Summit to sea

Many people walk sections of the Slovenian Mountain Trail, the oldest and longest long-distance trail in Slovenia, yet only a few people ever manage to walk the whole trail in one long thru-hike. Some lack time, others physical condition and many simply lack the required discipline to leave the comfort of their climate controlled homes and spend weeks traversing high alpine ridges and wandering deep into remote forests of Slovenia.

But there is one group that has all of the requirements, high schoolers. With our youthful bodies, undeveloped frontal lobes and long summer holidays we are at a big advantage, yet practically none of us ever do adventures like this so I set out to change that.

The Slovenian Mountain Trail (SMT for short) is a 600 km long hiking trail spanning from luscious green forests of Pohorje, crossing the Slovenian High Alps, including the 2864 m high Mount Triglav, and leading all the way to Debeli rtič, a vineyard-covered peninsula and the northernmost point of the Slovenian coast.
I started my thru-hike earlier than most people, in June right after school ended and holidays began. I went out with friends the night before to hang out and say goodbye, knowing I will be alone for the next moth when embarking on my biggest adventure to date.

When my train arrived at the station at the start in Maribor, I felt a mix of emotions, from excitement to fierce doubt and after a short bus ride, I began walking.

 It was horrible.

The number one advice for thru-hikers is reducing backpack weight and some go as far as cutting their toothbrush in half, just to save a few grams. Of course, I didn’t do anything to save weight, carrying canned food, photographic equipment, and other stupid items, making my backpack weigh just shy of 19 kg.
With each passing step, my self-confidence fell and doubts grew, even going up the first hill, a short, 500 m high ascent up to the Pohorje ridge, seemed like an impossible task.
I knew I was stupid. I should have trained more, I shouldn’t have taken so much gear with me, I should have done everything differently, but it was too late to turn back.

I decided to take it slowly. I placed one foot in front of the other, and after several painful steps, full of heavy breathing, I somehow made it up to a mountain hut and put the first stamp in my diary. Only 79 to go and I was already wanting to quit.

A thru-hike is a tough challenge. Walking 20-30 km a day in the mountains isn’t easy, especially doing it for thirty days with a heavy backpack, yet the hardest part is doing all of it day after day. Alone. Its a mental challenge first and physical second. 

SMT makes you question when exactly you decided you wanted to spend your summer walking while looking at pictures of your friends relaxing on a beach in Croatia. You promise yourself you are never going to the mountains again. 

But there is something special about mountains that just makes you keep going even at your lowest point. After taking a long break at the hut, I continued onward. Despite the doubt, I always knew I could make it one step further. Just one more step. And then one more.
Tired, I collapsed on the soft green forest grass next to a stream just below Klopni Vrh. Somehow, I did 30 km with 2000 m of climbing by just doing one step after the other.

The next days were even crazier. On the third day, I wanted to sleep next to a water stream near Smrekovec Mountain. When I arrived at the stream, it was dry, but luckily, my GPS device showed another one a few hundred meters away. The sun was already setting, but I decided to push on just to the next stream. But it was dry again. Stream after stream, there was no water anywhere, and somehow, I made it to a closed mountain hut 10 km away that had a water pipe. I walked 40 km that day.

It was around sunset on the fourth day, and tired after a whole day of walking, I was finally descending into the valley. But I slipped and fell on the ground. I stood up and felt pain in my ankle. I brushed it off and limped on. In the evening, I noticed swelling. I bandaged my ankle and went to sleep.

On the fifth day, I met up with my dad, who is a more experienced mountaineer, because there was plenty of snow still lingering in the Kamnik-Savinja Alps and I needed winter gear and a belayer to cross steep snow fields. With a sprained ankle, the trail up Mount Ojstrica was a lot harder and looking back, it was a mistake to push myself like that, but luckily everything was okay and we made it to Kamniško sedlo.

The next few days were a breeze. We crossed the rocky pastures and crumbling limestone walls, but because of the via ferrata cables, the way was easy. Powered by amazing views, energy bars, and strudel (a traditional slovenian pastry with apples or cheese), we traversed most of the peaks, leaving out only Mount Skuta due to steep snow fields and my relative inexperience with snow gear.

The next mountain chain was Karavanke. With their southerly position, snow was not a problem on this ridge, so my dad left me, and I was alone again.
On the first day of crossing the Karavanke ridge it started raining, so I decided to leave out Mount Begunjščica. I was really looking forward to the views from the ridge, but thick fog covered all but the last 2000 m peak in the ridge, Mount Golica. Disappointed, I descended into Mojstrana, where I was to meet my dad again.

Mount Triglav is a mountain I tried avoiding for as long as possible, when I was younger due to my fear of heights and later due to the extreme summer crowds. I was lucky to summit it on a Friday, just before the tourist season, but even the few people I met were too many for me. Experienced mountaineers and ecologists often complain about the state of Triglav, but if I think rationally I find sacrificing one mountain with limited ecological significance in exchange for tens of other peaks being less crowded is worth it.
But there is a stamp on top of Mount Triglav, and there was no other way but to suffer through redundant via ferrata cables, slippery rocks, and inexperienced tourists ascending with inappropriate gear and knowledge in pursuit of a selfie.

Soon after passing Mount Triglav, the crowds vanished, and we were alone again. Swiftly, we crossed the Luknja Col and summited Bovški Gamsovec.
The descent to Kriški Pods is a bit more difficult, but nothing unmanageable so we arrived at the mountain hut early in the afternoon.

The next day was supposed to be one of the more technically difficult parts of the trail. We woke up early, wanting to summit Razor and Prisojnik, but persistent snow fields made it too dangerous, and we had to forfeit.
On the way back, rocks started falling from the steep limestone walls of Mount Razor. Luckily, we had our helmets on, so we carefully continued and soon found the source of the rockfall. On a narrow rock ledge, we saw a large mountain ibex herd, so when we got to safety, we took a break watching the younglings, and started planning where to go next.
We decided to descend into the Soča Valley and caught a ride up to Vršič Pass, a mountain pass just above the valley.

The next day was no better, and massive storms were forecasted around noon. We woke up before dawn to try and summit Jalovec while staying safe from lightning. A few hours of walking later, we reached Zavetišče pod Špičkom, the last mountain hut below the summit. Before the final push, the skies turned dark, and it started raining. We quickly ran down into the forest to avoid lightning striking our ice axes, sending thousands of volts through our bodies.
Soaked but safe, we arrived in the Soča Valley, where my dad left me again, and I was to be alone for the next few days.

The first ascent was going back from the valley up to Prehodavci and through the magical Triglav Lakes Valley.
Despite the crowds, the Seven Lakes lodged among the jagged peaks of the Triglav massif manage to keep their charm.

The next few days went by swiftly, walking along the ridge all the way to Črna Prst, the last high alpine peak of the trail.
After spending so many days in the Alps, it was hard to say goodbye to wide views and adrenaline-filled adventures, but the Prealps proved to be a challenge on their own.

The first ascent of the Prealps was Mount Porezen, a surprisingly scenic peak just a valley away from the Alps. It is amazing not only for the views, but also for the regional specialties served in the hut, especially žlikrofi, traditional Slovenian dumplings filled with potatoes.

The next days proved to be challenging, from sleeping outside in bear country to karst areas devoid of any water springs, Prealps are not to be underestimated. I slowly progressed toward Idrija and up the last 1500 m peak of the journey, Mali Golak.

If I had a phone signal in the evenings, I would usually check the news, and for the next few days, meteorologists forecasted a fierce heatwave with temperatures reaching well above 35 degrees. People were urged to stay inside and avoid physical activity during the day, but that was not an option for me. I pushed on, braving the humid, hot air from one peak to another.

By nighttime, I arrived at Vremščica, a karst peak where I wanted to sleep on a nice open meadow, but a bear had the same plan. Its eyes eerily glowed in the dark, reflecting light beams from my headlamp, and for the first time in a long while, I was scared. I tried making some noises to scare the bear away, and it worked, but despite the late hour, I decided to walk a few more kilometers to a shepherd’s hut not far from the peak.

The next day was easier, but the scenery started becoming dull, and days of walking were catching up to me. Every climb was harder, despite the low altitudes.
In the evening, I reached Mount Slavnik, the last 1000 m peak of the trail.
There was a nice sunset on top of the hill, and with some pasta in my hand, I watched the sun slowly sink into the sea before falling asleep beneath the wonderful night sky.

I woke up early to take in the sunrise and started the last day on the trail. It was not a short day, with 35 km, and the harsh sun was not helping. Step after step, I progressed toward my end goal, Debeli rtič, a vineyard-covered peninsula on the border of Italy and Slovenia.
I was lacking water, energy, and motivation, yet somehow, I made it to the end of my route. 26 days of walking, 600 kilometers, 40,000 vertical meters, and countless adventures led to this moment, yet instead of joy, I felt sadness and emptiness. I was working towards this goal for a month, but achieving it was not my wish. I did it for the Journey.

Now school is starting again, and despite all the hardships I miss the freedom and simplicity of trail life—the smells of the forest, sounds of the birds and sleeping under the stars. I even miss being alone.