Pyramida (2,510 m) in the Giona Massif – the Karagiannis Trail from Sykia

Pyramida (2,510 m a.s.l.) is the highest peak of the Giona (Gkiona) range and the fifth highest in all of Greece (and additionally – the highest south of Olympus). The massif is located in the Phocis region of Central Greece, between the Parnassus and Vardousia ranges. The ancients knew the mountain under the name Aselenon Oros. According to myth, the summit was inhabited by the shepherd Endymion, son of Pyrrha and Deucalion, the couple who survived the Great Flood. Selene, the goddess and personification of the Moon, fell in love with the beautiful youth. The ancients told that whenever the immortal goddess came to Pyramida to join her lover, she left the entire world plunged into darkness, completely without moonlight.

In terms of trekking, Pyramida is accessible in several different ways. The easiest variant to the summit leads from the northeast – from the village of Kaloskopi [Καλοσκοπή] and involves covering 11 km one way with 1,400 m of elevation gain. Slightly longer paths lead from the north – from Panourgias [Πανουργιάς] – 12 km and 1,500 m, and from Stromi [Στρώμη] – 13.5 km and 1,630 m. After a long, arduous march, Pyramida can also be conquered from the east – from the settlement of Viniani [Βίνιανη] – 15.5 km and 2,050 m.

Personally, I chose yet another variant: the trail leading from the western side, from the small village of Sykia [Συκέα]. The road differs from the other routes primarily in its steepness – over 1,800 meters of elevation difference is covered here over a distance of only 5.5 kilometers. It is no wonder that the incline becomes very sharp almost immediately, and the route includes numerous elements requiring upper body engagement and even sections secured with chains. The path is named after Dimitris Karagiannis – a Greek climber who blazed this trail in the 1980s. An additional advantage of choosing this variant is that you can return via a different route – a longer bypass – which allows for the construction of an interesting loop.

I invite you to the report from this fantastic expedition!

Table of Contents

1. A few words about logistics in the Gkiona massif
2. Start from the village of Sykia
3. Hiking behind the yellow signs
4. First steps on the Karagiannis trail
5. Karagiannis trail – technical difficulties
6. Ascending the Karagiannis trail
7. Pyramida – the final path to the summit
8. Walking through the vast meadows at the foot of Pyramida
9. Descent via the “bypass” of the Karagiannis trail
10. Trip map

A few words about logistics in the Gkiona massif

As is often the case with mountain plans, I learned about Pyramida quite by accident. One of the most important points of my solo trip to Greece was the archaeological site in Delphi and the Parnassus range located above it. When I was planning the details of that trip, I moved the map a bit to the left… and I saw the Gkiona massif with an impressive height of 2,510 m. After just a short research, I knew I wanted to go there and dedicated a whole separate day in Greece to this goal.

It quickly turns out that the Gkiona massif is not, to put it mildly, the most touristy place. I found barely a few entries about this peak on the Internet, and none of them seemed particularly exhaustive to me. I also watched only short compilations on YouTube, focused more on landscapes than on the real difficulties of the Karagiannis path. In the 21st century, one does not often travel to such poorly described mountains, but this circumstance only increased my excitement.

Since the tourist infrastructure in the Gkiona massif practically does not exist, I also had major problems finding the right accommodation. Although I found information about a student hostel in Sykia, the facility did not reply to the email I sent. Ultimately, I decided to stay in a budget hotel in Delphi. I have 75 kilometers from there to the start of the trail in Sykia, which translates into 1 hour and 15 minutes of travel. I move around Greece in a rented car, which seems to me to be the most convenient and wonderful way to explore this country.

Start from the village of Sykia

Shortly after 6 AM, I leave my little hotel in Delphi and, still quite sleepy, get into the car. My first goal will be the town of Amfissa, where I hope to find an open grocery store. And indeed, in one of the small local shops, I manage to buy both a few treats for the trail and a delicious coffee. It’s starting well!

Over the next kilometers, I circle the Gkiona range from the north. I pass through the village of Kaloskopi and then enter a fantastic, scenic road. Unfortunately, some clouds are already gathering, but I strongly hope that in later hours they will all be chased away by the strong sun. At the end of the driving part of today’s expedition, I enter the deep valley of the Mornos (Μόρνος) river, separating the Gkiona and Vardousia ranges. On my left, I notice massive rock walls, clearly speaking for the Alpine character of the range.

In this way, around 8:30 AM, I arrive at a small parking lot in the village of Sykia, located at an altitude of approximately 710 m a.s.l. The tiny settlement seems wedged between two massive mountain ranges, which undoubtedly adds a lot of charm to it. Well then… let’s start the trekking!

Hiking behind the yellow signs

The access route from Sykia to the Karagiannis trail is about 2 km long and requires overcoming as much as 400 meters of elevation gain. It is marked in yellow – in the field, these are mainly dots painted on rocks and plastic plates. An additional orientation aid is a long rubber pipe running along the path most of the time.

For the first few hundred meters, the section is relatively flat and leads along a wide dirt road. Over time, the gradient increases significantly, and the calm walk gradually turns into a demanding, physical ascent. The effort is compensated by the view of the massive wall of Pyramida, rising right in front of me. It is 1,100 meters high in relative altitude, which makes it the highest wall in Greece (and according to some sources – in the entire Balkans). Due to its cosmic size, the place is used for multi-pitch rock climbing. The path I have chosen – the Karagiannis trail – is used in such cases for an emergency retreat from the wall.

Behind me, a wide panorama of the neighboring Vardousia range stretches out, whose highest peak – Korakas – measures as much as 2,495 m a.s.l.

At an altitude of approximately 1,150 m a.s.l., the access trail turns sharply to the right, changing direction by 90 degrees and passing into a nearly kilometer-long traverse.

First steps on the Karagiannis trail

After about two kilometers from leaving Sykia, I reach the point where the trail loop I planned begins and ends. A path marked in red turns up the slope, while the yellow trail continues straight ahead. I will continue the trip to the summit with the first of the mentioned variants, and I should return by the second when it’s all over.

While the yellow-marked path was navigationally easy, the red one gives me a hard time from the very beginning. The trail winds up the steep slope in a completely non-intuitive way, making it extremely difficult for me to catch any rhythm of the march. Additionally, the track often merges with a dense network of other similar paths, making maintaining the correct route really troublesome. The only way not to lose the trail is to consistently “catch” the markings — as soon as I reach one red dot, I immediately look for the next one. The total lack of signal and the very significant slope angle do not make matters easier.

However hard it may be, I do not intend to give up. And indeed — almost exactly at 10 AM (an hour and a half after leaving the parking lot) I reach a characteristic red arrow. This is a sign that I am entering the “proper” part of the Karagiannis trail, characterized by artificial protections and numerous scrambling elements.

Karagiannis trail – technical difficulties

The first of the encountered rocks gives me some trouble. Damp, covered in moss… how am I supposed to climb it? I quickly find a simple way and smoothly move on to further technical difficulties. A few minutes later, I begin hiking sections secured with iron chains, similar to those used on via ferratas.

My main problem now becomes the weather. The sky becomes covered with thick clouds, and moments later the first raindrops land on my head. Since the terrain I am traversing is conducive to slipping, I decide to stop for a moment and wait out the rain. Fortunately for me, the rain passes quite quickly, allowing me to efficiently continue the march. However, the atmosphere remains gloomy and sunless. Too bad… but maybe before I reach the summit, it will clear up?

From the scraps of information that can be found on the Internet about the Karagiannis trail, it appears that the route has a rating of 3 on the Yosemite scale (which translates to I on the UIAA scale). According to the reports I found, the crossing is very rocky and requires good handling of exposure. Realities turn out to be slightly different. I cross the section with chains in a few minutes, and there are very few further elements requiring the use of hands. If I’m to be honest, I don’t see any great technical difficulties here.

Ascending the Karagiannis trail

Despite this, I wouldn’t say that the Karagiannis trail is a simple trail. The gradient is significant throughout, giving very few moments of respite. Above all, the trail is quite difficult navigationally. Although the characteristic red dots are placed very densely, the course of the route is so winding and non-intuitive that it is very easy to inadvertently stray somewhere. Getting lost, by the way, I paid for with a fairly long struggle to return to the marked route. From that moment on, I try to be especially careful and look out for those big red dots in advance.

At first, the Karagiannis trail leads through terrain dominated by ubiquitous spruce, various grasses and shrubs, and moss-covered rocks. As height is gained, the vegetation becomes increasingly harsh. At some point, there are no spruces at all, and I walk mainly over rock debris and clumps of faded grass. On my right, a forbidding wall grows, riddled with dozens of round, hard-to-reach caves.

The final accent of the Karagiannis trail is a trek through a loose and stony narrow section. In the final phase of the approach, when I am in the upper part of the gully, the strong Mediterranean sun breaks through the thick clouds. The clouds thin out for a moment, revealing the characteristic dome-like silhouette of the Pyrgos peak (2,066 m a.s.l.) and the impressive crowning of the rock wall of Pyramida. O great Helios, thank you for this unexpected gift!

Around 1:20 PM, five hours after starting the trip, I emerge from the gully onto a long, vast ridge at an altitude of approximately 2,400 m a.s.l., thereby ending the most intense part of the Karagiannis trail approach. On one hand, I feel very tired; on the other – growing satisfaction. Walking this path was an extraordinary experience. I will remember it as many hours of communion with almost untouched nature, full of vivid vegetation, chamois running around, and various rock formations. And on top of that – absolutely zero people.

Pyramida – the final path to the summit

After reaching the main ridge, only the final section of the approach to Pyramida remains before me. The trail leads through stony but relatively gentle terrain — over a distance of half a kilometer, I cover only a little over 100 meters of elevation gain. Taking into account the dominant gradient on the approach, it’s a really nice change.

Unfortunately, my hopes for improved conditions quickly turn out to be futile. In a short time, I am again surrounded by a thick, heavy cloud, and the wind is not strong enough to disperse it. Only from time to time do short clearings appear, revealing fragments of the panorama — as if the mountain wanted to lift the veil of mystery for a moment, only to hide everything again.

I conquer the desired summit of Pyramida (2,510 m a.s.l.) at 1:30 PM, five hours after leaving the car. I spend a good half hour on the summit, but unfortunately, nothing changes regarding better visibility. Pyramida is a massive, majestic mountain, and I really wanted to see what views stretch from its peak. This time, however, it didn’t work out. But that’s how it goes in the mountains; even with quite good forecasts, sometimes you hit less than ideal conditions.

Walking through the vast meadows at the foot of Pyramida

Shortly after 2 PM, I end the break at the summit and begin to descend. For 200 meters I stick to the familiar variant, and then turn left – onto a quite well-visible path. After a dozen or so minutes, luck finally smiles on me. The clouds part enough that I have a fairly extensive panorama in front of me to the east – of the other peaks in the Gkiona massif.

At an altitude of 2,200 m a.s.l., I abandon the clearly visible path and turn left – in a northerly direction. Despite my best efforts, I see no trodden track here anymore (although according to the Strava records, I was walking almost perfectly “on the trail” the whole time). Since visibility has improved, however, and navigation is quite obvious here, I just descend. And indeed – a few hundred meters later, somewhat by chance, I come across a muddy path, marked with plastic plates.

For a long time, I have been traversing a vast, grassy meadow spread between the summit of Pyramida and the neighboring peak of Platybouna (2,317 m a.s.l.). By the way, it’s amazing how different two sides of the same mountain can be. On one side, Pyramida falls away in a sharp, steep wall; on the other – a gentle, grassy slope. These meadows, by the way, are used in season by local shepherds. At some point, looking in a north-easterly direction, I seem to spot water… Hmm… is it possible? A quick look at the map… yes! It turns out that Pyramida lies in direct proximity not only to the Gulf of Corinth (to the south) but also to the Maliakos Gulf, part of the eastern coast of Hellas.

Walking through the vast meadows, I quickly encounter another of the local peculiarities, namely… a herd of horses! Beautiful, majestic animals graze on one of the rocky-grassy slopes. As in other parts of Greece, these are semi-wild horses. They descend from domestic animals released into the wild by local breeders several decades ago. Over time, they developed a natural herd structure and adapted to the harsh, high-mountain terrain.

Descent via the “bypass” of the Karagiannis trail

Fifteen minutes later, conditions worsen again. As luck would have it, this happens more or less when I reach the next crossroads of trails. Confused, I make a mistake and continue in a northerly direction. Navigation is hindered by a very weak signal and the “freaking out” of the cellular GPS. Nevertheless, I orient myself in the right direction quite quickly and find the correct path. I now descend in a westerly direction, along a clearly visible track.

At an altitude of approximately 1,830 m a.s.l., I begin a fairly long traverse of the western slopes of Pyramida. Although every map available to me claims the variant runs differently (i.e., straight down), I decide to follow the clear red dots. After an overlong traverse stage, I begin an intense, steep descent. I walk now among charming spruces and meadows, with a view of the slopes of nearby peaks.

At an altitude of approximately 1,480 m a.s.l., the variant I chose joins the one marked on the map. From below, it looks like there are two marked paths. Next, only a long, several-kilometer walk through the forest awaits me. Although I feel tired very strongly now, I appreciate the undeniable charm of the surrounding spruces, green meadows, and misty ridges.

At quarter past five, I close the loop, reaching the place where I branched off onto the Karagiannis trail a few hours ago. A few dozen minutes later, I check in at the car. With relief, I sit behind the wheel of the rented Skoda and turn the key in the ignition. How good it is to finally let tired legs rest! The next three hours are spent on the road — first along the Gulf of Corinth, then on the highway along the western coasts of the Peloponnese. When I drive directly by the sea, I take a short stop and go out onto a small, stony beach. I’ve reached altitudes of 0 and 2,500 m in one day! In the evening, I arrive at a hotel in Olympia, which I have chosen as the next place to stay during my Greek tour.

I will remember the trip to Pyramida as a very interesting and in its own way important experience. It was many hours spent among beautiful, even virgin nature. Over the course of the long march, I did not meet a living soul except for a lithe chamois and a majestic herd of horses. It’s only the fact of the weather that hurts — perhaps not the worst, but also very far from what I had dreamed of for this day. However, this also has its good side. After all, there is a pretext to return here someday…

Trip date: October 23, 2025

Trip statistics: 16.5 km; 1,810 meters of elevation difference

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Trip map