Studies in Greek Scenery, Legend and History: Selected from His Commentary on Pausanias' 'Description of Greece,'Frazer, James George
History
Studies in Greek Scenery, Legend and History: Selected from His Commentary on Pausanias' 'Description of Greece,'
Frazer, James George
Greece -- Antiquities; Greece -- Description and travel
In about twenty minutes from leaving the village we come in sight of the
cliff over which the water of the Styx descends. It is an immense cliff,
absolutely perpendicular, a little to the left or east of the high
conical summit of Mount Chelmos. The whole of this northern face of the
mountain is in fact nothing but a sheer and in places even overhanging
precipice of grey rock—by far the most awful line of precipices I have
ever seen. The cliffs of Delphi, grand and imposing as they are, sink
into insignificance compared with the prodigious wall of rock in which
Mount Chelmos descends on the north into the glen of the Styx. The cliff
down which the water comes is merely the eastern and lower end of this
huge wall of rock. Seen from a distance it appears to be streaked
perpendicularly with black and red. The black streak marks the line of
the waterfall, to which it has given the modern name of Mavro-nero, ‘the
Black Water.’ The colour is produced by a dark incrustation which
spreads over the smooth face of the rock wherever it is washed by the
falling water or by the spray into which the water dissolves before it
reaches the ground. In the crevices of the cliffs to the right and left
of the fall great patches of snow remain all the year through. I saw
them and passed close to the largest of them on a warm autumn day, after
the heat of summer and before the first snow of winter.
About twenty-five minutes after leaving Solos we cross the Styx by a
ford, and henceforward the route lies on the left or western bank of the
stream. Five minutes from the ford bring us to a mill picturesquely
situated among trees, where a brook comes purling down a little glen
wooded with willows and plane-trees. Just above the mill the Styx
tumbles over a fine rocky lyn in a roaring cascade. Beyond this point
the steep slopes of the hills on the opposite bank of the stream are
covered with ferns, which when I rode up the glen were tinged with the
gold of autumn. In front of us looms nearer and larger the cone of Mount
Chelmos with its long line of precipices.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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