Planning a trip - or anything really, even methodically and obsessively, does not always turn out the way we expect it to be. In fact, I've learned that the more I try to lay out a plan step by step, the more likely that plan is to fail. And that's totally cool. That's part of the adventure isn't it?
But when traveling, there are a couple of things that we do look for and try our hardest to make happen. One of the biggest factors in deciding our way back to West from South Korea were mountains. Which mountains could we potentially get to? Which ones could we get to see or to hike?
After deciding on the countries that we would pass through on the exit trip from Korea, we dove into researching what mountains would be accessible for us.
1. Pik Lyubvi (Love Peak) - Arsha, Buryat Republic, Russia
Elevation: 6889 ft (1242m elevation gain)
Originally, we were hoping to get to the Altai Mountains on the Russian side when we were first researching Russian mountains. The Altai region was incredibly fascinating and alluring, but also challenging to get to within our time frame. I had taken the time to reach out in forums and spoke to tour guides who assured me that there was very little chance to see the Altai Mountains in the beginning of April because of snow and road accessibility, unless we were willing to spend a hefty price for it. Which we weren't.
So we decided to leave the Altai for a future trip, and we focused on the Sayan Moutnains on the west of Lake Baikal, bordering southern Siberia and northern Mongolia.
The village of Arshan is small and known for it's mineral waters spas. The marshutka ride from the station in Irkutsk to the village was one of the most picturesque rides I have taken; the mountain range slowly coming to view, and steadily spreading dramatically as we approached the village. We were back on high mountain terrain.
The Love Peak was said to be an easy enough hike, despite the steepness of the elevation gain. Supposedly, people have been able to do in in sandals and without water. It is also said that couples who make it to the peak are destined to be together for the rest of their lives, or to break up very shortly after the accomplishment. Well, as we set off the next day for our hike, we learned that either a) All our research was horribly misjudged or b) We weren't really that competent of hikers as we thought we were. Or a bit of both. Or just damn bad luck.
After walking through the terrain of what seemed to be abandoned Soviet sanatoriums, we found what we thought to be the trail. It really was like hitting a wall and we found ourselves up one of the steepest hikes we have ever done to date; we kept pulling ourselves up by the trees and making sure that our boots were well dug into the ground with each step. Not to mention the small rocks slipping beneath us, making every step a bit unsteady. To think that people would actually be able to do this in sandals was beyond me, and it really made me feel small and weak. By the time we found the actual trail, and as it evened out, we had a clear view of our love peak. Well, we had a clear view of it being covered in heavy clouds of rain and snow. Soon after, at a distance, we heard something that resembled much an avalanche.
We stood for a couple of minutes hoping that the cloud would move away; after all, this was the first mountain in our trip, and we really wanted to summit. There was a sense of pride and stubbornness at being so damn close to it, and yet realizing that we were not prepared for a snowy hike, and that it was something that we really had limited to zero experience before. After we heard the second avalanche come down in the distance, we decided to turn back and make our way back to the ground. We must have been a little bit less than 400m short from the peak when we turned - maybe even less. On the way down we could see clear blue skies over in Mongolia, as the storm clouds behind us settled. We passed a grave with a name and a reminder to always respect the mountain.
And that was our first failed mountain of the trip.
2. Stepantsminda, Kazbegi, Georgia
500 Elevation gain from the village to Gergetis church
Georgia will always have a very special place in my heart. The memory of my year in Georgia is one of the most treasured experiences I hold - all the people, the places, the food, and the chaos. One of my favorite and most memorable weekends from that year in Georgia is the time me and a dear friend of mine went up to Kazbegi in the fall. By then we had learned to prepare for the unexpected and even the worst in Georgia - a potentially deadly marshutka drive, or overly intrusive Georgian men, or having a woman stare at you while you are squatting in the toilet and try to make conversation. Anything could (and usually does) go in Georgia. However, for that weekend in Kazbegi - everything seemed to fall right into place.
Going back I had an expectation of what the hike would be like, what to prepare for and what to be careful of during the hike. We were hoping to hike to the Gergeti glacier, which is roughly a 8 - 11 hour hike depending on pace and weather. The day we arrived to Kazbegi was absolutely beautiful and the weather, although crisp and bordering on uncomfortably chilly, gave us the reassurance that the hike would be absolutely possible. We were well prepared, extremely excited and ready for the hike. Locals even said that if the weather kept like it had been, there should be no problem for us to make it to glacier, even with some snow on some of the higher grounds of the trail.
We woke up to Mt. Kazbegi covered in clouds, and the Gergeti church invisible among mist and fog
and snow clouds. It was almost like a cruel joke and bad weather kept waiting until our hiking days to make an appearance.
We hiked up to the church regardless. And the mountains all around were covered in fog and there was really no view to be enjoyed. The air was still incredibly crisp and there weren't that many people in the mountains. We decided to walk around the church grounds for a bit, and chatted up with the monk while we debated whether to call it a day or make an attempt for the glacier regardless.
As it turns out, those 10 minutes were enough for the clouds to disperse and for the mountains to come into view. Maybe we could do this hike after all ...
Spoiler alert - we didn't make it. Snow was too high, and although the clouds had dispersed out in east, they were still quite heavy in the west - where the glacier is. We got off the mountain, followed by a snowstorm that left the village of Stepantsminda without power for the remainder of the night. Still, Kazbegi turned out to be one of the most beautiful hikes of the year so far. I learned what rime snow is, and as it turns out it is one of my favorite things in the world. I caught glimpses of Mt. Kazbek behind heavy clouds, looking all majestic and sublime. I learned with all assurance that Kazbegi is one of my favorite places ever. And I can't wait to go back a third time.
Somewhere in the Borzhava Mountain Range, Carpathian Mountains, Volovets, Ukraine
The village of Volovets has been, by far, the most elusive and complicated village we have ever attempted to get to. Everything until that point had been pretty straight forward - you know the difference between feeling like "Okay, I can roll with this" and "Where the hell are we and how did we get here?". There were train transfers which we couldn't really make sure would get us to the place we wanted to get; once we got to said place, we realizes that we were still incredibly far from the actual village and there were no taxis or buses in sight. We finally got ourselves a marshutka, which didn't actually make us feel any more secured about our final destination. But luckily, we were able to call the hostel we were staying at, and through broken and desperate English and Russian and a lot of confusion, we made it!
After talking to some of the other guests at the hostel, we learned that the trail was not a difficult one and that the peak was easily accessible - BUT - they were expecting a rainy and foggy weekend.
So, if you're reading this then you should probably get the idea of what the theme of these hikes was.
The closer we got to the peak, the thicker the mist grew and the less we were able to see. I was the first one who suggested turning back around. We had gone off the trail earlier on in the hike, and we really didn't know how safe we'd be the higher we went.
However, the rain and the mist actually turned this to be one of the most eerie and moody hikes we have ever had. It really felt like walking into a fairy tale setting: the fog grew so thick that it became really difficult to see past a couple of feet. The rain darkened the wood which just made the green of the grass and the trees pop even more dramatically than they would have on a clear day.
Knocknadobar, Cahersiveen, Co. Kerry, Ireland
620m of Elevation
Ireland - a country well famed for rain and bad weather. I had prepared for the worst possible outlook for our hike. We had originally planned to hike the highest mountain in Ireland, Carrauntoohill, but considering our luck and the high possibility of bad weather, we changed it to a more accessible mountain and to one that we could still hike up comfortably enough if we were to get caught in rain. So, we headed into Knocknadobar through the Pilgrim Path Walking Route.
So, something interesting about Ireland and these Pilgrim Paths; there are a total of twelve Pilgrim Paths in Ireland. Some of these have existed from even before Christianity was introduced into Ireland. So before these were known as Pilgrim Paths they were simply known as sacred mountains. These were the places were harvest festivals were celebrated; where pagans would meet and dance and celebrate around a lit fire. These are the scared mountains were magic happened.
The trail is now marked with crosses all the way up to the top. Each cross depicts a scene from the Bible's station's of the cross scene(I am so sorry, I am not sure what the correct name for it is). As you hike up to the mountain you have a crazy view of the Atlantic to the west, and green pastures to the east and north. And the further you go up, the more you see - and the iconic Skellig Islands come into view(home of the puffins and uninhabited monasteries... OH! and where they filmed the new Star Wars movie).
Surprisingly enough, Ireland gave us our clearest day, and our most picturesque hike. We were accompanied by graffitied sheep and nothing else. We had the sun right above us and the breeze of the Atlantic. It was unheard of - not just good weather, but glorious weather... in Ireland. It was also one of the barest mountains I had ever hiked; most other hikes have always been covered and overcrowded with trees (and I love that), so I didn't expect a bare mountain to be as beautiful and as majestic as Knocknadobar is. Everything was finally falling into place, and it seemed like our last mountain of the trip was going to make up for the rest of them.
Until we got to the top. Where a heavy cloud of rain awaited us.
Oh well. Still pretty darn epic.
The whole thing was epic. Rainy, foggy, unpredictable and absolutely epic.
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