Or eight days of hills, thrills, spills mountains and rakija
Aiming to master the challenges of solo travelling, I used to consider that doing a tour thing was taking the easy way out, but there was nothing cowardly about the trekking tour 10 other travellers accomplished last week. Although I had averaged 15kms of walking per day up until the trek, I realised that was nothing compared to scaling slippery rocks, ascending steep hills and leaping over water filled creeks, fearing the possibility of being carried down the fast flowing river. I also witnessed how well some of my trekking peers coped with difficulties, such as not being able to participate fully and was impressed with how everyone on the tour had a caring attitude and never left behind any stragglers.
Inspiringly, some of these travellers had visited less traditional destinations such as Mongolia, all of Africa, the various Stans and Tibet. One of the travellers, only 32, it turns out, has travelled to over 70 countries; another has decided to make travel her life since her husband died 10 years ago, travelling for 9 months per year. Others were travelling in their late 60s when many would have given this up.
It was day 5 of the tour and the ‘hiking’ had mostly consisted of walking through traditional pretty cobblestone towns and monasteries, breathing in quintessential scenes of traditional farming practices, horses drawn carts, shepherds escorting their cows across the roads and lush green hills, filled with poppies and waterfalls.
Eating lunch on Day 4 had consisted of shooing some healthy dairy cows away from the picnic table in the Rhodopes so that we could take their place at the picnic table; two persistent calves stayed on and joined us, partaking of our leftovers.
If things couldn’t be any more idyllic, our Bulgarian guide, Nadya, offered us a choice: ‘Do you want to go up up or only slightly up?’ she gestured, with vertical and horizontal hand motions. We looked up at the ‘up up’ mountain and most of us decided to give it a go. ‘Slightly up’ meant a more economical walk around the corner, but no experience of the mountain. But from Day 5 onward there was no choice; it was ‘up up’ all the way.
Day 5 not only brought with it the anticipation of the famous Pirin Mountains, but the promise of two nights in the one destination, a bonus for travellers with luggage; maybe our bus driver Alexander had some input into this aspect of the itinerary as Bansko, was his home town. Our shy but robustly handsome bus driver Alexander had cleverly and calmly negotiated oncoming traffic, sheep, cows, bicycles, tractors, rocks, pot holed roads, hairpin bends and detours to move us safely between our destinations, had made trips to the pharmacy for the sickies and endured our post dinner boozy evenings whilst he remained sober. He was deservedly happy for two nights at home.
Mindful of the changing weather, we were encouraged to increase our pace, as we set off on our hiking trek through the Cirque of the Banderishki Lakes after lunch. Our guide Nadya had struggled to complete the daily itinerary the company had set in the given time and every day seemed to get later and later. We indeed visited many lakes along the way and I felt Nadya wanted us to see as many as possible to tick them off.
Some of us were already finding the ‘up up’ rocks a bit of a challenge as one wrong move could lead to disaster if you fell or slipped. Feeling grateful for hiring hiking poles, I enjoyed the empowerment that ascending the rocks that assistance provides, not to mention the reward of panoramic views from the tops of the snowy mountains we had only previously viewed from afar. From the top of the mountain and during our descent, we found we literally had our heads in the clouds and our blue sky turned dark; “I don’t like the looks of this sky” Nadya cried. “Hurry up” she ordered us, as we headed back downwards. This was okay for most but as we descended down the now slippery rocks, the likelihood of slipping had increased dramatically. With rain pelting down, we one by one made it to the safety of the bus and Alexander, but not without injury.
Our injured bodies and egos could only be soothed through our dinner at a traditional tavern (“mehana”), where we ate local food and litres of homemade Rakija, listened to our hosts sing and were coerced into dressing up in what felt like 20kgs of traditional costume and learning traditional dancing. (3,30-4hrs of walking; 7.8km/4.85miles; climbing and descending 700m/2300ft; many litres of rakija consumed)
For Day 6 and 7, Nadya had increased her frenzy of lake point scoring but many of us had done the maths on Day 7 and wondered if it was really possible to do all 7 lakes in the couple of hours left and make it back by 4.30, when the chair lift was closed. These glacier lakes are set between 2100 and 2500m/6800 and 8200ft above sea level, with names fitting their shapes, like Babreka (the Kidney), Okoto (the Eye), and Salzata (the Teardrop). Our group became ‘differentiated’ as we had one injured, one with a cold and I was feeling seedy after one too many house reds the night before (let’s just say that I hope that dry retching into a fly infested squat toilet at the Rila Monastery was the lowest point of my tour). So I joined the main group for some of the lakes and then went back to encourage the other ‘sickies’ up to at least one lake, at their own pace, from where we enjoyed a beautiful view, conversation and scraps we had brought for lunch. Two of the other hikers also concluded that it was going to be impossible to make it without hurrying and they also returned. So there were five of us on the chairlift wondering what would happen to the others. It was only through begging the chair lift workers to stay open another five minutes that the rest of the crew made it back. To complete our Day 6 hike, four wheel driving was essential and we met our swarthy but capable drivers in the morning who drove over large rocks to ascend the ‘up up’ hills so that we could complete our hike. While we were hiking, they put their time to good use, smoking, fishing and socialising at the first lake.
It would have been impossible for me to duplicate the experiences of trekking and visiting the many mountains and lakes in the itinerary without partaking in an organised tour. For a solo traveller, a tour such as this one also provides the opportunity for camaraderie and socialising, a great way to break up the isolation of travelling alone.
Having said that, once the bus came back into Sofia for the final evening, and I saw signs of the city – hipster fashion, architecture, communist buildings, cafes and bars, no tractors, no cows, no bucolic mountains, I knew I was back where I belong and looked forward to immersing myself in the culture of Sofia for four nights.
