'The Hike' - Chapter Ten - Going Forward

Still Day 9:

I love walking alone on the top of the mountain, where you can look in every direction at the vast, misty horizons—amazed by the path you took behind you and stunned by the one ahead. It's one of my favorite things to do: just walk on the short grass at the top and exist in the sunny, quiet day, especially after a night of scary, dark, stormy weather. The nice breeze gently moves the weeds on the ground and makes the heat of the sun just barely bearable. Precious moments that I carry with me, like fuel, pushing me to do crazy shit like this adventure again and again.

While I was enjoying that and minding my own business, I saw a group of people going in the same direction as me. They were from Gabrovo, and I remembered that one of the guys I had traveled with earlier was Miro Cucko from Gabrovo. He was certain that if you asked anyone in Gabrovo about him, they would know who he was. So, I asked them if they knew him. Well, not a single one of those 15 people had ever heard of him. It was kind of awkward for a while, so I let them pass me by a few hundred meters just to kill the awkwardness.

As I caught up with them again, I saw one of the most busted huts in the Middle Balkans. It's basically a place for horses—no windows, either unfinished and destroyed or just never finished in the first place. I really don't remember, and it doesn't matter right now. The place called Planinski Izvori (Mountain Springs) actually has huge potential if someone decides to renovate this horse toilet. The problem is, it's surrounded by well-known places, but to reach them, you have to go down from the top of the mountain. And this shitty building was right here, dead center, on the path everyone takes. There's potential

Although this ugly-ass building didn't fit with the view, the herds of horses there were natural—also, their smell. It was like the whole place had been soaked in horse smell for hundreds of meters in every direction. And then I remembered the horse that attacked me when I was walking from Kom Hut to Proboinica Hut. That young stallion that decided to show me just how big of a jerk he could be. I got fucking bullied by a horse in the mountains. On my first day.

He was like, "Know your place, you little bitch." And seeing what looked like a gathering of at least 200 of those bastards brought back the realism of it all. The group from Gabrovo was already going down to Momina Poliana, so I felt pretty alone, quickly.

I love animals—horses, they're beautiful, they look great, natural and all that—but they probably smelled that I was a crackhead, with my heart pounding from the many, many lines of amphetamine I had taken before I left, on the way up, and once I got here. Probably the main reason I was attacked a week ago. I'm not proud, but right now, I was just focused on not getting killed by wild horses running everywhere around me.

I don't know if you've ever seen that video of a Bulgarian gypsy who let his horse loose on a road full of cars, completely unsupervised—which happens all the time in my country. A reporter asked him what he'd do if the horse got hit by a car, and his immediate, happy answer was, "We are going to eat meatballs." Classic. I was beginning to understand his rough view of the world, and I smiled to myself feeling like I had at least some control over my situation.

Moving forward, I spotted the Pette Chuchura Fountain , which means The Five Spouts Fountain. But "Chuchur" also has this slight negative connotation, like slang for a small dick. From each of those five exits, fresh water runs. After hours of hiking up and around, I was briefly on water and so happy to take off my hideously cheap shoes, leave my feet bare on the cold, muddy ground around the fountain, and just chill for a second.

There, I had this precious, relaxed moment—feeling like a person in a safe space—watching the herds just exist. Magical creatures. And then I remembered that bastard that tried to run me over on day one, and I got over my touchy feelings real damn quickly. In this game of life, up here on the top of the mountain, it was either me or them. And I had an appetite for meatballs like never before.

A person appeared in the distance, coming from the direction I was about to embark on. He walked right up to me. Turns out he was doing the whole trail backwards. My brain still has trouble processing that, like when you try to cross your legs the other way around or eat with the opposite hand—it's just wrong. But this guy had incredible home-baked cookies his wife had made, and holy shit, they were amazing. He gave me a lot of them. I love meeting people like him in the mountains. We clicked instantly—both understanding what the other was going through, no words needed. Just unspoken respect in the air. Well, that and the intense smell of horse shit. On top of that, he gave me a Kit Kat with green tea — from China, I think. His son had brought it back from vacation. Sharing something so new to this country with a stranger… that either meant it tasted like crap, and he wanted to get rid of it, or he was just a genuinely nice guy. I didn't care. I liked it. We had this warm, easy conversation, which felt so good after the cold and awkward interaction with the Gabrovo group. Soon, he went on his way backwards—the way I had come from—and I was ready to go forward. We wished each other good luck, because we both knew we were going to need it.

Iliya Badev

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