The General has this ungodly habit of sleeping really late - I swear, if I didn't drag him out of the bed every morning, he'd stay passed out until freakin' 8 or something. For postmen - witches (as per Pratchett) and hikers, 8 is noon. You're supposed to have done whatever you were planning on doing that morning by 8. But even though he acts like he's not going to comply, when I say 'you can just stay in, I'll go on my own, be right back', he secretly has no intention on missing out and will begrudgingly tag along, but quietly marvel at the very same sights as I.
So, day two, we got up at dawn, got down to the car, brushed our teeth, changed our socks and headed around the bend into Trenta - the magical realm of steep white rocks and cool green pastures - the realm of all the best folk tales, highland women and men and some of the more curious local Gods, the front-runner of which is the golden-handed, hairy and chthonic Kresnik, the God of midsummer night, smiths and industry, sun and war, a protector and lover, one of the really old ones. I should probably look for his famed cave/smithy at some point and also for the site of our most famous B&W movie about a cunning shepherd boy, Kekec on his surreal adventures. Though not this time.
First thing we did, we dipped our feet in Soča - the Isonzo river - quite literally. It's so fucking cold that if you put your hand in, it starts to hurt. Some people were bathing and diving in it, but most just sat and basked on the banks, taking in the natural splendor. I imagine diving is only possible if the day is not hot at all, because if your body was pre-heated in the 100 degrees sun and you jumped into a few degrees above freezing water, it'd be the last thing you do.
We made a small run towards the horse-shoe top of the valley - 330° of 2000m mountains round and round, to find a chain of small but very lovely waterfalls and emerald pools, where water and pebbles carved cauldrons into the limestone.
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No idea what this was, but it was cute. |
Then we began our ascend. Although the previous day we did not enjoy the climb particularly and were looking for an easy path, this one turned out to be just as much of a drag. Curious, really, because although it was placed inside a nearly vertical wall, it went up zig-zag and was really wide - wide enough for a car, if there wasn't for the rocks and roots and such. Perhaps once, a wild while ago, there was a cart road up, for military purposes. Either way, it was super wide, and really oddly level, but it went on for AGES. Every step you made you had to be careful how you make it. The board said 2 or 3 hours max. After 2 or 3 hours, we began to despair and ask people how we're doing. It would be quite sad if it was just the two of us, but on our way down the day after, almost all of the people we met felt the exact same way. It was a freaking drag! It wouldn't fkng end!
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These are called 'možiclji', 'marking little men' and are normally found as road marks, but clearly someone was bored and had too much time on their hands :D |
Eventually the path and the cable car line meet, a class of Italian scouts led by a black-skinned old nun in an azure blue habit having stopped there for a break. After that the road crosses the saddle and begins to descend towards the cottage for about 20 minutes. less, because we wanted to outrun the scouts so they wouldn't occupy every cot in the cottage.
The food being very scarce - the first day we brought too little water and now we brought too little food?? - and really expensive, we ate but a little. He ate a sausage (no bread) and I had half a handful of Bolonesse pasta, giving the other half to him. (The morning after I paid 9 euro for two bad coffees and bars of fruit chocolate - that's three times the value they'd have in the Real World. I don't care if things are costly up in the hills, I fully appretiate it takes a lot to get the supplies up, but i've had some of the biggest, best pieces of pie in mountain cottages, and on Velika Planina they give you a sausage with sour kraut in such a massive portion you can hardly eat it - it's damn delicious...)
The General got tucked in, slept while I wrote in my journal, then complained he's nippy, I put room's blankets over him. The bunk beds simple weren't made for two people - the mattresses were too thin and the edges too sharp, so for the rarest occasion we didn't share a pillow. I wanted to shower in the middle of the night, alas. No shower. While he retired early, I wanted to see how far the lake was (between 15 -30 minutes), so as long as there was daylight, I went out to explore the majestic Krn basin - the remains of an old, grindy little glacier that once ruled here.
There used to be or sometimes are more lakes here, it would seem. And the summits all around seem extremely lovely. Alas, really not in the mood to do any more ascending. What was scheduled as half-a-day plans not only took all days but was beginning to also drain us.
I was a little irritated to find the Italian scouts not only bathed in the lake, but also set camp right on the shore of it - basically right next to the board saying camping and bathing is strictly forbidden to preserve the delicate natural habitat of the basin, already struggling for the amount of hikers coming through. I contemplated long and hard whether I should mention their crimes to the cottage keeper, but somebody's done it aside me, because they all slept in the cottage and not a single one of them was in sight the next morning by the lake.
On my way back, twilight slowly setting in, slowly, I ran into a minute obstacle: the shed which housed the sheep, cows and pigs and had no fence to speak of, allowed for the two pink pigs to come out and graze happily around, on the path. I had no idea exactly how aggressive pink pigs can be - the wild boards will kill you - and sometimes these are as timid as old cats, or they can charge and then what would I do? I had nowhere to run, nothing much to climb within range. I decided to wait until someone else passes, as one does, to see what will happen. But both pigs just slowly returned to their sty and I hurried pass.
The plan, of course, was to catch the first light as it hits the lake. What I got was 400 shots of fog. I'm not complaining, fog is magic. But it was really fucking foggy. Being really cold, I used my travel blankie as a skirt. It looked stupid, but it is very warm. We circled the lake and then waited for two hours to see if the sun will finally show up. We tried having sex, but as soon as we began making out against a nice rock, a flock of sheep came down a slope and 'baa??!! baaa-ed" at us, which was certainly the cutest boner killer ever. It was cold and everything was wet, but it was most definitely a very TGEVE moment: time stood absolutely still and was not and was going to be and we were not but we could be and it was a standstill of perfection of creation.
General stood by the lake - I later asked what he was thinking about and he said he honestly can't remember, and I sat about 30m above him on a boulder, just admiring the geology. Two hours went by on their own terms. Eventually we agreed the position we were in is never going to get sunny, and the light that managed to penetrate the misty veil hit the cotton-ball of fog which reacted like a lens, igniting the convex eastern side of it into a curious effect. There was also a moon on the screen, but I'll show you where, later.
Around the summit, on our way back, the light was fantastic, coloring the spruces silver and orange and blazing green, mixed with rivers of clouds and silver-looking grass, covered in dew. I had by then ran out of memory card, trying to get at least some sense of the foggy lake. The General warned we need to be back in the cottage by nine to return the room key, so I couldn't stop and shoot, i had to do it 'in the blind', just running after him, pressing the big button, using a single shot and hoping for the best. (In very sunny weather or if I can't get enough light to see properly, I always use the triple-frame shot, overlit, underlit and middle one, of which at least one should be a good base and the other two would work well as editing fillers.
On the way down we were the cool ones, fast-walking, confident-looking, telling other people nice little lies to keep their spirits up. We went back to the river to get our feet into the water, soothing them a little, washing some of our clothes, because we were starting to run out and stink. We sat on the rocks until the clothes dried.
Next stop:
Franja field hospital from WW2.
PS - this is not my photo, it's from Wiki - view of the lake from above....
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