Day 5: Bobotov Kuk, Durmitor National Park
Bobotov Kuk (2523 m) is at least officially the highest peak of Montenegro, and therefore an especially tempting destination for an overly optimistic amateur mountaineer like me. On a good day, the roof of Montenegro offers views of the entire country and beyond, all the way to Serbia and Albania. I hadn’t originally planned to attempt to summit Bobo at all, but after the spectacular failure at Planinica I was keen to try my luck. Quick googling revealed that Bobo is usually only recommended for experienced hikers due to the difficult-ish climb near the peak. However, I also found a blog post by a girl who did the hike in regular sneakers. If Sneaker Girl could do it, why not Hiking Boot Sloth, too?
Unbelievably, that morning I was up and hiking even earlier than the previous day. At six in the morning, the corrupt moustache man hadn’t yet made it to his post to raise my blood pressure, so that was a nice bonus. I spent the first couple of hours like I had done the previous day: climbing up a steep forest path, swatting off mosquitoes. Then, all of a sudden, the trees and the bugs just disappeared and majestic mountain tops came to view in the horizon. Even better, I could also spy bits of clear, blue sky! I was so happy about this sudden change of scenery I started to laugh – and immediately a kamikaze fly set its course straight toward my open mouth and dove deep into my windpipe. I carried on coughing and cackling as elegantly as I could.
The bleating of the sheep and the ringing of their bells together formed a beautiful symphony that echoed off the walls of the surrounding mountains. As I kept pushing forward and upward, I was briefly joined by a curious mountain goat. The goat gave me a pitying look and then airily bounced off into the horizon, as if to show me how it’s really done.
Buddy picture: me, myself and the mountainsTry not to stumble, it’s a long slide downNo need to worry about how to stay warm while climbing theseFind the partly visible trail marks in the photo. Would be nice to have hawk’s eyes, but luckily it’s possible to cheat with contact lenses.
The scenery was absolutely breathtaking, and the warm feeling of happiness was tingling in my chest… Until the snow stopped me in my tracks. This gigantic snow field had swallowed up the entire trail. Bobotov Kuk was straight ahead, so near yet so far. The final ascend is already very steep, but now I was going to have to climb a smooth wall of snow? Of course without any proper equipment. I slipped my way forward, trying to follow the handful of trail marks peeking out from behind the snow. I did that as far as I could, but then there were no more markings. Feelings of desperation and surrender started to bubble up, and I seriously and thoroughly considered giving up and turning back. I thought attempting this ascend would have been way too dangerous – straight up stupid, in fact.
I threw a little pity party for myself and started to look for an easier way back down. Then I noticed movement in the valley. Normally, the best hiking day for me is one where I don’t have to see any other people, but this time was a happy exception to the rule. Two ant-like creatures were swiftly nearing my location!
The ant-like creatures turned out to be Nick and Ann, a lovely couple from Colorado. I thought they would soon reach my waiting spot, but instead they started scaling the wall straight toward the saddle. If these people are gonna be dumb enough to try this, so will I! ‘MURICA! I hastily traversed my way to them like a proper spiderwoman, before they would get too far out of sight. After quick introductions, we continued the journey together with Nick leading the way. I must admit the ascend was truly, madly, deeply scary: we had to scale a near-vertical-feeling wall of loose rocks. You really had to be careful where to put your hands and feet – a single slip-up could mean starting a small stonefall and sliding all the way down along with the stones. I guess it wouldn’t have been enough to kill us, but we surely would have taken more than enough damage, anyway. However, as someone who’s been climbing trees and walls all my life, I wasn’t smart enough to fear as much as I probably should have. Despite the loose rocks under me, I felt confident and steady on my feet. Perhaps it was just the adrenaline. There’s no way I would have braved this alone, though.
After a scary half-hour scramble, and another slightly less scary half-hour scramble, we finally reached the summit. Oh boy, does Bobo deliver! Even though the weather was partly cloudy, the views from up top were incredible, a complete opposite to the foggy misery of the previous day. This Bobotov Kuk hike in its entirety must be the most beautiful one in all of Montenegro. I’m so glad I didn’t give up.
Nick and Ann headed back down almost immediately after signing the guestbook. People die in Colorado every year when they are caught in the mountains during thunderstorms, so these brief summit visits have become an understandable habit for them. Me, however, I wasn’t too worried about the scattered little clouds teaming up against me. I stayed behind to enjoy my lunch with a view.
There was not a snowball’s chance in hell I was going to take the same suicide route back down. Sure, on our way up we had toyed with the idea of using the raincovers of our backpacks as sledges, so we could just slide back down toward Žabljak. Wheee! Then I remembered my trusty Haglöfs pack doesn’t even have such a high tech accessory. Fortunately, there is another way. On the other side of Bobo, a shorter, faster but also steeper route takes you back down toward Sedlo. My strained knee was already cracking in excitement at the mere thought of it, but there was no better option. The important thing was that most of the snow had already melted on the Sedlo side. I knew this because we asked this from a couple of Germans we met at the summit. Nick, Ann and I turned out to be the only dumb-dumbs to reach Bobo from the Žabljak side on that fine day in June. Oh, well.
Now this here swimming hole looks very tempting – until you remember its turquoise waters come from the melting snow all around the pond. Brrrrr!
If I had to choose one thing to stare at for the rest of my life, this would be my choiceOh my god, look at those curves!Sedlo viewpoint and mountain road right behind the corner
The bad thing about this return route is that Sedlo lies 17 kilometres from Žabljak, which obviously creates some logistical issues for any hiker without a car. I wasn’t too worried – you could always call a taxi if hitchhiking didn’t work out. There was no reason to worry: the two people clad in red you see in the photo above were a friendly Slovak couple who kindly gave me a ride back to the village. It was comfortable, fast and easy. I was happy to hitchhike; even if I’d had a car, I wouldn’t have dared to drive on these narrow serpentine roads. Just glad somebody else dared. This amazing day was a total success, and it’s all thanks to some international teamwork: thank you Montenegro for providing the views, thank you USA for providing the guidance, and thank you Slovakia for the safe return!
Day 6: Crno jezero, Durmitor National Park
My time in Durmitor was coming to an end. On the last day, I decided to really give my knee some rest. I was only going to walk to the Black Lake and chill out there. So far, I had only seen the lake in its misty morning suit and rainy afternoon suit. However, it is truly at its best in sunny weather. I was unable to capture the true beauty of the bright turquoise water and the surrounding forests and mountains, but here is a small collection of my best attempts at it.
I may have accidentally forgotten about the whole “give knee some rest” plan when I took off on the 1.5-hour circle route around the lake. It is not to be missed, if you ever find yourself in that corner of the world! Dozens of benches are scattered along the path, so you can take as many snack breaks as you want in amazing scenery.
My knee finally had to give up its last glimmer of hope when I decided to do another 1.5-hour walk to the Savin Kuk ski lift, which would (painlessly!) take me once more to the top of yet another mountain. As soon as I got to the lower station of the lift, dark clouds appeared out of nowhere and gathered around the peak. Then the thunder started to rumble. Loud. I half walked, half ran back to the lake.
From the lake, there was still a 45-minute walk to my guesthouse. Fortunately, I had had the common sense to pack a pocket-sized raincoat in my llama bag, because I really got to put it to good use when the skies opened up and torrential rain poured down on me. I hurried toward the village by the side of the road when I heard heavy footsteps behind me. That’s when I met a fellow soaked traveler, Ana-Marija, who had gotten lost in the woods on her way to the lake, and now had to follow the road back to her campsite. She had tried to get a ride from the tour buses, but their drivers are not allowed to pick up hitchhikers. Soon, though, a small car with three older Montenegrin gentlemen stopped next to us and told us to get in. The car was tiny and the backseat even tinier, but the men really saved our day. They dropped me off at the pizzeria of my choosing, and had even driven Ana-Marija all the way to the campsite located in the next village. Quite hospitable, if you ask me.
To read all my posts on this Montenegro trip in English, click here: Montenegro18EN