I have been continuing to travel in recent days, which is both enjoyable and time consuming. Time consuming not just because of the time hiking, but also packing up and saying good byes at the departure location, while the arrival location involves checking in, getting situated in a new room, orienting myself to a new daily schedule and locations of important places like the church and trapeza, doing a little laundry, meeting new people, etc. It's all very enjoyable, but the time goes by very quickly.
On Thursday, feast of the Ascension, I hiked to Vatopedi, which is most definitely not at the blue dot below :-).
Vatopedi is in that large bay to the lower left of the blue dot, at the bottom right edge of the bay. I believe it is the second oldest and certainly the most active place right now on the holy mountain.
I often find myself telling people, at home, that what matters in life is that you are on the right road going in the right direction. I suppose this is why God allowed me to be taught a little about what it's like traveling in the wrong direction as well as on the wrong road, turning my 2.5 hour trip into a 4 hour trip on a stifling hot and muggy afternoon.
Leaving Pantocrator at 11am, I was directed to a beautiful path through the woods rather than waking on the dusty and less protected (from the sun) dirt roads. That part of the trip went beautifully. But eventually the trail empties out onto the road for the last third of the hike--it empties out on a sharp corner where the "obvious" thing to do is to continue in the same direction, descending as one has been doing. Not only is it the obvious thing to do, but by far the easiest as the road in the other direction ascends rather steeply. So I'm merrily descending, quite proud of the good time I'm making, when I gradually become aware that the Aegean is increasing on my left, not straight ahead or on my right as it should be. Surely the road will take a sharp turn to the left soon (which would not be abnormal here at all); but it doesn't. Close to 15 minutes down the hill, I finally stop to take a careful look at the map (which has proved inaccurate and incomplete on several prior occasions). Looks to me like I'm going in the wrong direction, but I'm not sure. I finally decide, with substantial uncertainty, that I probably did go in the wrong direction at the trail-road intersection.
One of my many favorite sayings of Aristotle is that "The road up and the road down is in a way the same and in a way different." And so it was, I was hiking up the 'same' road I had just hiked down, but it did not feel the same at all. The beautiful views were replaced by a dusty road ascending a ridge, the light easy step in a cool breeze was replaced by the awareness of a heavy pack, sore calves, and sweat running down my glasses. A half hour after first entering (the right road) I was now back to where I started, with growing confidence that indeed I was now headed in the right direction on the right road.
I suppose there is a host of lessons to be gleaned from this, but I'll stick with one: The easy and obvious direction to travel should not blind one to careful discernment. Quite the opposite, maybe the more easy, obvious, and attractive the path seems, the more we should raise our level of scrutiny in order to avoid the temptations that lead us astray. Indeed, the correct path typically involves struggle.
So, back to my travels, I'm finally over the final ridge and am, once again, merrily descending toward Vatopedi, when I come to a cross roads and, counter-intuitively a sign that directs me to turn left. A wise person would check the map at this point, having already wasted a half hour in the heat of the day, but I choose to believe the sign.
Strangely the road starts ascending, and paralleling the contour of the bay to the northwest instead of simply descending to the southeast corner of the bay where I had been headed. Doubts arise, but surely the sign is not wrong. After another 15 minutes or so, I decide that this can't be right and retrace my steps down the 'same' road. Alas, when I have nearly returned to the intersection, I notice a Vatopedi sign pointing sharply down into the woods onto a trail. How did I miss that? It happens to be exactly at the spot on the road where I was fascinated by this holy mountain technology.
I have several photos of this distraction for no apparent reason at all. Immediately to my right, where I have no interest in looking, is the sign directing weary travelers to the narrow way which leads to the proper destination. Hmm, having missed this turn, I came to be on the wrong road--allowing me to spend yet another extra half hour in the hot sun.
Being on the right road, going in the right direction, turns out to be pretty important after all.
After spending the night and having only the smallest taste of the Monastery's spiritual riches, I happily boarded a small bus which took me up the 'same' road I had mistakenly continued on yesterday. It is much easier to ascend this ridge on wheels than on foot.
I have come to my last stop on the Holy Mountain: St. Andrew Skete, on the edge of the capital city of Karyes. It is here:
It looks like this:
The monastics here have been unbelievably warn and helpful. Talking, without being talkative; focused on spiritual discussions, but genuinely interested in the personal life of others--and, as is not too uncommon on this trip, rather fascinated by an American Orthodox married priest who serves in a woman's monastery. I'm always initially surprised by people's surprise, but when I pause to consider the matter, I think it's rather surprising too. It is neither a road nor a direction I would have imagined being on seven years ago. But I thank God I'm on this road, traveling in this direction.
