocessed rock. Just a dead end. Upon returning, we discovered a mysterious upward climb in one of the walls, resembling steps, and decided to invite our friends to check it out. Assuring them the mine was safe and nothing was about to collapse on us, the four of us, now armed with torchlights, delved deeper into this dark place. Upon reaching the steps, we actively debated whether to climb them. The rotten wooden structure supporting the ceiling seemed too flimsy, so we decided to leave the mine. George reluctantly agreed, admitting it was best not to take any risks. Upon exiting the mine, our bodies generously rewarded us with dopamine for the wise decision and the well-demonstrated survival skills. Feeling very satisfied with the adventure, we continued our ascent. I took out my harmonica and played it throughout our hike, and everyone enjoyed the musical accompaniment. As I played "Don't Worry, Be Happy," we suddenly encountered more of our colleagues who had been hiking behind us. What a surprise! It was quite unusual to bump into them so spontaneously. I played them another tune on my harmonica. They then continued on their way, and we bid them farewell. I won't elaborate on every detail of our adventure: there were many, but they will remain in the shared memory of my friends and me. We had a wonderful time and walked nearly twenty thousand steps, covering fifteen kilometres. At the end of the hike, we had a hearty meal at a random café in Troodos, where the evening air was becoming quite cool. It was time to end our little adventure and head home. On the way back, we made another stop to admire the sunset, whose splendour is hard to put into words. Maxim dropped us off at our homes, and as I now type these lines, I feel grateful for the experience and joyful about our small shared adventure. This definitely needs to be repeated. Copyright (c) 2024 contact@renecoignard.com Powered by Weblog v1.17.16