Seven Rila Lakes, A Tale of Only Slightly Exaggerated Adventure

This past weekend I went on a nature hike in the local mountains. Mountains that I can actually see if I stick my head out my window a couple of feet. However, not realizing these were the exact mountains my hiking group was heading towards, because I'm a bit spatially-challenged, I went about 3 hours out of my way to make a big, giant circle with two trains, one bus, and a taxi ride in order to get to the base of these mountains with my friends (who actually had to go this route cuz they can't see these mountains from their windows). Oops.

Regardless, it was an amazing trip. We went to the Rila Mountains and, specifically, the Seven Rila Lakes (whose title in Bulgarian I can never seem to get quite right). There are literally seven lakes all pretty close to one another as you make your way up this mountain trail and all are only for looking at. There is no touching (I touched one), swimming, rock-skipping (I did that too), fishing, or pointing at for prolonged periods of time (I exaggerated that last one, though, for all I know, this could absolutely be true [I didn't read all the "do this" but "don't do that" signs on the way up, it could've been in there]). You can take pictures of them, however, and you can stare and point at those as much as you like, depending on the staring and pointing rules in your own house.

So, it went a little something like this:

We (me, Katelyn, Kerri, Priscilla, Ben, and Ashlei - yes, this is how she spells her name) met in Sofia at noon and took a train to a pretty little town called Dupnitsa (where a super Cali-sexy volunteer used to live but now he's gone) and from there took a bus to Panichiste. This mountain village happens to be where all of us volunteers spent our first few days in Bulgaria so it was nice to be back and re-live those crazy moments (I wasn't full of naive excitement nor did I have permanently blood-shot eyes from lack of sleep this time around). From Panichiste we took a taxi (with the friendliest taxi driver the world has ever seen) to the base of the mountain where we'd planned to take a ski-lift to our first хижа (or mountain cabin) cuz we were saving all of our hiking energy for the next day. Turns out, the lift wasn't running that day and we had to trudge (tredge?) up the mountain unexpectedly. Kerri and I were so slow going up we played the "let's pretend we're turtles, what kind of turtle are you?" game. We never did decide what sound a turtle makes.

We then slept in our first cabin, hostel-style with all of us in one big room, after a hearty dinner of soup and beer.

In the morning, we started on our hike. It was pretty difficult. Very steep and I spent the majority of the time out of breath. Not that I minded all that much, I figured hiking was going to entail some physical inconveniences but would be well worth it cuz it's rumored to be "so darn pretty" in the places where nature lives (you know: mountains, rivers, forests, Kansas). We played in streams, climbed on boulders, took "the path less traveled by" which was less traveled by for a reason as it turns out, and took a lot of silly pictures - all before lunch.

After lunch (which we ate on a rock near one of the lakes, where I was yelled at by my fellow hikers for disrupting the Untouched Wilderness when I fed a swarm of teeny-tiny little fish some of my "hiking cereal" [it was totally just regular cereal but I called it that cuz it was in a backpack - I also brought "hiking oreos"]), we started to get serious. The paths were steeper and much more treacherous and I was a bit fatigued from all my so-called "goofing around" on the first part (there could have totally been hidden ancient Bulgarian treasure in the crevices of that one rock I "wasn't supposed to climb on" cuz it's on "protected ground" to keep it safe from "human exposure". Socialists.)

We passed each lake, counting them as we all looked forward to #7 - the last lake, which we all assumed would be the best, bluest, and shiniest lake of them all. We saw wild horses (a mama and two ponies!), waterfalls, Bulgarians in super short shorts, and breathtaking views. When we made it to the top, where the seventh lake was (it was normal), there were these rock piles all over. Apparently, when people make it to the top, they take a rock and add it to the top of one of the piles, a tangible manifestation of success (whoa - that sounded fancy). So, naturally, I did the same. It felt good. Then we sat and stared at the view below us and felt pretty proud of what we'd accomplished.

We then had to hike another hour to get to our second хижа. We could see the cabin at the bottom of this long valley, a small house-shaped dot at the end of these rolling, golden hills. If we all hadn't been so tired I think we would have run toward it, Sound of Music-style and maybe held hands, spun around, and sang a song about the hills being alive. But instead we walked...

..and walked...and walked...

At one point, when we'd been walking for over 20 minutes and the cabin did not seem any closer than it was before, we began to question whether or not we were:

1) in a dream (you know, one of those dreams where you're running towards something but you can never get there and you wake up super frustrated, to the detriment of the person next to you or your pillow?)

2) The Twilight Zone

3) seeing an optical allusion not unlike an oasis in the desert

We did finally make it and this place was legit in a "we're really hikin' now!" kinda way: water pumped in from a natural spring, owned and operated by mountain men (I found one of the heavily-bearded ones rather sexy but shied when Ashlei offered to talk to him with me - I have nothing to say to a bearded mountain man besides, "so. that beard. epic." and I don't know the Bulgarian word for "epic"), and electricity from a generator that seemed to only run for a couple hours just after sunset. I felt pretty disgusting after the hike and was bummed not to be able to take a shower. I also had a mini panic attack when I let my mind fully digest how remote and stranded we were in this deep valley not accessible for miles by anything but feet (peoples' and horses'). It creeped me out in a claustrophobic, head stuck in your pullover sweater when the neck's too tight and you start to freak out a little and tug at it 'til it feels like you might rip your own face off kinda way.

The next day, Kerri, Katelyn, and I went home while the others continued on an even more challenging hike. We went down, passed all the same lakes at rapid speed and managed to all be in (or near as Kerri had to sleep at Katelyn's cuz her town is a bit remote) our own beds that very night.

I got a wicked sunburn that is peeling in a way that makes me look as if I've just had a chemical peel like the Desperate Housewives of LA/NY/NJ/OC. Not cute. Nor is it fun to hear, "Oh, miss, your face," from all my students. I respond with, "I know, my face is angry with me."

But I had a great time. I would, hands down, do it again in an all-terrain jeep with ipod hook up, AC, and mini-fridge. For sure.

-Age