There was a two-thousand-meter peak nearby, but the GPS showed an altitude of only 1960 or so, which I announced to everyone around. And then Max says to me: run up to the peak so it hits 2000. I, as is well known, always have to go the extra mile, so off I ran, and so briskly that Max cautioned me to show a bit less zeal, since we weren't at home, but in the mountains.
I ran up to the spot, but the number on the GPS was only 1998 meters. Well, I started tossing the device up in the air to get my two grand, but it didn't pan out — it was scary to throw it high, rocks all around, what if I didn't catch it. Ultimately, the max number on the track ended up being a mere 1993 meters.
Having climbed up to the pass, we rested a bit
The rest came in very handy. In for a penny, in for a pound (literally: call yourself a mushroom, get in the basket, and not in the back of the truck, that's a newfangled remake). Since that's the case, I have to tell the truth, as I promised in the previous post: by this point I was already pretty tired. I have a heavy bike, thanks to the BMX pedals, the rack with a bag, the aero bars, and two bottle cages. And my own carcass has about 15 extra kilos too, so riding is much easier for me than walking and dragging the bike. Besides, it felt much harder up on the mountain, even though it wasn't that high. Does altitude sickness really manifest so quickly? I didn't feel it in Vietnam, but the climate is completely different there.
Nevertheless, I thought and told myself what I always say: where are you gonna go from a submarine. Recently I've realized a few simple things:
1. Man is the universe's joke on itself. A ridiculous mammal on a provincial planet, in an unremarkable solar system and galaxy, a slave to emotions and passions, and only a thin film of consciousness over an ancient animal brain separates us from the rest of the living world. And yet, we are capable of understanding how the universe works, how hydrogen burns in the hearts of stars, how black holes don't let light escape because they pull it in, of inventing the concepts of god and the absolute, of curved space-time and the eleven dimensions of string theory.
2. Being alive is magic, because you can understand it. Matter exists on its own, but the living can feel how every cell of your body sings in the ecstasy of existence. You feel energy, fatigue, vigor, pain, strength, and how you can order your body with your mind to do whatever you want, and it will obey.
3. Life sometimes is like a bulldozer that ran over a pedestrian walking down the highway. Like it or not, you get up, brush yourself off, and keep going. You don't have to walk down the highway, it's harder to walk there, and there are no bulldozers and cars, but it's full of other dangers, even more terrifying, but on the flip side it's more interesting to walk. The only alternative to not walking is well known, and always available, but there's even less sense in it than in walking.
Max figured out how to carry the bike easier, by resting the top tube or seat on his shoulder
And so we walk
This photo explains why Viya's persistence is worthy of admiration, which I talked about in the previous episodes. First time on an outing like this, and at quite a young age too, and straight into such a mess.
Mountains are always beautiful
Also an artistic photo, in its own way. "The Cyclist and the Elements".
I'm running to the top
A micro-avalanche came down, judging by the gouges on the right
And so we crossed over the highest point, and started descending. The descent is no less difficult a task than the ascent, since the slope is steep, and we're not exactly downhillers. Max rode at times, where it was more convenient, the rest tried to at least not fall over even while walking, especially where there was snow.
Andrey was totally dripping on my brain about needing to be more careful. Maybe we did, but the worst that could happen — you land on your butt and the bike falls next to you — there's no precipice, so it's nothing terrible, in my view. A busy highway or riding through the city is far more dangerous.
The degree is like Stroh rum again
Because of the ice, this glacial lake looks even better than Biogradsko
One more, just as promised
There's even a boat on the lake
On the right are those very monuments of ancient architecture that were promised.
These ramshackle shacks are even marked on our American military map, each one individually.
You're going the right way, comrades!
The sign reads: "Hard path next 3.5 km"
Considering what we'd already had to go through, it sounded like a joke. But remember, our route was calculated for summer, and we were walking in spring, so if there's a sign like that, it means it's totally kaput further on. And so it was. Firstly, it started getting dark, secondly, the road kept turning from a tractor-rutted track into a trail piled high with rocks and fallen tree trunks. All this interspersed with rocky streams and melting snow.
Also, keep in mind that barely half the expedition members had flashlights, and the rest tried to shine the light for everyone. I'd lost my best flashlight in Crimea, and was using a Chinese knock-off intended generally for charging phones, but it still coped pretty well.
In the end, to shorten the way a bit, we even had to walk right down a stream bed, which was totally awesome — you immediately feel like a real pioneer, a man of iron will and muscle. By that time we'd descended lower, it got warmer, and in general I always feel better in the evening — I'm in a good mood and get a surge of fresh energy. Had anyone told me then that I needed to ride another 100 km right now (without extreme climbs, admittedly) — I would have ridden off without a second thought.
That very stream, and those very men of steel
The town of Mojkovac is already glowing orange and yellow
To get back to town, we had to roll down a dirt road serpentine for a long, long time, riding the brakes for all we were worth, and my flashlight, unable to withstand the shaking, kept falling apart, even though it was taped up a bit with electrical tape. I've taped it up properly now — let it continue to serve me faithfully, since it already helped out so much once.
Along the way we could hear the ringing of bells on sheep's necks again, just like on the first day. A one-eyed "Zhiguli" drove past (Soviet cars pop up periodically in Montenegro), and a shepherd yelled something at us in the dark.
Descending was very interesting, and fun, even though it was dark, and a bit scary that the 26-inch inner tube in my 28-inch wheel wouldn't survive the day of torture and would pop, sending me flying off a cliff.
By around 22:00-23:00 we finally made it to our minivan, which had already become like family. We bought some hamburgers and pasties for the road at a familiar joint, and headed homeward.
That's what it's called, "Dollar," even though the price of a hamburger is 1 Euro
Despite the hardships of the trail, all comrades are in elevated spirits and state of mind.
In conclusion I can only say that the second day stuck in my memory very strongly, far more vividly than all the rest. The realization that this would be so came immediately, right in that first moment when we started scrambling up the snowy steeps, pushing ourselves to the limit.
I don't know about others, but with me this is so often the case. Some big undertaking seems not very appealing to your emotions and ancient animal mind given the difficulty and effort it requires, but if you force yourself with your human mind and consciousness to act, then you surely won't regret it. There will be something to remember, and something to relive, to think about, to be glad about, and even to be proud of.