These three days felt like a condensed image of the whole trip: Moments of lightness and wonder alternated with physical exertion, unpredictable weather and little surprises. While in some places I almost seemed to be flying, other passages demanded full concentration and patience. New perspectives opened up again and again – on the landscape, on myself and on what is important to me.

Day 8 – A day of rest that I needed more than I thought

I knew as soon as I woke up that I wasn’t going to take a single step today. Sabrina had already told me several times that I would need a rest day at some point – and this morning I felt how urgent it was.

Ten hours of sleep plus two more after breakfast probably washed away some of the accumulated tiredness. Paradoxically, however, I felt even heavier than before. My feet were also crying out for a rest: the blisters on my heels had almost healed, but new ones had formed on the inside and almost all my toes were chafed. The last indication that I really needed a break came from my slippers – my swollen feet simply didn’t fit into them any more.

My body had immediately recognized that it needed a break and switched into regeneration mode. I could really feel my circulation switching to rest mode. It was hard to think about getting up – my body was recovering what had been demanded of it in the previous week. Days like this often just pass me by: sleep, eat, read a little. Nothing more. And yet I struggle with it. “Being unproductive” quickly feels like “wasting time” to me, even though I know that resting is just as much a part of life and ultimately makes me more productive again. Maybe I should learn to think of breaks as something I actively do – something like “active rest”.

For breakfast, I had eggs, salami and cheese with freshly baked bread. The coffee was, as always, fit for purpose. At lunchtime, I tucked into one of my wraps. I spent the rest of the day reading, writing and thinking.

The hut itself was quite busy that Saturday: hikers came and went from early to late, and it seemed perfectly normal to indulge in a schnapps at any time of day. Seemingly normal here. The hustle and bustle was too much for me. It was mainly the noise that bothered me – something I can hardly stand anymore.

I had the impression that Slovenians generally talk very loudly. Just one table away, the hosts and a guest were sitting close to each other – their proximity didn’t stop them from speaking in a tone of voice as if they were sitting at the other end of the room. I don’t even want to imagine what it would be like if the room was really full.

While travelling in Chile, I had already noticed how difficult it is for me to return to civilization after a few days in nature. Everything suddenly seems louder, denser, more glaring. In nature, the loudest sound is perhaps a rushing river or a waterfall cascading down a rock – sounds that seem almost like silence compared to the echo of human voices in a small dining room. On days like this, I particularly feel how much I thrive on peace and quiet. So I retreated to my spot under the roof, right next to the only small window, and enjoyed the silence there.

Shortly before dinner, I suddenly heard familiar voices. Curious, I climbed down the ladder – and sure enough, it was Krista and Rachel, the two American girls I had lost sight of two days earlier. That day, they hadn’t even tried to reach the hut I’d almost tortured myself to get to the night before, but had already stopped off at another hut at around 2 p.m. – the same one where I’d eaten a piece of cake in the morning. Seeing them again was a great joy for all of us. No one had expected it.

They had hiked a different route, without the scree field, the hard climb and the scramble that had challenged me two days earlier. In their own way, they had done everything right. My only worry had been that they would be crazy enough to turn up at the difficult place where we had originally planned to meet. Thanks to my day off, they had now caught up again. Funnily enough, they had even sent a message to my hut the day before, but it never reached me.

I still found it difficult to have company after a quiet day to myself. I was so introverted that I didn’t have the energy for much conversation. The joy of being reunited was mixed with a deep need to withdraw. We spent another quiet evening together over dinner and then went to bed early.

In the end, this day was nothing but a gift – a reminder that standing still is sometimes the most important step forward.

Day 9 – Between rain, sun and stone

I actually wanted to set off early and even skip breakfast to have it later on the mountain. However, the day off had made me a little sluggish, so I decided to have a leisurely breakfast after all. I simply couldn’t resist the smell of fresh bread and eggs. My bones weren’t particularly willing either, so everything was a little delayed.

Just before leaving, I quickly took care of the essentials and then we were off.

The Americans had a small lead, but I caught up with them in no time at all. As I passed them, I thought it would be better to say goodbye to them. Now there was really hardly any chance for them to catch up with me again.

The mountain that I had had such a great view of in front of my hut was quickly climbed. But it was so thick with clouds that you couldn’t see twenty meters – as if it had swallowed up the world and left only the fog. There was no view to speak of. It was also windy, so I quickly made my way back down. Somehow this reminded me of New Zealand, where we often had the misfortune of not being able to enjoy a view after long ascents.

On the second peak, I ran into the Hungarians from the day before! They were very surprised to see me. We chatted a little about the previous day. They were lucky enough to enjoy a shower and could hardly believe that I had caught up with them in just a few hours – it took them a day and a half. It was a bit of a mystery to them, while I appeared before them more as if by chance. On the descent down the other side, we hiked a bit together. I had a chat with the Finn and then said goodbye after a while to continue at my own pace.

From then on, it was all downhill to the next village, where I had hoped to find a shop. Unfortunately, everything was closed on Sunday. So for the next few days I had to make do with the few wraps, half a bell pepper, red cabbage, some hummus and peanut butter that my rucksack contained. Fortunately, the huts offer something to eat along the way, even if the quality varies greatly.

I had expected fresh provisions, but I now know that I shouldn’t be too disappointed if there’s no pot of gold waiting at the end of the rainbow – or, as in this case, just a rickety kebab stand. I knew beforehand that no supermarket would be open, but the closed burger joint still made me a little sad. The kebab that was available as an alternative was dry and unsatisfying.

This was followed by a delicious cappuccino and a slice of cheesecake with a scoop of ice cream. Not at the same kebab shop, however, but at a small café I had spotted around the corner. I’m realizing more and more how little I’m actually interested in sweets anymore. Ice cream in particular can hardly tempt me anymore, and yet I keep falling for its call – even if my stomach hurts afterwards.

Refreshed, I headed back into the forest to the next hut, where I met a couple of Czechs who gave me valuable tips for the Slovenian Alps and the ascent of Triglav.

There comes a point on a hike when you’ve had enough of your own thoughts. For me, this mental retreat is currently the “Unwind” series by Neal Shusterman, whose “Scythe” series I really enjoyes. While hiking, I’m currently listening with great enthusiasm to “The Abolition of Death” by Andreas Eschbach. Both authors raise social issues and discuss them – especially Eschbach in a very philosophical way. In both works, death – or its abolition – is evaluated in very different ways.

What actually makes life worth living? What role does death play? Does it make life meaningful in the first place – and why don’t we make better use of it? I often have the feeling that life simply passes me by in everyday life. But perhaps it’s precisely the balance that gives something special its value. On my trip around the world, being constantly on axis was also too much for me. Something in between would be great. Perhaps real life lies somewhere between longing and everyday life – hard to grasp, but sometimes tangible.

After talking to other hikers and studying the maps more closely, I decided to tackle the highest point in Slovenia from the other side than originally planned. The hut on the southern side can be reached via easier paths – T4 at the most – and from there the ascent to Triglav is also easier, except for the last section to the summit. This new route not only promises fewer difficulties, but also breathtaking views of the surrounding peaks and valleys, which I wasn’t able to experience to the full extent on my previous hike. As bad weather is forecast for the coming day, I will use it to at least get to my base not far from the highest peak in Slovenia.

Day 10 – Surprises on the Stol

The night in the hut was relaxing. I was allocated a room all to myself, so I was able to fall asleep undisturbed. I had read a little beforehand and then fell into a deep sleep from which I didn’t wake until the morning. Full of energy and excitement about what the day would bring, I started the new section.

Breakfast was functional – lots of fat, lots of calories. Some kind of bacon with eggs and bread. I couldn’t quite work out what it was, but it served its purpose: to leave me full and with enough energy.

The route initially led along a narrow path through the forest that wound its way along the mountainside. I love these kinds of paths: the soft ground, the light that falls gently through the greenery and conjures up a play of shadows on the moss-covered forest floor. I kept going up and down gently until a steep climb began, which took me to the first summit of the day – over 2000 meters high, with a fantastic view of the Triglav.

On the other side, the path wound its way back down into the valley, where I stopped at a hut for lunch and a coffee. A pack of young Frenchmen enlivened the scene – loud, cheerful, chattering, completely in their own world, as if there were no other people around. There was something infectious/intimidating about their energy, so I soon set off again.

So far, this day has been the most surprising of my journey. Around every corner I rounded, a new, beautiful view opened up to me. The weather was fantastic, with sweeping views as far as the Julian Alps, which were still ahead of me, and back to everything I had already passed through. I had planned over 30 kilometers, but in the early afternoon I realized that the section was steeper than expected. It’s often difficult to judge from the map and elevation profile alone. So I decided to stay at the hut at 2100 meters – a good choice, as it turned out. Shortly after I arrived, it started to pour down like buckets. Not a thunderstorm, but the unpredictable side of the mountains. The silver-grey stone – I apologize for the unprofessional expression – turned into a veritable skating rink in the wet. A descent in this rain would have been dangerous.

I was also lucky in another respect: at the Stolu hut there was WLAN via satellite for the first time. This was the first opportunity I’d had to talk to Sabrina on the phone since I’d left Germany. She had just spent a week in the Dolomites with a friend, so we had only been in contact via WhatsApp. Reception is difficult to predict in the mountains and I wouldn’t have had a network outside in the storm anyway. So it was all the nicer that we were actually able to talk for three hours straight. It felt completely different to hear her voice again instead of just writing short messages back and forth.

The shared room offered the best view of the trip so far: directly from the window at the head of my bed to the mountains behind me. I ordered a vegetable soup for dinner. Supplies were running low, the helicopter with supplies wasn’t due to arrive until Thursday morning. I was glad that there was a vegetarian option at all – not a given. What I got was indeed vegetable soup, but with pieces of ham lovingly added. Certainly well-intentioned. 🙂