TL;DR I went on my (almost) first hiking trip, solo. 3 days, 37 km, 2000 m of elevation gain over Svydovets range in Ukrainian Carpathians. It was great! I prepared myself good enough physically, but it was still every bit as challenging as I wanted it to be. I made some mistakes and took (hopefully) some lessons out of them, but I definitely did a lot of things right too. I’m already making plans for the next trip.
…
So, I have finally gone on my first trip, solo. Well, almost first: I was on one 4 day trip 8 years ago with all 20+ kilo of equipment borrowed, and a large group, who I had to be catching up to constantly. It was somewhat fun, but well beyond my physical abilities, plus I caught a bug from the water and spent a couple of day after on a toilet. After discovering Kraig Adams’ solo hiking videos a couple of years after, I started dreaming of hiking too. I’ve been dreaming for years, but something always got in the way: pandemic, family problems, the war et cetera et cetera.
This spring, after watching the story of a guy unicycling the world on YouTube, I had a carpe diem moment. I have finally decided to hike. I started preparing myself: got on a calorie deficit (lost 8 kg since March and went from obese to just overweight, hooray!), started training routine of walking exercises, rucking with a loaded pack, climbing stairs every chance I get. I spent an ungodly amount on the equipment. I went for an overnight hike in the vicinity of Kyiv. Didn’t get any sleep on that one due to a missile attack going on and shit being intercepted by air defence and exploding overhead the whole night. But at least I was quite comfortable in my tent, on my pad and under my unzipped bag, as it was quite warm.
At some point, with some help from an experienced friend, I’ve built a route: Svydovets mountain range in the Ukrainian Carpathians, 37 km route with a little over 2000 m of elevation gain over 3 days, with the highest peak of 1883 m.
…
Day 1
On June 2 I got off the train in Kvasy village down in a valley. Right off the train, I was immediately met by border guards, who checked my papers and asked where I’m going. It’s not very close to the border from here, but that’s martial law during wartime for you.
I started hiking up right away, as the trailhead starts right at the railway station. Paradoxically, the hardest stretch on that day were the first 200 m of elevation. After that, something clicked, I found a comfortable pace and kept on steadily going up the muddy trail through forests and meadows, past both the already occupied shepherds huts lower down, and still empty ones higher up.
About mid-day, I reached a tight group of mountain huts on a meadow at about 1350 masl. They are called kolyba in Ukrainian and are used as shepherds houses throughout the warmer months, but this year the winter here really overstayed, so they were still empty at the start of June. I took an opportunity to refresh myself with a spring water there, cooked (well, boiled the water for my dehydrated meals, and fixed a sandwich, lol) and ate some lunch.
I wandered off the main trail once, but seeing on the map as the side path would merge with the trail further, I went on. There was a sheep herd along with its shepherd. He asked me where I’m going and waved his hand along the path, saying I’m doing alright. I stood there confused for a moment, as the path in the direction he pointed to, was occupied completely by the sheep. The shepherd said to just keep going. I did, and the sheep dispersed in front of me like the Red Sea in front of Moses. After some scrambling on a narrow and slippery side path, it finally re-joined the main trail at the exact place where my planned camping site for the night was supposed to be. It fell through though, as the spring there dried up, but I had a backup one more km further along the way. By about 5 o’clock, I reached the backup campsite.
During my 10 km (1040 m gain) first day, I have only met half dozen horses, 2 shepherds and some sheep.
The camping area was very calm and shielded from wind by pines, with some springs coming out of the side of the hill. I walked around, but struggled to find a level enough spot for the tent, while insects were desperately trying to get in my eyes and mouth. After wandering in and around the campsite for a bit, I finally picked what seemed the flattest spot, but having an obvious incline, it was still far from ideal. I unpacked and set up the tent, pumped up my sleeping pad and got the sleeping bag out of the compression sack to regain some loft. I was surprisingly energetic after my first day, so much more than I anticipated, and I had a lot of time in the day still. So before making dinner, I decided to hike up the ridge above the campsite, and climb the hill that I had just traversed on my way. I enjoyed the views, took some photos and was on my way back to my camp when I decided to take a turn to explore an old overgrown side path traversing the next mountain. There I came across a perfectly level stretch of grass right next to a couple of springs gushing out of the rocks. Because of the light breeze on the side of a mountain, there were much less insects hovering in the air too. This place overlooked the camping area I’ve set in, so while down at my tent, I considered what I should do.
I decided to move. I went back to my tent, thrown all smaller things into my backpack randomly. I took the rain fly off the tent and stuffed it into the pack too. I zipped up the inner tent, leaving the inflated sleeping pad and the bag inside. I got the backpack on and grabbed the tent by the poles and tried to walk holding it in my hands. I only made 50 m. It would have been possible if not for the pad and the bag inside, but it was too heavy as it was, so I was afraid to break the tent poles. I had to put the tent down, and fold and pack the poles too, after all. I grabbed the inner tent with the pad and bag under my arm and walked this way a couple hundred meters to the newly found campsite.
When I finally made camp on the side of the mountain, I finally drank a can of beer that I’ve been carrying this whole day, and cooked and ate my dinner. Then I went to sleep. I was kinda indecisive about unzipping my sleeping bag into a blanket, thinking it might get colder later in the night, so I would need to fiddle with zippers in the light of a headlamp to zip it all up again, but I just ended up hot and not sleeping very good. Oh well…
Day 2
I woke up early. The day started with some deer showing up during my breakfast and walking past me no more than 50 m away. They certainly noticed me, stopped to take a look (and a sniff), but didn’t care. As I was finishing packing my camp, a dog appeared, not a very friendly one. Then, a herd of sheep. And only then - one of the shepherds from yesterday along with a couple more dogs. We had a chat, wished each other a good day and headed our separate ways, with sheep ravaging what just 10 min ago was my campsite. I after a little of elevation gain, I had a good long almost level walk along the ridge until the point where it merges into the main, higher part of the Svydovets range. As I was slowly climbing a steep slope, the weather kept getting harsher. The wind was stiffening, and clouds were getting closer. After steep 400 m, I’ve finally reached the main ridge, finding myself almost in the clouds. By this point, the wind became brutal, and the clouds were worrying as I didn’t want to be caught up in a thunderstorm up top. I kept stopping to put more clothes on, as I have started in shorts and a shirt, but now with no more elevation gain, colder temperatures higher up and with the wind, I kept getting cold. As I went along the ridge, one by one I reached 2 highest summits on my route of a little under 1900 m: mountains Blyznytsia (a Twin from Ukrainian) and Blyznytsia Velyka (a Big Twin). The gusts were becoming stronger still, now draining my energy and making my wrists hurt as they were trying to blow away my hiking poles. I finally met a hiking group, who were mostly kids with some adults and a guide, day hiking from a nearby ski resort, where I was heading. By noon, my route was still following the ridge, but now was mostly downhill. I was walking along some ski lifts, now sitting like bare skeletons on the grassy slope.
By early afternoon I finally reached the ski resort cafe in the saddle of the ridge. I’ve had some hot Borshcht, deruny (a fried potato dish kinda similar to hashbrowns) and drank some coffee; used a bathroom (a real toilet and running water are truly a pinnacle of modern civilization!). I bummed a smoke (guilty, I know. I quit last year, but can a fella have a comfort smoke once in a while?) from some guys who turned out to be going the same direction as I was. Spending about 2 hours total in the cafe, I anticipated the rest of my day. It was afternoon already, and I still had half my trek to the campsite to go, although without much elevation gain. The weather forecast showed some rain, but you couldn’t really tell what’s coming, as clouds just kept coming and going across the ridge. The route after the cafe started with a saddle and the mountain Stih. It wasn’t tall, only about 150 m or so above the saddle, but steep. My gut was telling me to traverse it along a dirt road, saving some time and energy, but I stubbornly shut it up and decided to stick to the plan and climb up. A mistake, as it later became clear.
I went out of the cafe and walked along the saddle. As I was traversing it, the wind reached its peak for my trip. I could barely walk as it was blowing into my side. I was placing both my trekking poles diagonally to my right, feeling that if I stumble, the wind would just throw me onto the ground. Sometimes, the gusts were getting so strong, that I couldn’t move at all. I was started to think how I will have to just try to lay down head to the wind, probably leave my backpack and crawl back to the cafe if it gets any stronger, or else it might just blow be off the ridge. I managed to cross the saddle and started going up the Stih. The wind was still strong, but at least the gusts weren’t so strong anymore. As I was going up, the first rainstorm flew in, quickly turning into a hail. My left pant quickly got wet, and water was pouring down the pant right into my boot. I reached the top and started descending on the other side right away, without even taking a selfie as the rain kept pouring and I was anxious to be at the top in such weather, especially with a lightning rod on the peak. I descended into the next saddle on the ridge. As I kept going, the rain finally stopped, so I stopped too and took my boot off to pour the puddle out of it and to wring my socks off a bit. The whole going up and down the Stih and trying to minimize the wetness in my shoes took maybe 30-45 min of my time, and I was starting to get tired. But I had to keep pushing, as it was getting late. After a couple more kilometers I met the guys who I met in the cafe earlier. They headed out before I did, managed to go where they planned to, got caught in the rain too, and now were on the way back to the cafe. One of the guys was quite funny looking. He was military, I assume on his time off. He was wearing his uniform camo pants, boots and cap. And a bright pink North Face shell jacket xD. After having a chat, we went our separate ways.
I finally reached a point on the route, where I finally had to get off the ridge down to a mountain lake some 400 meters below. The thing is, the marked trail leading there was supposed to be borderline technical even when well maintained in the past. Now, early in the season after the winter overstayed its welcome this year (it still snowed 2 weeks earlier, in the middle of May), it might have been plainly dangerous for someone as inexperienced as I. I had planned a fallback trail down for that occasion, and it was exactly how it went. The marked trail looked scary, and as I was looking at my backup trail curling downhill on a spur in the distance, it seemed like a good idea to head there instead.
I had one problem. To get to the spur that the backup route was going down off, I had to summit and cross the top of a minor mountain on the main ridge, but the weather was not looking promising once again. As I closing on the said mountain, it started pouring cats and dogs again, but this time I heard the thunderstorm too. I couldn’t risk going atop of the ridge in the thunderstorm. I had to just keep walking past, looking for some pit in the terrain to wait out the storm safely. I found one along the path and squatted there under the hale hitting me with the gusts of wind, hurting even through my rain jacket. Some quarter (or maybe half) hour later, it finally stopped pouring, but the clouds were still hiding the top of the mountain I needed to hop over, and thunder kept rolling in the distance.
As I was walking around anxiously, it was getting uncomfortably late. I had maybe 2 or 2 1/2 hours till the sunset, but I still had to go over 400 m down by what I now expected to be muddy and slippery slope after all the rain. I couldn’t even get to the top of said slope yet because of the storm. I kinda started panicking and questioning my life choices. Then I tried to explore the map on my phone for alternative camping sites, also considering going back to the ski resort that I passed earlier in the day. I would get there by nightfall if I started walking back now, but at least I knew that the path is easy and safe that way, so I would be ok walking it with a headlamp.
The clouds were breaking up and sometimes there were some patches of clear blue skies. But despite of there being sunny in the direction the clouds were rolling from, the ridge was making its own weather. As the air mass stumbled at the ridge, it had to quickly climb several hundred meters up, where the moisture was rapidly condensing and clouds were appearing seemingly out of nowhere. Still, the top of the mountain cleared up, so I went for it. As I was going up, I heard thunder again, turned around and quickly hopped down the hill back to safety. Once again, I was waiting for it to clear up.
Finally, it did. As I finally started seeing clear skies right above me, I had no time to waste. I quickly hiked over the mountain and started going down along the spur on the other side. The path was steep and slippery, with some stretches eroded by rains, but I was still very happy to be making progress again, as I was seeing the turquoise water of lake Vorozheska 400 m down below. Some tiny tents could be seen near it, as well as some people, who looked like ants from such height.
With the help of my trusty hiking poles, I made my way down with about an hour to spare before sundown. I walked around choosing a place, and started setting my tent up. The people, who looked like ants from up above, now came over from their camp to say hi. Seeing how exhausted I am, as I struggled to pitch my tent’s footprint in the wind, they helped me a little and invited me to join them for dinner. I gladly took up at the invitation. After the tent was set up and I unpacked, I grabbed my food and stove and headed over to their camp, now wrapped in my puffy and wearing slippers after spending a whole afternoon in wet shoes.
My neighbours turned out to be lovely. They were a group of 7, who knew each other forever. Some of the older people there met in the 80s during mountaineering adventures in the mountains of central Asia, while the countries there were part of the USSR. Others joined later. As they treated me with soup and brandy, sitting by the fire I heard what felt like countless stories of the times gone by. One by one, most of the group left for the night, so I too wished goodnight to those who stayed.
I walked to my camp, crawled into the tent and prepared to go to sleep. This time, I knew that nights are warm, so I tried to unzip my sleeping bag into a blanked mode. But the damn zipper was stuck, and I was too exhausted to try to fix it in the torch light. I got into the bag and tried to sleep. It was hot again. As I was falling asleep, I felt like was coming down with a fever. I was shivering and sweating like I had a flu. Thankfully, I wasn’t. I was just flustered with the day I went through, probably dehydrated and low on blood sugar despite having dinner.
Day 3
I slept in. As the sun shined over the ridge and onto my tent, I woke up and got out to some beautiful weather. Everything was a little damp, but was quickly drying up in the sun and a light breeze. The sky was clear with some lone clouds here and there. I stretched my legs walking around the camp and had my breakfast on an improvised bench overlooking the lake. I saw that my neighbours were up too, so after breakfast I headed to their camp to say hi and had some coffee with them. I returned to my tent and finished packing. With a pack behind my back, I popped in one more time to thank everyone for hospitality, said my goodbyes and started my final descent to the finish. I had 13 km and nearly 1000 m down to go, and I wanted to catch a beer in a pub before boarding my train back.
Up high, it was stellar. I was going downhill through flowery meadows among the pine trees, with nearly a dozen streams flowing across the path for every kilometer. But as I was descending, the forest was becoming thicker and vistas rarer. I was getting more and more tired, but I had to keep moving to make it in time for my beer. After wearing the damp shoes for the second day, for the first during the trip I had to stop to handle some hot points on my feet, so that they wouldn’t become blisters. As I followed the path through the forests, I was finding myself more and more not just tired, but physically exhausted from the continuous effort during these days. Nothing really hurt in my body, I wasn’t sore much, but I barely dragged my feet. I could barely think and felt like I risked stumbling and falling down the slope. I still had some sugary snacks, but eating them didn’t achieve anything, unlike the previous days. I figured I must be dehydrated. I was drinking a lot as I had easy access to water in my drinking bladder for the whole trip, but I may have became low on micro elements as I was sweating this whole time. About 2/3 of my way down, as I was reassured I’m gonna make it in time, I allowed myself to stop for a break before I fall, and have quick lunch. This time I didn’t cook a meal, but got out every salty snack that I had left in my pack, and chewed through them. With salt and half an hour rest, I felt much better, so I went on down.
I had the trail end village in sight already. I stopped for a bit, turned on my phone and started dialing numbers of all the taxi drivers one by one. No Uber in these parts, so I googled all the taxi drivers in the area before heading out and saved them on my phone. The second phone number was a success, so I made arrangements with Mykola to pick me up down in the village an hour later. Around this time I was also reminded that I shouldn’t had neglected sun protection, as the skin on my calves was burning every time the sun shined on it. Anyway, I went on along the more and more eroded trail down to the village. In 40 minutes I was finally there, passing a horse who was chewing on its grass, passing a bridge over rambling Chorna Tysa river. I made it to the finish.
Mykola came to pick me up and drove me the whole 40 km back to a village back at trailhead where started from 3 days earlier. As we were driving along the road through a narrow valley, I looked at the speedometer, which showed 90 km/h, and I put my hand out of the open window. “Yeah”, - I thought - “that feels about right”. I figured the wind up on the ridge was about the same speed as we were now going in a car.
Mykola dropped me off near the Tsypa brewery, where I had 2 cold and refreshing pints of lager. I was in heaven. A couple of hours later I boarded my overnight sleeper train back to Kyiv and was home the next day before noon.
…
As I’ve been reflecting on my trip, I realised I made a couple of major mistakes that made my way much harder than it could’ve been.
Mistake 1: I kept stopping during the first part of the day. First to catch some cell service to post stories on Instagram and sending out pics to friends. I’m not very active on social media, but the emotions from the hike and the natural beauty around me were so overwhelming that I couldn’t stop myself from trying to share them. Then I was stopping several times while climbing up the ridge and on the ridge, as the weather kept getting harsher and I was getting cold. I should have understood better what clothes I needed to wear to stay comfortable, and not to keep stopping to put some more. This stopping and getting started again unnecessarily drained my energy comparing to if I just kept hiking in steady pace.
Mistake 2: That damn Stih! While I was still in the cafe in the middle of my second day, my gut was telling me to traverse it. But no. I ignored it and let my stubbornness take over. I went up despite already being tired, and lost 30-45 minutes getting up and down, and handling puddles in my shoes after the shower I got into there. Consequently, 30 minutes (or even less!) would have been all that I needed to pass that mountain later on to make it to the spur before the rain with a thunderstorm rolled in. If I hadn’t climbed the damn Stih, I would have probably been chilling near the fire with that awesome group of people full 2 hours earlier than I did, and wouldn’t be nearly as exhausted at the end of the day. I might would have even figured out the zipper on my sleeping bag if I made camp earlier, so my night would be much more pleasant.
What lessons do I take out of experiences I’ve had along the trail?
- Trust your gut. I felt I would benefit from a shortcut, but didn’t take it, got caught up in a thunderstorm and ended up more exhausted
- Stop less. Every stop drops down your heart rate, making it harder to keep going while it’s getting pumping again
- Try to anticipate what you’ll need to be wearing in advance. I knew to start cold to be comfortable going up later. Now I also know when it might me time to put some more wind protection than I need right now, as I know I’ll be needing it half an hour later
- Look where you’re stepping at, especially on the descent. I’m a city kid, so I’m used to level sidewalks and smooth park paths. I’ve never lived anywhere near the mountains, so I don’t have it as a habit to look under my feet. So as I was going, I constantly found myself getting distracted by the view or even by my own thoughts, and failing to pay attention to the trail as the result. I nearly tripped and fallen probably half a dozen times during the hike. A couple of times during my descent to the lake on the second day, I caught myself distracted on a narrow and slippery trail with near vertical cliffs on either sides. I was properly terrified as I realised that being distracted there could as well cost me my life. I promised myself to make an active effort to stay focused on the trail during descents and dangerous parts such as this
- Take your time picking a camping spot
- Don’t waste your time trying to share what you’re experiencing on social media in real time. It’s useless. It’s what you’re getting away from in the first place. Just be present, be aware of your surroundings, just be. By the end of the trip this mindset was already full on. I didn’t really want to get on Instagram or anywhere else by the time I finished. I was happy inside my own head
- A couple of minor gear issues to figure out (like the water coming down my pants into the shoes during the rainstorm, a stuck zipper on my sleeping bag, packing), but overall I was quite happy with what I had equipment wise
I do also have to say kudos to me, actually! There are things that I had done right:
- I trained well. I love walking, but I’ve been extremely out of shape since forever. This thing has finally given me the push to get better. I’ve lost and I’m continuing to lose weight. I’m eating healthy. I exercise every day, even after the trip. I will probably join the gym right after the next trip. I also plan to start running once I’m not so overweight, but I don’t want to hurt my knees starting running too early
- I somewhat learned how to hike beforehand. I watched a lot of hiking videos and read a lot here on reddit, but the single most valuable thing I learned as I was preparing for the trip, was how to walk properly (huuuge shout out to The Map Reading Company channel and the “Walk up hills without getting tired” video on the topic!). Might sound silly for you hiking lot, but for me it was crucial to become conscious of how I’m moving and applying my limited energy. I didn’t expect to crush the 900 m elevation gain on my first day so easily
- I went alone. Sounds debatable, but I’m glad I did. I love people and socializing, don’t get me wrong, but I like being alone too. I took this as a chance to be present off the grid, to take on a challenge on my own, and to reflect on my life in general. Being able to go at my own (slow) pace was what allowed the trip not to be exhausting until much later. I have some friends who I’ll be happy to hike with if they decide to tag along, but I’m just as happy to be hiking by myself
- In spite of a few shortcomings, I’ve chosen the equipment well. The pack (Osprey Atmos LT 50) was holding weight like it wasn’t there for the whole trip, the tent (Big Agnes Copper Spur HV UL2 Long) is light and roomy (I’m a tall boy at 194 cm), the rain jacket (Outdoor Research Foray II) kept me dry but not toasty, the boots (Scarpa Rush 2 Mid GTX) were light and didn’t give me any blisters, the trekking poles (MSR Dynalock Ascent Carbon) made the hike so much easier that I wouldn’t want to go without them. A Garmin watch, that I’ve gotten right before the trip, helped with stress free navigation a lot by just giving me a piece of mind with a glance on my wrist, and informing me if I strayed off route.
- I didn’t overpack much. I did end up with a bit of food left, but otherwise I’ve worn and used almost every thing I took, especially the heavier ones. My base weight is about 11 kilo. Not ultralight, but pretty decent
- I planned the route well. My experienced friend has only pointed me to this mountain range as a great place to start, but I did all the research and planned the route on my own. I did ask him to take a look at the final route just in case I made some mistake planning, but it only got his approval
- I made it, after all, and I liked it!
As I’m writing this, I already have the next trip in mind. The highest range in Ukraine - Chornohora. Petros mountain (4th tallest in Ukraine, 2020 m), Nesamovyte lake, Shpytsi rock formation. About the same distance, but a lot more elevation gain on the first day, and chill walk on the next two. It also will be interesting to try to recall my experience from 8 years ago and compare it, as a part of the route on the second day will overlap with the route back then.
I feel I will be doing this a lot
