| suhy5. 01. 2025 12:54:49 |
The moaning about catastrophic snow conditions in the native land was so explicit and implicit that it became too dull, and there's no point in repeating it endlessly. So four naive optimists, who the day before the end of the year somewhere far beyond nine mountains and five tunnels high on Schilchegg (2034 m) found some touring ski satisfaction in fresh snow, decide to try our luck on the home Snežnik as well. We believed the prophecy of learned men who know about sun, wind, rain, and snow, that by this Saturday it would snow more abundantly on the southern ends of the native soil.
In our zeal, we first drive to Mašun, where we disappointedly realize that we won't get to the 10 km distant Sviščaki on the unplowed road. The road workers didn't take pity on it to clear the snow from it, and as a lesson to all of us who had made the effort to Mašun thinking we would efficiently reduce our carbon footprint via the shortcut, they also nicely wrote it on the sign beside it. The road will be left to the whims of nature for the entire winter season. At that moment, we sadly had no tractor or similar piece of farm machinery handy, e.g., a motocultivator or a combine, which alone would be up to handling the fresh snow to the goal, so we had no choice but to return to Knežak and after a 50 km detour via Ilirska Bistrica get to the Sviščaki. The winter fairy tale that the crowded car bodies around there conjured with sun, blue sky, and freshly snow-covered forests immediately awakens hope in the hearts that revives the veins, clears the heart and eye; which drowns all touring ski worries, awakens hope for virgin fresh snow in dejected chests. Impressed by the scene and surprised by the spirit of romance of our greatest poet Franceta P., full of expectations we clip on our skis and dash along the snow-covered forest road towards Snežnik. But lo and behold, as far as the eye reaches, nowhere a touring skier, only hikers. For God's sake, hasn't anyone here heard how dreamily the powder descends from Snežnik? Already the (geographically non-settlement) name of this mighty mountain, Snežnik, which at first glance associates white intoxication, should make the unlearned folk masses, panting uphill, think that there must be snow here as much as a touring ski heart desires. But they without skis! Very seriously we started to question whether on this touring ski world we four are really the only smartest ones, for whom it is crystal clear why this mountain should stand here and what use – touring ski, of course – is prescribed to it by touring ski laws.
But when we come out of the thicket onto the plain and the vast view of the mountain and its slopes reveals itself, it quickly becomes clear why the skis will wait right by the path. We would really look like deranged weirdos if we insisted on the ridges to the top, when already the sparrows on barely snow-covered brushwood chirp that it is only for those (four?) whom wisdom hasn't met yet. In concern for our touring ski reputation, public image as experts for the left plow turn to the slope, and to avoid media sensationalism and yellow press gnawing, in ski boots we infiltrated the mass of hikers as inconspicuously as possible and merged with it. From the figure of the touring skier who reached the fateful realization that there is no touring skiing where there is no snow, we managed to transform into the figure of a typical mountain hiker. The image of the sun-illuminated snow-covered mountain was phantasmagoric, but there was snow enough only for scenery, too little for skiing. Also in the gully, where it would be the only possible to ski down, too many rocks were visible.
When we return from the top to the skis, on the gentle forest path we manage a few scrawny turns in fresh snow, enough to justify posting an exhaustive informative report on Hribi.net. Most of the path anyway passes in a leisurely descent on the ski track, flat parts in classic or skating cross-country technique.
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