Arto's Blog

Triglav national park in Western Slovenia has beautiful alpine scenery, but it is also a kind of open air museum of the First World War. I did a five day trek in the southern parts of the park.

After my sightseeing tour in Venice I spent a couple of relaxed days in Udine, Italy. My CouchSurfing host Katia introduced me to the restaurant and community Casa del Campo, where we spent late evenings in a homely atmosphere. I also bought gas for my gas cooker, stocked up on food supplies and spent quite a few hours in front of Katia's computer reading and writing emails. Then I took a train further east to Cividale, hitchhiked to Kobarid, Slovenia and started walking from there the following day.

Climbing with an overloaded backpack wearing sneakers instead of proper hiking shoes was slow. I only made about 1000 meters uphill during the first afternoon. It started raining but I found a small cottage which was apparently sometimes used by shepherds or forest rangers. The door was locked but there was a perfect place for my sleeping bag on the terrace. For a while just before the sunset clouds gave way to the sun which illuminated beautifully the village below in the valley.

In the morning two men arrived with portable mine detectors. They told that old ammunition and land mines from the First World War still remained in the area. Further up the bloody history of the region became more and more evident. On the mountain ridge near the Krn peak there was a monument, rusty shells set up for display and old barbed wire here and there. Inside the Batognica mountain criss-crossed a network of tunnels which had been used as bunkers and ammunition storage. Italian and Austro-Hungarian armies were fighting against each other and eventually the whole peak of Batognica was blown off, making the mountain some 50 meters lower than it originally was. I only went a couple of dozen meters inside the tunnels but a local told me that some hikers had even got lost in them.

I climbed on the top of Krn which offered a superb view in all directions, particularly towards the Krn lake and northern parts of the park. The peak of Triglav mountain, where the name of the whole park comes from, was mostly hiding behind the clouds so I'm not sure if I saw it or not. After taking some photos I descended to the Krn lake and spent the night in the nearby mountain hut. Following morning I continued north-east towards the valley of Triglav lakes (Dolina Triglavshkih jezer), also known as the valley of seven lakes.

The Komna highlands had more remains from the war times. Walls of old stone buildings stood still strong in the valleys, looking like they can still resist at least a few more centuries. Roofs and windows were gone, grass and flowers were pushing out from everywhere there was even a tiny patch of soil. Hiking paths followed old wartime roads. The paths had clearly been constructed with more effort than a regular hiking trail would have been, but the last vehicle had passed long, long ago and now they already blended nicely with the nature.

Camping was forbidden in Triglav, the only officially allowed places to stay overnight were staffed mountain huts. I personally think camping in national parks should be allowed or there should be at least some designated campsites, to make nature accessible to everyone, with or without money. Of course it would have been easy to find nice hidden spots for wild camping, and the hut personnel didn't seem to be too strongly against it. When they asked if I'd like to stay in the hut, and I replied "Oh, I'd prefer to sleep outdoors :)", they'd smile and answer something like "Ah, we know, but you'll have to hide from the Triglav men." Then they'd put me up with a group of scouts or otherwise their most modest offering, two times out of three with alpinist discounts although I didn't have any club membership card to present. Also otherwise the people were very nice and friendly, so I stayed at the huts and didn't camp.

I had originally intended to continue north-east, near the highest peak (Triglav) and descend on the other side, but due to rainy weather I changed my plans. From the hut of Triglav lakes (Koča Pri Triglavskih Jezerih) I headed south-east, coming down at Stara Fuzina. There I washed off the sweat in the Bohinj lake and hopped in a bus to Ljubljana, the capital of Slovenia. The bus stopped in Bled, which is famous for its scenery. After the real mountains it failed to impress me, one hour walk around was enough of Bled.

The first weekend of May I traveled to Hämeenlinna and Riihimäki — both less than 100 km away from where I live. I met a Russian marionette artist, a Peruvian musician and a group of Finnish rock fans. They all picked me up from the roadside.

Still a few years ago it didn't cross my mind to hitchhike. My traveling style was fairly modest, but I always had enough money for the bus or train ticket. So I didn't have to waste time standing by the dusty roadside and rely on luck in getting to my destinations. I hitched a couple of short rides in places where there was no public transport, but that was it.

When I joined the hospitality exchange networks, one of the side effects was that I started meeting hitchhikers. I hosted a few and listened to others in story telling circles during meetings. It was clear that there was more to them in hitchhiking than saving money. It was a way to meet interesting people and to leave room for surprises to happen. I had already decided that I'd try some day, and then one of my guests, a Russian girl called Julia, invited me to hitchhike with her to Hämeenlinna.

I live only 1 km away from where the highway starts, so it was just a short walk to the best spot. In about two minutes an old van with Russian plates stopped and the driver waved us to hop in. His name was Vlad, a musician and marionette artist who had lived for the last 20 years wandering around Europe, performing on the streets and entertaining children in kindergartens. Vlad was just on his way to Hämeenlinna to play on the main square - what a happy coincidence!

So we got a ride to Hämeenlinna in good company, I spent a nice sunny afternoon walking around with Julia, and of course we saw Vlad's performance too. There weren't too many spectators as it was the official hangover day after Vappu (as Vlad put it), but at least he got two more by picking us up. Then we each went our own ways, me taking a bus back to Helsinki because I wanted to be here in time to welcome Tuula, a good friend of mine who was coming for a visit.

Tuula got an idea the next day that we should go and have barbeque and sauna with Jukka, a common friend of ours. Well, Jukka lives in Riihimäki about 70 km from Helsinki so we filled our backpacks with food and walked to the same spot at the beginning of the highway. Again in less than 10 minutes a van stopped. Our driver was a Peruvian musician from the Amerinca group which I had seen several times in Helsinki. I even bought their cd a few years ago. He lived just a few kilometers away from where I and Tuula were going so we got a ride almost to Jukka's doorstep, much closer than a train or bus would have taken us, and got a small insight into the life of a Peruvian-Finnish family on the way.

We spent a relaxed barbeque and sauna evening and slept at Jukka's place. It's funny how hospitality exchange changes habits: we laughed with Tuula on the way that when she called him she didn't even ask if we were welcome to stay overnight. Of course we were. :) In fact Jukka seemed to be more than happy to have us there to cook and chat with.

Next day Tuula hitched back north towards her home and I back to Helsinki. Standing by the highway is forbidden so we chose a spot near one of the exits. Fastest way to get a ride would probably have been to go to the nearby gas station and start asking who would be going to the directions we wanted. However, Tuula said she feels more comfortable not to ask but rather wait for drivers who stop and pick hitchhikers up from free will, and I fully agreed.

This time we had to wait for about half an hour, but then got rides right after each other. Tuula traveled with someone returning from an enduro race, and I got picked up by four Finnish rock fans who were cruising back from a party in Tampere previous night. They had black clothes, big tattoos, funky hairstyles and a 1960's black Chevrolet with a Kajaani Hot Rod Club sticker attached to the rear window. It was a loud ride, I can still remember the sound of the engine at 100 km/h, windows open. With my light blue jacket and hiking backpack I didn't exactly blend in the group — but hey, these people were cool with it.

I recently read an essay by Kevin Kelly titled The Universe Is Conspiring to Help Us, which I liked a lot. It's about the art of receiving, of which hitchhiking is one example. I suggest you to scroll down the page and read also the full version of the essay (direct link), which I find better than the abridged one.