Touring the Black Holes

The Joys of Sleep Deprivation

touringtheblackholes — Wed, 20 May 2015 20:20:00 GMT

We’re flying over water – for all I can tell from all the light that almost blinds me. I scoot over my friend and stare out of the plane window. Yes, it’s definitely water.

The plane is going to land soon, I can feel it in my ears, that pressure that locks my jaw and sends jolts of pain through my eardrums. That means I have to start thinking. Fast. My friend is inexperienced to the point she nearly knowns nothing and we have to be in Oslo today – and we’re landing somewhere a good few hours away from our destination.

What I love about flying is that sense of absolute vastness. There’s nothing above, below or sideways than just air. Being airborne is like transcending the human plane and entering some other realm. Nothing holds the plane – nothing, but the laws of physics which are quite merciless. A simple mistake, a malfunction, random incident can bring it crashing down and send us to our deaths. That’s probably the reason behind me obtaining a pilot’s license. This vastness and this state of being immersed is what I find exhilarating.

And somehow the plane does not crash and the landing is smooth and we’re past the customs and standing on Norwegian soil and there’s this cool breeze that smells like salt and it’s early in the morning and there’s this entire country just stretching far and wide and here we are, kind of lost, and kind of deprived of sleep.

‘We’re gonna hitchhike to Oslo’ my friend says ‘but first I need a cigarette.’ Yes, it sounds like a decent plan. There’s one drawback, though: we had to leave our lighters before boarding the plane. So I venture to a store that resembles my beloved Seven Eleven and the lights seem a little too bright and the cashier is a little too pretty for my groggy brain. ‘A lighter please’, I mumble and she pauses, stares and before I repeat my request, she hands me what I asked for and says it’s twenty krones. Now it’s my turn to stare and her turn to repeat herself. I hand her the money, take the lighter and flee the store already feeling kind of broke.

The cigarette does some good. I’m feeling a little sick (and pretty cold, so I put on my polar jacket and start to wonder whether I’ll freeze to death during this lovely summer trip) and my friend starts looking for rides. Cars speed past us, no one stops, no one cares. We take turns, we switch, we wave and show thumbs up –nothing. An hour passes, my friend grows anxious, I’m just a little tired and somewhat amused – it’s a lovely beginning and it’d be quite nice if it weren’t so cold. And it’s July, so it should be boiling hot. The sea is on my right side, on my left there are some hills and a little forest, ahead is the road and behind is the airport.

Finally a guy pulls over, a tattooed bloke with a football cap on his head and a pierced lip. ‘Hop in’ he says ‘where ya headed?’ ‘Oslo’, I say and he shakes his head a little. ‘No can do’, he says ‘I’m going home. But I can take you to a better hitchhiking spot.’ So I say yes, climb the front seat and my friend goes to the back. We’re off.

‘Hitchhiking isn’t so good these parts.’ The man says. He works at the airport. ‘Either people get on the bus, or are picked up by their friends and families.’

‘Yeah’ I say, because I’m so tired I might just fall asleep. We talk about his job, life, country. It’s nothing too serious, but still a decent conversation’s a conversation. He drops us off on a bus stop and speeds home. It’s ten am, the sun is slowly warming the air. I find a nice little spot on a bench and tell my friend we’re taking the bus before nodding off.

Photos: Profile

touringtheblackholes — Wed, 20 May 2015 20:16:00 GMT

just some profile pictures

Fagaras Mountains

touringtheblackholes — Wed, 20 May 2015 18:46:42 GMT

„Be careful with open fire.”, the man says in broken English, his hand somewhat raised as though he’s uncertain whether to lift it fully or shove it into his pocket, “All might burn.”
It’s early September and even though the sky is perfectly blue, the land all around is scorched. Sun is merciless. It blinds you, flogs you, even hurts you. Fagaras Mountains are an eerie place. Jagged mountains: narrow ridges and sharp peaks. Everything consists of rocks and yellowish, harsh grass. Wherever you look, you just see the vastness of peaks, valleys, winding paths and dark, cracked rocks. Everything is bone dry and hot – so hot it makes you want to crawl under a rock and just stay there, but if you do, the wind (even though it’s not very powerful) will soon leave you shivering and craving for any warmth. The shepherd we met, told us to be careful – it’s so hot and so dry, anything might start a wildfire. Already, he claimed, some of the mountains are actually on fire.
We pick up the pace and soon we’re on our fours, grasping rocks, legs looking for a anything solid. We pass the pileup and stand atop another yet peak.
We feel lost. Were it not for occasional shepherds (and their aggressive, massive dogs), we as well might be traipsing through some fairytale landscape, slightly nightmarish but still beautiful. Fagaras Mountains, despite not being overly tall, are tricky to navigate. There are never enough sings, not enough markings and the paths keep straying off. If you – like us – don’t have a map (even though you did print something from the Internet), you’ll soon feel – like us – queasy. Uncertainty seeps in. We’re headed for Moldoveanu, the highest peak of Romania, but it’s already been ages of constant climbing up and going down, and the destination isn’t even visible yet.
We climb atop another peak in the ridge and Moldoveanu appears ahead, monstrous, shaped like a pyramid, casting shadow on a valley. There’s water there. Some few lakes well below the ridge. We swallow thickly – we’ve been running out of water and probably the next night would be a thirsty one.
There’s a shelter by the path. We’ve already seen a couple of these: tiny shed painted white and red. Inside there are only bunk beds – plain wood and iron, no mattress, no pillow, nothing. Luckily we brought our sleeping bags and rubber mattresses. We’ll leave our gear in the shelter, climb the mountain before dusk, return to our basecamp, spend the night there and leave in the morning.