It’s already become a cherished tradition! At least once every year, we embark on a journey to climb St. Ilija, also known as Mons Vipera or the “mountain of snakes.” The ancient Romans bestowed this name upon it, and for good reason—at certain times of the year, the mountain is teeming with a large number of serpents. The rocky terrain, dotted with patches of dense shrubbery, seems to slither with life. However, on this particular occasion, we found the landscape surprisingly devoid of any serpentine encounters. The air was crisp and the path wound its way through the rugged beauty of the mountain, leaving us to enjoy the serenity uninterrupted.

Accompanying us was the cacophonous, gop-like symphony of crickets, their noisy song rising with the first golden rays of dawn. We began our journey at five in the morning, and for that initial hour, we moved in the cool, comforting shadow of the mountain. However, the moment we stepped into the embrace of the sun’s brilliant light, the incessant chirping grew so intense it seemed to pierce our ears, a relentless chorus of nature’s orchestra.

Before reaching the summit, there is a thick pine forest on the saddle where you might encounter a herd of horses. The landscape consists of rocks, stones, trees, and sunlight, with the sea and islands visible in the distance. Below lies Korčula, as if you could hold it in your hand. Beyond it is Lastovo, with Mljet slightly to the left. Directly ahead lies Vis, and to the right, the long expanse of Hvar Island stretches, with Brač behind it. And, of course, the Velebit massif seems almost within reach.

Could there be a better way to spend a morning?