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“Some people walk in the rain, others just get wet.” Roger Miller
Halfway through today’s hike, I caught myself thinking, I don’t really have anything interesting to write about today besides the weather.
Fortunately for all of you, Massimo, otherwise known as “The Legend,” once again came through with enough entertainment to save today’s blog.
Today’s stage was labeled “Easy.” Twenty-two kilometers (14 miles), very little elevation, nothing too intimidating.
Honestly, Thunder and Lightning (the affectionate names I’ve given my legs) were thrilled to hear that.
As this trip has repeatedly reminded us, however, “easy” is apparently a very flexible term in Romania.
The trail gave us a run for our money today.
The morning couldn’t have been more perfect. The sun was shining, the air was crisp, and after a good night’s sleep I actually felt refreshed. It was one of those rare mornings where every step felt effortless.
We were zipping along, knocking out kilometer after kilometer. We were moving along on the map so well that we decided to take an extra long break and enjoy some snacks.
Has anyone ever tried these wild mushrooms and sour cream chips? I don’t know if they even sell them in the States.
Ah-mazing!
Not twenty minutes after we started walking again, the sky completely changed.
First came the rain.
Then came the hail.
Then, just as suddenly, blue skies and sunshine returned as if nothing had happened.
That pattern repeated itself all day long.
We were constantly changing clothes.
Poncho on.
Poncho off.
Jacket/fleece on.
Jacket/fleece off.
I think we changed clothes more times today than a model during Paris Fashion Week.
At one point we followed a sign for the Via Transilvanica and about one kilometer or two, I noticed we hadn’t seen a marker even though there were many signs on the trees.
“Dammit, we did it again. We are off the trail.”
Again.
Turn around and go back.
This evening Bobe sent me a text asking if we saw the big arrow they drew in the mud for us – they had done the exact same thing. Oy vey!
The unexpected reward for our detour was mushrooms.
Everywhere.
Massimo transformed into an eight-year-old kid in a candy store.
“Look!”
“Oh my God! Look at that one!”
“Take a picture of this one! No, this one!”
I’ve never seen anyone so excited over fungus.
We eventually stopped for another snack in the middle of the forest.
It was peaceful.
Quiet. Beautiful. Until Massimo casually said,
“If there’s a bear…we’re F’ed.”
Well…
Thanks for that.
Nothing enhances a relaxing picnic quite like imagining yourself as the main course.
After our break, the wind picked up and the temperature dropped so we layered up as to not freeze while walking.
There was so much rain today that the trail was a muddy mess. It was hard to find a solid place to step at times.
It was a disaster.
About 13 kilometers into the hike, we reached a particularly steep downhill section.
I was one or two steps ahead of Massimo when I suddenly heard,
“MAMMA MIA!” with an Italian accent.
I turned around just in time to watch him throw both hands and knees into the mud as he caught himself while falling.
The trail was so slick that he kept sliding, and the bottom of his left sandal slammed into the side of my shoe and ankle on the way down.
“Are you okay?” I asked, probably louder than necessary.
“Yes,” he said. “I’m just pissed off.”
As he tried standing up, his sandals couldn’t find any traction.
I still haven’t joined Team Sandal.
Today didn’t help convince me.
Once he was on his feet, he tried to pick up the trekking poles but began to slide again.
Once I knew he wasn’t injured, I couldn’t help but laugh.
I completely lost it.
The whole scene was like a slapstick comedy show.
“I’m getting the trekking poles,” I said between laughs. “You just focus on staying upright.”
The mud was unforgiving, we were both going to end up on our butts if we weren’t careful.
Once we regained our balance, he carefully used the poles as brakes while essentially skiing his way down the hill.
It was clear with all the skid marks in the mud that other people had fallen before us as well.
Once we were to a flat spot, I told him, “I have to take photos of you for the blog. I didn’t have a story before this. Thank you for the entertainment!”
He gave me a scowl.
Then he asked the important question.
“Do my pants have mud on them? I really don’t want to wash them tonight.”
Miraculously, his pants had escaped almost completely clean.
Of course I also made him pose with my now-filthy bandana.
That little bandana has become one of my favorite Camino items. It has served as a towel, sweat rag, pillow, sun protection, napkin, washcloth, and now…mud cleaner.
Its résumé just keeps growing.
We weren’t out of the woods yet. We still had more descending to do.
I noticed a dry path through the trees to the left of the trail and said we should follow it but he said no, he’d be fine.
He was not fine.
I took the dry path and had the hiking sticks with me at this point.
I was situated a little above him and a few paces behind him so when he flailed his arms and his feet began slipping and sliding back and forth like one of those cartoon characters, I saw the whole thing.
First, I asked if he was okay and he was. Then I laughed so hard I literally almost peed my pants.
I actually had to cross my legs.
I said, “I think you’ll need to wash your pants tonight.”
He looked down and then over at me and started laughing hysterically too.
Sometimes that’s all you can do. Laugh. Clean yourself up. And keep walking.
Eventually we escaped the forest and figured the worst was finally behind us.
Nope.
The skies opened again.
This wasn’t a gentle rain.
It absolutely dumped.
It came so heavy and fast that Massimo didn’t have time to open his bag to grab his poncho.
Mine was on the outside of my bag, so we grabbed it and used it as a little tarp until we could get to a dryer spot under some trees.
Not exactly glamorous but effective…enough.
By the end of it all, we were beat. The trail had officially kicked our asses.
I was looking forward to a comfortable bed tonight and a hot shower but that wasn’t in the cards for us today either.
The beds are lumpy (and maybe a little dirty) and when I turned on the shower, nothing – and I mean nothing – came out of the shower head. It took about 30 seconds for a dribble of water to trickle out. The water looked more dirty than me and it shut off and back on every two minutes.
Needless to say, washing my hair seemed overly ambitious.
Sometimes luxury is simply clean running water.
We’ve had to make a makeshift clothesline across the middle of the room to dry our clothes – but hey, at least they are clean and hopefully, fingers crossed, dry by tomorrow.
Ahhh the life of a hiker.
One thing I admire about Massimo is how he handles days like this.
He never complains for long.
He laughs, brushes himself off, literally, and keeps going.
It’s one of the many reasons he’s such a great hiking partner.
Tomorrow I will lace up my shoes (not sure what footwear Massimo will choose), shoulder our backpacks, and do it all over again.
Hopefully with a little less mud.🥾🇷🇴
Goodnight.
Much love & gratitude. Namaste 🙏
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Looking across the countryside, I couldn’t help noticing the enormous haystacks scattered throughout the fields. They instantly reminded me of Vincent van Gogh’s paintings.
The people here work incredibly hard. Throughout the day we passed families cutting grass by hand, chopping wood, stacking hay, and preparing for the long Romanian winter ahead.
