King´s Mound, 15. 1. 2005
Many streamlets and rills trickle down its slopes in three directions to create four watercourses, at last, of the
most mellifluous appellations - Hnilec, Hornád, Váh and Hron. It points out, through its peculiarity (individuality)
enhanced by a loafty (towering) pole on the top that the ridge of Low Tatras, raising somewhere near the villages of
Donovaly and Korytnica, hides itself with its grandeur irrecoverably under the earth´s surface right here.
Yeah, as if proverbial, fabled by authors - King´s Mound.
A mountain perfect to christen someone into hiking community, suitable for a run-around and in winter grueling even for a seasoned
hiker. The hallowed mountain of Sinay in Slovak apparel. Like Mecca, the holy place to all muslims, if once entered the hiking
community you have to scale it, at least once in your lifetime.
So, we set out towards another adventure. Between six and half past seven we passed a pleasurable while in Krtko´s estate car with
songs by the holy quartet - Metallica.
We are arriving in Telgart and parking our car on a mini parking place near a strange-looking school. The first step of mine out of
that fucking car and....bang!!! ...and my knee was completely bitched up.
Presently, the car park was filled with cars, e´en from
abroad. That is, we forgot we weren´t the only ones, who, at Jan 15th 2005, set out for King´s Mound. There were a threescore, at
least, of ski-alpinism devotees. A competetion there - rather staffed, but terribly ill-organized. A few competitors zoomed down
form the hill towards the finish, instead of an ordered lap, because of the wrong track officers´ work. In their case, it meant
the death of all efforts. That´s what is referred to as Big Pity.
Our ascent could be observed (perceived) in four separate stages. The first - "icy" and hence slippery like hell. We thought we
wouldn´t make even the tree belt.
The second led through a forest with deep snowcover as well as under electrical pylons. It´s
to point out that then we already began to deviate from the hiking trail.
The third - we would concur, the most attractive one,
led across infinite (interminable) snow fields. During its upper stage, an appalling windstorm (tempest) caught us.
The balls
were all right, but I thought right side of my face, which had been, for an hour, hit by a wind as strong as Golem´s cuffs,
had become necrotic. Well, and the fourth - the top, where we just watched the competitors weering back to the finish.
Every
second of them shortened one ciggy (gasper, tube, burn), but they probably were just that event´s marshals, which has struck
me only now, and zipped downwards like a streak. Wow, such a pluck (spunk) has to be appreciated - mist, snowfall, loads of
competitors still mounting towards the turn point - and they rushed downwards like shots - some patently over their fifties!
Dudko, our third fellow, happened to discover a snowboard attached to his back and so logically he was sliding down. Like he
asserted: "That´s been cool!" with an inflection of three year child, who´s experienced the stools (faeces) in the undies for
the first time. In the meantime we, with Peter alias Krtko, underwent a genuine hell. Over one hundred meter stretch our legs
were sinking as deep as our knees are. I tell you, those hundred meters were pretty enough and we laughed like intoxicated
(tall,potted) - with tiredness (fatigue), of course. Last few competitors overtook us during the retreat way down and even
the weariness fell off our bodies.
Such a prosaic way our siege of eastern side of Low T. came up to (drew near) its end.
In spite of it, it may affect (impress) us most. A kind of magic can be sensed in it - it´s King´s Mound, a queen of Slovakia,
after all. We´ll be back in summer!
But that´s my personal view of that experience, so for the other´s perceptions join us, ask, via e-mail, e.g.
Just the best wishing, looking forward to having you met: me, Miro The Writing, Krtko The Driving and his small-big brot Dudo.