যেতে হবে বহুদূর : August 2019

Look carefully;
I was almost freaked out

The sunset on my way to
Triglav National Park

I had camped for the first time in

my life, I was so excited

about it, but I almost forgot about it

after the climb

I had camped for the first time in my life—an experience brimming with excitement and a dash of the unknown. But that sense of thrill I had anticipated was almost eclipsed by what came next: a climb so grueling, so intense, that it nearly consumed every ounce of my focus and energy.

My adventure began with a journey to the breathtaking Triglav National Park in Slovenia, a country often mistaken for its neighbor Slovakia but distinct in every way. Slovenia isn't just another European nation—it's a treasure trove of natural beauty, with landscapes that seem to leap straight out of a storybook. When people think of Slovenia, they might picture the serene waters of Lake Bled or the charming streets of Ljubljana. But for me, it was all about Triglav National Park, home to the majestic Mount Triglav, the highest peak in the Julian Alps.

The ridge that I wanted to avoid
but had to take!

As I made my way through the Vrata Valley, the sun began its descent, painting the sky with hues of orange and gold. The air was crisp, and the anticipation of the climb ahead filled me with a mix of excitement and nerves. Triglav is not just a mountain; it's a symbol of Slovenia, a challenge that beckons adventurers with its rugged beauty and the promise of an unparalleled experience.

The trails leading to Triglav's summit are as diverse as the landscapes they traverse. Each path presents its own set of challenges, and the one I had chosen was not for the faint-hearted. The journey began in Vrata Valley, where the sheer cliffs and towering peaks served as a solemn reminder of the arduous climb ahead. This was no leisurely hike; this was a test of endurance, courage, and sheer willpower.

The Krma Valley trail is known to be the most accessible, often underestimated by those who haven’t experienced its full glory. The path winds through lush meadows and dense forests, gradually ascending toward the Triglavski Dom, also known as the Kredarica Hut. It’s a 3-4 hour trek that prepares you for the final push to the summit—a one-hour climb that requires every ounce of strength and skill you possess. The trail is exposed, with only metal ropes to keep you from plummeting down the mountainside. This is where the real challenge begins—a test of your resolve as you cling to the Klettersteig, knowing that one misstep could be disastrous.

The rescue helicopter I had seen
coming several times!

But the Krma Valley wasn’t enough for me. No, I sought a greater challenge, one that would push me to my limits. Vrata Valley offered that challenge, with two routes leading to the summit, both demanding and treacherous. The path through Luka Pass, in particular, loomed ahead like a wall of rock, almost vertical, with no room for hesitation or fear.

As I stood at the base of Luka Pass, the valley stretched out behind me, a reminder of how far I’d come and how far I had yet to go. The climb was relentless, with no water sources along the way, and the sun beating down on me, sapping my energy with every step. It was a brutal four-hour ascent, and as I neared the summit, my legs felt like lead, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The rocky path offered no respite, only the promise of more obstacles ahead.

Finally, I reached the summit, where the world seemed to fall away beneath me. The view was breathtaking, a panorama of the Julian Alps that stretched out as far as the eye could see. But there was no time to celebrate. My friends, eager to begin the descent, urged me onward, but I had nothing left to give. I was dehydrated, exhausted, and utterly spent. The energy bar I had saved for this moment was my only source of strength, and I forced it down, knowing I needed every bit of energy for the dangerous descent ahead.

As we started our descent, the sky darkened ominously, and a sudden hailstorm struck, pelting us with icy shards that stung our skin and made the path slick and treacherous. Visibility dropped to near zero, and I could feel the panic rising in my chest. The trail became a slippery nightmare, with every step a gamble against the forces of nature.

It was in this moment of desperation that I encountered a fellow hiker—a German man who, seeing my distress, offered me a precious bottle of water. His kindness was a lifeline, a reminder that even in the most dire circumstances, humanity prevails. Rejuvenated, I pressed on, though the fear gnawed at me with every step.

The rescue helicopter that had appeared earlier in the day hovered in my mind, a stark reminder of the peril that surrounded us. Yet, despite the fear and the fatigue, I pushed forward, knowing that the only way out was through. When we finally reached Kredarica Hut, the sense of relief was overwhelming. We had made it—barely—but we had made it.

The following morning, I awoke to a sunrise that should have been awe-inspiring, but instead, it was a reminder of the exhaustion that had plagued me the day before. The vibrant greens of Krma Valley below seemed to mock me with their beauty, a stark contrast to the rocky heights I had just conquered.

Our adventure ended at Lake Bled, a tranquil spot that offered a brief respite from the ordeal we had endured. My friends took solace in the cool waters, but I was too drained to join them, content to simply reflect on the journey that had tested me in ways I had never imagined.

The drive back to Munich was quiet, each of us lost in our thoughts, the weight of the experience hanging heavy in the air. We had summited Mount Triglav, but the mountain had left its mark on us, a mix of triumph and trauma that would linger long after we returned to the comforts of home.

As I arrived home, my phone buzzed with messages from friends around the world, wishing me a Happy Friendship Day. The irony wasn’t lost on me—this day, meant to celebrate the bonds of friendship, now carried the weight of an adventure that had tested those very bonds to their limits.

The image of the rescue helicopter, the ridge I had dreaded but ultimately conquered, and the fear that had gripped me so tightly—they all remained etched in my mind. But so too did the lesson I had learned: that fear is not something to avoid but something to face head-on, for it is in overcoming our fears that we truly find ourselves.

That sunrise which could have been
much better have I been not exhausted
on the previous night

In Slovenia, climbers collect a stamp at the peak—a small but significant token of a journey completed. As I stamped my booklet at the top of Triglav, I knew that this adventure was one I would never forget. The view from Triglavski Dom at dawn was beautiful, but it was the exhaustion and the struggle that had made it truly meaningful.

Lake Bled marked the end of our journey, a place of quiet reflection where the echoes of the mountain’s challenge still rang in our ears. As we drove back to Munich, the silence spoke volumes—a testament to the impact of what we had just endured.

Happy Friendship Day, indeed.