The
taxi driver had set us down in a large open
area, near the river. Directly in front of us was a suspension bridge
across a
foaming river. We were puzzled by the absence of track markings and,
after a
time, a man came towards us on a bike. He told us that this was not the
right
track, so we went back. A few metres to the side of the suspension
bridge, we
found the right marking – a blue panda.
Every five kilometres, one finds a metal plate, giving the distance to the park border. The first day, we walked 23 km up and down, crossing streams (with tree trunks as a bridge), and across marshy ground. I could often hear the voice of the park ranger: ‘If the grass is over two metres high, a bear can’t see you’ (but we also could not see it). At last, the hut where we were to spend the night came into sight and we were happy to have the first stage behind us. First, we reported to the ranger, and then we set up our tent. During the night, a large animal came near our tent, but it was chased away by the ranger’s dog. We didn’t want to look to see if it was a bear.
The second day also began rather strenuously. Right from the start, we were going uphill. By the time we reached the first hut, I was already exhausted, and we still had another twenty kilometres to go. Further up the valley, the way was about as bad as possible – badly marked, high grass, tracks that had slipped into the river. After we had been walking uphill for four hours, we couldn’t see any more track markings. We were in a snow field and couldn’t see which way we should go. After several attempts to find the track, we gave up and went back to the last hut. Some time after our evening meal, a Russian hiker came from the opposite direction. On his digital camera, he showed us photos from the snow field where we had given up. We had been on the right track!
So
the next day, we again made our way to the
top of the pass. And this time Reinhold found the right track across
the snow
field. With the warm August temperatures, the surface of the snow melts
so much
during the day that we had not been able to see any footprints. The
track from
the snow field to the top of the pass was rather steep, and it was
quite a
fight.
On
the other side, we could go downhill very
quickly, and we had a job hiding a grin when we met two groups of
hikers who
already looked pretty tired. The track continued by the side of a river
and
then again through high grass. Reinhold felt: Thank goodness there
aren’t any
brown bears here – one would fall over them.
The
last two kilometres of the track before the
Nalycevo central hut were through relatively open birch forests. When
we
arrived at the hut, it was not so easy to find the ranger.
Unfortunately, he
could only speak Russian but, in spite of this, we were able to rent a
comfortable hut.
Another hiker, who we had already met while on our way, showed us round the place. The next day, we decided to rest. We looked at the hot springs, where almost boiling water came out of the ground. It then runs through a long channel at the end of which one is allowed to wash dishes. About midday, we bathed in a hot pool. The hot water was good for our poor muscles. However, there was no sign of the bear! That evening, while cooking, we again met the hiker from the previous day. With his little daughter, he had been to the mineral springs at the foot of the volcano and had brought us very pleasant-tasting mineral water. I was surprised – in Iceland, the water always tastes like (rotten) eggs, and here it was really good. Our farewells from the park ranger the next morning were very hearty. He gave us another map of the park (with the park stamp, of course).
The
way back was just as strenuous as the way
into the park, but I was very proud that we managed the climb to the
pass quite
easily and relatively quickly. However, it was rather foggy the whole
day, and
we couldn’t see the top of the pass until we were only a few metres
from it. On
the way back down the valley, we startled an animal – but it vanished
so fast
that we couldn’t what kind of an animal it was.
We
spent the night in an old hut by the track.
The next morning started with the sound of raindrops on the roof of the
hut. It
definitely looked like autumn now. The trees were changing colour and
the
morning mist lingered over the river for a long time. When the rain
eased up,
we got on our way. Our first stop was made near the huts where we had
spent our
first night. Only a few metres from where we had set up our tent only a
week
ago, a bear had ravaged the area. A
‘Leki’
pole had been bent, sugar scattered, and there was an enormous
‘bear’s heap’ in the grass – but there was no sign of the culprit.
Our
way led towards the park exit, but we were
a day early for the person who was to pick us up. So we decided to
spend
another night in the park. I didn’t feel too happy about this, although
the
place where we erected our tents was beautifully situated under trees,
near the
river. After breakfast the next morning, the last eight kilometres were
like going
for a walk. We were still at the arranged meeting place much too early,
so we
sat down by the river and waited.
A little later, a car with a boat passed us, looking for a suitable place to put the boat in the water. Ten minutes later, the car came back and three young men started to unload the rubber boat. A few minutes later, one of the three asked if we would take a photo of them. After the photo session, they invited us to a picnic. Roast chicken, fruit, omelettes, bread, gherkins, cooked meats, cheese, apricot juice and, of course, vodka. One round of vodka was followed by the next and, after some time, we were joined by a lad from the village. He, too, was given a friendly invitation. In a mixture of English and Russian, they told us that they were law students, hunting ducks. When the second bottle of vodka was empty, the lad was sent to the village to fetch reinforcements. In the meantime, the old man who had put us on the right road on our first day appeared, in order to control the young men’s permits very carefully. Luckily, he didn’t want to see our ‘drowned’ passports and visas. After three bottles of vodka (the driver didn’t drink even a drop), the two young men set off in their boot. Soon they were in the current and, in a few moments, they were already out of sight – we would have liked to know how far they got that day! We really enjoyed the open and friendly mentality of the young men.
Half
an hour later, we were picked up by
Martha, and it was quite a job not to let her see how much vodka we had
drunk.
