Bulgarian Mountain Adventure

Adventure:  /ədˈvɛntʃə/ noun

an unusual and exciting or daring experience

We all seek it. We all want it to some varying degree or another. That feeling of the thrill, the excitement, the pulse in our necks, and the tingle in our guts. The senses keen and aware that one move could spell disaster, all the while hoping the odds work out in our favour. For some the feeling of adventure comes from minor risks, while for others the dance with lady luck is more intense. Every once and a while I find myself in the arms of this dame hoping she does not step on my toes.

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I found myself in Bulgaria en route to the travel the Silk Road and the Stans (Tajikistan/Kyrgyzstan) to do some trekking. I needed to test out my gear and train for the upcoming hikes in Central Asia. So, thanks to google images I discovered there were mountains in Bulgaria. I hoisted my backpacks and headed to Bansko, a ski resort with a few hotels operating in summertime.

I planned on a 4 day hike with a moderately difficult route. The planned itinerary was as follows:

• Day 1: Hike from Bansko town up the winding roadway to the first hut, then beyond to Tevno lake in the alpine.
• Day 2: Move on from the lake, across a ridge, and down towards Vihren Hut below the highest point in the national park.
• Day 3: Traverse the exhilarating Koncheto Ridge towards Yavarov Hut
• Day 4: Head down towards the town of Razlog and hitchhike over to Bansko.

The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. A paraphrase from Robbie Burns.

I hear you Robbie. Things do not always work out as planned.

Day 1

The first day was hot and heavy. The temperature was 33 degrees Celsius and I had a backpack weight to match. The conversation at the first hut was most intriguing. I met a 34 year old mother of an 8 year old who was looking for change in her life, a deeper sense of meaning and fulfillment. We connected over a plate of fries and beer. I wished her encouragement to take the risk on her journey and live out her adventure as best she could in her circumstances.

I pushed up past the forest into the alpine. A marker misled me (or so I'll claim) and i ended up slightly off course with a fellow Bulgarian hiker. We found our way back down to the path and then pushed up over a scree field to a pass of large boulders. Unfortunately we still weren’t there and had to hike a ways to get to Tevno Lake.

Are we there yet? Past the pass, but not quite there @ 730 pm.

Camp Shower (check out the beer can. Brilliant!)

Tevno Lake

Hut at Tevno Lake

The sunset lit up the surrounding mountains with that bright pink alpine burning. glow. The clouds formed an inspiring background, all dressed up in their regal colours of orange and red, fading into pink.

Camp with that wonderful glow in the alpine. Magic hour!

The evening was spent talking with another Bulgarian woman who was turning 39 in a few weeks. Even though she loved life she was also looking to shake things up. Was she experiencing the itch that happens to folks in their mid-late Thirties? It could be that or maybe it was that things were left unresolved in her life, and the issues surfaced like ocean flotsam needing to be dealt with.

Day 2

I walked with a Bulgarian / Austrian / American, named Nikolai. He has a Bulgarian mother, Austrian father and is studying music in San Francisco. He was traipsing around the mountains and we hiked together for the second day. It was a gorgeous day walking along a ridge spotting wonderful emerald jewels, those cold crisp alpine lakes.

View from the ridge

Lovely emerald alpine lakes. 

Instead of going to Vihren hut and camping around there we decided to stop early, go for a swim and set up camp by a lake. We had the perfect camp spot with a lovely view of a peak whose name i could not pronounce.

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I had a simple dinner of sausage and bread. Once finished I left a bag of my food outside my tent believing there to be no predators around. We went for a walk and upon return I spotted the bag of food open with bits of sausage missing. I was puzzled; I did not leave it this way. What could have carried out this clandestine operation? As i was asking myself this question, a fox came sauntering in from a field of boulders a short distance away. I will assume that it was a male. (Are female foxes as cunning as the male form?) The fox ran right up to my tent, around the side, and stopped just short of me. He looked up at me with bewilderment: “Hmmm….you weren’t here before!” I could hear him say. He hustled off to about 30 feet away where he plopped down and watched us for a bit. After a few minutes he ate some frogs in the grass and hustled off down the hill.

(Unfortunately, I didn’t get a pic as the light was too low).

Nikolai and I spent some time marveling at this strange encounter. Incredible! I thought it was the end of that and so as the light faded I got on my hands and knees and took pictures of the lake. As I was adjusting aperture I heard a noise and little snarl to my side. I looked up and to my surprise, my friend the fox had returned. He was just over an arm’s length away looking at me with anticipation: “I know you have more sausage somewhere….tell me where it is and no one gets hurt!” I called his bluff and stared him down. Off he ran, but sometime in the wee hours of the morning he made one last foray attempt. I was too tired to engage him.

Day 3

The day started with a descent to Vihren hut. A crisp one hour walk and we arrived. I stared up at the massive block of limestone named Vihren peak and saw the route i had to take around it’s flank / shoulder. For each line on the topographical map I took another bite of breakfast.

Vihren Peak. I hiked up to the saddle by the triangle of blue.

A steep ascent through some pockets of trees, across a scree field and up some loose gravel. I reached the shoulder to be greeted with a view of the Northern flank of this impressive peak. I continued upwards to Koncheto Ridge. You know you are in for a tough section of trail when they have drilled plaques into the rock wall of a person’s birth-death date. Use caution - no doubt!

Our campsite. The fox was to my left at this moment. 

Koncheto Ridge

Koncheto Ridge

 I descended on towards Yavarov hut. I reached a crossroads with a sign post that was blown down and in Cyrillic text. I did my best to decipher this code and spotted a trail descending with metal posts down a scree slope. I checked the map and it seemed to fit. I followed the trail until it faded from human trail to animal path to nothing. I was now off the trail and bushwhacking through a stand of Spruce trees. I wanted to go back up but did not have the energy as I was way down the slope at that point. Sometime during this descent I rolled my ankle. I tightened the boot laces and pressed on.

There is a trail somewhere! Sweat and trail angst in Bulgaria

To my relief I found a nice trail with markings. I was on the right track. Or was I? The trail swerved its way around the mountainside. I had spotted the town of Razlog, the place I needed to go, but this trail was leading away from that goal. At this point I decided I needed to get off this mountain and hung a left off the trail into an unmarked forest. This is where things could go very wrong.

As I was half running, sliding down this birch forest in a tired man’s meditative march I had thoughts of worst case scenarios. What if I broke my leg? Or what if I met a bear? Or a pack of wolves? I would be in trouble and would probably make the headlines of the local paper. I fixed my mind to take even greater caution.

It was at this time, in that tired state, that I realized the Camino de Santiago had changed me. In the past I would have beaten myself up internally and blamed myself for having made poor choices leading to such a precarious situation. This time was different. I was relaxed and calm, putting one foot in front of the other. It was a meditative exercise and even though i felt fear, I did not let it control me.

After an hour of pressing through this forest I was spit out onto a logging road. More walking and the road turned to asphalt. As I stopped for water I spotted colourful beehives near to an abandoned building. I remembered my hometown and my former life as a beekeeper. I sipped water as a Mercedes-Benz pulled up. I decided it was time to find my way to Bansko. I asked for a lift and he agreed. He turned out to be a beekeeper (No he did not make his money from this industry).

I climbed the hill back to the hotel where I crashed for the night. I was so thankful to have reached the end of the hike and when I had to dig deep, I found something valuable deep within.

We can find adventure in the high feeling we get from a thrill, but there are other times that we find it in the lows we feel when we are on edge of collapse. I feel most alive when I am living out an adventure in whatever form it takes.

Let us take the risks necessary to discover the unknown in ourselves, our world and each other.

Trip planning with a bear on a beer. 

Next time I forego the beer, or maybe forego the map for bigger adventure!