Currently sitting at 2100m, the fog is beginning to circle like and Indian blowing smoke rings. The night draws in. It is near mystical watching the sunset over the mountains when you are in the heart of them. You can nearly begin to believe how the Greeks believed that the Gods lived up here as each peak takes on a new shadow and personality.

In a surreal moment one of the refuge staff brings out a Spanish guitar and plays beautifully and haunting folk melody. Then his colleagues a young girl who clearly has a crush on the musician starts to sing along in high soprano tones. Then the last of the trio I have named 'The Bohemian' due to his i'll executed rollie and flat cap sings a response in tenor pitch.

The smoke from the rollie hangs impossibly long over the little courtyard mingling with the voices before ascending past the flag staff, with Greek Flag limply hanging and makes its final journey to the summit of Olympus and the Gods.

The refuge is a quaint place. Showers are pure glacier water (no heating). I've created a new dance to encapsulate getting wet but spending as little time under the "refreshing" water as possible. Lights are out by 10pm on the dot. I hunker down into my sleeping back liner, pull the thick wooly blanket up to my chin, roll down the sleeves of my thermal top and shift my hat over my ears and drift off to sleep.

A great day of firsts. The highest I have ever hiked to Skala @2816m. My first proper Greek Tziki!(nothing like the stuff from Tesco) and my first Olives in Greece. As I doze off I can just about hear the crackle of the fire in the dining hall next door, the only heating and light left in the refuge. In my mind the room is full of dwarves singing about the misty mountain. It's definitely not a refuge from the cold as I can feel my nose freezing and see my breath filling the near empty room. Then the darkness envelops me until 6.15am and the sunrise. A near perfect if not gruelling day.