I was served a filling breakfast of fried eggs, peppery sausages, bread, soft cheese, tomato paste and jam. I decided not to eat the beautifully painted eggs also put on the table, an Easter tradition. Three other men were also having breakfast. I wondered if they were Russian as they greated me with a "preevyet", but then the Slavic languages are all similar to a degree with words in common. Although the breakfast was tasty, it hung heavy on my stomach as I climbed up the first wooded mountain. Progress was slow with frequent stops.
Seven years ago, lacking a published GPX track file or a useful map, I worked out a route based on a guidebook not detailed enough for navigation, and Google Earth. The route I came up with based on the tracks I could see from the satellite pictures on Google was incorrect, and I was forced to turn back and take a long road route. However today, following the path that was subsequently published over the first ridge of the day I discovered I had been within 200 metres of the correct track, which was frustrating.
Although mostly a walk through trees there were patches of high pasture with buildings that looked unoccupied, however, the grass must be grazed as otherwise bushes and trees would have encroached. Cowslips covered the ground but were now mostly dying back, passed their lemon yellow glow. As a walked through a gap in a second ridge on a good vehicle track, it was sad to see that people had been dumping their trash down the slope beside me.
I went through a few small settlements today, with occasional houses showing signs of being occupied. Most of the little villages have a war memorial with a star on top. More Serbians died in the First World War than in the Second, which was reflected in the lists of names inscribed in stone, although the Serb losses in both wars was atrocious. Beneath the war memorials, or else nearby, there was usually a tap from which I could refill my water bottle. Today was sunny and warm and I was getting through water fast, needing it as my throat dried, so the taps were essential.
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| Typical Serbian War Memorial near Jalovik Izvor, there was a tap in the wall beneath for water as there often is. |
After crossing a road I continued over the second group of wooded mountains, with similar patches of pasture and scattered buildings, mostly dilapidated but a few being renovated with new windows or roof. The route over this second area of high ground was complex with numerous junctions. I was surprised I managed to find the way last time, albeit after exploring a few dead ends. I almost wondered if they (waymarkedtrails.org) had copied my trail, which I did publish online to help others.
The trees I have been walking among have not been large and mature, not ancient forests, but nor are they saplings, teenagers maybe of mixed varieties: beech, hawthorn, oak etc.. Many have multiple trunks growing from what may once have been the stump of a felled tree.
After dropping down to the village of Jalovik Izvor I made the final long climb of the day. Progressing across high ground I noticed the prints of deer, a large dog and badgers in wet patches of earth, but there had been no people for kilometres so the sound of a bell tolling close by was unexpected. Checking the map on my GPS there was a monastery nearby, and a Google search reveals it had been revived as a convent in 2020. As it is Easter Sunday maybe the sounding of the bell was in celebration of the Risen Christ. I camped on a hill top a few kilometres further on and could hear loud singing faintly in the distance.
As I approached my camping spot the sun, low in the sky, cast shadows around the trees and interlocking wooded mountains, giving them structure and solidity. I camped on a hilltop, between hawthorn bushes and insect nests, and admired the setting sun and the mountains all around me. Only the many insects disturbed me, a wasp pointedly hovering in front of my face encouraged me to settle into my tent, safely ensconced behind its flyscreen.
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