Meteora
(translated literally as “suspended in the air”), at its peak if you will, once
included 24 individually maintained monasteries. Today, only six
remain; Great Meteoron, Varlaam, Rousanou / Saint Barbara, Saint Nicholas
Anapausas, Saint Stephen, and the Holy Trinity.
Meteora’s origins date back to the 9th and 10th Century, when ascetic monks climbed up by way of scaffolding and joists (horizontal support beams) wedged into holes along the cliff face. Some sources mention Barnabas, who founded a cloister to the Holy Ghost, as the first arrival around 950 – 970 AD.
Over time, various monks founded other monasteries, and they most used a rope pulley system to ascend and descend. It is said that the monks only replaced the ropes “when the Lord let them break.” In the 1920’s, the old rope pulleys and retractable ladders were made obsolete when stairways were carved into the cliff faces and wooden bridges were installed to make the monasteries more accessible to the public.
There was an era of political strife within the Byzantine Empire, as well as a time of conflict, with Turkish raiders seeking dominance over the fertile plains of Thessaly, in the 14th Century. Athanasios of Mount Athos brought a group of followers to Meteora, which overlooks Thessaly, in 1344 AD and founded what is now known as Megalo Meteoro (Great Meteoron). Legends claim that Athanasios didn’t climb at all – he was carried by an eagle. Afterwards, it was made so that the only possible entry to Meteoron was via a rope ladder, which could be pulled up at any time. Due to the aforementioned strife and conflict, the population of Meteora grew significantly over the 14th and 15th Centuries as monks seeking sanctuary from the Turks climbed the great rocks. It served again in a similar fashion during the Ottoman rule in the 18th Century.
In the 16th Century, Nektarios and Theophanes founded the Varlaam Monastery, which is said to have once housed the finger of Saint John and the shoulder blade of Saint Andrew.
It was in the 17th Century that Meteora reached the total of twenty-four monasteries. Interestingly, despite the asceticism of the monks, they were quite wealthy thanks to groundside estates, numerous flocks and herds, and bountiful crops on the plains. However, much of Meteora was lost due to the Axis occupation during World War II; looting and pillaging destroyed much, and nature had a hand in this as well. Thus, only six monasteries are still active today, with ruins of others dotting the massive rock formations.
Our own visit began in a shop at the bottom of the hills, where we learned how the artists at Meteora hand-create the Orthodox icons for sale at the site. A shop worker used icons in various states of completeness to demonstrate the process, from canvas to paint to frame to gold leaf. But the real magic started when the workshop ended and the artists came out to play.
After shopping, we drove and drove up the windy hills to the monasteries, learning that the view really is as beautiful as it appears on the postcards. And that the goats at Meteora don’t care what kind of schedule you’re on, they’ll get out of the road as they please.
We initially drove to visit the Monastery of Great Meteoron, the largest in Meteora, but it was closed for the day, so we backtracked down to the second-largest Verlaam Monastery on another hill. It boasted fewer steps, but was still a respectable climb. And we did spot a rope pulley, though it had a crane hook and metal case attached to it rather than any baskets holding monks.
Inside Verlaam’s walls were a chapel plastered with icons and paintings, a museum with vestments, embroideries, hymnals, and Bibles on display, a prayer room with a box for requests “for prayer for health and wellness,” a gift shop with additional icons and postcards, and a terrace for looking over the hills. We spent about an hour there, praying, perusing, and enjoying the view. Monks wandered in and out, taking a break from their private quarters to greet their guests in Greek.
The monks’ hospitality became even more significant when Tim discussed the privacy they prefer when they’re not welcoming visitors.
“They sometimes go down into [other] monasteries or into the towns, but they like to stay there [in their own monasteries] twenty-four-seven,” he explained. “So we are entering their homes, whether they want us to or not.”
It has to be a little strange when part of your job description as a monk includes fielding tourists. We may not be exactly what the monks at Meteora signed up for, but we’re extremely grateful for their willingness to let us into their beautiful monasteries in an extraordinary place.
Cameron Beals and Annica Redmond
Meteora’s origins date back to the 9th and 10th Century, when ascetic monks climbed up by way of scaffolding and joists (horizontal support beams) wedged into holes along the cliff face. Some sources mention Barnabas, who founded a cloister to the Holy Ghost, as the first arrival around 950 – 970 AD.
Over time, various monks founded other monasteries, and they most used a rope pulley system to ascend and descend. It is said that the monks only replaced the ropes “when the Lord let them break.” In the 1920’s, the old rope pulleys and retractable ladders were made obsolete when stairways were carved into the cliff faces and wooden bridges were installed to make the monasteries more accessible to the public.
There was an era of political strife within the Byzantine Empire, as well as a time of conflict, with Turkish raiders seeking dominance over the fertile plains of Thessaly, in the 14th Century. Athanasios of Mount Athos brought a group of followers to Meteora, which overlooks Thessaly, in 1344 AD and founded what is now known as Megalo Meteoro (Great Meteoron). Legends claim that Athanasios didn’t climb at all – he was carried by an eagle. Afterwards, it was made so that the only possible entry to Meteoron was via a rope ladder, which could be pulled up at any time. Due to the aforementioned strife and conflict, the population of Meteora grew significantly over the 14th and 15th Centuries as monks seeking sanctuary from the Turks climbed the great rocks. It served again in a similar fashion during the Ottoman rule in the 18th Century.
In the 16th Century, Nektarios and Theophanes founded the Varlaam Monastery, which is said to have once housed the finger of Saint John and the shoulder blade of Saint Andrew.
It was in the 17th Century that Meteora reached the total of twenty-four monasteries. Interestingly, despite the asceticism of the monks, they were quite wealthy thanks to groundside estates, numerous flocks and herds, and bountiful crops on the plains. However, much of Meteora was lost due to the Axis occupation during World War II; looting and pillaging destroyed much, and nature had a hand in this as well. Thus, only six monasteries are still active today, with ruins of others dotting the massive rock formations.
Our own visit began in a shop at the bottom of the hills, where we learned how the artists at Meteora hand-create the Orthodox icons for sale at the site. A shop worker used icons in various states of completeness to demonstrate the process, from canvas to paint to frame to gold leaf. But the real magic started when the workshop ended and the artists came out to play.
 |
| The artists used an original as a template, then painted many copies of the same design step by step, color by color. |
 |
| Icons for sale in the shop. |
After shopping, we drove and drove up the windy hills to the monasteries, learning that the view really is as beautiful as it appears on the postcards. And that the goats at Meteora don’t care what kind of schedule you’re on, they’ll get out of the road as they please.
 |
| Took this road in a bus...then turned around at the top and took it back down. |
 |
| Goats don't care. |
We initially drove to visit the Monastery of Great Meteoron, the largest in Meteora, but it was closed for the day, so we backtracked down to the second-largest Verlaam Monastery on another hill. It boasted fewer steps, but was still a respectable climb. And we did spot a rope pulley, though it had a crane hook and metal case attached to it rather than any baskets holding monks.
 |
| Verlaam. |
 |
| Verlaam's pulley (thankfully, no longer used to transport people). |
Inside Verlaam’s walls were a chapel plastered with icons and paintings, a museum with vestments, embroideries, hymnals, and Bibles on display, a prayer room with a box for requests “for prayer for health and wellness,” a gift shop with additional icons and postcards, and a terrace for looking over the hills. We spent about an hour there, praying, perusing, and enjoying the view. Monks wandered in and out, taking a break from their private quarters to greet their guests in Greek.
The monks’ hospitality became even more significant when Tim discussed the privacy they prefer when they’re not welcoming visitors.
“They sometimes go down into [other] monasteries or into the towns, but they like to stay there [in their own monasteries] twenty-four-seven,” he explained. “So we are entering their homes, whether they want us to or not.”
It has to be a little strange when part of your job description as a monk includes fielding tourists. We may not be exactly what the monks at Meteora signed up for, but we’re extremely grateful for their willingness to let us into their beautiful monasteries in an extraordinary place.
 |
| Monastery of the Holy Trinity. We didn't visit, but it was beautifully visible from the road. |
Cameron Beals and Annica Redmond
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