I took my Dad for a hike around the Polish mountains last summer.
That part of the Carpathians are called the Tatry, and they're not particularly high; they top out just over 2000m, and there's a cable car up to 1850m, so I envisaged a pleasant, lightly strenuous hike in and out of the valleys before going home. Hell, teenagers do these sorts of walks during summer camp; my fat old father could surely manage it.

On a charming May morning, we took the cable car up to the most famous peak for a quick look at neighbouring Slovakia, before trudging back down the other side of the valley to get to the next peak. The summer sun beat down, we admired the burbling streams and outcrops of gorse, and generally marvelled at the wonder of nature and the complete lack of other hikers on the trail.

But as we walked along the valley floor my old man's questions became more and more insistent; "Can you see the trail up the other? I don't see the trail back up. Is there a trail back up? Can you see it? I can't see any point on the peak where you'd cross. Where do we cross? Have you seen anyone else? Does anyone else know we're out here?"

We walked closer and closer to the approaching mountain, which bore a strong resemblance to a cliff, and as we rounded the final curve in the trail my Dad finally got his answers about the path ahead. Where once had been a prepared trail of granite steps up and out of the ravine, there was now little more than rubble, as a winter avalanche had turned the only way forward into a treacherous slope of fragmented stone.

The old man turned to me, and as the perfect swear word forming on his lips, the gods spoke for him. An enormous boom of thunder blasted across the valley, and the sky darkened in seconds. We were up against a cliff wall, we had a three hour hike back to the nearest shelter, and a storm was brewing just the other side of the mountain.

We huddled under my emergency poncho, spreading the plastic sheet over our heads as the clouds burst and the rain pounded down. We were crouched in the lee of a boulder that had been brought down by the avalanche, and with every peal of the storm we could here the loose rock around us quiver and rattle. We counted the minutes.

Fortunately for us, the summer storm soon abated, and the rain and lightning finally petered out. And we looked up at the cliff, and decided it was the only option open to us. So we climbed.

And climbed. And climbed. Bellies to the ground, we hauled ourselves up, feeling the loose rocks slither and settle under every gingerly-placed hand. In some places the only way forward was to grab fistfuls of the wet straw-like grass poking through the stones, at other times we had to plunge our arms elbow-deep in snow still frozen into the shadow of boulders. It was painful, agonising, and all too slow.

But when we got to the top, it was all worth it:


( Grrrmachine the indifference engine, Wed 4 Apr 2012, 20:59, 7 replies)

thats a lovely view
( enoughblueskyforsailorstrousers, Wed 4 Apr 2012, 21:46, closed)

Whoa
that's pretty.
( Herb Alpert's Taxi Driver I have very beautiful lips, Wed 4 Apr 2012, 22:41, closed)

Nice picture...
...have a [click].
(minimalist ..., Wed 4 Apr 2012, 23:19, closed)

if you got the car finished you could probably drive up.

( Windy Pig I'm naturally quite suspicious about the moon., Wed 4 Apr 2012, 23:23, closed)

My inlaws live in Slovakia, in a mountain village just to the East of the Tatras.
I absolutely love heading there. It's absolutely breathtaking and despite the way it first looks from the train station before travelling in, it really is surprisingly gentle terrain for the most part and absolutely beautiful.

If you can ever get to the Slovak side, I would certainly recommend it. Not only to see the Tatras from another perspective, but also to have a look at some of the sights in the country. Bojnice castle is most definitely worth a visit for example.

I can't wait to head over again in May.
( Muns, Thu 5 Apr 2012, 10:29, closed)

Looks boring.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 5 Apr 2012, 12:10, closed)

I recognise those two lakes
They're in Snowdonia where that underground power station is.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Thu 5 Apr 2012, 13:08, closed)