Breakfast was again French Toast with jam and white cheese, and again delicious! After saying "ciao" to my hosts I walked down to the village of Lakatnik along paths, dirt tracks and tracks roughly paved with stones no doubt long ago. A couple of forestry trucks passed me, they always seem to be painted a dull green like the old Land Rovers, with good clearances. The houses of Lakatnik nestled in a valley, at least one of them falling apart. In the main square there were two war memorials both relating to the First and Second World Wars. Beside one there was a light artillery piece of some sort, maybe an anti-aircraft gun. However I was heading for the sister village of Gara Lakatnik.
Gara Lakatnik was on the eastern slope of the Iskar valley, called "Gara" as it contained a railway station. The valley contained the only major river that I would cross, the River Iskar which was unusual in that its source was to the south of the Balkan Mountains but it had eroded a gorge, presumably as the mountains were formed, so that it discharges to the north of them into the Danube. On the western side of the valley a series of cliffs rose up.
 |
| Gara Lakatnik is the village at the bottom of the valley, the cliffs are the other side of the River Iskar. |
As I had plenty of time today, having a little over 20 kilometres to walk, I dawdled in Gara Lakatnik. First I stocked up with food for two nights camping, making three trips around the narrow aisles of the small general store to find everything I wanted, being careful my rucksack did not dislodge nuts, crisps or packets of pasta as I turned. Then I found a place selling coffee, which I drank while eating a small oblong of flaky pastry containing white cheese, which reminded me of similar snacks I had bought in Greece. I also had a look at the death notices that were pasted everywhere, onto lampposts, trees and notice boards. They gave the impression that everyone was dying in the village in some dreadful epidemic, but on closer examination, many were quite old. Each A4 notice had a picture of the deceased. Some looked happy, a few looked mischievous or seductive, others looked glum with downturned mouths. There were pictures of people too young to die, but maybe they used a flattering picture from their younger days.
The walk out of Gara Lakatnik was uncharacteristic of the Kom-Emine in that it went up a long, narrow valley. Initially it followed a tarmac road up the wooded dale, passing sporadic houses, some abandoned. Then the tarmac disappeared and it became a gravel road. Following the road made gaining height relatively painless as the gradient was gentle on the legs. There were a few places where the Kom-Emine decided to venture off into the trees. The first of these proved a struggle. Although the path started well, and may once have been a good track following telegraph poles, workmen had evidently been out recently chopping down all the trees beneath the power lines carried by the poles. This meant a large part of the path was covered with cut trees, their branches splayed out and interlocking to create a huge mess, extremely difficult to cross. I persevered with great difficulty and regained the road. The second such diversion off the road I decided not to attempt. The third bypass looked like it was long ago a section of the road, so I successfully climbed up it, avoiding a large switchback in the current road. I noticed some Michaelmas daisies beside the roadside and was frequently crunching acorns from overhanging oaks under my feet.
Reaching my destination, Proboinitsa Hut, I noticed a lady with a video camera, a few other people and a car with a TV station written along the side. They had been filming and conducting an interview at the hut and highly recommended its food. I checked in and fortunately the lady in charge had some English. She had also been baking a cake. So I asked for a slice with my coffee. It was served with some vegetable (squash?) preserved in syrup. The hut had been recently renovated and for 40 lev (less than £20) I had a room of my own with ensuite facilities.
Having used Google Translate to decipher the menu I was able to ask for a salad, pork steak with chips, and a crème caramel. As the TV reporter had promised, the food was great.
22 kilometres walked today.
No comments:
Post a Comment