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Well, one doesn't know whether to describe what's already been described countless times or not. But since reading nowadays is an increasingly rare activity, society's cultural refinement sadly withers. And don't forget, we important members of this society are also ski tourers. It's clear that without waving a goose quill dipped in ink on a white sheet, not much remains to entice the eye to stroll along the paths of capital and small letters, commas, periods, semicolons, exclamation marks and other grammatical wonders of thoughts recorded on paper or screen. Writing is indeed the basic foundation and fundamental pillar of numerous sciences, philosophical thought, poetics, poetry, drama as well as everyday communication via honest letters, telegrams, postcards and newspapers dealing with spreading news from home hollows and foreign adventures. Even the statutes commanded by wise authority so unlearned folk masses know what's right and wrong require no little paper and ink. A fine example of such doings is offered these days by the fresh American president, who with theatrical flourishes on a pyre of decrees, by his wisdom, improves not only the life and work of the people who enthroned him, but all of humanity. Judging by the ideological orientation of the first man of the first and great land, we fear a decree that he'll strike the native breast of his lovely spouse with tariffs on dry goods too, if we ski tourers make more left turns than right.

And yesterday was February 8th, we know, Prešeren Day should be that day when we devote ourselves with all living and being to culture and at least for one day forget revamped materialism, consumer frenzy, influencer idiocy and other progress delusions, where the human race, crown of creation, only knows that nothing is clear anymore about where the path of progress goes. On that day we therefore attentively listen to learned festive speakers who with selected, ear-pleasing and softly sounding words, rhetorical bravuras, know to say something about the great importance of culture for the Slovenian folk, which has always been able to stand and persist on this breast. In this spirit, that day we try to look nice, speak nicely, dress festively, comb sideways and do things that at least somewhat resemble a culturally enlightened mortal. It applies to the ski tourer too. On that day we really don't want to be wrongly accused of boorishness. Besides free visits to temples of culture, perhaps we take some light reader in hand, preferably lighter content and as thin as possible, and grapple with deciphering a multitude of letters, elements of sentence structure that the writer piled in so to reveal to the reader what the writer knows and thinks the reader doesn't. Because culture in this role connects and brings people closer so they understand each other, feel and love each other. If we have no reader, on the screen for a change instead of Instagram, TikTok or Facebook we search what's written on it, for example about ski touring. So that screen reading, especially long-winded, doesn't become boring, attached pics of happy smiling skiers, wonderful alpine panoramas and winding tracks in powder take care.

Sadly there's not much to ramble about today's ski to Head above Šito and not many mentioned pics either. In fog we culturally stepped up and culturally skied down in diffuse light. Despite conditions, abnormally many visitors, alpine courses, Croatian mountain rescue on ski touring and Sunday hikers. Initial turns in the gully were more cautious, after ca. 40 vertical meters descent hard, somewhat crusted snow prevailed, no complaints about it this winter.

In the diffuse we pretended to enjoy immensely, Jakob, Gregor and Miha.

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.

As an addition, here's this:
https://www.snezak.si/razmere/zaprta-vrata.html

Dear mountain friends, waste of time and ink to prove if the section is right or wrong. Looks like arguing about the donkey's shadow. The Hribi.net website is just fine and serves its purpose excellently. Whoever wonders what's happening high above the valleys can quench their curiosity efficiently here. But since no shoe is put on without wax, the website also requires a bit of tedious browsing through sections, authors, dates until the right answer sees the light and enlightens the curious. The appearance of the said website differs whether we browse it on home PC or mobile, and apparently depends also on the web browser installed on the PC.

We mountain lovers should be more concerned by events raising the fateful question whether we can still pour our love for mountains on its peaks, paths, flowering pastures, by storm pines, on snowy flanks and other favorite corners of pristine nature, or if we'll be able to do it only remotely via screen apps supported by artificial intelligence, because local usurpers of public good in league with ruthless capitalist greed will forbid it all. Namely under pretense that it's necessary because alpine nature suffers terribly because of us, less so apparently when financial moguls sniff profitable opportunities in these parts and start investing their own and credit-enriched funds into development of tourist capacities, construction of elite all-inclusive luxury glamping resorts, luxurious hotels at carefully chosen idyllic locations with unforgettable views of romantic mountain backdrop, apartments with sauna, gym, spa & wellness and other forms of holistic experiences to bring unmanageable masses of tourist sheep to this paradise on the sunny side of Alps, eager for unique experiences, stuffing culinary extravaganzas a la Ana Roš into their digestive tubes and taking selfies in front of church in the middle of lake or Triglav north face backdrop. To ensure sufficient investment resources for all these unnatural development projects that will benefit chamois, foxes, condors and other wildlife on one side, as well as edelweiss, cacti, larches and other alpine scrub on the other, it's of course necessary to monetize mountain visiting, which as we see and feel even better, local sheriffs do with exorbitant parking fees, turnstiles at entrances to alpine valleys, privatization of mountain huts and other forms of profitable management of the mountain world, that part of creation that's been here since time immemorial when hairy neandertals trudged over Komarča with torches in hands and unlike today did it completely freely. Yes, absolutely freely. If some slightly less hairy homo sapiens then blocked their path and tried to charge entrance to TNP in name of civilizational progress and preserving extinct dinosaurs, instead of a handful of shells, then official proto-currency, he got a hearty beating, so it never crossed his mind again to curtail others' freedom. Would it be worth trying today too?

If I understand the structure of the current conditions forum correctly, the same little path can appear multiple times in different sections, depending on whether a hiker, climber, trail runner, cyclist, ski tourer climbs it or a family takes it to show the charms of the mountain world to eager kids, grandpas, grannies and furry pets. That's what the mountain group forums (Julian Alps, KSA, ...) , family outings, trail running, mountain biking, alpinist ascents and ski touring are for.

Yes, yesterday's Sunday on Kanin was real paradise for ski tourers. Of course relatively, given this lousy winter. Gondola takes the quintet for 13 € per person due to the desperate season of demoralized ski tourers from Nevejsko saddle to Prevala, there a nice surprise. In Krnica on Slovenian side there's a powder field for export, not quite virgin but still quite untracked, candidates wanting to carve their signature into it all around too. Situation crystal clear to the five, so no hesitation, quickly line up at start, blast into the bowl and whooping zigzag down the slope. 400 m vertical powder is real ski touring nirvana after long time. We climb to saddle below Prestreljenik and ski down in not much ski touring style on well groomed piste to parking. For successful end, analyze the experience with well earned hydration at Hram pri Aljažu in Dovje.

Marko, thanks for the info on the trail start. The hunting trail is visible from the top of Dolinska gora.

A week later the winter fairy tale was gone, the skiing was probably a bit different too, but today it was still worth skinning up to Great Mojstrovka on skis. Little one is already almost completely bare and unsuitable for ski touring. Surprisingly few people, some hikers, far fewer ski tourers. From the road to Vratca on skis, above Vratca due to steepness and lack of snow a few minutes carrying skis, then to the top again on skis. Crampons recommended.
And when three ski tourers step on the top, they quickly realize no higher, so nothing left but to clip on skis and ride down the slope back where they came from. To make skiing not too boring and similar to that under lifts, various snow types take care, merrily changing under skis. There was some packed hardness, bit of breakable crust, here and there unpleasant crust, under Vratca avoiding snow lumps, avalanche debris remains and more from rich ski touring challenges repertoire that usually spoil stylistic perfection of slalom turn. More or less successfully - depending on ski touring mileage and agility - we satisfactorily zigzagged to the road.

If the maps are to be believed, the farm, now in ruins, was called Jamnik. Yesterday my wife and I visited it starting from Kozjekov graben, ten days ago from the quarry with a colleague on a loop via Osolnik.

Judging by the tracks, the youths roared in Gajser style along cart tracks and logging trails from Pod Košuto settlement (830 m) to junction (1280 m) for Pl. Šija, then bit into the steepness along and beside the path drawn on maps to micro clearing (1430 m), where I caught them resting and cooling engines. Photo through teleobjective taken when after deserved rest they pushed to ca. 1490 m. Whether they went higher, hard to judge by sound and petrol fumes, as I didn't see them after.

Current state of cart tracks and trails I walked is really uncomfortable for hiking, as they are maintained with heavy forestry machinery, so ripped up, full of stones, rocks, mud and branches left after wood haul to valley. And maybe I'll start believing that the effective remedy against these troubles is an enduro

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.

Given the season, ramsons of course no more, but ticks as many as you want. I myself caught them against my will and removed at home, would you believe, twenty-seven (27)

Yes, everything j. described about conditions around Kopa holds as if nailed down even half a year later. Today the trail follower's intentions were more ambitious - besides Kopa he wanted to climb Rzenik too -, but there were so many wonderful views from Kopa, Martinj path and bivouac of good will that there was no time for it. No problem, instead of the summit collected more nice snapshots in the camera for memory. The last 200m descent from Pl. Rzenik through Dolski graben to the road passed in pitch dark.

The criminal returns to the scene of the crime. Well, not quite a criminal, to be precise, he's just a passionate hiker who heartily wished for Požgana Mlinarica again. Just like three years ago, almost on the same day. Yes, he dearly loves those solitary, remote, and wild corners. And since those very corners are expected to become much less accessible to ordinary mortals after November 4th, when according to verified rumors from behind the bar counters and other official sources by order of the Kranjska Gora mayor a paid ramp at the Vrata entrance will start operating, the man, deeply versed in folk wisdom, doesn't rack his brains much about what to do. He knows that a missed opportunity never returns, and better a sparrow in hand than a pigeon on the roof, and also, don't put off until November 4th what you can do a week before.

So in this early morning he plans to drive his bike to Turk's Rovt, from where ski tour enthusiasts in winter head uphill toward Cmír, and lock it by the signpost there. The man intends to do a loop that's not quite everyday by hiking logic, but quite special, involving some walking and some pedaling. Something like that, just a tad less frantically than our heroes Pogi and Rogla, who fill the hearts of the land south of the Alps with joy, pleasure, and triumph.

Then the man drives back by car to Mojstrana and toward Radovna to the Kot turnoff, from where he foot-climbs steeply toward Črna gora. The collapsed hut at around 1200 m, due to which nothing remains of the trail, doesn't much bother the pathless-hardened man. Knowing all paths lead to Rome, and from the eternal city it's not far to home meadows, and that it's all just plain cat's cough, he scans all seven sides and breaks almost vertically past the sad wooden ruin on the right to the bivouac like it's a joke. There the surprise. Firmly believing he'd solo the entire ridge to Požgana Mlinarica and down to the locked bike in blessed solitude and silence on this working Monday, he's startled by a mountaineer – gosh, where'd he come from – who was probably thinking the same. As is fine custom among hikers, word begets word, and from the word flood the men quickly guess they have quite similar intentions. So they get moving and stride together in the same direction. Namely, one is Roman, the other Miha. Since both have open heads regardless of name, plus chatty natures and spare no tongues, on the path over Črna gora, Predelov vrh, Lengarjeva glava, Požar and across Rušnata Mlinarica to Požgana, as befits serious men and only they know how, they manfully opine on all things generally useful for living and being. Empty twaddle, favorite feed where feathers and beaks flock plenty, they couldn't care less. The ridge path is long as a spring snake, here and there a bit of rock-handling skill comes handy so the mountaineer doesn't tumble into sad irretrievable loss, but in such pleasant company the path flew by.

Though the men first planned to descend from Požgana Mlinarica each their own way, they agreed to take the same one (Planica – Pokljuka) to Vrata. After an hour and a half they reach the road, where the bike awaits one, the other sadly has to trudge to Mojstrana. Before going separate ways, the men shake hands and part. Miha mounts the bike and after a good half hour at the car logs the sausage that piled up to 21 km in length and a whopping 1587 m in height.

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.

Initially didn't want to criticize Stanič hut, but to Tomco's comment add that my mustache surely heavier by half liter radler, wallet 7€ lighter, if they hadn't let us with companion wait whole five min at empty counter, just enough to find glasses and check astronomical prices on menu. Instead cool spring at turnoff to Macesnovec cared for refreshment, overheated body after four lengths semi-pro crawl nicely cooled in Kreda lake. Access to lake harder, no second wooden bridge towards Krma, need to ford Radovna, for heroes used to all bad stuff real child's play

Also yesterday's Friday, 16.8.2024, was really nice. Morning cool jump from Kot via climbing to Rjavina, then ridge path to Dovška vratca and sun to Stanič hut. If no liquid left in backpack at hut, quench thirst with radler or beer for modest 7€ .
Descent over Vrbanove špice in afternoon heat much easier than ascent opposite, tasted by some sweaty hikers. Quite pitiful sight of exhausted Czech, Spanish, French hikers bit above spring, naively expecting easy access to Stanič hut, but hottest days heavy loaded from Kot only after 2pm - instead hiking joys probably only torment and misery. Sadly every school costs...