It’s only about the Belgian Ardennes, not the French, Luxembourg or German ones – I haven’t been there yet, at least. And by “battle” we must understand the fact that whenever I go, I am waging a shameful war with my own psyche, formed over 35 years in Retezat, Fegerash, Keliman, Krai, Parang, Buchegi, Leaoti or Rodney.

Where everything is simple. You climb until you reach a ridge trail, always marked with red tape, you follow it until it starts to descend into a valley (which you do), you reach water – usually a river – and from there you return to civilization by train or car. On the trail, you camp wherever you can, usually near a spring or glacial lake, so you have something to cook your evening soup with. You pack your tent in the morning and walk all day with a heavy pack on your back, praying it won’t rain; when cornered by sheepdogs, stay still and call baci to call them back. Sorting through juniper trees, you always come across bear dung and take pictures of them so that the girls at home can see what dangers you face. It used to be that in the evening you would find a place with firewood; joy, fabulous night!

In all these years, I never guessed that the Romanian mountain is a public property. Anyone can go on the ridge route. You don’t need anyone’s permission, it’s all about good legs and young lungs. The Ardennes shattered all the stereotypes I took for granted: the Ardennes is private property. Wherever you go, you are on someone’s territory. He is the master of gives you permission take the route organized by the local authorities. But he does not allow you to step outside of him, you yourself take him through the forest or meadow; No! Passage is prohibited. Access is denied. As a “highlander” you are tolerated, but that’s all. Because it’s obvious (it’s only “obvious” to me that it’s not obvious at all!) on every route in the Belgian Ardennes there are at least three restaurants: one at the entrance to the route, one along the way and the rest (maybe more than one) at the exit of the route, i.e. there , where the track connects to the highway. It is assumed that you are not only a traveler, but also a consumer, so the owner of the territory and the entrepreneur who runs the restaurant are, at first glance, business partners. About “You take me for a walk, I’ll get you drunk.”

Although I have many stories from the Ardennes, I will limit myself to one from this summer; I couldn’t get to Romania, to my mountains, so I stayed with my wife somewhere near Malmedi, and my daughter and I boldly set off on the route, towards the Bayonne Cascade, the main attraction of the “Malmedi 1” route, marked by a red rectangle with deer (Belgians are very good at marketing, needless to say). I walked from summer day to evening, that is, for an hour or so, and reached the waterfall. Which was dry. It didn’t look at all like the pictures in the flyers (you can find them on the net, it’s garbage); a barely noticeable trickle of water managed to moisten the moss that had grown on the stone of the former waterfall, and that was it. However, there was a pool of brown water below at the foot of the “waterfall”. We took off our shoes, cooled our feet and returned. Read the whole article and comment on Contributors.ro