A Joy builds on the train. We are taking the Eurostar from London to Paris and a couple so recently married that the bride is still wearing her wedding dress are right in front of us. Our own excitement may be less visible but it is just as palpable.
As the train speeds through the sunny Kent hills, I smile at my 11-year-old son, Osian. He tries to disappear into his hoodie, embarrassed by my jokes about train spotters and the unexpectedly romantic twist to the journey. But nothing can dampen my good mood at the prospect of hiking in one of the world’s most spectacular landscapes, the Vikos Gorge in the Pindus Mountains of north-west Greece.
There is also the thrill of travel. After an overnight stop in Paris, we take an early morning train to Zurich and then another to Milan, noses brushing against the windows as we gaze out at a rolling diorama of Alpine peaks and meadow-covered valleys.
In Milan, we take a chance and rent a spare room on Airbnb a few minutes’ walk from the central train station. The historic apartment is so gorgeous and the hospitality of its owner Piergiorgio so generous that I spend too much time sipping espresso on his plant-filled balcony the next day and we have to rush to catch our train to Brindisi, the port from where we will catch our overnight ferry to the Greek port of Igoumenitsa.
We wake up a few hours before docking and rush to the deck to catch our first glimpse of the Greek mainland. The Pindus Mountains loom like a ripple of colour on the horizon. Like a time-lapse painting, details emerge as we sail closer to land and the peachy whisper of sunrise turns to a vivid rose gold. It’s been a long time since I’ve stood on the deck of a Greek ferry with nothing but a backpack and the outline of a travel plan, and it fills me with joy – and relief – that Osian is enjoying our odyssey as much as I am.
After a decade of raising young children and making peace with the tectonic shifts that come with them, I haven’t had much time or money for more intrepid travel. With a big birthday coming up for me and Osian transitioning to high school, it feels like the time has come to go further. And spend some one-on-one time together: soon, he may not be so enthusiastic.
There are practical advantages to having an 11-year-old in tow, I discover, as we pick up a rental car and Osian mounts my phone on the dashboard screen, projecting our route via Bluetooth before I’ve even fastened my seatbelt. We head towards Zagoria region about 90 minutes’ drive inland whose cobbled villages, dramatic gorges and ancient stone bridges have earned it Unesco World Heritage status. We’ve come during the half-term holidays, to avoid the full force of the mid-summer heat, but it’s still warm as we follow a scenic route into the mountains, skirting stray cows, dogs and sheep and holding our breath as sheer drops appear around hairpin bends.
In Kipoi, once the 'capital' of Zagori but now a sleepy village, we stay at Machalas Hotelwhere the rooms are cozy with brightly colored carpets and painted ceilings. At the restaurant across the street, we eat fries, greasy beans, house salad, and souvlaki so tender that Osian’s eyes widen when he takes his first bite. Breakfast is equally good. The elders sing Greek songs that play softly in the background as we gorge ourselves on salty sheep’s cheese, olives, homemade bread, and thick yogurt.
For the next three days, we hike north, from village to village. We leave the rental car at the hotel and head off with our backpacks to Monodendri, a three-hour drive away (we plan to take a taxi at the end of the hike to pick up the car). The area’s bridges are the highlight of today’s itinerary. Most of them were built in the 18th and 19th centuries, and all are so distinctive and exquisite that they look as if they were carved by elves.
One of the first things we encounter is Plakidas, a three-arched wonder that sways like a sleeping dragon across the river, not far from Kipoi. From there, we zigzag up and down a looping path lined with wild sage and rosemary, the only sound a cowbell in a distant valley. After picnicking on spinach pie and oranges near the semicircle of Noutsos Bridge, the light drizzle turns to heavy, incessant rain.
We are soon soaked but there is nowhere obvious to shelter, so we continue on our way, wading over the Misiou Bridge and climbing the Vitsa Steps, a 300-year-old staircase that leads, Andy Goldsworthy-style, up the steep slope ahead. Even the ever-cheerful Osian begins to falter as we pass a bear warning sign and thunder rumbles overhead. Fortunately, it is not much further to the village of Vitsa, where we are greeted in the chic Strouga café with slices of sticky honey and orange cake and the offer to call a taxi.
In the nearby town of Monodendri we check in Vikos Hotel (double from €80). The next morning, delighted with the crepes of the owner Dimitris, we left for the Vikos Gorge. The deepest gorge in the world relative to its width, this spectacular rocky chasm is what drew us to Zagori. We enter it after a steep 45-minute descent into what looks like an underground world but is actually thick mist.
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For the next 90 minutes, we keep our eyes glued to the trail as it climbs, descends, scrambles over rocks and takes us through a section of via ferrata. Halfway through, the trail flattens out, and except for a 45-minute climb at the end, the rest of the six-hour route is an easy stroll. We encounter only a handful of other hikers: the gorge is ours, the scent of sage wafts beneath our feet and wild cyclamens line the trail like tiny cheerleaders. By lunchtime, the mist has cleared, revealing the gorge’s towering walls.
“This is epic,” Osian shouts into the powerful echo chamber as we lie on a rock, insignificant as ants, the mountains known as the Towers of Astraka looming 1,000 metres above.
At the end of the trail we climb up to the hamlet of Vikos for bowls of wild boar stew and a night in the pretty geranium-dotted village. View of Vikos Hotel (double rooms from €76). The beds are so comfortable and the breakfast so plentiful that we leave later than planned, hitting the trail again just as the sun is starting to warm up.
Our final day of walking is a short hop to the nearby town of Megalo Papingo, but the route drops back down into the gorge and back up the other side, and it’s stiflingly hot by midday. We plan to stop at the bottom to bathe in the Voidomatis springs, but we waste a hot hour taking the wrong path before finally finding our way to the turquoise pools, where we take off our boots and dip our feet in the icy water. It’s a magical place, with a little chapel next to the springs and a grassy lawn perfect for a picnic. However, seeing the climb ahead, I’m wary of lingering too long so late in the day. Reluctantly, we begin our climb.
We walk uphill for over two hours, sometimes through forest, sometimes over sheer rocks. At one point the trail crosses a scree slope, the slope so steep my legs start to shake. Undaunted by vertigo, Osian strides forward, enjoying the role reversal as I lag behind, following his instructions to keep my eyes on his back and trying to laugh at the jokes he tells to distract me. It’s a glimpse into the future, Osian’s kindness and courage filling me with pride. How precious this time together is, and how I hope he remembers it.
Arriving at Megalo Papingo, the trees cover us with saffron-coloured leaves, like a magical journey ending. At our hotel, the Papaevangelou (double rooms from €137), the owner Giorgios upgrades us to a room with a view of the towers of Astraka. The next morning, at sunrise, we sit on the terrace to enjoy an exceptional breakfast and this epic panorama. What a journey, in many ways.
The train journey from London to Paris was provided by Eurostar; from £78 return. Train from Paris to Brindisi via Switzerland from £80 one way, and Brindisi to Turin from £70 one way, both booked via Railway lineFerry from Brindisi to Igoumenitsa from £34 one way, booked via Direct ferries. Coach from Turin to Paris from £29 one way, booked via Flixbus
