High Mountains of Bulgaria: Part 1

 

Which way is up?

              More difficult then any exam I've taken, more demanding then any job I've worked and more strenuous then any exercise I've performed was scrambling for three days up peaks and navigating through thick fog and foreign signs for 42+km with 15kilo of gear on my back through Central Balkan National Park in central Bulgaria.

              Other then trekking selective portions of the Appalachian trail in Virginia and Pennsylvania, this was my first real extended hiking venture with a complete set of gear. I knew I wanted to finally put my REI pack to proper use on this trip, and therefore convinced myself a hike through the Balkans would be a good idea, but it must've slipped my mind while I was packing because my pack ended up being 35lbs, which may not seem like a lot, but when you're maneuvering 60 degree inclines and declines, you feel it. One less pair of pants, one less sweatshirt, maybe a few less socks would've surely done the trick. Hind sight is always twenty-twenty however, so there was no use thinking about this during the hike.

              The plan was to begin the journey at the small mountain village of Divchovoto, about two hours outside of Bulgaria's capital Sofia. This village was so small I had to take a bus from Sofia to Teteven, a town just outside Divchovoto, and from there I could take another bus to my starting point. I ended up taking the Noon bus instead of the 9am bus out of Sofia, and therefore missed the connection from Teteven to Divchovoto by an hour. Luckily, I met a local on the bus from Teteven who was kind enough to show me her town, join me for a meal and even arrange a cab for me to Divchovoto. With our brief time together I gained a core perspective of what Bulgaria is all about; how a less then desirable economy still survives on the perseverance of the people, thick tradition, and good food.

Home made trail map

              Once I arrived in Divchovoto I still had to walk 3km by foot to reach the entrance of Central Balkan National park. By the time I made it it was just before 7pm, meaning only two hours of sunlight left and five hours to the next cabin house. I decided to check out the only cabin house still in use according to the descriptions in a guidebook from 2014 that a hostel mate in sofia let me take pictures of. Upon arrival it was obvious the cabin was shutdown. It was also completely locked aside from a running fountain just to the side of the cabin in a small shelterI had a potential place to stay there, but the sky was clear and I thought I'd get a head start on the trail, so I gathered my things and set off for the trail with a great determination.

              I didn't make it more then two hours up a semi-difficult climb before darkness set in and I had no choice but to set up camp, which was essentially my sleeping bag under a tree. A couple hours later it turned into a complete downpour, and the only shelter I could rig was a fallen tree leaning up against another tree just enough where I could wedge my body underneath. I fashioned my Northface jacket at the end of the tree and attached to a smaller shrub to keep my head dry. For six hours I was in a half sleep, half guarded state of being, and for another two hours I laid there thinking of all the things I could've done differently. In the end it's extremely hard to convince ourselves we're meant to be in these situations, no matter how bleak they seem.

              As soon as the rain stopped at 11AM I shot up; no pictures, no reminiscing, just straight to the trail. For the next five hours I walked across wooded streams and short open meadows, only climbing significantly for the last hour of this "Day 1" trail, which was part of the three day hike laid out by my friend's Balkan mountains guide book. The sun was out for the greater portion of this day, and then a light sprinkle started while I was grappling roots and tree holds to climb the ascent to "Hizha Benkovski" (house of Benkvoski), a famous revolutionary general who fled into the woods and created the trail you follow on this first portion of the hike.

Benkovski House

              By the time I made it to the open ridge where Benkovski house sat it was again down pouring and just nearly sun down. Walking up to the cabin I rang the large old school iron bell on the front porch and a Bulgarian couple came out to greet me and show me my room for the night. I was the only one on this Monday night staying in a cabin house created for fifty or more people, a trend that was common both on and off the trail, as locals are much less likely to hike on the weekdays, especially with predicted storms in the area.

              Although the tenants Nadka and her supposed husband spoke no English, they still made me some hot soup and offered me bread. They were watching an old film on AMC in their common room about a kid in what looked like Egypt training to win a village horse race. The only emotion they showed during the 45 minutes we sat there was the chuckle when the horse flung off the boy rider and a gasp when it seemed as if the horse got shot (it survived, just a common cinema mis-direction). I slept wonderfully this night in the cabin dorm all to myself. I also tended a fire in an old fashioned stove that helped dry all my clothes and sleeping bag from the night before. Theres something about creating a fire, even in a wood burning stove, that makes you really appreciate the warmth.

Nature sure is neat

              Walking to the bathroom the next morning was a difficult task. Feeling as though I gained twenty years over night, I gathered my things and set back out for the trail. Before I left, Nadka gave me some extra bread, a mountain guide in Bulgarian and some unclear gestures pointing back and forth from 12 noon, the time it was, to 12:40 on a small clock. She kept repeating some words in Bulgarian that I had no idea what they meant so I just nodded my head, which I would find out later actually means no in Bulgaria. Ultimately she understood that I did not understand and we parted ways.

              Forty minutes into the hike it started drizzling, which soon turned into yet another downpour, the worst of the adventure. I walked about five minutes in the storm before spotting an abandoned cabin with the windows blown out but a roof still holding. I sought refuge inside this torn up space for a little over an hour, afterwards the sky was completely clear and light was again reflecting off the rain soaked plants.

              After walking for only 30 minutes the rain started coming down again and the first car I've seen on this hike came rattling along the rocky path I was on. Feeling somewhat disoriented with the rain and foreign signs, I asked the diver for directions to the next peak I needed to get to. They spoke no English, and after several minutes pointing to various places on the map, they finally understood the word "Vehzen" and motioned for me to get in their car. They only drove me 10 minutes, but it was helpful enough to point me in the right direction. 

              Once I exited the car it took me another couple hours to make it to the next cabin, Hizah Vehzen, where I would stay this night. The original plan was to make it past that cabin on this day, but the rain delay made this impossible. If I wanted to complete the hike in the time I allotted I would have to fit 14km in the next day, which was almost two days worth of hiking according to the Balkan mountain guide.

Serious Ridges To Come