11:30am. Got up at about 8am today, not long after I heard door outside my bedroom opened. Carlo came and got something for work. I walked 20mins from home back to town meeting him for late breakfast. The set he suggested to me, Cappuccino and Brioches, and treated me. I went to the only-one-but-no-one tourist information asking for a private key to the underground “museum”, but I couldn’t find the door at first but finally a girl led me there. The “museum” is like -3/F down to the underground, but big, but just deep and chilly cool. I was pretty scared because there was no one but me walking around the apartment of Romanian in the past built not long after A.D. The walls were mainly rock with some carved portraits on it.
I returned the key to the tourist information center and bought a €20 SIM card (3425862727) so I could contact Carlo through SMS.
While I’m sitting on the ground stair stealing Wi-Fi outside the cafe thinking about yesterday, I realized that only printed big map can help with orientation, like a 1:250m well labeled map. And yes, it’s a must having cellular data on mobile phone so I can tell my friends I’m not dying or I’m about to die.
I put a vintage side bag that Carlo lent to me at my front, with a foldable map of the countryside of Cividale together on the ground. I’m ready to challenge another hill called M. Kraguojnca, 949m. That should be a clearer route, hopefully I can return home before 6pm.
15:18pm. After refilling water in Baralborgo, and before going back home changing another bag, I’m now in the midway to M.Kraguojnca without taking any breaks. Just took another snicker and now sitting at the church up on about 700m called S.Spirto Sveti Duh. I think this church is sort of related to WWII. I’d been feeling good through the roads. Although some roads were not shown on the map, I could now orientate myself with the shadow and the labels on the map more easily this time. The bee-like butterflies or butterfly-like bees or mosquitos or whatever flying insects or birds seem to know me more today. Though they still always flew over and around my ears and face sounding like a motorbike, I didn’t get many goose bumps today.
I met some bikers before the church and they told me I could refill water here. But I couldn’t see any fountains around. I have less than 1L of water now. Giving up is not my style so I keep going. I walked up to a little hillock beyond the church. Beautiful view to the south along from Torreano to Cividale and further away the horizon. At the north there are the Alps beyond the countryline in Slovenia, closer I see Matajur’s church at the peak.
Half an hour later, second break on about 900m. I’d been hiking uphill along the goddamned red route 752. Grassy, flowery and muddy road with many stones on the way. Grass that is sometimes tall enough to reach my waist, god blessed there is no more fucking thorns up here. Slowly steep and without any trees blocking the hot sun. Sweating all over, not much water left. This road is pretty-but-harsh especially under hot weather. No one else since I met few bikers at the joint near the church. I think I will have to find my way out downhill If I couldn’t find anybody at my destination.
5:50pm. I went beyond the destination. As the so-called M.K mount doesn’t exist in a clear label up here, but just a simple name on the map. Perhaps I did step on it because I did see a plate with a bullet hole on it somewhere.
Anyway, I’m now at Masarolia up on about 650m, waiting for a I-hope-it-will-come bus to Cividale. Asked two ladies who were about to ride a motorbike downhill for translating the words on bus stop. I couldn’t do nothing but to trust her and wait until 6:42pm. If there is nothing, I won’t die at least, there are single story buildings around this little town, a church, a fountain for refilling and some nice guys. Eating my newly unpacked biscuit fingers I bought before, it is my afternoon tea. I sat on the ground in front of the bus stop, looking at the unfolded big map. I have walked about 12km uphill and 4km downhill. By the way I now figure my new SIM is locked that I perhaps left behind the PIN at home. Just worrying if Carlo will think I am died and couldn’t dial me when he reads the number I left to him at home writing that I will come back before tonight.
Just now an old woman ensures me with gesture that the bus will come less than 20 minutes. Now is 20:00pm. The bus did show up, was nobody else but me on the bus. The driver didn’t know English, but I got his meaning the bus isn’t going to Cividale but to Torreano. While I was trying to ask how much the bus fee, he let me freeride. I was looking to the map time to time on the bus, just like GPS so I could get my actual location. The driver dropped me at the junction where I saw a large Coop and old man band after getting the first hitchhike few days ago. Yes, thanks god I knew all these places so I walked all the way home but this time avoiding the highway as I have a map in hand this time.
Returned home, took a relaxing shower and washed my dirty short pants the first time. Feeling hungry now as I’d only taken a piece of bread, a cup of cappuccino, 2 snicker bars, some biscuit fingers and some water in a day only. So I cook tuna pasta, again, for dinner.
23:00pm. Carlo just left. We talked loads while drinking beer, from my today’s experience and the next hiking route to the long backpacking route to Ljubljana in Slovenia.
We combined two big maps together on the ground in kitchen and pointed roughly above the maps. Everything sounded ridiculously impossible but feasible and challenging. He said I could take few days up from Clabuzzaro and walk along the countryline downhill, then go through the countryline to a town in Slovenia and finally take train to Ljubljana. If I follow then this will be the craziest thing I’d ever done in my life.
Carlo told me there’s a secret beach perfect for chilling and swimming near the river. It is just about 10 minutes’ walk south from home. Meanwhile he explained clearly what the dangers are, the water spinning at the turn of the river is not very deep but very powerful.
Same as last night, we played arcade games for a while, Splash, 1993 – an old school night-club game with funny background music that you are a paint brusher scanning the sexy girl out from the shadow by controlling the joystick with just one button breaking the bubbles with bullets that meant to kill you once it touches you.
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