village of ruin
Woke when Snig got up, 7:15 -- two minutes before the alarm I set for myself. Snig was afraid that the guide would come, so he didn't want to leave to get breakfast; I didn't want to on my own, as I don't know what I'm ordering, and most people here don't speak English. So I had my last two Swedish apples and we waited. The guide called; he was going to be delayed; so we went for breakfast after all. I had bread stuffed with potatoes, hoping again that it would go easy on my stomach -- which has not been altogether happy! We went back to the hotel, I paid the bill, and we waited some more. The guide came 10:30.
I had the impression from Snig that the guide would come with all the provisions and extra equipment we needed -- um, no. So we went to the market to take care of that. I'm sitting alone in the car with the driver, who speaks no English, when he takes off suddenly down the road, high speed, I wondering very much where we're going. Several kilometers down the steep mountain road, I work it out: he needs to fill the tank, and apparently there's no station in town.
When we got back, it took another hour to get all the provisions, and twelve noon we're finally off. I had understood from Snig that we would be hiking from somewhere near the village, but no, we drove for two hours down a very sketchy track with lots of signs (in English) saying things like "life's a journey -- complete it!" and "this road's no rally, enjoy the valley!" There were lots of past rock slides along the way -- all cleared well enough, thankfully, for us to sneak through. About half way we stopped for the cook and someone -- 20 or so? -- who might be his son.
Arrived our destination 2 pm and waited another hour while the cook went with the driver to get our permit to enter the park. Snig smoked a joint and chatter with the guide. The man who might be the cook's son texted on his mobile phone. I couldn't get a signal on mine though, so I switched it off and took some pictures.
The hike started with a walk across a footbridge high above the river gorge. I was just waiting for it to start swinging in the wind but, thankfully, it did not. The trail then climbed, sometimes steeply (up to 1 in 4). My feet sweated like crazy inside my Five Fingers and consequently slid around a bit inside them.- Otherwise they worked well -- only that, when we got to our destination after 3 km -- the village of Ruin (20 houses), I discovered that the seam is wearing badly on the right shoe. That's exactly the problem I had with the previous pair that got warranty replaced. So whether the next three days' hiking will work out or not, I do not know.
The trail so far is built with some truly nice trail work -- Weathercarrot would be impressed. Only thing that surprised me is that I only saw one water bar for guiding water off the path --- and I understood from Snig (or Swagata, actually) that it can rain quite heavily here. Strange.
We're camped in a meadow overlooking the river gorge. It took me a few extra minutes -- and the cook's help -- to set up the tent in the wind. Haven't used it since last summer with Jamie. Sitting in the tent to write as the bugs are too distracting outside. The cook brought over a cup of tea. He speaks some English; the guide speaks none, I think.
There's a water pipe in the village. Looks like well water, so I probably don't need to filter it, but I did just to be on the safe side. Drank nearly a liter to replace what I'd sweated out on the short walk here. Must be after six now and it's still bloody hot -- yet the cook and his might-be-son were both wearing jackets on the way here!
I've just been in the country a little over three days, but it feels somehow much longer. Sweden and my employment problems -- and the other questions hanging over me -- could be a world away. Ah, to stay or to go -- and where in the world do I fit in?
I had the impression from Snig that the guide would come with all the provisions and extra equipment we needed -- um, no. So we went to the market to take care of that. I'm sitting alone in the car with the driver, who speaks no English, when he takes off suddenly down the road, high speed, I wondering very much where we're going. Several kilometers down the steep mountain road, I work it out: he needs to fill the tank, and apparently there's no station in town.
When we got back, it took another hour to get all the provisions, and twelve noon we're finally off. I had understood from Snig that we would be hiking from somewhere near the village, but no, we drove for two hours down a very sketchy track with lots of signs (in English) saying things like "life's a journey -- complete it!" and "this road's no rally, enjoy the valley!" There were lots of past rock slides along the way -- all cleared well enough, thankfully, for us to sneak through. About half way we stopped for the cook and someone -- 20 or so? -- who might be his son.
Arrived our destination 2 pm and waited another hour while the cook went with the driver to get our permit to enter the park. Snig smoked a joint and chatter with the guide. The man who might be the cook's son texted on his mobile phone. I couldn't get a signal on mine though, so I switched it off and took some pictures.
The hike started with a walk across a footbridge high above the river gorge. I was just waiting for it to start swinging in the wind but, thankfully, it did not. The trail then climbed, sometimes steeply (up to 1 in 4). My feet sweated like crazy inside my Five Fingers and consequently slid around a bit inside them.- Otherwise they worked well -- only that, when we got to our destination after 3 km -- the village of Ruin (20 houses), I discovered that the seam is wearing badly on the right shoe. That's exactly the problem I had with the previous pair that got warranty replaced. So whether the next three days' hiking will work out or not, I do not know.
The trail so far is built with some truly nice trail work -- Weathercarrot would be impressed. Only thing that surprised me is that I only saw one water bar for guiding water off the path --- and I understood from Snig (or Swagata, actually) that it can rain quite heavily here. Strange.
We're camped in a meadow overlooking the river gorge. It took me a few extra minutes -- and the cook's help -- to set up the tent in the wind. Haven't used it since last summer with Jamie. Sitting in the tent to write as the bugs are too distracting outside. The cook brought over a cup of tea. He speaks some English; the guide speaks none, I think.
There's a water pipe in the village. Looks like well water, so I probably don't need to filter it, but I did just to be on the safe side. Drank nearly a liter to replace what I'd sweated out on the short walk here. Must be after six now and it's still bloody hot -- yet the cook and his might-be-son were both wearing jackets on the way here!
I've just been in the country a little over three days, but it feels somehow much longer. Sweden and my employment problems -- and the other questions hanging over me -- could be a world away. Ah, to stay or to go -- and where in the world do I fit in?