From Hahlić dom, you can see the ocean. The sun sets over it in a pink and purple blush. I can see all the way down the dark green coast of Croatia, curled up like a spindly dragon. We’ll be walking along it’s spine for the next month and a half. It sounds like a long time, but what strikes me from here is just how small these countries are.
It’s been a long day. Kind of a hard day really, the sort of day that makes me question why we do this, why we hike.
This morning we wake slowly in the warm, wooden lodge. Yesterday, I had so much energy. I ran up the last few metres to the summit of Snežnik. I felt I could’ve happily kept walking past the lodge, even though it was certainly the longest day I’ve ever hiked. But today, I feel less enthused. Plus the forecast is for thunderstorms again. I push my face back into the soft flannelette pillow. It takes a while to get out of bed.
Long day. Big mountain. Am pain.
Today’s hike was a navigational schmozzle. Only 21 km, but very long. However, I write this from a warm, comfortable youth hostel called Ars Viva in Podcerkev, so I can’t say it ended too badly.
We wake up and it’s still raining. Despite this, the sun is shining, and our four season tent is getting pretty warm. It’s a sticky, humid heat that makes me sweat even though I’m still kind of cold. All in all, a morning to sit tight and be miserable.
As the rain eases off, I crawl outside to go grab the food from where we tied it up over night. A quick Google reveals that the bag is supposed to be about seven meters off the ground to protect from bears. I’d say ours was about one-and-a-half.
We’re still working on our bear protocol.
Pale light gleams off the white stone church, waking us at 4:30 am. Stars are softly penciled in around the sky. This may be our second day of walking, but it’s our first true morning on the track and we each lie still a while.
We’ve just crawled into our sleeping bags under the awning of a 15th century church. I have some doubts about the legality of this arrangement, but it’s been a long day, my legs are sore, and Slovenia has some fairly restrictive wild camping laws.
Still, I’m not particularly enjoying the compulsion to rehearse my backstory every time I hear a footstep. Or a voice.
Considering how stressed this is making me, I suspect I’m not cut out for a life of crime.