On the Paths of Mount Athostranslated

“Sometimes pilgrims come who were led here by dogs. They appeared on the route and showed them the way. They say that if it weren't for them, they would have been lost. We feed them and they don't eat. The next day they leave and we never see them again," says Father Hilarion. We are standing at the entrance of Pantokratoros Monastery, on the eastern coast of Mount Athos. To our left, the sun makes the sea shimmer on this May afternoon, while on the other side a dense forest climbs the hills as far as our eyes can see.

Boat arrives at Pantokratoros monastery to drop off the morning visitors.

Father Hilarion's hand rises and points to our destination. The Skete of the Prophet Elias is barely visible from here. While he gives us directions on how to get there, behind us the swallows don't stop chirping. They dance above the courtyard of the monastery, flying from branch to branch, burrowing into the cool corners and tricking the pure spring light with their maneuvers. The monks seem to do the same, who with a lazy step retreat to their cells, leaving shadows behind. But here, outside, nobody can hide from the sun. And…