Saxon Wana-Be

The morning greeted us with a cool drizzle as we packed up and rappelled down from the ledge that we had encamped on. We could have taken the easy way down but what’s the fun in that? I came down first and watched on as the rest of the gang made their way down. Just beyond the tree line on a cliff edge a hiker had sat down for a break. Her dog curiously watched the woods in our direction. It could hear the ruckus we had been making but could not see us in the thick forest.

We hiked our way back down to Shmilka as we needed to drop off the girls at the train station. Before getting to close enough to see the first of the rooftops we could smell it, the aroma of fresh baked bread and pastries from a bakery. It was absolute perfection, to be coming out of a beautiful forest, into a small German town, and have it lure you in with the smell of bakers magic, like a fairytale. We hastened our pace and Matthew stepped in and secured us some of the goodies from inside.

We bid our farewells and it was just the guys from here on in. On the way back to the forest I again started to wander off looking at the houses and the way in which they had been constructed. They must have been more than 100 years old. The core of each house was the native sandstone. The sandstone would have pockets for wood beams to fit into for the support of the 2^nd story floor and the roof. It was finished off smooth with plaster and painted. Decorative shutters and elaborate trim work lined windows, rooflines, and rails. There were several homes gutted and looked like they were soon to be restored. I imagined moving here and buying up an old soul of a house and fixing it up. I chuckled as I reminded myself that I Have one in the states that is in need of restoring. I will have plenty to do once I get back, no doubt about that.

We made our way back up the trails to where the sandstone started and were eager to get some climbing in. We tried to find a spot that was closer to where we wanted to spend the night so we passed up several sandstone formations before picking one to start with. The first one was difficult and the first bolt was farther than any of us could safely climb. We proved to be a sorry excuse of a Saxon. We continued on and decided to climb at the spot where we would spend the night. This too had a bolt that was a good 30’ up. I weaseled my way up a crack and secured to the first bolt. Next came Matthew and Marc and after a crack of thunder so did the rain.

I stayed up top and hugged the sandstone to stay dry; Joseph was safely in the cave preparing our campsite and dinner. I could tell he took great pride in running an orderly kitchen. Another night with our makeshift campfire and camp stove dinner. I was beginning to feel the end of this journey approaching. It was a bit depressing. It was more fuel to the fire to work hard and build my little empire to do these types of things. Thoughts of my to-do list ushered in a half sleep as the rain fell like music through the dense forest leaves.