As we approached the summit of this famous mountain, I observed that the trees became more numerous. On our right the path led directly to the cloister of Troaditissa, and on our left lay a valley extending to the foot of Olympus. Hussein informed me that the cloister was about two leagues distant, whilst, if I were desirous of reaching the crest, we might do it in about three hours’ time. My dragoman no sooner heard this latter suggestion, than he poured forth a volley of assurances as to the folly of the attempt, and drew a vivid picture of the various dangers that would beset our path, winding up by informing me that many travellers had already lost their lives in attempting this ascent. Night would be coming on, and then what would our position be? Why not go direct to the cloister where we could refresh ourselves, and after a good night’s rest make the attempt in the morning?
I informed my hero that it was now only two o’clock in the afternoon, and that I had neither the wish nor the time to retrace my steps next day; to this I added a strong appeal to his vanity, urging upon him the honour it would be to him and his house for ever, if by his skilful guidance I was enabled to reach the top. He wavered for a moment, but fear got the better of him, and whilst I was sending on the servant and horses to Troaditissa, he started off upon the road, shouting back to me that “there was nothing in his agreement about ascending such a mountain as that.”
I was not sorry to get rid of the cowardly rascal, and contented myself with desiring him to wait for me at the cloister. Hussein and I at once started to make the final ascent, and succeeded in riding safely over the rocks and stones until we began to reach the snow. At this point my horse refused to stir, apparently terrified by the blinding glare of the snow. Blows and persuasion alike failing to move him, I was compelled to leave Hussein behind in charge of him, and continue my way alone. It is probably many years since any one, except myself, has made the attempt. If Mount Olympus were on the European continent, hundreds would climb to its summit in the course of the year; but the Cvpriotes are indolent, and all strangers visiting the island, feel the influence of its climate, and become disinclined for active exertion before the end of six months.