'The Hike' - Chapter Three - Sometimes When You Are Alone In The Mountains
Chapter 3:
Day 3:
Day 3:
I woke up with a massive headache; the hangover was killing me. Back then, I knew only one cure, and the remedy was to keep going with what brought me to this level. I mean, I was digging my grave, as the saying goes. After I made myself a decent line and had a coffee, I drank a beer to restart this nightmare. The problem with this cure is that it works, at least for a while, enough to pump you up. I remember stressing over the next 8-hour hike, not sure exactly why. Maybe the idea of walking while your legs are on strike seemed scary, but that's the thing, to deal with sore muscles one must move. Look at me with all these remedies; I have a cure for everything, self-proclaimed doctor. The plan was to leave the hut around 10, with no hurry and urgency. What I needed was to collect myself and put one leg after the other.
Two guys came to the hut, we talked for a while, and they seemed nice. After they went on their way, I decided it was time to put the bag together. The bag was changing, but it was still a huge challenge and my biggest obstacle. I took it downstairs and placed it on the bench so I could help myself to put it on. I asked the hut manager for a bottle of wine and the directions, and she pointed to the field with raspberry bushes and the path that follows. Before the hut owner and his son woke up, I was on my way. I completely forgot that the son owed me a bottle of wine. Somehow I would have found a place in my bag for a second bottle of this delicious wine; I always do, even though the bag looked like it was about to explode. I am pretty sure they still make this wine there, so I will go eventually even though I am now reluctant to drink anything alcoholic. I decided a while ago that I do not want to drink anymore after listening to a doctor's podcast about how even a very small amount of alcohol in your system prevents you from having normal sleep. In my twenties, my sleep was just a waste of time, a moment that I tried to avoid often as my body allowed me to, but now I fell in love with my body, and going back to normal meant respecting the need for rest.
Sometimes when you are alone in the mountains, even during the day, it may seem a little scary. When there is no one around but trees or fields of grass, you feel vulnerable. I was particularly expecting a bear to appear from any bush at any time. I saw another deer, but this time it came from nowhere, giving me a jump scare. The deer was so quick that I couldn't take a picture. Throughout the whole trip, I didn't take a lot of photos. I don't like to be photographed, and when you are tired, you want to just enjoy the moment and not deal with your phone. I really soaked in the views in my mind; they are permanently cemented there. I believe this is one of the reasons why the memory of this adventure is so vivid. After the deer scared the life out of me, I started to sing. One of the pieces of advice I received from Martin Stefanov, who made the five-part movie about his solo experience with Kom-Emine, was to make sounds and to be loud. Usually, the animals hear that there is a man in the woods, and they just run away. Often here in the Balkans, I heard when I asked about bears in the area (a great conversation starter) is that the human is the scariest animal on this land. Somehow my brain didn't buy it; to me, a 400 kg bear seemed a bit more dangerous. I sang a lot, and after a while, I realized that I hadn't seen any of the hiking marks on the trees or anywhere. Someone told me that if I lose the track, I must go back to the last place I saw them. After giving myself a decent scare alone in the middle of the forest, I took myself back. It's a good thing that I listened to this distant advice because I was so far away from the real path that it kind of shook me. I heard someone interrupting my singing. I was catching up with the guys that came to Trastenaya Hut in the morning. One was from Sofia and the other from Gabrovo, and they were hiking often, going to the next hut, where I planned to stay. They taught me that you should always tell the hut owners that you are coming. It is always good for someone to know that you are on the way; that way, if you do not show up, they will know that you are lost, and they could call the mountain rescue service. The other plus to calling the hut in advance is to know if they are open and if there is someone there, if they have food, and if they can prepare something for you. The food in some huts in Bulgaria is carried by cars, and for the others, it is transported with horses and donkeys. Depending on what hut you are going to, you may find yourself alone without anything to eat.
After walking around for two days, scared that a bear will jump on me from almost every bush anytime, finding two people in the middle of nowhere is a moment. I asked them if it's okay to join them and if they heard my singing. They said that they heard me, but it cannot be regarded as singing. I felt ashamed for a moment, but the wave of feeling safe around two grown men immediately hit me and washed away the shame. The next three days I spent time with these guys, who for this small amount of time taught me some valuable lessons.
The views were incredible everywhere I went...
The path to the next hut was long, and it was foggy and wet. Leskova Hut was below us, and in order to find it, we lost some height, which is always a downer. During the search for the hut, which I would never have found if I were alone, the guys picked some mushrooms that were edible. Macrolepiota procera, the parasol mushroom. Another memory emerged about a trip I took with a close friend of mine in Rila Mountain to search for Magic Mushrooms that usually grow here and there in Bulgaria. We found ourselves unprepared for the harsh environment of the mountain. It was super cold, and it was snowing; we found shelter in one of those small metal constructions that served as a shop during the 90s. It was in the middle of the field right next to a big hotel for which we did not have money. We spent the whole night in the dark on the floor of that metal shop near the hotel Malyovitsa. The next day we woke up, and we went searching for the shrooms. We found some, and we started eating them; the taste was horrible like every time. The mushrooms kicked in strong, and after a while, I developed a taste for other kinds of mushrooms. I tried some others and others, not knowing that half of the mushroom population on the mountains is poisonous. A couple of hours into our trip went by, and then the pain started; we puked, we laughed, then we puked some more. Now looking back, beyond the stupidity, I recall this memory as one of my finest adventures. Because of this memory, I would never even think about collecting mushrooms and eating them, so the two guys that accompanied me took care of that.
The whole day was raining on us; we met some mountain runners. They were doing the same path but running; this was my third day walking, and their first. A storm was chasing us. Thick fog everywhere. There were constant new obstacles coming our way, but also some solutions appeared. Some guys took our backpacks for the last 6km. It was different without a backpack. Back then, giving my backpack to someone like that seemed like a crazy decision, and I did it only because the two guys I shared the path with did it with such ease. The last kilometers just didn't seem to end. We finally arrived at the hut. It turned out that the owner comes only if someone calls and there are enough people that it is worth the trip to the hut. I had such luck to bump into these two guys; they were a much better version of the guidebook I took with me when I started this fiasco. Our bags awaited us there, and I was so thankful. The owner started the heater for the shower, and we took a shower one by one. Each hut is super different and interesting, a completely new experience with a different vibe and people. Everything feels nice after such a walk. The little things. One of the guys whose name I can't recall started to cook the mushrooms, and they smelled deliciously. The other had a weird nickname that I still remember, Cuckoo; he insisted that if I ever found myself in Gabrovo to ask about the Cuckoo, he owned a bookstore, and everyone knew him there. I found people from Gabrovo along the way; they didn't know him. There were those hot runners from Plovdiv. After a couple of days alone in the mountain, every man looked hot, but their arrogance overshadowed my horny spirit. I went to take another big line and we drank the rasbery wine. There were also soups, grills, cheeses, appetizers, pure joy. The hut keeper was super friendly.
Night 3:
I went to sleep early because these two were much more serious than me, and they were not wasting time. They say it's best to start at 5 in the morning. I slept like a baby. As soon as dawn came, they were ready to go.
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