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You call this a trail?

On the slopes of Ymittos, a barely-there trail leads to a mysterious caveand an empty village

THE MORNING light gathered in the crowns of the pines on the central slopes of Mt Ymittos is worth stumbling out of bed in the dark. 

It's good there's something to reel you out of dream because at 

this time of year an early start is essential to any hike on the mountain. By the middle of the day, even the light seems to have burned away,

 leaving the sky opaque with its dead dust. There's a reason why the mountain looks like it's evaporating when you glimpse it from the shade

 as you sip coffee: It is.

Last weekend I caught the A4 bus from Vouliagmeni Avenue to the end of the line in Terpsithea. Hopping off, I walked north along Agiou 

Nektariou for some 15 minutes. The trail I took up to Ymittos doesn't really exist at first - just cut up the hill before you meet the cross stree

t Irakleion Stilon, opposite a house with the address 278 (if you reach the soccer field, you've gone too far).

Make your way up onto the spine of the ridge, cutting in a generally northeasterly direction, the soccer field below you and to the left. Ten o

r so minutes in, a faint trail materialises between the pines. Follow it as best you can, but don't take it to heart - it fades in and out and sweeps

 away from the ridge at a few points.

Use your best path-finding skills to unearth some rudimentary trails and keep climbing the spine. Thirty minutes from the trailhead, you

 should encounter some weathered trail markers in the form of splotches and arrows done in red paint. Try not to get too excited, as 

these marks occasionally wander off or contradict each other but, again, follow their general suggestion and savour the morning down

-canyon wind.

A short while more and the ridge narrows, forcing the various trails to coalesce into a single, clear path. The trail weaves through an old

 fence before curving south and up into thick forest. Much of the trail is lost in this section, buried by needles or eaten by roots, so bash

 your way through the claustr

ophobic pines. Again, just try to keep going up, and keep your eyes polished sharp for any trail markers.

Fifteen minutes of frustrating ducking and smashing should spill you out at a steep but open section of trail. If you're like me, take off 

your pack and remove half the tree you've dragged with you. You might want to watch out for those little bugs that fill the air whenever

 you snap a branch - they're harmless, but I think I swallowed a few as I was bombarded.

Keep climbing, with the crest of the hill to your right. Fortunately, the forest is mostly open from this point on, and the trail, though

 it has eroded away in one particularly bad spot, is in fair condition with reliable marking. Fifteen minutes walking east from the exit of the

 pine thicket, you'll come to a fork. I have no idea where the upper half leads, but the lower section falls apart into nothing at one point

 (have fun) but makes up for it by bringing you to the highlight of this trail: a cave.

The cave, shallow though it is, is spooky enough, its jagged roof hung low over the earth like a mouth of ingrown teeth. A small

 fortification, like a defensive bunker - or a firebreak, judging by the ash inside - sits at the entrance. Farther back, into the dark, 

sound disappears. The ground is soft and cool and thick as moon dust - my feet sunk an inch down.Whatsapp status and the newly

 developed whatsapp app has shown a great improvement in recent past-check new whatsapp status here Crevices of dark stretch back this 

way and that below spider webs like hammocks stretched pregnant with dust and dead insects. Outside, feathers littered the ground where

 something had a kill.From my rudimentary knowledge of geology, it appears that the rock arch was once a larger cave whose roof

 collapsed, leaving a hole of sky and a slope of broken rock smothered in withered vines that tremble and crackle with the slightest 

touch of wind or hand. The path leads through the gate of stone. Small caves, dark slits in the earth, peer out from walls. Faded graffiti

 runs along a few rocks near the entrance. Climb up towards the back, crunching through dead vegetation in the abrupt silence, and scope

 out the back right corner.

Places like that make me feel as if I am being watched by something waiting for me to leave, and so I left, heading north 10 minutes more

 to the Stavros saddle (a ridge connecting two higher elevations), just below some power lines and a maintenance road.

The village, though well-maintained, appeared uninhabited when I arrived. In the courtyard around the whitewashed church of Profitis

 Ilias, fig and pomegranate trees bore the heat heavy on their branches like it was snow. I plucked a pomegranate and ripped it open.

 The seeds were white and hot. It was ironic, I thought, looking east to Koropi, that in all my hiking in Greece I had never until now 

come across a village that was not in some way connected to a road, even a poor one. It was here, just beyond Athens, that I found

 what I had done a hell of a lot of hiking and gone a very long way to try and find. But there was no one around, and I left. prickly

 and prodding bushes and trees. If you can the handle the heat of long pants and sleeves I recommend it, otherwise expect to bleed 

crashing through this hot, painful section of trail. After that's over with, about 30 minutes later, you'll meet up with a broad path leading 

up five minutes more to a small village.

* Anavasi's map of central Ymittos is six years out of date and did not correspond exactly with the current trail conditions or the 

reach of dirt roads. But it's better than nothing; nonetheless, don't presume that a trail on the map will still be passable. Hike

 during the fringes of the day - hiking in the heart of the afternoon is painful. Bring more water than you think you'll need, as 

overgrown trails cannot always be crossed quickly. Sturdy shoes are a necessity, as are decent path-finding skills

Photos by Sean Brander