A rainy day, a car, some mountains.
We cross into Italy.
We cross back into Slovenia.
There are many things we shall not do.
Like burn down the forest.
But we will hike.
We can see a bit of our mountain.
We see very little of the others.
But there is surely nothing to fear in these hills.
Through the damp and ever more autumnal trees: a gorge?
It descends through a hollowed out tunnel.
It clatters out through cluttered terrain.
It drifts away into darkness.
Oh, but we follow, from above.
Through the steep, wet woods.
Occasionally with steel wire support.
We reach the water again.
The river widens.
Then widens some more.
We are very alone in these woods.
We are very pleased.
An unpleased salamander attempts to hide from us.
Two unpleased mushrooms project spikes at us.
And we continue on, winding with the water.
We reach a mysterious structure in the mountain.
A mysterious cave.
What dangers lurk?
Oh, it’s a World War I fort.
The river is now far beneath us.
But not for long.
A cabin in the woods.
A cow in the woods.
A wi-fi in the woods.
A pizza in the woods.
And, on the right, our hotel in Bovec.
It is new, and damp from the rain. We sleep in new, wet Kozjak.
Unfortunately, we already missed the felting fest.