Call of the Void
Vanishing Point
At the summit, everything suddenly ends: sound, oxygen, expectations.
The phone says “no signal,” but at this altitude, it feels more like a religious declaration.
I’m standing on a concrete platform where the cable car ends, and I can feel the jagged landscape below sucking in the past, the future, and even the nearest laws of physics.
You’ve come to where the gods once were. But now there’s only a QR code on an info board and some tired tourist filming clouds with a drone.
Landscapes Without Hope
I started from the bottom, near the sea, where the ancient city of Phaselis lies (Mount Olympos is about 30 km away from the city of Olympos).
Streets of the dead, cicadas, ruins buried under brambles and gravity.
From there — upward, along a trail where the pine trees crack from the heat and every step echoes in your heels like some ancient incantation. Then — a transfer into the glass capsule of the funicular.
The cable car launches you from the level of an ancient acropolis straight into the zone of personal reboot.
Through the windows flash forest, then cliffs, then something that no longer resembles landscape — more like a boundary between worlds. And then — snow. In summer, when it’s +35°C down below.
The Cry of Stones
At the summit, the wind slaps your face like a glitchy interface. Snow crunches underfoot. The stones make sounds.
Not literally — they’ve just been here too long not to start speaking. And then you understand: this isn’t a mountain. It’s an antenna. Not for communication — for silence.
Every ridge, every crack reminds you: it’s not you looking at the mountain. It’s the mountain looking at you.
Shadows on the Edge of the Mind
It’s hard to say where physical ascent ends and inner descent begins.
Maybe around 1800 meters, where the greenery is left behind and all that’s ahead is stone and a razor-thin horizon that looks like a visual glitch.
Somewhere around here, you start to suspect that the gods didn’t leave because people forgot them — they just got tired of waiting for us to climb.
But still, you keep going up, because down is always easier, and easier doesn’t mean better.
Footprints on the Map
How to get there:
— Start from Tekirova village, the resort town of Chirali (where the ruins of ancient Olympos are), or the ruins of Phaselis, located right at the base of the mountain.
— Hike from Phaselis if you want the real thing.
— Or take a taxi to the lower station of the Olympos Teleferik, and then — 10 minutes in a glass capsule between worlds.
Entry / Cable Car:
— Tickets can be bought online or on site (around €55 for foreigners).
— At the summit, there’s a café and a concrete platform with a view over everything.
Pro tip:
If you want to truly feel the mountain — hike it.
If you want to feel how civilization has even tamed the gods — ride the cable car.
And if you want a free souvenir — bring an empty bottle. Snow from Mount Olympos will soon become water.
Echo in the Void
When I descended, there was no feeling of victory. The mountain doesn’t get conquered. It just allows you to stand on it for a while. Then you leave. And it stays.
Without signal. Without you. With no need to explain why things are the way they are.
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