Climbing Mount Olympus
When I flew to Athens at the end of September 2020 to broaden my academic horizons for another six months, the first thing that caught my eye before we even landed was the Olympus massif. Those of you who fly regularly, or have flown at least once, know what it’s like to stare out of the window (when you’re lucky) as you cross a big mountain range. That one glance revived a long-forgotten dream from my modest bucket list – climbing Mount Olympus. Little did I know I’d be back here in September 2025.
I’m sure each of you keeps a bucket list. I have mine too and I dip into it now and then. Especially at the start of the year, and then on and off I add experiences and dreams I’d like to live one day. I’d definitely recommend making one.
It was September; warm days in Athens alternated with thunderstorms, and on top of that the covid situation was unsettled and escalating. As the days passed, planning the climb got more intense. The window for getting up Olympus without mountaineering gear was closing. The end of October was due to bring the first snow, and I definitely didn’t want to be part of that.
I was lucky enough to run into a couple of likeable guys at the welcome meet-up. Like me, they were outside the main student crowd. Guven from Austria, Richard from Lithuania and I got talking almost immediately. The main topics were our personal confessions, the Second World War and, of course, youthful takes on life.
After a few days I put my tentative plan for climbing Olympus to the lads, including the route and difficulty. Surprisingly they agreed and shared my view – “Will I get this chance again?”. Before the trip Richard asked a classmate along and our fearless crew was complete. It also helped spread the costs of the whole expedition.
In the spirit of Hanzelka and Zikmund we set off towards adventure and the unknown. It all started at a car rental place on the edge of Athens, where a Hyundai i10 was waiting. My own stupidity pushed our schedule back by an hour: my driving licence had expired and I didn’t own a credit card either. If I’d been travelling alone, my adventure would have ended right there and, rather than Hanzelka and Zikmund, I’d have ended up a beaten dog with broken confidence.
The plan for the climb
Litochoro lies right at the foot of Olympus, but it isn’t the trailhead! That’s hidden 18 kilometres to the north and 800 metres higher, at the car park called Prionia. There’s a restaurant there too, where you can reward your wrecked body after the demanding climb. The climb up Olympus is 9.2 km long and you have to gain 1,848 metres of elevation.
From Prionia car park the route continues on the blue trail to Refuge A “Spilios Agapitos”, which is also the last possible place to top up drinking water! The refuge isn’t open all year. Stefanos runs it from the end of April until the first big snowfall.
From the port city of Athens we headed north on the motorway to the town of Litochoro, 400 kilometres away. The whole way Guven fed us alternating classical music and Rammstein, which Richard in particular appreciated. In Litochoro we spent a night in an apartment booked through Booking. As it happens, the apartment is popular with plenty of Czechs, which I discovered immediately when the owner Yiannis greeted us with a smile and the phrase “Ahoj, jak se máš?”. The apartment is lovely, the host is great and there’s a fantastic bakery within walking distance!
“Like any proper traveller I bring something good with me – in plain language, I bring booze. It came in handy when Stefanos and I raised a glass. At first Stefanos struck me as one of the few walkers hoping to bag the peak. After a few minutes of conversation he set us straight: he runs the refuge himself. Like Yiannis, he knew Czechia very well, and České Budějovice in particular had stuck in his memory. Out of season Stefanos works as a lorry driver. He hauls whatever gets loaded on him all over Europe. That’s how he once ended up in České Budějovice with a steel structure.”
From the refuge to the summit of Skala
From the refuge comes the hardest part of the climb. The 2.6-kilometre stretch with 808 metres of elevation gain took us roughly an hour and a half. That put us on the summit of “Skala”, directly opposite the highest peak, Mytikas (the highest point of the Olympus range). To get up Mytikas you’ll need basic climbing gear – a helmet and a rope, just in case. Everyone heading from Skala towards Mytikas was equipped like that.
Because of the time we’d steadily lost – Richard forgetting his water at base and us going back for it, and Guven’s poor physical state, having spent the evening of our arrival in Litochoro telling us how he climbs Alpine peaks but right now really couldn’t – we fell behind and reached the summit an hour and a half before sunset.
TIP: I’d recommend setting off genuinely early in the morning so you have enough time for both the ascent and the descent. In the summer months this problem disappears, but if you’re planning to climb in autumn or around the same time we did, set off before sunrise.
“At the summit” of Olympus
We lingered at the top, enjoying that feeling of victory and solitude. Personally I like the walk before reaching the summit best. That’s when the emotions are strongest for me – I savour every step and want more and more to know what’s waiting up there. Time, though, was merciless. Our kit hardly stretched to head torches. On top of that, when we counted our losses after the battle with the summit, a deformed Guven was working against us, at risk of his legs cutting out at any moment. And cut out they did.
The way down was the real challenge. Few people realise the catch: getting up somewhere isn’t the win, you have to get down too. With a cable car it’s different – there wasn’t one here. Around the refuge Guven told us he couldn’t go any further, a point illustrated by the wooden stick he was leaning on. By then the sun was already setting.
He assured us he’d rest for a moment and catch up. We soon found out just how much rest he needed. When we reached the car park it was already dark. “No connection” cut us off from any way of reaching Guven and Richard, who still hadn’t appeared after half an hour. I decided to go, or rather run, back for them. I found them after two kilometres of running. Guven could barely walk, so Richard had to support him. A scene straight out of an action film – one man wounded, the other helping him along.
By then it was around eight in the evening. Richard and I carried Guven on our backs in turns for the remaining two kilometres so we’d reach the car park as soon as possible. The initial anger at Guven faded and for those two kilometres we laughed like never before.
Powerful experiences shape friendships. That’s why I can say Karel and I have a strong friendship – we’ve been through beautiful and grim situations together that had to be solved together. Everyone has their own best friends; there aren’t dozens of them, sometimes you can count them on one hand. For me they’re the people I’ve had specific, powerful experiences with. And even though we aren’t in touch every day, sometimes not for weeks, I know we’re real friends. That may not be true of the people you see daily.
Guven, an honourable man, acknowledged his own stupidity and bowed before a Czech and a Lithuanian, which Richard and I took as fair compensation for his suffering, and equally as final victory over Austria 😊 Our reward was gyros in Litochoro, which Guven bought for all of us. We got back to Athens around two in the morning. Because we were foreign students, and with the excuse of being badly informed, the military patrol let us into the city without any fuss.
I’ll tell you, seeing the centre of Budějovice empty was one of the most powerful things I got to witness during the pandemic. Seeing the centre of Athens empty was more apocalyptic than joyful. Dark streets, shady figures wandering about and silence in a city of almost four million.
The reward for the journey to Mytikas
After climbing Mytikas you deserve a reward! It can be a double one, depending on what time you manage to leave the base car park. The first reward can be the views of the setting sun on the drive down from the car park. The second is proper Greek kebab at this place – an absolute banger. Just type the name into Google Maps and have a proper feast. The next day your legs will be aching a bit after the climb.
Update: climbing Olympus in 2025
Even after all these years the climb was fantastic! This time I went with Zdeňa and two friends who’d never done a climb like it. The feedback was more than positive. Everything I describe here still holds. I’d maybe add that, being that bit older, my legs hurt more the next day.
The second piece of good news is that people now go up Mytikas without a rope. If you don’t have the gear, you can borrow it at the refuge for a fee. I also photographed the possible routes up Mytikas, shown on the drawing in the refuge.
The right gear for the climb up Olympus
For a one-day climb up Olympus I’d strongly recommend plenty of drinking water. In the summer months the temperature at the summit reaches 32 °C, and it can be more lower down. Along with water goes enough energy, which you can top up with bars and some kind of snack. Footwear with a firm sole goes without saying. It doesn’t have to be full boots; sports shoes will do. The path is well maintained and, even though the last section is very steep and almost entirely over rock, they’re not sharp rocks but a sort of gravelly scree.
I’d also recommend downloading a map of the route to your phone before the climb – there’s no signal at all from the car park onwards! On the road we always use our beloved Mapy.cz.
Good clothing depending on the weather. On 24 October, when we made the climb, there was no wind, and as you can see a light jacket was enough for me. Sunglasses are essential.
The weather on the climb up Olympus
If you’re planning ahead, I’d recommend checking the forecast roughly a week in advance. I definitely wouldn’t set off for the summit if it’s due to be cloudy or otherwise poor. You genuinely won’t see anything, and walking is harder in bad conditions. The terrain was pretty slippery even when dry. It pays to time the climb!
On the Mount Olympus Climate page you’ll find a clear breakdown of the weather month by month.
The refuge “Spilios Agapitos” also offers well-presented weather information. And bear in mind that if you see fog on the summit, don’t lose heart. The fog clears after midday and you’ll have beautiful views over the whole range from up there.
Where to stay before the climb
Having done it twice, I can give you an insider’s view. I’ve already described the first experience with our host Yiannis – from Athens we drove to the town of Litochoro, slept there, had breakfast in the morning and set off towards Mytikas.
The second time was completely different. We had our base camp in Thessaloniki, from where we set off at 6 in the morning towards Litochoro, had an excellent meal at the local bakery and only then headed for Prionia car park.
Both options were great. The drive from Thessaloniki took about an hour and was on the motorway, so it was comfortable too. The same goes for the trip back from the summit, when we ate beautifully and then headed back to Thessaloniki.
Mythology: the gods on Olympus
Why did standing on the summit of Olympus appeal to me so much? As a child my favourite book was Eduard Petiška’s Ancient Greek Myths and Legends. I copied out just about every myth into my reading diary, and now I’d lived one of them myself. According to Greek mythology, the ancient gods reside on Olympus, headed by the mightiest of them, Zeus. Zeus found his seat here after the war of the gods against the Titans. After the battle the gods settled on Olympus and the Titans on Mount Othrys.
Homer claimed that on Olympus the wind never blows, it never rains and no snow falls, and that the mountain is bathed in glorious light. In the Odyssey he puts it like this: “…Olympus, the reputed and everlasting seat of the gods, never lashed by storms, never soaked by rain nor buried by snow. Only calm and peace and a cloudless sky shine here on the clearest of days. …There its divine inhabitants make merry forever.”
