Behind the wheel, with the wind roaring past and the road twisting sharply beneath me, each turn in the Troodos Mountains feels like a dance with destiny. Here, amidst towering peaks and expansive vistas, I find my spirit soaring with the eagles — free, unrestrained, and wildly alive. It's not just a drive; it's a journey of discovery, where every mile teaches me more about the world outside and the courage within. As the engine roars and the landscape blurs, I am reminded that life, much like these mountain roads, is not merely to be traveled but to be felt with every fiber of one’s being.
My home, the island of Cyprus, has so many incredible adventures to offer that sometimes it takes two or three options heading toward the same destination to capture all of the magic entirely. One of my all-time favorite drives is from my home in Nicosia into the Troodos mountains, but I have three different routes that take me there each has their distinct personality. As I have explained before my friends all say that I am comfortable to be around and my nickname, Omorfos, is a result of my fun-loving nature. One of my best-kept secrets to being easy to get along with is to unwind and relax from time to time behind the wheel of a fast and responsive work of automotive art surrounded by nature’s best backdrops.
I will confess, I may push the boundaries of what might be considered appropriate speeds, check that, we promised to be entirely forthcoming, so I am going to level with you – I am a speed-junkie. 🙂 I would like to tell you that the option I choose is a sensible process and depends on the weather and the traffic but the truth is most of the time it is based on the mood I am in and how fast I want to drive. We can refer to the three sets of navigable directions as “way too fast,” “the speed of light” and “oh my God!”
The mountains have an outstanding character to offer, they have stood silently with no judgment for thousands of years, and they are one of the few symbols of authority which have never written me a speeding ticket. Unfortunately, I have gathered many souvenirs in the form of driving citations on each of the three choices, and there is nothing to blame on the mapping of the trips and plenty to fault on my habit of driving fast. I love the way it feels roaring up and down, side to side on the open road. Add a little rain, and it just sounds better hitting the car and offers more of a challenge, add some snow, and it gets even more fun. Tight curves are like candy, and steep inclines and declines are somewhere between cakes and cookies and I am the little boy gripping that steering wheel like a youth who is tasting sugar for the first time in their life.
My driving sanctuary is available only when I am alone in the car. Passengers including Aimi and Bakudai, are far too precious cargo to take on my solo flights up the mountains. Some may be wondering why I used the word “flight” to describe a drive and I can promise if they were in the passenger seat their curiosity would be resolved in only a few moments. Technically, Aimi and Bakudai are classified as dogs by those who do not know them. We never use the “d” word around the babies, and since I am now trying to find my way back a few steps toward being politically correct, the term ‘cargo’ wouldn’t be anyone’s choice of words for describing them. Fortunately, this is my story, and by now you have probably figured out that I am a risk taker.
Maybe my quest for ridiculously increased speed comes as a result of passing decades and the powerful influence our family has upon us. I do not think that physically we are born to want to drive at different speeds. I am fairly certain that there is no “speeding gene” which attacks our nervous system once we sit behind the wheel and start the engine, but the next time I am stopped for a potential ticket that might just be a great concept to discuss. I am going to go out on a limb and blame my affliction on stories from the past. Those traumatic tales of woe must have somehow entered my subconscious and accelerated that “fight or flight” mechanism for survival which helps us as a species to survive.
My earliest recollection of stories involving the mountain roads came from my dear mother. In one epic remembrance, my mother told of the time a thick fog fell suddenly about the mountain roads when she was a child, and it was impossible to see. Her mother and brother had to walk outside the car next to her father who was driving to navigate the roads which were treacherous without railings or safety measures, only a small help from the white stones the British had set on the sides of the path to help with visibility. She might as well have been saying “run, flea, drive fast, drive very fast before the dark fog catches you by surprise.” One story spoke of a giant tree which fell across the mountain road on their way to Prodromos, and many people had to huddle together in the bitter cold to remove the obstacle.
Hunger, now it is starting to make sense – the reason I feel empty at reasonable speeds is locked down from yet another slice of family lore. Maybe I compare driving to food, one of my mother’s other stories mentions the trip which took several hours where they had to search for the butcher and the baker in the snow to find food. Could it be my mother’s voice calling out to me “drive son, drive as fast as you can before you starve on this road?” The stories of the roads as told by my father, my uncle, my grandparents were harsh and frightening enough but the words of my mother, those are the most precious and dear to the soul sounds on earth.
Maybe this screaming through the mountains is just my way of making sure to not disappoint her by being trapped by the elements of nature. That’s it; I can’t wait until they stop me for speeding the next time I’m going to look them right in the eye and explain “I’m simply following my dear mother’s orders.” It might be a difficult concept to sell during warm and apparent cloudless weather but does adrenaline being pumped into your body by haunting words of the past understand anything at all about various weather conditions? I think not. This is my story, and I’m sticking to it.
Regardless why I need speed the best part of the journey is that I can share them with others. Course A is the most common choice.
Snow evokes in us a sense of childlike wonder. It paints white over the scenery, using a thick brush and wide strokes. The snowy blanket snuggles everything and puts life itself to a cozy nap. That blanket is woven out of many snowflakes, each of which is unique, landing right where it did for a reason. We know the reason but can’t explain it except — it’s there to create a winter wonderland
The Troodos mountains are a sight to behold in the winter, when snow covers the peaks and valleys like a white sheet. The road winds through the hills, providing stunning views at every turn. If you’re looking for an escape to a winter wonderland, take a drive through the Troodos mountains!
Mighty trees proudly jut out from under their snowy makeover and nod their heads as we drive along. Their entourage of shrubs looks like silhouettes of a crowd, standing by with dignified grace. They cherish the snow too and invite you to come out of the car and join in on the fun.
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