As challenging as it must sound, crossing the border on foot was quite straightforward. It's not like I had to figure out my way in the wilderness, at the mercy of the elements and predators wanting to gnaw at my bones. There are hiking trails that run across most (if not all) of Europe, going over plain country and through inhabited areas. These can also cross borders into other countries. More so, on the trails are chalets for pit-stops or longer stays. All I had to do was follow the colour-coded sign for the correct hiking trail.
The town of Międzygórze is at an elevated altitude on the Sudetes mountain. A stream rushes down past small gable-roofed lodges and waves of trees run up hills and cliffs that surround the area. The bus drove through town and stopped at the far end, where nature seemed more wild and crowded out most of the sunlight. At the bus station I took out my hiking map of the area and my compass to orient myself. There was a sign nearby indicating the direction to the Śnieżnik peak. The weather was sunny but cool. It was around noon - I had about 5 to 6 hours to go before sunset. I strapped my large backpack on me, hooked my smaller day-pack to the front and made my way.
The hiking path started off as asphalt road and later changed to gravel, always heading upwards in an incline. On the gravel path I walked near the same stream that runs through town and noticed a light white sheet that covered trees and shrubs on the other bank. The same sheet was also on my side of the river. This caught me off guard: I completely forgot that there usually is snow on a mountain! Fortunately, though, I was dressed properly: I had on hiking shoes, hiking pants, enough layers to keep my upper-body warm and a ski hat to cover my head and ears. Not having seen snow in such a long time, I stopped to take pictures...
It didn't take very long for the "Oh shit - what did I get myself into" moment to happen. I reckon it was about the time when I stood in front of a very steep cliff that rose to the sky. There was no way around it - I had to hike up. About an hour passed from when I left the bus station and already I had taken a couple of short breaks to give my back a rest. Hiking up that incline with over 20 kg of weight on me felt like a stunt waiting to go wrong. But rather than waste valuable time analysing the situation I looked for a good foothold and pushed myself up.
I took it slow - real slow. I synchronized my breathing to the beats of my heart and maintained a pace that allowed me to keep on moving forwards consistently, carefully and without exhausting myself. The method worked: as long as I maintained my pace and took a break whenever I felt the straps eating into my shoulders then I made consistent progress. Sure enough, the further up I went the more snow there was. A curtain of tall trees on my right blocked the view, but when there was small gap I could clearly see the horizon and the mountains surging over the land. There were other hikers going up and down the same trail carrying very light gear if anything at all. Most gave quick glances my way as they walked passed me. Once, while I took a break, an elderly couple going the opposite direction tried talking to me. Sadly, they didn't speak any English. The man smiled, pointed at my heavy bag and said: "Śnieżnik?" I nodded. He gave me a thumbs-up and walked away.
Hours later, and after climbing a gruelling steep hill, I reached a chalet that's 500 m away from the Śnieżnik peak. I couldn't go any further. My shoulders screamed in pain and my left arm trembled badly. I set my backpacks down on the snow and breathed heavily. Two men were shovelling snow outside the chalet. One of them walked up to me - a tall, big guy in a yellow jacket and yellow ski hat - and asked me a question. Out of breath, I asked (in Polish) if he speaks English. The big man in the yellow jacket called his colleague over. This fellow looked younger and, in quite good English, asked: "are you looking for a room?". I was shocked at finding someone that spoke English at this altitude in Poland. It turns out that he worked in the US for seven years, doing odd jobs in different states. When the economy started to dive he returned to Poland and continued doing odd jobs. He's in his forties - said that after two weeks he'll be heading to Northern Europe to look for a job, but his dream is to go back to the US. Eventually we returned back to the question of whether I wanted a room. I was too exhausted to go on and, in any case, the sun was going to set in a couple of hours - better call it a day. The English-speaking fellow helped me carry my backpack. He slung it over his shoulder and nearly fell over as he screamed: "shit - this is heavy!"
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