'The Hike' - Chapter Eight - Tempests and Tensions
Day 7:
After a day off, a five-hour hike with two intense stand-offs—one with large predators and another with a pack of dogs—I felt an overwhelming urge to drink Rakia and eat heartily. No amount of amphetamines or negative altercations can kill my appetite after what I would describe as a small day in the mountains, so I went straight to the kitchen. I was going to stay just so I can regain power and I was going to move. The hut is more like four buildings in a yard, each serving its purpose. Ivo had called the hut keepers earlier and told them I was on my way, something I never thought to do before meeting him. I remember the two guys from Gabrovo calling him to let him know they weren’t alone anymore, and that’s when the logic of informing the next hut of your arrival started to make sense. The huts are in the mountains, many without proper roads, and the delivery of food and even water can be challenging. Some need to prepare hot water for a quick shower, others need to know how many they’re cooking for. Certain huts operate like hotels, with easy access and typically managed by more than one person due to the never-ending crowds. But for small huts like 'Chavdar' and 'Kashana,' it’s always better to notify them before you arrive—not just out of respect, so they can prepare for you or send someone if they're not there, but in case you get lost.
When I moved to 'Chavdar,' Ivo told me many stories about lost people he’d saved because they got lost, and the darkness overtook them before they could locate the hut. People called him in tears in the middle of the night, asking for directions without knowing where they were. Do you know how hard it is to explain where you are in the middle of the night, in the mountains, in the forest? I know how dark the forest can be when the moon isn’t reaching the ground and the sun is long over the horizon. The sounds the forest makes when you’re alone in the middle of nowhere, with no one knowing where you are—not even yourself—are terrifying. Hearing the steps of some animal, creates an unstoppable feeling of panic that slows time and seems to peak endlessly. The forest is more alive at night. During the day, I barely saw a squirrel or a deer for the whole trip, but at night all the nocturnal birds start to communicate, the mammals begin searching for food, and most of them sound like the bear I was terrified of, coming my way. The water around you ruins your focus and concentration, sounding like something entirely different. Sticks breaking or falling from trees can easily imitate the last sound you expect to hear before something jumps out and devours you. Believe me when I tell you, it’s a thrill ride that can really pump your energy to eleven and beyond, but being alone in the dark can quickly turn into a nightmare. That’s why you notify the next hut of your plans—so if something happens, they can find you. People need to know when you embark on such a hike, and as I was passing the first part of the trip, diving into the second part of this mind-blowing journey, I realized I didn’t know the basic rules of survival. I’m so glad that the people in the mountains, no matter how they are in the city, act with a sense of respect for life itself. They’re all eager to help a fellow in need, and mostly that was me. Who am I kidding—it was me all the time. But in the face of danger, and there were real dangers along the way, being saved by someone warms your existence and changes your perspective about people.
Remembering how the people eating looked at me when I entered the dining area of the hut reminded me of what George Carlin had to say about individuals. How you can see the entire universe in one’s eyes as long as they’re alone. As soon as they get into groups of two or more, the individual is sacrificed for the sake of the group, and you see a sort of nesting behavior that changes a person. They were no longer the people eager to help or get to know you—they were in a group, eating, and I was trespassing on their habitat.
I date, but in the past few years, I’ve found myself declining offers for threesomes or group activities. Usually, they’re nothing more than physical group activities—gay Pilates—where you can’t connect with each other, at least not in the same way as when you’re with just one guy. Having a hookup, even just a one-night stand or chem sex that lasts for a weekend or sometimes longer, is much more profound and romantic when you spend it with one man. I know for people who are far removed from the gay community, or even part of it but not stretching their freedom to its limits like I do, this could sound repulsive. I know. But there’s always a romantic side to those one-on-ones. Giving your time, receiving the same attention, quickly being open and painfully honest, plus the breathtaking physical experience and sensations, is the goal of any relationship. Of course, having this quick sneak peek into someone’s soul can result in a very short relationship, but sometimes that’s enough. After a day or a weekend, you’re ready to explore and consume another person, knowing deep inside that you had an amazing time with someone while it lasted. To be honest, I don’t know how healthy that is, but I definitely prefer being alone with someone when I get to know them.
So the public that quickly turned when they saw me entering gave me this judgmental feeling that I still carry—like I wasn’t one of them. This particular group was not my crowd. I felt the urge to escape, but I was hungry, and they were occupying the whole place. The hut keeper was a woman, extremely friendly and kind in the good mountain way. She had this motherly energy, and everyone entering the hut was part of her extended family. I felt so different from everyone there, and they felt it too, but she took me in with her energy and allowed me to be whatever I was at that moment. As quickly as I could, I ordered food for two, Rakia, beer, and I ate and drank everything, ready to move on with my trip. The plan was to get to the next hut, which was far away. 'Momina Polyana' hut was far, but I was eager to escape this place, so I went for it. I thanked my host and took my huge bag. I didn’t find the right path to 'Momina Polyana' and took a different turn. Eventually, I think I would have ended up in the same place, but I wasn’t able to finish the second part of today’s hike. On the way up—a never-ending climb—I found the fear I had left behind when I was surrounded by people. This time, that fear was signaling something very real: a storm was approaching fast, and I was climbing directly towards it. It wasn’t like the mountain was some Alps climb, but with this bag, I was often on all fours, gripping the ground to push the weight of my body and my life up the incline. The storm came quickly. One moment I felt drops of rain, and the next, the wind and rain hit me. I can’t believe I even thought about continuing. To be fair, it wasn’t a lightning storm; it was more like I was in the clouds, and they were not happy. But the possibility of lightning was so scary that I turned around. Praying to the gods, I ran as fast as I could in fear of what could happen and headed directly back to the hut. It took me an hour, maybe more, to climb the wrong side of the mountain, but I was back at the hut in 15 to 20 minutes. My father had an incredible journey with boats to Germany, but during a storm, one of his friends got struck by lightning and died instantly. My whole life, my father was so serious whenever summer storms appeared in my hometown that I knew not to be where I was. His experience and knowledge, as well as the feelings he was able to transfer during his endless lectures whenever I was scavenging the town’s periphery, surfaced that day and made me turn around. I flew back to that aggressive dining area with all the people there, and the first words that came from my mouth were, "Something happened out there," with a look of shock on my face following the near-death experience. They looked at me, pretended I didn’t exist, and let me pass. Tough crowd. I was out of my mind, scared from that storm, so I ordered beer and Rakia once again to soothe my anxiety. Quickly, I was released from the fear that had gripped my whole body. My plan to visit the next hut failed, but I was safe in this one.
Night 7:
TO BE CONTINUED...
Iliya Badev
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