tortoise crossing – flambouri peak – greece

The Hiker and the Tortoise

One day, in the shadow of Mount Parnathos, on the tortuous trail to the natural amphitheater at Moula, where the community theatre ensemble was performing Prometheus Bound”, the Hiker was making fun of the Tortoise for being so slow.

“Are you going to Moula, slowpoke?”

“What’s it to you furball?” The Tortoise replied.

“Whoa! Easy there speedmonster. You going to the show?”

“No. I’m running the marathon.” The Tortoise said sarcastically. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“I’ll save you a seat?” The Hiker offered. “For tomorrow’s show!”

He burst out laughing, slapping his leg so hard it caught the attention of the Fox rambling nearby.

“I’ll bet you I get there before you do. In fact, I’ll race you.” The Tortoise said, continuing on its way.

“Wow! Check out the skid marks! You’re on Babe!” The Hiker retorted as the silhouette of the Tortoise’s shell hobbled away from him.

The Fox came up and volunteered to referee the race.

“First in his seat at Moula wins. Ready, set, GO!”

The Hiker darted off in a cloud of dust, which covered the Tortoise as it settled, though it didn’t slow him down.

In no time, the Hiker passed the Agios Petros church, only two hundred yards away from the amphitheater. He stopped abruptly and sat down in the stone alcove facing the entrance to the church. He suddenly realized how foolish he looked for having accepted to race the Tortoise, how dishonorable. He decided to wait for his opponent to catch up. As the sun set over the looming mass of Mt Parnathos, the Hiker, having spent much energy during the day, fell asleep. Meanwhile the Tortoise ambled by, not breaking a stride. Onstage, the Wolf, playing the part of the Daemon Kratos bellowed out the opening speech.

“Here at the furthest verge of earth we stand, The Scythian pale, a lone and ghastly land…”

But it wasn’t until Prometheus, played by the Bear, emoted to the heavens in a raucous baritone, many verses later that the Hiker awoke

“Thou holy Sky, ye swift and wingèd Winds, And River Founts, and laughter of the seas Innumerable: Thou, Mother of all these, Earth, and thou Sun that seest all things, see What things, being god, the Gods have wrought on me!”

Swiftly, the Hiker made his way into the theater to take his seat, convinced he’d still won the race, when he heard a steady, low rumbling to his right. He looked over. The Tortoise was napping soundly and noisily in the seat next to him.

“Chi va piano va sano, e lontano!” is the moral.