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“Good judgment comes from experience, and experience comes from bad judgment.” Rita Mae Brown
I woke up just before the 6:15 a.m. alarm to the unmistakable sound of a torrential downpour.
I looked outside and it was indeed, pouring buckets of rain from the black night sky.
It was Massimo’s fault.
I mean, someone should be held accountable for all the disastrous events at this point, right? Why not blame the guy who’s always happy.
In reality, he had jinxed us.
Just yesterday, he’d made the perfectly unnecessary observation that it clearly hadn’t rained in this area for months and there was just “too much dust.”
Well, congratulations, Mr. Weatherman. You got your wish.
Now, instead of spending the day walking 27.41 kilometers (17.03 miles) on dry trails, we might be slogging through mud.
Jeez, thanks, Massimo. ☔️
As we lay there in silence, listening to the rain smack against the pavement below our window, I reminded him that this was entirely his fault.
“But…we need the rain. The earth is too dry and dusty,” he said, defending his completely indefensible actions.
“Shhh. Quiet. The weather Gods will hear you and bring more.”
Because apparently the entire weather system was just waiting for Massimo to point out that the ground looked thirsty.
I checked the weather app – heavy rain until 8:15 am.
Fantastic.
We had 17 or 18 miles in front of us and we would need to get moving fairly early to arrive before dinner – since I’m such a slow hiker.
I was not in the mood to walk in heavy rain.
So I did what any avoidant person would do. I rolled over, pulled down the eye mask I’d brought with me from Norway, and tried to go back to sleep – preferably in a world where it wasn’t raining, we weren’t hiking 17 or 18 miles, and Massimo had never uttered the words “too much dust.”
Denial seemed like the most appropriate preparation for the day ahead.
At breakfast we discovered that Massimo also broke the espresso machine.
Way to go, Buddy, you are two for two today.
Last night, when the owner made Massimo a “short espresso “ after dinner, the machine went kaput.
So this morning, the owner had to carry an entirely different espresso machine from her private home, across the yard, to the restaurant.
I’m beginning to think Massimo has a special gift.
Despite all of this, we weren’t ready to start hiking until 9:09 am – and the owner, unprompted, drove us to the trailhead which saved us about a mile and a half of extra walking.
Thank you for the unexpected and very much appreciated Uber lift.
We blew past “Swiss Miss” Agnes from Switzerland on our way up the hill. The owners of her guesthouse didn’t driver her – not that she would have accepted a ride – she is a purest, a true hiker who walks every step.
Respect.
She caught up to us quickly on the trail and we hiked the entire way together and discovered along the trail that we are staying at the same accommodation tonight.
Swiss Miss is fantastic. She is a wonderful conversationalist and kept us entertained the entire hike. Even though it was 17 or 18 miles, it went by very quickly, not only because of her interesting stories but she walks so fast! I was practically running to keep up.
The hike was beautiful but long, very long – 29 km (18 miles) long.
Did I mention it was 17 or 18 miles?
Thankfully, the rain hadn’t created the mud apocalypse I had been anticipating. The trails were surprisingly manageable, particularly on the downhill sections.
We had one minor hiccup that was self inflicted. We chose to walk the short route that is marked “closed” on the map with a big ❌ because of a bridge that is out of service.
They aren’t kidding about that either.
Swiss Miss had been told by her guesthouse owner that it was perfectly fine to cross.
“Don’t worry,” he had apparently said. “Another hiker crossed it yesterday.”
Well, another hiker may have crossed it yesterday. But we were looking at locked gates, warning signs and very clear instructions not to trespass.
So naturally…
We trespassed.
Against my will.
Obviously.
But we are a group and we must stick together. This is my story for the cops.
We had to cross the bridge using the scaffolding along the side – the kind apparently intended for construction workers and people who have absolutely no regard for their own mortality.
I am terrified of heights. Like, really terrified.
I hated every single second of this little Mission Impossible: Romanian Bridge Edition.
Massimo, thought it was hilarious and recorded the moment.
We also probably broke several laws by crossing the caution tape and no trespassing signs.
So, if anyone from the Romanian authorities is reading this:
We were never here.
Although, there were trail cameras set up everywhere so our faces have been identified and there is probably a warrant out for our arrest.
We had to cross a second bridge as well but it was less treacherous.
Other than crossing those vertigo inducing, forbidden bridges, the hike was mostly the same – a winding dirt path next to a beautiful river and a gorgeous canopy of trees.
After the rain, everything looked fresh and green, and the air had that clean, earthy smell that makes you briefly forget that your feet and knees have been walking for several hours.
Calling It a Night
It’s after 10 p.m. here, and we just finished a nice meal and are enjoying each other’s company, so I’m going to cut tonight’s post short and go to bed.
Goodnight. ♥️
Much love & gratitude. Namaste 🙏
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At dinner, I met a cat.
Not a friendly cat. Not an adorable, affectionate cat.
A grumpy cat.
He wanted my pork chop.
I refused to share.
He was not pleased.
Tough nuggets, Cat, find your own dinner.
Meow. 🐱
We saw a hedgehog – a first for me – curled up in the middle of the road. He was panting and looked terrified. Massimo moved him to the edge of the road to avoid being “squeezed” by any of the various vehicles that travel through these parts.
Our accommodation for the night – Camping Șura Banatului.
