Conquering Musala 2012

It is not a first time that I am climbing Musala. But it is a first to take the path from Belmeken dam - a 25 km trek on a mostly even terrain with the last 5 km or so with ups and downs on the rocky ground. The bones were crackling, the ground was soft, the sun was rough, the wind was deceitful. You smile together with everyone around, marvelling at the way the water makes its way through the ground, the way the pine trees feed you their green pine cones without protest. You are standing on that edge and hoping that you don't slip; and yet, you come closer to have your breath taken away by the view. You walk into the clouds as if they are a fluffy ball of pink candy cotton. And it melts under your feet just like the real cotton.

July Vacation Last Days – of Emotional and Altitudinal Highs

Friday, 22nd July – clear skies, fresh air, cool summer temperatures, herbs in purple, cold water. 07:55 – morning sunshine in Sofia, group gathers together. On the road. Till 09:55 or so. Vihren Mountain Hut our starting point. Step by step, up and up, kilometer by kilometer, breath after breath. 10:39 I see the peak and in front of it a flower – yellow, leaves, a pyramid; the peak is still a fog away. 11:13 I see a stone with orange moss – not red like blood, but orange like fire. 11:31 the peek feels further away – like a goal that takes a lifetime to accomplish. 11:47 wind comes over as a warning – almost stealing my scarf, my protection, my astrological map. 11:55 last bits of vegetation are left behind and only rocks remain in front – a pyramid of rocks, of marble, unpolished and raw – like debris. People left their mark – arranging stones in shapes and words etching white on green. 12:05 dark clouds try to scare. 12:30 we are there on the top. Joyous of the conquest of peak Vihren, joyous of our dear cousin nailing great results in university examination. 13:45 we go down – an hour sunshine, fruit and honey is enough. 15:28 we are down ready for a break drinking water like a whale adding honey like a bee.

July Vacation Day 3 – of Nature

Day 3 – A cheerful morning glow – the rain from last night had prepared the grass for our steps, the morning sun had cleared the air from the fog, the sun was waiting to burn even more of my face and shoulder skin. And the walk started from a ski resort. The type that is like a monolith with windows attached to a ski-line and that makes (they say) a great place to be in Winter. why did it feel as if we were entering an abandoned post-apocalyptic city? Why is that the only thing I could hear was Contrapunctus IX (a 4, alla Duodecima) as performed by Glenn Gould on the organ? Nothing of laughter, nothing of joy, nothing of energy. The sun was burning, the ground was grey, the buildings were dilapidating.

Next to those buildings that were once built and were once full of people (communist times?) new buildings were being constructed. Or construction had started before a plan went terribly wrong at the iron rods and cold concrete blocks were left unattended, abandoned behind the high fences warning off animals and mountaineers aline with their cold rust. Subtly informing you not to dip your toes in the lake right behind, let alone drink from it. Abandoned restaurant huts suggest that there is nothing to see here in the summer. Without the snow this place is dead. The hill specially designed for skiing (i.e. trees gotten rid of) felt like a torture – artificial, naked, as if the skin of the mountain has been ripped apart and the wound left uncovered.

We reach the top of the hill – the TV tower where a swarm of tourists (who had used the lift and who couldn’t care less about the packaging of sweets and chips they were spreading around) were taking picture with the view – artificial, as if they’ve made it – they’ve moved away from the car and away from the daily routine specially to discover its magnificence. Nature is taking her tole – it engulfs that which belongs to Her – the entrance of the tower also looked abandoned with grass trying to overtake the steel – which one is going to win?

And just 15 minutes away was the edge of the cliff – the same ridge from which Orpheus had sung his song for his beloved Eurydice. And when you stand on that ridge, you feel so minuscule, vulnerable, and yet omnipresent. The wind blows it takes off your atoms and molecules and spreads them across the valley. We spent 20 minutes there – none of the other tourists felt attachment for more than a fleeting moment of that picture they felt they needed to take to justify their presence. Nature has no sanctity. Nature is (?) no sanctity.

We come we build and we don’t finish. And you know. Nature will finish it for us. Not according to our design but to Hers. Because no matter how smart we are and how much backward engineering of nature we are capable of doing, nature is still the engineer and we shall always be observing her past and not her future.

Unless, we let in our instincts guide us. A horse hiding in the shade waving his tail at the wasps. Staying there unchained, without horseshoes, without a hotstamp, without a name, without identity. Apart from the one that Nature bestowed on him. And he came, sniffed us, cuddled with us, gave us his blessing and told us that all will be well. Nature has Her ways – we’ve been there before and we’ll be there again. If we don’t finish something, Nature will finish it for us – according to Her plan. And we are part of it. Somehow. I am sure. I am hopeful.

Conquering Musala

Musala – the highest peak on the Balkan Peninsula. A cruel spot to visit in Summer, an even crueler to do so in Winter. At a height of close to 3000 meters above sea level and an unprecedented constant wind, it is surprising when the sun shines. It is one of those places I hadn’t yet visited in Rila Mountain. We left Sofia around 9:30 (just in the beginning of the Solar Eclipse which was quite visible thanks to the cover of clouds). We started our walk in Borovets around 11:30 (no lift) and by 1 we had managed the easiest part of the walk through a coniferous forest meandering between the small hills. We reached Mountain Hut “Musala” at 2389 meters (there is a dispute if this is the highest mountain hut in Bulgaria or if there is another one in the Balkans). That was our only stop where we had some tea, walnuts and honey (we were bringing the walnuts and the honey). The tough part started then – there was a slight wind and we were worried this may catch us off-guard. And indeed there was a spot where we had to walk on four legs but that was fine in the end. The final portion was the actual rock climbing – holding with both hands to the steel rope and praying that if you slip, your gloves will hold you well. We were not attached to the rope – we were just holding to it. On one side of the rocks was a fall into a pool of stones, on the other side of the rocks was a fall into an ice-frozen lake. Either one of them would have been deadly. Magically, around 4:30 we reached the final point and when we showed our faces across the ridge of the final step, the setting sun was like a nuclear blast in our face. It was a blessing! It was difficult to sleep there because of the thin air and the change of pressure. It may also have had something to do with the solar eclipse too. After a series of massages (proper ones – that make each spinal cord and every other bone crack), we had dinner in the form of tea, honey, walnuts and apples – all bio, all home-grown, all travelled 2000 m in altitude and about 20 km in latitude. I went out to shoot the stars for a while but at -16, neither I, nor my camera could last for too long hence the lack of patience with proper exposures and pure enjoyment of the view. The next morning, because of the difficulty with sleeping, it was a song to wake up for the sunrise – which is, as I was criticised to have said (“thin air” someone suggested), like a slowed down ocean of white cotton, illuminated in pink and pale blue light like a magical symbiosis of the male and female – because the cosmic energy is ubiquitous and omnipotent. Three very dangerous slips (I ended up hanging just on my hands), some further marveling at the lack of ANY wind, a couple of layers of clothes taken off, and 2:30 hours later, I was falling asleep in the car back. All pictures, made with Leica M9, and Summicron C 40/f2 (mostly at f5.6 or f8) – what a tough journey for that little piece of digital equipment – how it survived the -16 degrees temperatures, and kept functioning without hiccoughs, without change of battery or other problems, I’ll never know. The last 5 pictures have received almost no manipulation whatsoever (I should do a series one day of the different steps taken for clearing up one of these pictures from the beginning to the end).