Hiking in Montenegro (1991 – 2000), part 1
Even before I started to hike actively and before I even knew what hiking was, I had a very distinct feeling that I wanted to walk in nature. Of course, when you do have such a feeling, the circumstances play in your favour and your wish gets fulfilled. And this was what happened to me. A friend of mine listened to the radio when the guest was a man who talked about a hiking club he was a member of, then she conveyed this to me and both of us went to the meeting of the club, became members and soon went on our first trip. After that, this friend of mine never went hiking again, but I continued to go on hiking tours.
I was very lucky to become a member of a club in which one of the most active hikers was Krsto Zizic – Ziza. Unfortunately, he passed away a couple of years ago, but I am for ever deeply grateful to the Universe for directing me towards Ziza, for having the honour to meet such a person and for going with him on numerous hiking tours. Not only was Ziza a wonderfully good and honourable man, not only did he have almost boundless knowledge about everything we came across during our tours, not only did he know his Montenegro, I dare say, better than anybody else, he also had wonderful friends everywhere, friends who accepted and greeted as if the closest of kin not only him, but also all of us who went with Ziza.
Krsto Zizic (1940-2015), with gratefulness for knowing him, may he rest in peace.
My first “serious” tour was on mountain Sinjajevina. I was a novice, not sufficiently fit, but without any clue as to what I was realistically to expect. I remember that our small group, led by Ziza, first stopped at some local people for a coffee. We had a nice break and with the morning coffee we also had to try the home-made brandy (after all, it would be rude not to observe local custom and try it) and then the time to move on came. This was a weekend tour, so I carried a big backpack and until then everything seemed easy and fine, but when we got behind the house where the trail led, I almost fainted. In front of us there was a slope which seemed to me like a vertical wall we were supposed to climb. I must say that the rest of the group was great, primarily because they had a lot of understanding and patience for my complete lack of fitness. They encouraged me, cheered me on and so we reached a mountain saddle after a while. The plan was to leave the backpacks there and then without any burden go to Babin Zub, the highest peak of Sinjajevina with its 2277 m a.s.l. The idea to leave the backpacks simply like that, in the open, was not at all strange in fact, since there was not a soul in sight and there was no danger that anything would happen to the backpacks and the things in them. I said I wouldn’t really like to go, but the rest of the group was completely certain I could do it and that it was all right to go with them. They all kept persuading me so much that I eventually gave in, but when we got to a passage behind which I saw Babin Zub in all of its grandeur and especially in all of its height, I immediately gave up and returned to the backpacks where I sat alone for a couple of hours, enjoying the peace, quiet and absence of any effort.
When the group came back, we all took our backpacks and moved on. Although there were no more big slopes, it all continued to be very difficult for me and with each step I silently grumbled and cursed myself. “Was I out of my mind to come here? Why did I do it? Never again!...!” Late in the afternoon, we came to a katun (informal seasonal mountain settlement used by families who graze their cattle there, a seter) where we were to sleep at the huts of some other of the numerous Ziza’s friends. Just like that. And not only were we welcome to sleep there, but the kind hostess also made us a fresh cheese pie. She prepared homemade filo-dough, while the cheese and the eggs came from the animals that lived in the katun. Today I very vaguely remember the wooden hut I slept in and even that woman who treated us so, but I do remember and I know that this was one of the best and the tastiest cheese pies I have ever eaten!
The next morning we headed towards lower grounds and since I no longer felt the agony-level exhaustion, nor did my heart pound like mad, I became aware that fitness can be gained with difficulties and unpleasantness, but if you endure this, you’ll become fit fairly soon. On the other hand, this time my effort was related to the carrying of the backpack, not so much climbing, so everything seemed easier.
Such impression contributed to the fact that I did not give up hiking after all, but rather in the years to come I continued hiking with great joy. I always went to Montenegro as a part of the groups led by Ziza and thanks to that my experiences and memories linked to the mountains of Montenegro are exceptionally beautiful. So much so, that I went several times to almost each of the tours and I never found them to be dull or too much, always looking forward to the new season and when I would go and visit those breath-taking landscapes again.
One of the most interesting and most exciting tours was the one leading us through the canyon of the Mrtvica river. It is hard for me to say whether it was one of the most beautiful, since they were all great in their own right. All the tours I went on at the time were weekend tours. We would leave Belgrade for Montenegro by train on Friday evening and it regularly happened that somewhere around 4 or 5 o’clock in the morning we would leave the train and go to some vehicle that would take us further to the destination from which we would continue on foot. I regularly wondered at myself for doing anything other than sleeping on Saturday’s break of dawn, when I should be resting from the work of the previous week, but I would very soon forget the time of the day and would not feel any tiredness at all.
The same would happen on my visits to the Mrtvica canyon. The coach would take us to some place north of Niksic where there was nothing else apart from the road. We would get out, get our backpacks and start following Ziza across apparently endless meadows.
Along the way, we enjoyed the scenery around us consisting of the rock, water, grass and flowers. One year there seemed to be an invasion of locusts, huge to my mind – some 6-7 cm long, but that was quite out of the ordinary. Under normal circumstances, everything was quiet, tame and beautiful.
Although there were no major ascents on this tour, the walking during the entire day with full backpacks was rather strenuous and by the evening when we would reach our destination for the day, which was Kapetanovo jezero (Kapetanovo lake) at 1678 m a.s.l. we were all rather tired. However, one year we came there a little earlier and after having left the backpacks by the lake we “quickly” climbed mountain Stozac, 2141m, which belongs to the Moraca mountains and which rises right above Kapetanovo lake.
The backpacks of my fellow hikers were usually heavier than mine because it was necessary for this tour to bring tents. I was privileged, however, for Ziza enabled me to sleep at some of his friends who had a katun by the lake. I remember that once I played with some small children from the katun and then their mother invited me to their home and offered me varenika (boiled milk), freshly obtained from their cows. She really wanted to give me a special treat and thank me for the attention I paid to her children, so she added additional cream to the milk. Although I was truly moved by the kindness, like any other creature coming from urban areas and used to watery milk without too much fat I had a problem drinking what was offered to me, although I knew it was the top quality milk. Eventually I did drink it in order not to offend the kind hostess, but I didn’t do it gladly.
And once heavy clouds started to gather during the afternoon and right when we got to the lake and settled either at the huts or in the tents, a strong hail storm started. From the doorway of the hut above which descended the roof I was trying to discern something, but I couldn’t, because a large quantity of hail was hitting the roof and sliding down it, so there was only a curtain of icy pieces in front of my eyes. A unique experience!
Still, each morning when I slept near Kapetanovo lake, including the morning following the hail storm, I was greeted by bright blue sky, still water and an overall peace and harmony.
After breakfast, which consisted of “backpack food,” i.e., you eat what you have brought with you, and packing up, we started with the descent. In the first part Ziza again had some friends and once a couple of us stopped there for a “morning coffee” having a nice chat with our hosts, after which we continued walking until the village of Velje Duboko.
We even slept in this village once, on the premises of a primary school which is almost empty now and this is the primary school attended and completed by member of the Serbian Academy of Sciences and Arts and writer Matija Beckovic.
From Velje Duboko there is a dirt road which gradually turns into a trail slowly leading into the Mrtvica canyon that was our main destination. The Mrtvica is a small river that runs between mountain Maganik and the Moraca mountains and that flows into the Moraca river in the area called Medjurecje. It is possible to reach the canyon going upstream from the confluence of the Mrtvica, but it was certainly easier for us coming down.
This tour was always organized at the end of May and in this period the river was pregnant with water coming from the melting snows. The water was regularly clear and of beautiful greenish-blue colour and as it was warm and sunny, it always lured one into freshening up in some wider sections of the riverbed. Thus once I came to a stunning part where the water was crystal clear and I could see small pebbles on the bottom. I took my hiking boots off and started to go through the river in order to get to a nice rock on the other side lit by the sun. Although the rock was only a few metres away, I almost couldn’t get to it because the water was so cold that I could barely move my legs. With great difficulties I managed to get to the other side, climb the sun-lit rock and started to get warm. After all, I had to go back where my things and the trail were. That’s why I decided to get really warm and then simply run through the water. Easier said than done. So, I started with the intention to run through the river, but already after a couple of steps my legs got stiff again with all the cold around them and I had to help them with my arms by pulling them up from the bottom of the river and moving them in front of me in order to get to the other side. Never again did I think of going into the Mrtvica.
In order to go through the canyon, it is necessary at a couple of points to walk over large boulders that stand in the riverbed while the river itself winds around them. Most of the canyon, however, has a fine hiking trail, although in one section there is no natural passage, but only a large vertical rock in which the army many decades ago “cut” a tunnel, almost 3 metres high, and even today one can see the holes in which blasting fuses were placed.
After a couple of hours, we would leave the canyon and would have to walk in more open areas for some more time where we would be exposed to the scorching sun. The day would be well advanced and it would be very hot. That was always a very fine prelude for the end of the hiking tour that would take place at a restaurant in Medjurecje where we would be greeted by a coach to take us to the railway station, as well as – by the cold local beer!