'The Hike' - Chapter Fifteen - Hidden Snakes & Hidden Powers

Still Day 10:

Here, to be honest, after a beer, one liter of water, and soup, I felt a little out of it. Going up a mountain straight after such a quick meal with so much liquid inside you is not a particularly smart idea, but I don’t think I ever mentioned that I am smart. Anyway, immediately after I entered the forest, I was amazed once again by the sublime and ever-changing nature around me. The ground looked drained of moisture, but the scenery was thriving under the hot August sun. I firmly believe that this is the most beautiful of all the beautiful paths I’ve taken on this adventure and one of the easiest to walk through. The climbing was actually just walking, and with that slight elevation, I was able to observe and enjoy the picturesque beauty of my country—something I cannot wait to see again.

The real beauty of the path to Echo Hut begins after you leave the enchanted forest. There, the trees make way for the view, and in the distance, you can see Echo Hut. Sometimes this trick of spotting the hut from afar can mess with you negatively, but I didn’t give a damn. I had water, I had everything, and there was a fountain with a natural spring not far from here. So basically, I was skipping through the mountains, happy to be alone.

Here and there, people started to appear. As it turns out, Echo Hut is a very popular destination—which I was about to find out soon. Couples and families were making their way up, some skipping in the same direction as me, others heading back down to Vejen, all with the same smile on their faces. There was something marvelous about this calm walk and this beautiful day.

One of the families passed me by, and the mother told me that I should be careful because they had already seen a European adder or Eastern Montpellier snake—I don’t remember which one of those poisonous snakes you can apparently find right here. That marked the end of me observing the majestic scenery and the beginning of me carefully watching my shoes and feet for safety. Good thing I did, because not long after—right before the fountain—under one of the rocks and some really small bushes, I saw the head of a snake. It seemed brown, and I didn’t stay long enough to inspect it.

I am really proud of myself because, in serious situations where someone has to think straight and take care of things, I really step up to the task and do the job. I remember the two car accidents I was part of—I acted so swiftly and calmly that, after a while, it became apparent that in those moments, the most important ones, I am someone who is reliable, someone who has the backs of the people around me. Of course, those situations didn’t occur that often, and throughout the rest of the time, I am a piece of shit. But still, it’s great to know that in the case of an apocalypse, I can carry you.

In my first car crash, we were young, after July Morning, which means influenced. The influencers of my generation back then were not on TikTok and Instagram—The influencers of my generation back then were not on TikTok and Instagram; they were our hometown dealers and alcohol, of which there were plenty for a small town like the one I grew up in. Unfortunately, I was stupid then—and for a long time after—so we let the guy with the car drive us back to town from the place where we had celebrated the July Morning Sun. An incredible celebration and tradition in my life, which was painted black that morning and lost its magic.

We all saw the car too late—it just appeared from our right. And although the driver hit the brakes, we crashed into it. It’s true what they say: everything happens both so fast and so slow at the same time. Time feels all over the place. I remember the strong impact, the shattering of the glass, getting out of the car, seeing the driver running away from the scene, and the girl—who was a close friend of mine—telling me, "I can’t be seen here," before taking off. Leaving me alone at the crossroads with the man we had just hit and his wife, who must have been in their sixties.

I ran to them and saw that he couldn’t breathe. The impact had bent his car door in a way that made his seatbelt choke him. Before I saw other people appear, before his wife got out of the car, I took the only thing I found in my pockets and started burning the fucking belt. I had almost freed him when people from the nearby shop arrived and cut the belt with a knife. I don’t remember much of what happened next—the shock and fear of that situation were so traumatic that most of it is a blur. But I do remember how my friends took off and left me there. Left the man choking. Didn’t even check on him or anyone else.

We were cool back then. At the time, I understood them. But now, I feel a stored anger that never really went away.

The man and his wife were eventually okay. They were compensated by the driver, who admitted his guilt and took responsibility. I also took a hit from this traumatic experience, and driving became unbearable. Even though I was an excellent driver, I had to make a choice: would I continue getting wasted to numb the pain, or would I drive? So, I never drove again.

The second car crash that proved to me how reliable I am under stress wasn’t our fault. A guy hit us from behind, and in the shock, my friend forgot how to drive. I saw our car, moved by the inertia of the hit, heading straight for the buildings and the people in front of us. I calmly placed a hand on his leg and told him, in a serious, mature voice: "Hit the brakes."

The driver who hit us was so fucking sexy that we quickly apologized for standing in his way, moist and ready to thank him for his cooperation. He didn’t cooperate enough, but we let him slide.

When I saw that snake, I didn’t scream, I didn’t overreact. This part of me—the part that, in these situations, is reliable, the one that could carry you from point A to point B, the one that makes me love myself—came through. And in my calmness, even in the presence of fear, I found my power and kept moving forward.

Iliya Badev

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