Shot of Adrenaline

Living in the moment affords you some more adventures and surprises than you would get by researching or planning ahead. I've always found it more useful to be adaptable and rely on instincts than to plan ahead, especially when you cannot plan for every possible scenario. I will admit, there are times when planning ahead is wise.

I woke up on my second day in the High Tatras mountains, ready to hike, but with no idea where. There were two trails that sounded interesting because of rivers and waterfalls on them (the green and the blue trails), but I was intent on just winging it, so I packed my raincoat, some food, a lone band-aid, and my Chaco sandals in my bag and went to a point where several trailheads converged. I picked the green trail and pushed myself hard over some rigorous conditions for the first few hours. When I reached a plateau with a hut and some mountain lakes, I noticed there was another trail (the Yellow trail) that could connect me with the Blue trail that I wanted to hike. "Perfect," I thought. "I can hike both trails". Looking at the map, this Yellow trail climbed over a steep mountain pass before descending to the Blue trail. There were arrows on the map indicating that you could only go one direction on the yellow trail, and fortunately, it was the direction I would be heading.

It started to rain just as I went onto the yellow trail, making the rocky trail slippery in the steeper parts. Within 20 minutes, I came to a point where I could see the steep mountain pass I was supposed to take. The rain subsided, and I stopped and took my jacket off and stood for about 15 minutes just looking at the pass. Rising above a large boulder field of about 50 meters, the trail was very steep and snow covered, rising an additional 80 meters. It seemed as though there were tracks in the snow where other people had walked up. There were also some rock ledges slightly above and to the right of the snowfield, which looked even steeper, though I could see some people negotiating the ledges in the distance. I stood and waited. I didn't like the idea of walking up the snow. I was wearing low cut hikers, sneakers in essence. The traction was good, but in my experience, walking up snow, even in sturdy mountaineering boots, required more than I had with me. That being either rope, crampons and axe, or a safe landing area. If I somehow lost footing for a second on the snow, I was going to be sliding at a high speed into a boulderfield and bang my head and body on the rocks. Climbing on the rock ledges didn't seem to make much sense either. If I slipped and fell, it meant that I would bang my head and body on rocks as I tumbled down before landing on the snow, where I would then slide at a high speed into the boulderfield and bang my head and body on the rocks.

I saw some other people heading in the direction of the pass. A few were older than me and all were certainly carrying much more than me. They eventually all went to the route on the rock ledges. This is the time where it is wise to have a hiking partner, someone to either reaffirm that what we were about to do was stupid, or to bounce ideas off. I decided that standing and looking wasn't helpful. It did nothing to make the situation safer, it only acted as a mental block as it was psyching me out. I decided to move on up and at least investigate so I could make a more informed decision. In the distance, I could hear the echoes of rocks and boulders being loosened and then tumbling down, click clacking off of other rocks. As I made my way through the boulder field and then up the first 15 meters of snow, I noticed that big chains were attached to the rock ledges, just to my right. So this is how all of those other people made it.

Even though there was a chain (pictured above, I didn't take a picture of the pass from below, not wanting to tempt fate), it was still steep climbing and very nervewracking because I had to concentrate and be patient on every single hand and foot movement. The chain was also cold and wet. Hearing thunder in the distance didn't ease my nerves, and then the thought crossed my mind "what if It's like this going down the other side?" Sometimes it made more sense for me to grab good holds in the rocks than to use the chain. I've climbed steeper rocks with no chain. I've climbed quite a few rocks that required alot more technical skill than what I was doing. But those climbs all had something that this one didn't. Room for error. At a few points, I had to get rid of the negative thoughts that were a reality. "If I fall, I won't live." These thoughts don't help, but it is good to be afraid. It helps you concentrate. It seemed like an eternity that I was climbing these ledges, but it was no more than 30 minutes. When I finally got to the top and realized the other side was not as steep and required no chain, I let out a sigh of relief.

Enjoying the next 3 hours descending through high mountain valleys, several snowfields and glaciers, lakes, rivers, waterfalls, and flora, was all that much more worth it. Not wanting to appear overprepared, I even took off my shoes and wore my sandals down the rocky trail for a few hours. I made sure to run and slide on the snowy slopes with them, just to keep that kid in me alive. I met a Polish guy the next day who said that if I liked that Yellow trail, I should try some trails in Poland as they are even steeper. I laughed to myself. I don't need that much adventure. I need to rest up for ski season...