It was going to be a short day, as the weather was set to change at midday. Weather reports don’t always seem to be the same – if you look at three reports, you get three different results. But they all had one thing in common: it was going to rain or even storm. So I set off relatively early. Not early by my standards, but by those of the other guests.

To warm up, I first climbed 800 meters up to the Vogel, which offers a great view of the Julian Alps and Triglav. I’ve seen it from all sides over the last few days. From the Vogel, the route tended to go downhill along the ridge, sometimes a little higher, sometimes a little lower – over a pass or through a gorge to the next ridge.

The morning was cool and sunny, with small clouds gradually gathering, driven by the wind, which was getting stronger by the hour. At some point, the wind became so strong that I even had to lean into it at the top of the ridge to avoid being blown over. When the gusts were really strong, I waited briefly so as not to take any risks. In the distance, the clouds had already gathered much more densely into black mountains. Lightning flashed through them again and again. Fortunately, the thunder that followed took its time. The distance was enough to get me to my accommodation reasonably safely – a concrete hut on the summit of one of the hills.

The weather was coming over from Italy in the west, with the storm in the east. Shortly before I arrived, there was even another break in the clouds. Sunbeams and wind ensured that I arrived dry.

Exhaustion seemed to be carved into my face. Barbara, the landlady, immediately offered me a large pot of pasta, with seconds later. I generally find it difficult to admit to myself that I have limits.

I was determined to arrive in Ljubljana on foot before my departure, which was already booked. I had already planned a route for this, which involved over 70 kilometers and 4,000 meters of elevation gain over the next two days – deviating from the route of the High Alpine Trail, which I would not have been able to complete in time anyway.

After dinner, I went straight to bed, where I immediately fell into a deep, hibernation-like slumber. In the evening, two hikers arrived who had fought their way through the rain from the valley. I watched one of them take a natural shower outside. He said he couldn’t stand going to bed sweaty – once again, there was no shower in the hut. So he took what he could get.

The rest of the day was relatively quiet. I read a little, wrote the previous day’s diary entry – which had become a habit by now – and then it was already time for dinner. I opted for the pasta again. I’ve come to realize that I’m not consuming enough energy. My Garmin shows a consumption of 1,000 to 1,300 kilocalories per day – in addition to my basic requirements. I have no idea how accurate that is. In any case, I can eat as much as I want and still not feel full. The landlady seems to see it as a challenge to prove this to me.

I talked a little with my two hut mates about Harari’s book “21 Questions for the 21st Century.” I don’t know anyone who has read his books and doesn’t think they’re great. I was very impressed by the perspectives he takes on many social and historical issues in his books.

In the end, the storm was less severe than the forecast had suggested. According to the landlady Barbara, I could have made the descent on the same day. Ultimately, however, I was glad to have a break. The next morning, the sun was shining again. I was in no hurry to set off. First, I had a hearty breakfast. No one in the hut seemed particularly interested in conversation.

Then I set off. The plan for the day was to leave the high alpine trail and start my own route on the other side. Another 70 kilometers to Ljubljana. The descent was supposed to run along the ridge, then quickly dip into the forest. I managed the latter, so I didn’t worry about the route at first. I had already descended too far along the wooden path to turn back.

Alternatively, I would have had to either continue along the ridge or descend directly into the valley. I had already pushed myself hard and didn’t feel like experimenting. So I decided to take the shortest route down. I slowly realized how exhausting the last few weeks had been – only one day of rest in 18 days was taking its toll. I was exhausted and didn’t feel like hiking the “detour” to Ljubljana anymore.

To calm myself down, I bought a bar of chocolate and stuck my thumb out. I felt even less like walking along the road. I was lucky. Someone stopped right away. A man who had traveled extensively gave me a ride. We talked about life after the last war and the time before and after Tito. I told him how restricted my parents had been in the former GDR when it came to traveling. He told me how much freedom he had had as a Slovenian. With a Yugoslavian passport, the doors to the world were apparently open to you. In the GDR, on the other hand, only to the east.

My parents felt restricted and seized the first opportunity they could find to flee to the West. He enjoyed visits to Berlin, France, and the USA—at a time when long-distance travel was not as common as it is today. 1986, the year I was born.

The ride was over after just three kilometers. He showed me the direction to the trail and set off for the capital. A missed opportunity? Certainly.

Unfortunately, the trail was the wrong one—a misunderstanding. I was suddenly back on the high alpine trail, not on my detour. But it didn’t really matter. I didn’t feel like hiking anymore, no matter which direction I went.

I sent a distress signal home. Sabrina promptly replied with suggestions for alternatives. She motivated me to keep going or simply break off and head to Ljubljana earlier. A glance at the map was enough: eight kilometers and one hill to go, then it would be over.

It’s interesting how, shortly before the end of a hike, I start to feel reluctant to continue. Whereas a few days earlier I couldn’t imagine being anywhere other than in the mountains, now I could hardly wait to just rest. I dreamed of a hot shower, someone preparing me something to eat, a bed all to myself, clean clothes. Civilization. My desire for the city would quickly fade. I am a very ambivalent person in that regard. There are only extremes—but never for long.

Actually, it doesn’t matter how long a hike is. Once I’ve reached my goal, my head switches off. Then I lose the drive to do more. This time, I had set myself the goal of covering 400 of the 600 kilometers to the Julian Alps. I wouldn’t have made it to the end of the trail anyway. That would have taken me another six days. Even then, I would still have been half a week faster than predicted on the official website. Man, I’m a speedy little guy! Maybe next time I’ll just set myself a bigger goal. 🙂

I am extremely satisfied with my performance. The landscape was more breathtaking than I expected. I would rank Slovenia third or fourth among the routes I have hiked so far. What I missed a little were rivers and lakes for swimming. I also missed camping. It wouldn’t have been possible along the entire route, but there were definitely a few nice spots for a change between the huts. However, it would have been very difficult to get provisions, as there are few places to shop along the entire route. If I had hitchhiked of the trail in between, that wouldn’t have been a problem either.

I left the trail in a small town called Cerknica. It’s hard to describe what a liberating feeling it was to end the tour there. First, I asked a man at a crossroads where the best place to hitchhike was. He pointed me in the right direction. At the edge of town, I waited less than ten minutes before a Slovenian woman gave me a ride to the next big town. From there, it took less than five minutes to get the next ride. These Slovenians are really friendly when it comes to giving rides.

Both drivers were very talkative, and so I learned a lot about Slovenia, just as I had in the morning. My general impression, still completely untainted, is extremely positive. It is a small nation with just two million inhabitants. The people I came into contact with were consistently friendly and courteous – I had expected more reserve from an Eastern European nation. This shows once again that one should not jump to conclusions.

As I learned, they are descendants of a people who love their independence. They gained this after Tito’s death and have made the most of it. The country is doing really well, with strong growth figures over many years. The language, on the other hand, is almost impossible for me to decipher. Although we are so close geographically and Austria has shaped the country for centuries, I could hardly recognize any influences from the German language – apart from Apfelstrudel and Radler.

The list of words I was able to remember is correspondingly short:

Voda – water

Zdravo – Hello

Dober dan – Good day

Hvala – thank you

Kava – coffee

Jota – Sauerkraut soup

This is the end of a hike that I could hardly have imagined to be more fantastic. As always, I didn’t know what to expect. I did very little research and just went with the flow. The things that surprised me most were the friendliness of the people and their toughness at the same time. I was met with a lot of interest and helpfulness that I have never experienced in Central Europe. The only place that surpasses this is New Zealand, where I was regularly offered weed without even asking. The toughness is evident here, where children are sent up the murderous “via ferrata” as soon as they can walk. No matter who I talked to, no one here wanted to know anything about climbing equipment. On the contrary, I was even advised against wearing a climbing harness several times. Hard to believe, given the breakneck routes that the Slovenians have conjured up here in the rock. Until now, there have been few hikes where I have been so often torn between physical exhaustion and fear of taking a wrong step. Just because a route is marked on a map does not mean it is easy to hike. Well, just don’t look back, and you’ll be fine.

I would love to come back to this beautiful country again. Next time with my tent.