To the hills!

As mentioned, I was getting tired of cities and their offerings. I'd previously decided to make a bee-line for the hills, so I grabbed a ride with Adam and Dez aboard Norm north of Budapest, in the general direction of the Tatra mountains. We didn't make it too far before pulling up and having a tripe porkault ('goulash') for dinner. Apparently it was the only thing they were doing on the menu (it was a Sunday evening). The sauce was pretty tasty - but I tell you I'm sick of tripe; it's so bland.

We didn't make it so far the next day either - Norm was leaking oil, and the call was made to stay put and get it fixed. Ever faithful and dependant friend that I am, I dissed A&D and hit the road. A local bus took me to the border, which I then walked across into Slovakia. I hitched to the next town with a bus terminal, got another local bus to somewhere else I can't remember the name of, then managed to get on a regional bus which took me within a reasonable distance of my target. There wasn't an onward train for several hours though, so after a quick language lesson from the friendly lady at the station, I had tea across the road, before getting a train to Poprad - target reached. My good luck continued when the owners of the full hostel let me stay in their apartment, along with another ring in. They were a friendly bunch, and even after such a long and tiring day, I was happy to have a glass of Slovak white and a game of Yahzee before bed.

By the next afternoon my bag was packed and I was on my way up into the High Tatras. They're a mountain range that straddle the border between Poland and Slovakia, described in one guide I read as the most significant European range outside of the Alps. I headed up to a relatively low mountain hut for the night. Compared to unstaffed NZ alpine huts, I always find it amusing being able to purcase a hot meal and a TAP beer at these places. I saw some guys walking up to these huts wih a keg on their backs, attached by an uncomfortable looking contraption. No wonder these Eastern European countries crank out such hard alpinists.

I continued up the valley the following morning, rising out of pine forests to a beautiful elevated meadow, before another climb to a 'proper' high hut. It was hot in the sun, but the refreshment provided by the multitudes of pristine alpine meltwater is perhaps enough to thank the heat for providing such an opportunity. My path took me over and through a few valleys by means of col's, no peaks or ridges, but the surrounding terrain was quite precipitous, the distant terrain lush and green, and I was happy to be there. I ended up putting in a long hard day, in able to set myself up well for an ascent the following day: about 11hours in total. It was a nice surprise to have the company of a Czech girl for the last hour down to the hut - she'd lived in NZ for a few years.

Another relatively luxurious accomodation for the night - I even had a shower! I can't complain about the availability of grog at these places. It's incredibly refreshing to have a cold beer after a day in the sun. It's also easy to justify after a day of excercise, and I like to think that a drink or two helps the body relax and muscles recover during the night!

Next on the cards was an ascent of Rysy (2499m), which went down easily enough in the morning. Rysy lies on the Slovak/Polish border, and they have a little office up there in which I had to purchase a visa. Only kidding. Though few years previous, when things were less 'Shengened', they apparently used to monitor border crossings in the mountains.
Soon after starting my descent into Poland, some bad weather came in. The chains in place provided some piece of mind in the wet, though it also meant I was in the queue. But I was just glad to be on my way down. To my wonder, though not my surprise, plenty of people were still on their way up. Never mind that they wouldn't be able to see anything; someone had been killed by lightning just a day or two previous on an adjacent range.

Once the clouds parted way, the view was magnificent, two stunning lakes framed by steep walls either side. I was still glad to get to the hut and dry out though. It had been anoher reasonably big day, with the last half at a decent pace to get out of the rain. The hut was chockas - I hadn't realised it was so accessable. Even the Pope had been to the place! And apparently Lenin had once ascended Rysy.... I tucked into a Bigos (polish stew) and had a siesta.

The next morning I was up reasonably early and on another trail up. It was a beautiful sunny morning, and I was almost alone on the track. When I got to the little summit, I had it to myself, and enjoyed a second breakfast while admiring the views. I was back on the border, and in all directions the valleys were dotted with alpine lakes. From here I made a long descent, all the way back to a road (via another 'bigos'), then on a bus back to Poprad. I'd decided to call it after four days - not only were my knees a little sore from not being in condition, most other huts were full up. It seems in Europe it's very difficult to get away from the masses.