| suhy24. 09. 2024 00:45:56 |
If a man were clairvoyant, he wouldn't be poor. Something like that applies to the Saturday adventure from Beli potok to Vrtaško Sleme, which would have unfolded slightly differently at some places if the adventurer had read before his feat what enthusiasts of these forgotten corners had already written before him.
It was on Saturday when the man drives by car to Mojstrana, there manually unloads his bicycle and locks it so that some rascal doesn't accidentally snatch it, to the lamppost at the end where the path from Vrtaška planina ends. Then he drives past Belce to the parking lot by the former railway bridge, from where he boldly bites into the trail into the valley of Beli potok. As the elevations under the boots cheerfully drop as if nothing, the man, staring into Beli potok, racks his brain what to do if he doesn't manage to pierce that little trail that climbs above Skočniki past the ruined hunting hut over Smolo (1789 m) to Votlega slemena. Although properly mapped on maps, in nature, where people have long forgotten about it, it often gets lost in such dense thicket that it leads the hiker, if he is not particularly skilled in moving through the wild world and doesn't know much about how things are handled there, not to where he initially intended, but into irretrievable loss, from which he can return only by God's miracle. If after the first steps he realizes there is only as much trail as last year's snow, the wise man decides to head to Rutarski vršič instead, where he has stood many times and knows how to get to the top.
And indeed, above Skočniki the man pushes through the stream to the place where there was once a hut, now trunks lie scattered like toothpicks all around and under them the blowdown that once bore the name hunting hut. Apparently a tremendous storm some time ago showed off its powerful claws. There is no trace of the trail at this sad spot, but the eagle eye (+2.5 diopters) of the seasoned and with all tricks greased trail follower nevertheless notices that he can't be the first here, because obviously something before him crawled over the trunks and slithered under them. The man doesn't need to be asked two and a half times, but quickly sets about doing the same. Wriggles a bit here, a bit there, repeats some maneuver there, when the wretch gets stuck in the wooden labyrinth, but in the end pushes through the hut debris to the goat path that was once supposed to be the hunting trail. To make sure he took the right step, he pulls the mobile smarty-pants from his pocket and glances at what is nowadays learnedly called the orientation app, which records the rays of artificial satellites orbiting deep in the cosmos around mother Earth and safely guide aircraft, helicopters, steamships, zeppelins, automobiles, rockets and other means of passenger and freight transport here and there. If the app is to be believed, the man strayed from the path only about fifty meters too high. But no problem, he thinks, if what the electromechanics in his hand says is true, he will have to go back down valley by exactly that many meters according to the ZKP principle (healthy peasant common sense). He pushes through two steep couloirs of Žlebnica and a bit lower steps onto a quite pronounced little trail, about which there is no doubt that it is the right one. With a few dozen-meter direction corrections to the left or right, for which the aforementioned pocket electric app selflessly provided, the man successfully pushes to the top of Smole (1796 m), continues over Votlega Slemena (2049 m) and triumphantly steps onto Vrtaško Sleme (2077 m). A small step for hill-walking, a big one for the hill-walker!
What now? The man has had enough of wandering in the wilderness and knee-grinding, so he descends in a light trot along the nicely marked path toward Mojstrana, there at the lamppost as an amphibian (hiker and cyclist) mounts the bike, pedals with measured cadence along the cycle path toward the starting point and after nine and a half hours nails the wonderful adventure sausage.
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