| suhy17. 11. 2024 00:10:32 |
Yes, obviously not many people go up there frequently. The view of the surrounding peaks is truly magnificent, which the left eye noticed and the right confirmed too, but the path to the view and back is quite arduous and unpleasant. But it was still worth it.
At half past ten, the explorer of the useless world sets off from the hamlet Pod Košuto along freshly plowed but terribly unfriendly for walking logging trails up the steep slope. Thinking he will listen to the serene septachord subdominant harmony of calm silence, wind rustle and bird chirping, into the eardrums, anvils and hammers instead of melodious bliss rushes the sharp sound of chainsaw motors resounding from surrounding copses. A decent hillwalker would understand that without the deafening cacophony filling the air under Košuta there would be no bread for many honest and hardworking souls living in these wood-abundant areas. But soon it turns out the motors are not to blame for the hillwalker's ear suffering. It's Saturday, traditionally the day of rest for hardworking folks since time immemorial. And silence should reign in the copses. So where does this noise come from that cuts into the urban bustle-accustomed ear, the hillwalker wonders. Moreover, if own ears are to be trusted, the noise isn't from the valley as a hiker at 1400 m would expect, but is heard high above him. Taking measure of spruces with motorbikes at this height is very strange, as logging trails for hauling wood to the valley haven't been seen for a long time. The slope here is so vertical that the man even put crampons on school shoes so no mishap happens when he slips sideways down the slope. Since own wits don't get to the bottom of things, he goes resigned to fate along the barely visible path towards the top. When the next hundred elevation meters gather under his feet and he finds himself on a small clearing, he suddenly spots two milk-toothers - no more than sixteen or seventeen springs - sitting on the grass dressed in colorful clothes, with knee and elbow protectors, helmets on their heads. And the thing becomes clear to the man right away, why two enduros rest in front of them on the grass to cool their overheated motors and catch breath. Yes, that was the unbearable noise, as the youths struggled up the slope on their enduros to the max, where only chamois and ibex feel at home. On the question if it doesn't go further, they replied they haven't finished yet. It looks like besides hikers, climbers, ski tourers, MTBers, runners we'll get a new breed of hillwalkers riding enduros to peaks. Well, they didn't reach the very top, but upon what was seen and especially strongly heard, local sheriffs, mayors, rangers, inspectors, supervisors and others with power gone to their heads could rethink the justification of barriers, parking fees, entrance fees, bans etc., with which in the name of quasi-nature protection they increasingly embitter the life of honest mountaineering folk, while motorbike and quad wildlings indulge without limits on paths, trails, copses, pastures.
From the top the man walks a few hundred meters along the ridge towards Veliki vrh, when the walk becomes too airy on left and right, he smartly turns, returns to the top and descends to the valley on crampons. Being of a very curious nature, he makes a detour via pathless terrain to Pl. Šija, which is a pasture only by name, as a copse stands there now, no trace of the pasture.
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