Right at the start of Brâna Caprelor two chamois stare me in the face from atop a rock, at a safe distance, but still close enough for me to admire them. Although the Brâna Caprelor trail is exciting and involves some hands on rock and the scenery is absolutely imposing, it is far less difficult than I’d expected – quite a few people have warned me about the technicality of this trail.
I don’t know what it is with this place, these places, but Romania and its mountains keep pulling me towards them, relentlessly. I must be here. Having all these special encounters confirms that I am in the right place, doing the right thing. This is a difficult truth for me to deal with, being the inveterate agnostic and rationalist that I am. Why? Just because. Because it fits. Because it’s good. Tov. But how did I get here? You know that. Through pain and suffering and hard labour, burrowing through the soil like a mole until you see the sun – or rather, until you gain sight instead of blindness – and a view at the at times overwhelming, poignantly beautiful and harsh world. Still, I want to be able to pinpoint exactly what is what, but truth is I can’t: it’s beyond me.
I’ve been meaning to write about the Ceahlău for a long time because I absolutely loved it. I went there last autumn and met a bunch of fabulous people at Cabana Dochia with whom I went on a trail that otherwise I wouldn’t have discovered. You will be able to read more about that one in my book, but I’ll give you a general idea of how to get there and what it’s like. Basically you can cover the Ceahlău in two days; it’s a compact massif. I started at Cabana Izvorul Muntelui, just west of the town of Bicaz which in turn lies just north of the famous Bicaz Gorge.
Kilometres walked: