26/10/2026

Meteora ~ Enjoying the View

A photographic journal ~ 2026

We spent 24–26 October in Kalampaka, my girlfriend, Melina, and me. A few days away beneath Meteora, with weather that had other ideas about how much exploring we would do.

Most of these photographs came on Monday, when we headed up towards the monasteries before returning home. But the weekend lives somewhere beyond the landscapes too: in the food, a short walk around Trikala, and all the laughing with the girls.

“For once, I don’t want to miss the present.”

Monastery on a sheer cliff beside towering rock formations at Meteora beneath an overcast sky.

01 / A LITTLE DISTANCE

I’ve been thinking about the strange weight of simply existing. How much time we spend trying to become someone, get somewhere, or make sense of things that might never make sense.

A change of scenery doesn’t make those questions disappear. I still brought myself along, with everything going on in my head. But there were also two people beside me giving me plenty of reasons to come back to what was happening.

Dark, layered rock formation at Meteora with its summit partly hidden by low cloud.

Small monastery with terracotta roofs beneath a towering rock pillar at Meteora.

The weather limited our plans for much of the weekend. There was still very good food in Kalampaka, at prices that felt a little too ambitious, and a short walk around Trikala. And there was laughter. So much laughter with the girls.

02 / FROM WHERE WE STOOD

On Monday, before heading home, we went up towards the monasteries. That is where most of this journal’s photographs begin, even though our weekend was already coming to an end.

It’s strange how a little distance can change the way things look. From above, roads seem to make sense. The turns become a pattern, and complicated paths appear to lead somewhere. Down on the road, you can only see as far as the next bend.

Aerial view of Trikala, with bridges crossing the river between densely packed city blocks.

Two people standing together on a rocky viewpoint overlooking Meteora beneath dark clouds.

Maybe perspective doesn’t give us the answers we’re looking for. Maybe it simply reminds us that there is more to the story than what we can see from where we’re standing.

Clifftop monastery at Meteora overlooking a deep rocky gorge filled with mist.

View across a solitary rock pillar and wooded slopes towards Kalampaka and distant mountains.

03 / TEMPORARY THINGS

We hold on to people, places, and versions of ourselves as if permanence were something life ever promised us. Then we look back and realise how much has changed, including ourselves.

I’ve been wondering whether happiness is something we find, or something we keep interrupting with our expectations. Whether I sometimes ask too much of a moment before I’ve even allowed myself to enjoy it.

Eurasian jay perched on a wooden utility pole, with blue wing markings visible against a pale grey sky.

Somewhere among the views, I also photographed a bird, a Eurasian jay (Garrulus glandarius) perched on a utility pole. A small thing to notice when there was so much landscape around it.

I like that it belongs here too. Looking back through photographs, I want to remember what caught my attention, however small.

Panoramic view of Meteora's dark rock towers and wooded slopes beneath low clouds.

04 / ENJOYING THE VIEW

I don’t know where life is taking me. I’m still figuring it out, and I’m beginning to find something beautiful in not knowing. There is room in that uncertainty for a weekend like this: imperfect weather, expensive meals worth remembering, and the three of us laughing together.

Terracotta-roofed monasteries nestled among tall rock pillars and autumn woodland at Meteora.

Monastery buildings lining a sheer cliff at Meteora, with mist drifting across the rocks behind.

Maybe growing older is partly about learning when to hold on, when to let go, and when to simply enjoy the view. I can spend so much time wondering what comes next that I forget to appreciate where I already am.

I’m learning to be okay with not knowing what comes next. I still care about the future. But, for once, I don’t want to miss the present.

MEMORY CARD