I still needed my mountain fix, and Meteora was my first stop.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t find my photo mojo in Meteora, and wasn’t really satisfied with any of the photos I took.  I could never find my light.  You know, the light that comes just before sunset and infuses the world with technicolor.   As a teenager I called it the orange sky of evening.  I would sit in the backyard, waiting for it to come.  Helios, ending his long day in a beautiful orange glow.  It never really came to Meteora.  Except for maybe a few moments in the photo below:

Summer may just be the wrong time for Meteora.  I visited Meteora in November before I ran the marathon in Athens some years back and it was a much better experience all around.

It just doesn’t seem right to sound dissatisfied with such a magical place, but I will offer this up for those who might stumble upon this blog while planning a trip to Greece:  skip Meteora in the summer.  Even if you’re not a photographer, you’ll have to contend with scorching temperatures and noise pollution like you wouldn’t believe.

People, the noise was deafening!

Look at those pictures again.  Now add a soundtrack:  scooters skeeching by, trucks pounding down the road, cars, cars, cars, add a jackhammer or two and you’ll know  why I couldn’t sleep for two nights.  Even at 02:00 in the morning, it was too loud.

Go in winter, when all is quiet, serene and cool, and you’ll feel like you’re in J.R.R. Tolkien country.

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