As I knew it was a long day I started early when it was still dark. Looking down from the mountains to the plain below I could see a myriad of lights, pin pricks of orange and white that made it look like a metropolis was there, rather than a few small towns. A band of blood red marked the horizon and the imminent arrival of the sun. Frost sparkled in the light of my head torch.
For a few kilometres I walked through conifers, heavy with pine cones. As the sky lightened the birds started chattering to each other. In less forested areas I could see a large moon setting. I progressed into beech woods before arriving at Dermenka Hut. The door was open and I put my head in to see if a coffee might be available but no-one was around, just the sound of a distant vacuum cleaner.
For the rest of the day I was walking above the trees, initially on close cropped grass. Wide views stretched each side to mountain ranges and plains. Today winter and summer routes often split. I discovered the winter routes, marked by poles, were not always suitable for walking along as they crossed rocks, juniper bushes and other hindrances to progress on two feet. They were intended for use by skiers when covered by snow. When following a winter route a little before Orlovo Gnezdo hut I was forced to give up and awkwardly clamber down to a nearby gravel road. The door to Orlovo Gnezdo hut was also open, but again no-one was around so I sat outside and ate a chocolate bar from my stocks. The poles now often had small plates showing the compass bearing to the next pole, for use when visibility was extremely poor I assumed.
Following the gravel road and then a good track I soon reached my tourist site for the day, the "Arch of Freedom". Celebrating both liberation from the Ottomans and the end of the Second World War, it was clearly of the Soviet, hero monument style. I was not surprised to see that this 34 metre high arch was built in 1981, before the end of communism in Bulgaria. The chiselled, tough looking men sculptured into the base reminded me of Soviet sculptures I had seen in Uzbekistan.
More peaks followed the Arch, some were scarred by people driving their 4 wheel drives up them, the ruts created by their wheels enlarged by the flow of water. The National Park authorities seemed to be making efforts to correct the damage by placing fences around the worst sections and adding stone mattresses to stop the flow of stones and earth downhill. I noticed they had also installed vertical pipes, filled with concrete as a barrier to prevent vehicles entering areas they were seeking to protect.
The mountains became increasingly steep sided and rocky. A kite type hang glider circled high above the valley. A flock of pigeons (?) wheeled in the air below me. Fortunately the Summer Route bypassed most of the peaks saving me effort. Herds of horses roamed the area. Not wild as at least one in each herd wore a clanging bell. They looked sleek and well fed. One was standing on my path, alarmed it trotted off, crushing the juniper bushes as it made its escape, which released an aromatic scent of pines and gin. The route led around a steep slope, unfortunately the horses had complicated navigation by creating multiple paths so it was difficult to know which was the correct one. Small outcrops also interfered, slowing me down as I carefully climbed over rocks. Juniper branches attempted to close the path, rubbing against me as I passed, trying to hold me back, hiding roots that might trip me and loose stones on which I could stumble.
For such reasons it took me longer than expected to reach Kozya Stena hut. Here there were people eating and drinking tea, so I bought a Coke and chocolate to consume while admiring the view. I left with a group of three young men who spoke English. We swapped questions as to where we were going. They were heading for a different hut and soon out-paced me. As I looked at them disappearing in the distance, I rationalised that they were younger, had smaller packs and had likely not been walking for so many hours. I also reminded myself that it was not a race.
Although I looked forward to arriving at Eho hut for the night, I could not help admiring the way the late afternoon light backlit the rocks, how the low sun revealed the structure of the valleys and turned the leaves of the beech trees to a luminous gold. The valleys are "V" shaped and the ridges between them form an equally sharp, upside down "V" unless some geological feature disturbed the pattern.
Eho hut appeared at the last moment over the brow of a ridge. I was fortunate that there were a couple of people staying at the hut who spoke English. It made it easier to get a bed and some food. In the evening there was quite a party in the restaurant area, complete with music. They were celebrating a birthday. There were also couples and friends out for a weekend walking.
32.1 kilometres walked today with an ascent of over 1300 metres.
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