What the hell am I doing here?
It’s a frosty, frosty morning and I’m groveling on my knees, breaking through the snowy snarl of branches and fallen trees. I’m drenched to the skin after climbing half-frozen icefall, deep in the virgin forest of Tatra, far from the warmth of my bed where I could be happily dreaming now.
There’s no way back at this point. I don’t know what’s up there, but once we’ve set out to cross this canyon, I can only hope it won’t be too heavy upon us…
But seeing Peter, sinking his iron paws into the ice with an ease of a feline, keeps me going. Cheerful grin on his face and that childish spark in his eyes says it all — he is having fun!
But he doesn’t really know what’s coming…
Rumbling water below the ice sheet, gentle snowfall and fresh footprints of the Wolf paint a shade of mystery above the valley. On a bank of a river, below hundreds of icicles hanging down the cliff like the Sword of Damocles, lies a body of wild boar. A textbook work of Wolf — he chases the prey down to the edge until it falls over cliff.
But the prey is not eaten yet…
The smell of bloodshed makes me move faster. I wonder how will the Wolf get here to have a bite — with the icefall behind us and one fallen tree over the sapphire water ahead, there are not many choices. Peter balances over the snowy trunk and I carefully follow him, hoping I won’t slip into the cold river — my vigilance has got significantly weaker after six hours of climbing and crawling.
Another small icefall in front of us seems fairly easy to cross. Peter, with a good dose of confidence, swiftly walks through it without even using an axe. And then…
We are silent again. My hands freeze in wet gloves. My legs are burning and I’m getting seriously tired. But somehow, I am still moving ahead…
What the hell are you doing here? – I ask myself again.
Is it out of sheer curiosity? Or… is there anything more profound in being bound between the walls, in the middle of nowhere, and for hours?
It seems to have no end. After every corner, there’s another snarl of bushes and fallen trees, another icefall or beautiful lakelet.
The dusk is getting closer and we still don’t know how long it’s gonna take. There is either a way back down through the wilds we’ve passed, or further up to the unknown. And now I’m not even sure which one is better… or worse…
We’ve finally reached the end of the valley and it’s getting dark. It wouldn’t be a problem, but we don’t have any headlamps. Who would have thought that it can take us the whole day, anyway? Again, I have to admit that my estimation sucks…
The daylight has vanished and it’s getting colder. We break our last chocolate bar in half, put all of our wet clothes on and head to the forest, hoping for a safe descend through the modest face of the hill, back to the river mouth where we have started early this morning.
What the hell was I really doing here?
Was it just the adventure and nothing more? Sheer curiosity and desire to explore? Or… is there anything more profound in being bound between the frozen walls in the middle of nowhere for hours, with no end in sight, not knowing where it goes and when will it end?
I breathe deeply, looking at the river meandering between the walls, making it’s way down the cascades, endlessly flowing like the reflection of eternity. That river hopes for nothing; that river fears nothing. That river flows at its own sweet will and it doesn’t want to go anywhere else. That river is free.
But… if the river was not bound between those two banks, the flow would disappear and its freedom would be quickly wasted…
Maybe, the river has the answer.