It was February, 1988. Quite cold in Karyes . It’s at quite a high elevation and it’s damp which makes things more difficult. But the weather was dry that day. There was a bit of a breeze and if you were warmly dressed it was quite enjoyable. It was late afternoon and the sun had just dropped behind the hill. I was walking along a path with Father Païsios, and on the way we met up with Fr. Kallinikos from the Skete of Koutloumousi. We arrived at the little wooden bridge. There were walnut tress all around, with just bare branches. ‘Who’s gone and brought mandarins?’, asked Father Païsios in surprise. Much further on, about sixty meters away, there was the gate to ...





















