Go tell it on the mountain

Topography is a unique characteristic of every country. There are lowlands and highlands, rivers, valleys, hills, and mountains. And often these geographical entities—for they do seem lifelike in the character they bring to a place—serve as the borders between neighboring lands. What makes up the southern borders of the SE Midwest? The Ohio River. What makes up the borders of SE Europe? Well, a few rivers but mostly mountains (and plenty of politics!).

Politics aside, what’s even more interesting are the effects the land has on people. It has always fascinated me in the Balkans how much one community can differ from another based on where and how they live, what customs they cultivate, and what they consume. Sea-side communities tend to have a maritime history and an ongoing influence from the adventures of the sea. They live and work on and near it, reaping and consuming its fruits. In lowlands people are agricultural, growing the grains that feed so many. They work the land, but perhaps through their steady life and conservative customs, are also the heart of a nation. As elevation increases and depending on the climate, so does the availability of what can be grown or raised. In Macedonia, with its lowest point barely above sea level in a Mediterranean climate and its highest point over 9,000 feet in a continental climate, there’s little that can’t be cultivated here. From citrus and olives on the border with Greece, to the Pelagonian plains of grain, to endless vineyards to the north, people grow what they can where they can. Most vegetables are grown throughout the lowlands of the country, and as one travels up they see rice paddies, varying fruit trees, and shepherds tending their flocks and herds—goats, sheep, cows.

Living in the lowlands of Skopje and usually traveling to other low-lying towns and cities (for that’s where most towns have been settled since antiquity and thus people in fact live), it was a rare treat to head up into the highest mountains of the land last weekend. The Shar Mountains, which stretch from the northwest to the southwest of the country, make up the border with Kosovo and Albania. They are the tallest peaks in the country, reaching up into the clouds and as I witnessed, pulling the clouds over their ridges.

I had the company of two friends, Marc and Eric. Marc is a Peace Corps volunteer here and Eric a Fulbright Scholar. We had planned this trip since early-September, at which time I thought we were planning too far ahead and it would not come to pass. Well, a rainy and cold September has led to a beautiful October thus far, and we had stellar weather at the onset for our journey.

We made the drive to the city of Tetovo—an hour from Skopje—last Saturday morning, and drove on up to the resort village of Popova Shapka from there. At nearly 5,000 feet, it’s largely a tourist spot for skiing in the winter and cooler weather in the summer. Despite the golden leaves of autumn and mild weather though, it was dead as could be this time of year.

Not knowing exactly where we were going, but with the goal of summiting the highest peak within 20 miles—Tito’s Peak, we stopped into a small café for an espresso and directions. Well, we got vague directions from the teenage server working that morning, so after checking out the Turkish toilet (always an adventure in itself!) we parked a few hundred feet further down the road and headed off for our walk.

We began at some small ski lift called “Aerodrom”—'airport'—and just started winding up over the bare slopes from there. An important addition to our team came at that point, however, as two local mountain huskies joined us. Only puppies, these “Shar Mountaineer” (Shar Planinec) dogs, as they’re called, started bouncing along as we paced ourselves for the uphill climb.

According to the local mountaineering society who I’d been in touch with, there were supposed to be markers on the trail. While we saw a few red marks here and there, however, the trail came and went and never a cairn did I see. We thus carried on, climbing one hill only to see another, but enjoying ourselves as the sun shone, the puppies paced, and we made good conversation. Not being accustomed to the mountains and wanting to enjoy rather than work too hard, we took our fair share of breaks. While the walking is good exercise, it was during those moments of playing with the dogs and relaxing on the soft ground that I felt such peace. And oh, how nice it was to get away from the chaos of Skopje!

After a couple hours hiking and having arrived at some early season snow patches, we saw what was going to be our primary goal for the day—a rocky ridge touching the clouds overhead. As we’d lost the trail completely by that point (a factor which earlier had led us to an amazing rock massif but in a mountain cul-de-sac of sorts, which we then had to climb out of), we trod over bushes that were only inches high and spread out across the mountainside as we headed upward. The view to the east at that point was splendid, but nothing prepared me for the cauldron like valley on the other side, with high peaks surrounding it nearby and and jagged ones off in the distance. When we arrived we stood on flat ground for the first time in an hour, the sun remained, and the puppies sat with us as we prepared to ascend the ridge to a higher point. Where Tito's Peak was at this point, however, was unclear. I saw a peak of sorts to the southwest, but it didn’t seem high enough. As 3pm was nearing and the clouds looking more ominous, we made the decision to halt our expedition within the half hour and to eat lunch.

We enjoyed the sun as we hiked a ways more up, but upon reaching some old antennae and deciding it was a good place to rest, we had a new angle and saw only briefly the peak of Tito—Titov Vrv. It was further over and up than I’d thought, yet the clouds that soon consumed us put a clear halt to any ambitions of making the ascent. We needed some lunch badly, so I got out the giant tub of pasta I’d made and dished it out. Fortunately for the dogs, a fourth friend didn’t join so I had extra noodles for them. They ate voraciously, as did we all. The serene sunshine having given way to whistling winds, however, forced me down into a crevice where the wind wasn’t so strong in order to eat without gloves on (which I’d in fact forgotten). But the cold air was rather unpleasant, so after a good sojourn and laugh over pasta and chocolate, we turned back to descend.

Despite no trail wearing on my feet, I enjoyed the descent—even using my backpack as a sled down the grassy mountainside—and we discovered the trail and a better way back for the next trip. We warmed up with tea where we'd earlier had espresso and watched the sun set. But given that we didn’t make the peak as planned, I intend to return once again sooner rather than later!

To see pictures from our hike, please see my Flickr slideshow at
http://www.flickr.com/photos/31046246@N07/sets/72157608107648246/