After sleeping from 8:30 pm to 6 am I woke feeling refreshed. A symphony of bird song sounded as I ate a breakfast of tortilla and cranberries. I was then on my way down a rough vehicle track among trees. The river to my left appeared to disappear under the red stone cliffs at one point but I did not dally to investigate as I was focused reaching a river which I would have to ford.
At the river, as the water was clearly more than boot depth, I prepared myself by removing my trousers and putting them in a dry bag in my rucksack. Should I slip I did not want them to get wet. My boots, I tied to the back of my bag and put on my lightweight "hotel" shoes, which were designed for use in water, I bought them for river crossings in Iceland. As recommended in the books I did not connect up the hip belt and chest strap of my rucksack so that I could easily drop it if I slipped in the water, better a wet rucksack that being pulled underwater by the weight of it. Thus prepared I entered the water facing upstream with my two trekking poles ahead of me for balance in true textbook fashion. I entered the water where the track crossed the river expecting it to be shallower than elsewhere with an even bottom for vehicles to drive over. For the first half of the crossing the water was unexpectedly deep reaching up to my thighs. The river bed consisted of boulders making it difficult to find secure places to put my feet. I would not recommend even a 4 x 4 driving through it. Ahead of me there were standing waves which usually meant it gets shallower, but here only indicated that was the velocity of water was greater. I was glad I had some experience of such things as I was prepared for the force of the water on my legs and trekking poles. Despite a temptation to hurry to the far bank I moved carefully, one step or pole at a time. To plant the poles in front of me I had to lift them out of the water to avoid them being pushed downstream by the flow, and then stab them into the waves ahead of me, planting them on the river bed where they vibrated slightly in the current. The bottom of my underpants became wet with the bow wave I was creating as the water rushed by.
Safely on the other side, the excitement over, I dried myself and put my trousers and boots back on. The next nine kilometres were up a quiet road. Six cars passed me, three of them offered me a lift! However progressing at a walking pace had advantages as, when a break in the trees allowed, I could look down on the river. The foaming waters of the Toplodolska had cut a deep valley as it raced over rocks. White water surged at speed between large boulders and over small waterfalls. The weather was indecisive, dark clouds covered the sky, the lower ones drifting up the valley. A little rain fell, then stopped, then started again, and finally made up its mind to stay dry.
The road ended at the village of Topli Do, like nearby villages there was a mixture of smart and dilapidated buildings. When I passed through here seven years ago it was empty of people and the shop looked permanently closed. Today the village was more lively, the shop was open, a man and child with a donkey walked by, cars were parked. Maybe people were visiting family homes they had inherited over the Easter holidays, although the middle aged men sitting in the shop drinking beer and arguing among themselves had the appearance of locals. Beer seemed the main item sold as the fridge was packed full of it, however I managed to buy a Coke sitting on a shelf, not exactly cold but better than nothing. The shop keeper also found me a bar of chocolate which I enjoyed sitting outside. I left the village saying "Dober Dan" to an older lady in sombre clothes with few teeth who was sitting beside the road.
There was now 900 metres of climbing up a track through woodland to reach "Babin Zub", literally Grandma's Tooth, although there were actually a few large rocks sticking up from the bare mountainside looking like teeth. The area is a ski resort with lifts draped over the slopes. Although the snow was reduced to a few streaks on the surrounding high ground the café was open, so I stopped for a coffee to admire the view. Trains of cloud crossed the sky. Patches of sunshine moved over the bare mountain slopes. On my way up I had admired white wood anemones and clumps of yellow coltsfoot, but the best wild flowers were the purple crocuses spread over the highest ground.
It was a little further to reach my hotel for the night, a large edifice, expensive by Serbian standards but a welcome opportunity for a shower and some clothes washing.
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