An overnight sleeper train from Prague left us in a thick fog of the Slovak foothills at 6:21am. I had thrown this hiking trip together after hearing about the High Tatras Mountain range in Northern Slovakia about a week before. Luckily, Sam was available and willing to come along; he turned out to be unwavering company and support. He is also the worst singer I have ever heard. Although he frequently reminded me of his vocal inabilities he earned redemption through being an amazing harmonica player. Anyways, It was early and cold and we were headed 15km into the mountains to our first nights stay at the Chata Zelenom Pleso (Cabin by the Green Lake):
Going into the mountains is a perfect way to balance the ego with actual physical and mental capability. Rocks are where men can test their mettle. I was ambitious on this trip (and Sam was obliging), seeking four peaks in three days. Our first day shook my nerves a bit. After a five hour steady trek uphill to the cabin we attacked the first peak. We hit the summit two hours later and by this time we were thoroughly aware that these were real mountains. It may sound silly, not knowing a mountain when you see it, but mountains are much more than piles of rock; they are obstacles. It is hard to appreciate an obstacle or challenge before attempting it. Watching Eric Clapton play guitar, it looks easy. Watching Federer (or Nadal) play tennis, it is a cinch. In this spirit, it is really hard to know how mountainy a mountain is until you try to climb it. There was no mistaking these gnarly crags of sharp black rock; this was war.
Bordering Poland and Slovakia are the High Tatras Mountains, tectonic demons of Eastern Europe. The range of environment nestled here was breathtaking. We went from fields of wildflowers with babbling brooks to alpine lakes to thick forest to huckleberry briars to snowy crevasse to dry dead barrows and cruel razor summits. It was dry, it was wet; hot and cold; pleasant and punishing. Although the pictures may look similar to you, they are not. You would never dream of making such a comment if you had to walk four hours between each one; they are all unique in that they are all observed at a different stage of exhaustion.
We averaged nine hours a day employing such techniques as chain-link-repelling, straight-up-climbing, switch-backing, off-trailing, scrambling, falling, and crawling. Some of the most amazing and challenging parts were the rock walls that offered a chain bolted to the summit as aide in scaling straight up. The longest peak scaled was about 75 meters (that’s about 225 feet) at an 80 degree angle. We would be hiking along, going up a slope and wondering “where the hell is this path leading?” Whether it was denial or wishful thinking, it never really sunk in that we were going over the mountain when all was said and done.
We met up with various trekking groups of Slovaks along the way, all of whom seemed much more prepared for what lie ahead than we did. Sleeping arrangements were awesome. The Slovaks know how to do mountains. At several points through the high country there were mountain huts that served food and provided shelter for the night, provided you had a sleeping bag. It was really nice not having to worry about setting up a tent, especially since there is a decent bear and wolf presence in the region. We didn’t run into any carnivores but we saw a fair share of mountain antelope (seriously). I think we were too high for bears and wolves most of the time.
In the end, we made three of the four summits, did an extra detour twin peak into Poland (just to go to Poland) and walked a grand total of about 30 miles in three days. We also learned that mountain antelope do attack people. We ate sheep’s cheese potato bacon slop, the Slovakian national dish. One final note of clarification, if you happen to see a pink cat in any of the pictures in the Picasa album it is there because Sam was delegated the task of taking the proxy traveling-kitty along. The story is this: we have a friend whose sister cannot travel Europe so she sent a stuffed cat and requested that it be photographed in awesome/random European places. Sam is not a flaming homo. It was hilarious taking its picture on a summit and having four beaten and bruised mountain men watch us prop up this little pink cat for its photo opp.
Hope all is well; I am going to soak in a Hungarian bathhouse for a week to soothe my sore muscles.
Thomas
