Thunderclaps & Lightning, Just a Little Frightening

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My final objective in the Tatras was to cross a pair of high saddles (Priečne Sedlo and Prielom) located either side of the mountain refuge of Zbojnicka Chata, where I had managed to secure a bed for the Monday night. Given that both saddles sit over 2200m high at the top of steep climbs featuring the use of extended sections of fixed chains, I had wisely decided not to attempt the route with my full pack - nor in bad weather - so upon returning to the campground in Tatranska Štrba on Sunday evening I paid for three nights, so that I could leave my tent set up (with backpack inside) while I tackled the route fast and light with just my daypack over the following two days.

Originally the weather forecast had predicted possible thunderstorms on both Monday afternoon and Tuesday morning, so the plan had been to get away as early as possible on the first day, and then if necessary I could delay my departure from the refuge on the second day. Then the forecast had changed, and changed again, and by the time I woke up on Monday there were storms forecast for late-morning and mid-afternoon that day, but clear weather for Tuesday. The bad weather alternative for either day was simply to follow the Veľká Studená Dolina ('Big Cold Valley') at the upper end of which Zbojnicka Chata was located, rather than crossing over from/to the neighbouring valleys; though it was the pass crossings themselves rather than the destination that I was most attracted to in the first place - particularly since I had abandoned my planned attempt on Orla Perć (the 'Eagle's Edge' ridge walk on the Polish side of the Tatras) that, from what I had read, was the only similarly challenging scrambling route open to non-guided visitors in the whole of the Tatras.

In any case, I was determined to give myself as much time as possible to cover the first day's walk, and having risen at 5:30am managed to get the 6:09am train to Poprad, from where the mountain railway would take me up to Stary Smokovec, and from there a funicular railway further up to Hrebienok. Somehow though, in the fifteen minutes that it should have taken for my first train to get from Štrba to Poprad (the next stop), we incurred a ten-minute delay, which meant that I missed the connecting train to Stary Smokovec and had to wait an hour for the next one. Then due to a lack of synchronicity between the disparate railway companies, once I did finally get to Stary Smokovec I had to wait a further half-hour for the horrendously over-priced (€9 for a 5-minute ride) funicular to Hrebienok - so that it ended up taking me two-and-a-half hours to get from Tatranska Štrba to Hrebienok (a distance of less than 30km)! And all the while the weather had been perfect, with not a hint of cloud over even the highest peaks. Somehow I knew this would not remain the case...

With only a featherweight on my back I made it from Hrebienok (1275m) to Zamkovskeho Chata (1450m) in under an hour, and from there up to Teryho Chata (2010m) in another hour. Aside from revelling in the views on offer along the way - which I had been robbed of while walking the same trail in the opposite direction twelve days earlier - the (delayed) timing of my walk also offered a first-hand look at the extraordinary contrast between modernity and tradition, as the lower hut (Zamkovskeho) received their supplies by helicopter, while the upper hut (Teryho) got theirs the old-fashioned way: on the backs of strapping young men, who could be seen straining their way up to the hut under loads as tall as they were.

According to one of the Slovak women I had walked with a week earlier, the three highest huts in the Tatras (Teryho, Zbojnicka and Chata pod Rysmi) are the only places left in Europe where mountain huts are still supplied in this way, and the Slovak government is hoping to have the practice World Heritage-listed by UNESCO, in the same way as the practice of transhumance (where shepherds drive their animals to high pastures for the summer, before returning them to the valleys for winter) is also now World Heritage-listed under UNESCO's 'intangible cultural heritage' guidelines. If the campaign is successful, it would certainly give the young men in question some serious bragging rights at the pub!

Having reached Teryho Chata by 10:45am - just as a blanket of low cloud proceeded to drape itself over the surrounding peaks - I stopped in for a serve of goulash and a mug of hot spiced tea (and to collect the light travel towel I had left behind two weeks earlier... or at least one that was very similar to mine!) while waiting for the clouds to lift. But with the weather not looking any better (nor any worse) by midday, I decided to press on in the hope of beating the forecast afternoon thunderstorms. As I penetrated further up the left-hand side of the valley, the clouds seemed to be playing with me - at times only the tops of the peaks were obscured while the gaps between them were clear; while at others the whole ridge crest would disappear under a grey blanket. Still, there was no rain or thunder around, so I proceeded as planned to the point where the trail went from being mostly horizontal (ie a walking trail) to mostly vertical (ie something entirely different). If I'd been alone I would have had second thoughts about continuing, but with a couple of people just up ahead of me I felt reassured enough to continue.

And this is how easily accidents can happen in the mountains: a train is delayed by ten minutes, a storm front blows in two hours early, and suddenly you find yourself in a situation that wasn't anticipated. As I reached the base of the cliffs leading to the narrow saddle of Priečne Sedlo (meaning 'Transverse Saddle', 2352m) the clouds descended, and I could just make out the man and woman who had been walking in front of me disappearing into the mist above. So I set off after them, hauling myself upwards with the aid of various steel objects embedded in the rock face, using a fixed steel cable to pull myself upwards with one hand, while my other hand and feet made use of whatever steel rungs or small plates had been provided as artificial footholds. Only later did I discover that this was actually a Via Ferrara route, and that there was a lengthy section of fixed chains further over to the left for ordinary 'walkers' to use.

As the visibility dropped to as little as ten metres I struggled to keep the couple above me in sight, whilst ensuring that they had both made it clear of each section of cable before I latched onto it. And it was then that the sound of thunder first reached my ears, slowly rumbling away somewhere in the distance. Before long a light rain had started falling. But by this time it was too late to turn back - the climb over Priečne Sedlo is the only section of trail on the Slovak side of the Tatras that is designated as one way-only, due to the risk involved in having people try to pass in opposition directions. And while there was virtually no chance of encountering anyone else coming up from either side of the pass in this sort of weather, descending blind would have been even more dangerous than climbing in limited visibility. I was committed to getting up and over the saddle, regardless of the conditions.

With more time to think (and better visibility to see the predicament I was in) I would probably have been scared shitless, but the reality was that I couldn't see anything but the next few metres of the route and the hazy outline of the woman above me. And with the peals of thunder getting progressively louder and more frequent, there was no time to think; there was only time to act. Thankfully the various steel implements protruding from the rock had been expertly placed, and with gloves on I had no trouble maintaining a firm grip. I had also stopped to put my rain jacket on before tackling the climb, wearing it over the top of my pack so as to keep everything inside as dry as possible, while still benefitting from the extra warmth that it provided. The couple, I had noticed earlier, were each wearing only shorts and t-shirt, and only the man carried a small pack - though by this point there would have been no opportunity to retrieve anything from it anyway.

Suddenly I heard voices coming from below me, and was astonished to think that anyone else would be attempting the route (there had been nobody in sight behind me when I reached the base of the cliffs) until, squinting against the rain, I noticed that the people below me matched the appearance of the people above; and that the next sequence of the route headed across and down rather than up... we had crossed the saddle without my even knowing it! No sooner had the significance of this fact dawned on me than the heavens opened, as the rain began pelting down with a ferocity that I've only known previously from the tropics; and with it the wind's intensity had also risen (presumably the side of the saddle from which we had approached had been sheltered from the wind) so that it was coming down diagonally! This wasn't great news considering there was still a lengthy section of fixed chains to negotiate on the descent, and the rock face was now as slick as an ice-skating rink. But the wind had also increased the visibility somewhat, so that I could now see ahead to where the slope eased off about fifty metres or so below me. Salvation in sight at last!

With thunder now a constant companion, lightning flashing regularly through the clouds and driving rain soaking us to the skin, all three of us picked up the pace until we lowered ourselves one at a time from the last length of fixed chain. Unfortunately the steepness of the slope meant that we still had to proceed carefully as any slip on the wet rock could have resulted in serious injury, but by this stage it's fair to say we were laser-focused on the task at hand; and no amount of rain was going to stop us from getting down safely. Unfortunately we still had the small manner of a very wet 3km to cover to reach the shelter of Zbojnicka Chata, and it would take us over an hour to cover that distance.

But ever so slowly the realisation dawned on me that we'd dodged a bullet, and as the rain started to ease off (only to then pick up again further down the trail) the tension that had gripped me for the past hour started to pass, and I could afford to lower my pace. But it wasn't until I finally laid eyes on the refuge of Zbojnicka Chata ('Highwayman's Chalet') - which was hidden from view until the final few minutes - that I was able to fully relax. And then when I was no more than a hundred metres from the front door, I slipped on a rock and fell for the only time that day! As I got back to my feet I couldn't help letting out a little chuckle - the mountains never stop teaching you lessons; and the most important lesson of all in the mountains is to never drop your guard.

I was already anticipating the scenes that evening - as my new climbing companions and I sat by the fire drinking shots of Jagermeister or Becharovka or whatever other horrible herbal liqueur we could get our hands on, whilst looking back on the intense mutual experience we had shared - as I came around the corner of the hut; only to see them take a quick glance at the 'hat stand' trail sign and then, without so much as a wave of acknowledgement, hightail it straight back down the valley! I suppose I couldn't blame them - they had clearly only gone out for a day walk and had neglected to bring any spare clothes or wet weather gear. As it was, with the rain having just about stopped by the time I reached the hut, my arrival coincided with a mass exodus of people who must have come up during the morning and then been waiting for the rain to stop before continuing on their way. It was all quite chaotic as I tried to peel off my sodden clothes without having to brave the outdoor toilets, then try to find somewhere to hang said clothes in the forlorn hope that they might be somewhat dry by the next morning - and all the while a constant stream of people were putting their wet weather gear back on and heading out the door!

But any feelings of abandonment were soon forgotten when I checked into the hut and was shown to my room by Kate, a beautiful Slovak girl with a beaming smile and, surprisingly, an almost-perfect southern English accent! When I commented that she reminded me of Kate Winslet - both in her face and her accent - she replied that her friends had told her this too; and while she couldn't see the resemblance herself, she was happy to take it as a compliment! When she called my name for dinner that evening it sounded like an angel singing; and I'm convinced she sprinkled extra parmesan on my bowl of pesto pasta before passing it to me! But alas, by the time I emerged the next morning, she was nowhere to be seen.

Joining me for both dinner and breakfast were a German guy named Hendrick who had been assigned the bunk above mine, and a young German couple who were already comfortably ensconced in the dormitory when I arrived - he sleeping; she artfully sketching the scene outside the bedroom window! It soon emerged that they were all experienced mountain hikers, having done a number of multi-day hikes that are on my hit list. But most interesting to me was the fact that Thea and Andreas had followed the same route as me over Priečne sedlo that day - having started from Zamkovskeho Chata - but about two hours before me. They had made it to Zbojnicka Chata just before the rain started to fall. The fact wasn't lost on me that if not for the train-related delays I had suffered that morning, I would have been only half-an-hour behind them. So thank you, Slovak National Railways, for conspiring to turn what would have been an enjoyable if somewhat strenuous day into an unforgettable struggle for survival!!!

But Priečne Sedlo was only the first of two high passes that I had planned to cross, which meant that I still had the aptly-named Prielom (meaning 'Crack', 2288m) to face the following day. Thea and Andreas had also tackled this route a couple of days earlier, and were adamant that it was less steep and scary than Priečne Sedlo. Further easing my nerves was the fact that Hendrick was headed the same way (though with full Via Ferrara gear) and the weather forecast for the day was excellent. So it was with renewed vigor that I strode forth from the comfort of Zbojnicka Chata - having miraculously gotten all of my clothes dry in their sauna of a drying room - only to find that, much like the day before, a dark grey, cloud-like doona had been spread across the mountains backing the valley. A smarter man than me would have foreseen what was in store...

Spotting Hendrick about fifteen minutes ahead of me, and a pair of German girls (the Deutsch invasion of Slovakia was clearly proceeding as planned...) only five minutes behind him, I decided to eschew my usual quest for solitude on the trail and embrace the (often-misguided) comfort offered by the presence of others. It had worked the day before after all! The deficiencies this strategy presented were twofold - on the one hand, the German girls lost the trail (perfectly understandable given the 'trail' was nothing more than a paint stripe-marked route through broken rock) which meant that they disappeared from view, only to then reappear further back down the trail behind me; and secondly Hendrick (who I was convinced I would catch up to given he was using trekking poles - of questionable use in such fractured terrain - and carrying a full backpack) proved himself to be far more competent, and quick, than either I expected or was capable of being myself.

All of which meant that, despite my best efforts to do otherwise, I ended up starting the steepest part of the climb by myself. Unlike the previous day the terrain was more diagonal than vertical, though I found no solace in this given that there was no artificial aid to rely on whatsoever. Before long I had also lost the trail, with the white-blue-white paint stripes that had until now guided me up the slope unerringly suddenly being conspicuous by their absence. Frustratingly I could still see Hendrick patiently switch-backing his way up the slope, but try as I might I couldn't figure out what route he was following! Eventually I managed to locate the painted waymarks just as the German girls closed in from beneath me, and at this point I realised there was no way I was going to catch up to Hendrick; but it seemed by now that the two girls were closer to my level of 'expertise' than he had been anyway!

Again I was mistaken, for while I fumbled and stumbled my way up the loose rock while wishing there was some sort of fixed cable to latch onto, they seemed perfectly comfortable trusting their balance and coordination (never my strong points) to work their way up the slope. In fact I'm pretty sure the only reason the girls didn't pass me was that they recognised how likely it was that I would set off a landslide of loose rocks that could take them out at any moment, and so wisely chose to keep their distance! But eventually I managed to (literally) claw myself to the top, where I suddenly found myself staring down into a cloud-filled abyss not entirely dissimilar to the one I had fought my way though the day before! There was only one thought running through my mind at this point: 'oh for f_ck sake, here we go again...'

As cloud billowed up through the narrow chute of rock that provided our descent route, I spotted both the steel rungs embedded in the rock not far from my feet, and the fixed chains hanging from the mountainside further on, and remembered Thea's advice that I should take the upper route via the chains to the right. At this point it was as though muscle memory were kicking in, and though the slope was far steeper on this side than it had been on the way up, I found comfort in the fact that I now had a sturdy steel chain to cling onto and solid rock beneath my feet, rather than the loose rock mixed with soil that had felt like a landslide waiting to happen on my way up to the pass. And though visibility was by now down to about twenty metres (again), with the gully we were descending being only a couple of metres wide there was no chance of missing those distinctive white-blue-white painted stripes... even without which the way ahead would have been virtually unmistakable.

Slowly but surely we picked our way down the slope until the clouds lifted enough to provide a view of the partly-frozen lake of Zamrznuté Pleso, where I parted ways with the two girls who were headed north to Lysá Poľana on the border with Poland; while I faced the stiff climb back up to the crest of Poľský Hrebeň ('Polish Ridge', 2200m). From here it would be all downhill to the finish line back in Hrebienok, and after negotiating one last length of fixed chains on the way down from the Polish Ridge (which was very much part of Slovakia) I could finally relax and strode out more confidently. By now the sun had even come out - better late than never, I suppose - and I was soon stripped down to shorts and singlet and applying sunblock, which only an hour earlier would have seemed utterly ridiculous.

As I strolled through the flower-strewn meadows of Kvetnica beside the rushing waters of the Velické Potok, the sense of relief was palpable. After two weeks in the mountains on both sides of the border (including a four-day interlude in the nearby National Park of Slovensky Raj) I was more than satisfied with the amount of ground I'd managed to cover; but was also desperately looking forward to some down-time in Bratislava over the coming days - where I planned to do little more than eat, drink, sleep, and go for the odd leisurely stroll along the banks of the Danube River. And, of course, plan my next trip into the mountains...

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Photos

Is this the Stairway to Heaven...?
The intimidating start to the fixed aid section of the climb to Priečne Sedlo

Valley Views
Heading up into the Malá Studená Dolina (valley) on the climb to Zamkovskeho Chata

Out with the Old; In with the New
Helicopter resupplying Zamkovskeho Chata, on the way up from Hrebienok

Little Cold Valley
Malá Studená Dolina, with Teryho Chata sitting atop the headwall at the end of the valley

Sun-soaked Meadow
The upper Malá Studená Dolina beneath sunny skies

Wait... did someone say Via Ferrata?!?
The warning sign that probably should have set alarm bells ringing

Lost in the Haze
Spot the woman I was following if you can - she was only about fifteen metres away

Chasing Shadows
An even more precarious section of the Via Ferrara route to Priečne Sedlo, with the woman above silhouetted against the crest of the ridge

Leisurely Stroll or Arctic Expedition?
Crossing a late-lingering snow patch on the prolonged walk to Zbojnicka Chata

Crazy Skies
First glimpse of Zbojnicka Chata, with the lake of Sesterske Pleso in the foreground

Shelter from the Storm
Finally arriving at Zbojnicka Chata after braving a thunderstorm on the crossing of Priečne Sedlo

Warm and Welcoming Refuge
The cosy interior of Zbojnicka Chata

Simply Sublime
The unexpected view down-valley from just above Zbojnicka Chata, after the rain clouds finally cleared late in the afternoon

A Last, Loving Glance
Looking back towards Zbojnicka Chata from the start of the trail to Prielom

Clouds Closing In... Again
The gradient steepens on the climb to Prielom

Into the Abyss
Staring down the cloud-choked funnel on the descent from Prielom

Saddles & Chains
The German girls (barely visible) following me down the fixed chains on the descent from Prielom

Snow Below, Clouds Above
Zamrznute Pleso, in the basin between Prielom and Polsky Hreben

Homeward Bound, At Last
The idyllic, flower-filled valley of Kvetnica

Leaning Tower of Water
Obrovský Vodopád (Giant’s Waterfall)

Rocky Road
Trail through the pines on the climb from Hrebienok to Zamkovskeho Chata

Comments

[D MJ Binkley]

Slovakia
Sounds like some amazing hiking with unpredictable weather. Although it sounds like a tough hike. Great photos.