So, the previous post ended with our expedition trapped in the snow, and we really didn't want to repeat the fate of Robert Scott. Besides, who knows, maybe there are necrophiliac penguins roaming around nearby?
But we, like Scott, are not lacking in stubbornness, so we started clambering up the snowdrifts anyway, dragging our bicycles behind us.
It's hard to find a more stubborn guy than Yura "Doomer"
There are still some traces of human activity
The degree is steeper than that of Stroh, a drink popular in snowdrop circles
Stroh is an Austrian spiced rum, and comes in the following proofs: Stroh 38, Stroh 40, Stroh 54, Stroh 60 and Stroh 80. Since the Austro-Hungarian Empire had no tropical colonies, they couldn't make rum with the aroma of sugar cane, as is proper, so they added whatever spices they had at home, and called it "domestic rum". In the end, this quirk of the drink became its highlight rather than a downside. This happens very often in life, and that's how it was for us on this outing. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
And this is what Stroh looks like:
The snow, I must say, caves in under our feet ankle-deep, and sometimes even deeper.
I never imagined I'd become such a fiercely passionate outdoorsman who would gladly drag a bike up a steep snowy slope, facing the prospect of being left in the dark in the freezing mountains without warm clothes or food. But life works in mysterious ways.
I also wonder how normal people perceive such adventures. Do they admire it and think it's really hard? Do they twirl a finger at their temple because they don't get the thrill? Indifferently, because they think it's not that big of a deal and anyone could do it? Calmly and with a bit of curiosity, because different strokes for different folks?
By the way, I always mentally translate that last saying using profanity, ending with "however he wants." And I'm not that far from the truth.
As you can see, we're even walking along an official cycling route
At this point, we had a bit of a hitch. We climbed up the slope to a flatter spot and saw that all that awaited us ahead was snow, snow, and more snow.
From my point of view, we came to Montenegro to ride, not to drag our bikes through the snow. I didn't want to fight with anyone, let alone criticize or argue. I know that organizing a trip like this isn't easy; there are many nuances and complications that will inevitably pop up, and I'm ready to endure the problems for the sake of the parts that bring joy. We knew we were going in the spring, and the risk that there would still be deposits of white water powder (not cocaine) lying around was high.
So, when I saw that what lay ahead was going to be exactly what we just went through, only x10, I asked Oleg and Rob (as the guys walking ahead and the more experienced ones) whether they really wanted to keep going?
Mind you, I asked this without any ulterior motive, simply because it seemed illogical to me to keep going; after all, you can go trekking without bikes, and in the proper clothes and shoes, especially since we had girls with us (albeit athletic ones). Oleg answered me a bit harshly, in the spirit of telling me I could take whoever didn't want to go further and ride down with them. Oleg later said he thought I was panicking, and the best thing to do in that case, to calm down a panicking person, is to speak firmly, or even harshly.
I didn't mean anything like that at all, and I didn't feel any fear, just as I didn't feel any acute reluctance to keep going.
In general, I'm a person who is far too open and naive, which causes me a lot of trouble in life. I don't know how to keep my mouth shut, and people interpret my simple reactions and emotions from their own complex vantage point, assuming I have an agenda, meaning some secret plans. (Here, by the way, is another word that doesn't exist in Russian but does in English — adding to the eternal debate about the supposed richness of the Russian language and the supposed poverty of English).
But with me, what's on my mind is what's on my tongue. So, I made sure that Oleg and Rob were serious and confident about needing to press on, despite the fact that we had set out late, it would get dark soon, and we would be walking at barely 5-8 km/h for a long time (until we climbed to the peak). After that, I had no doubts whatsoever — if we gotta go, we go, be it day or night. I'm confident in my own physical strength, and the rest can answer for themselves.
The desire to meddle in other people's affairs only leads to problems, although even here you need to find a balance. Figuring out how to act is very difficult — if you don't discuss certain details and just make a decision and act, it can look like selfishness or heartlessness, but if you do discuss them, there's a huge risk of getting bogged down in arguments and inaction. For a while, I stuck to the first option, but it requires strong nerves and a constant certainty that you are doing everything right, which is usually only possible if things are going perfectly.
In any case, we continued further up the mountain. It looks like we did the right thing — the landscapes were fantastic. The deep, rich dark blue of the mountain slopes with white patches of snow and dark grey clouds, pierced by patches of blue sky and rare rays of sunshine — it's a picture that evokes a very profound inner peace, tranquility, and happiness. Even if only for a short while, even just for a moment, that's already saying a lot.
