Κουσλάρ(Στάμνα-Λεπίδα-Gorna Arda-Στάμνα) Ροδόπη
Trail photos
Author
Trail stats
- Distance
- 26.23 mi
- Elevation gain
- 4,186 ft
- Technical difficulty
- Moderate
- Elevation loss
- 4,209 ft
- Max elevation
- 5,385 ft
- TrailRank
- 32
- Min elevation
- 3,472 ft
- Trail type
- Loop
- Coordinates
- 6519
- Uploaded
- June 21, 2010
- Recorded
- June 2010
near Aligovska Mahala, Област Смолян (България)
Viewed 6984 times, downloaded 62 times
Trail photos
Itinerary description
|
Walking in the paths of smugglers ...
June 18, Friday morning of the Savior of the year 2010… unannounced.
40 degrees Celsius 4 days ago had as a result (due to the air conditioner) to run the pipettes of my nose reminiscent of EYATH pipes.
-Take a Nurofen (colored shit pill) every night and the leak will stop with a knife, mupe my wife following the
instructions of the neighbor, whose bride is studying veterinarian.
Or acting like a seal in a car refrigerator hole (I thought)
-Be careful only brings drowsiness… mupe affectionately…
I got up very fresh at 3:00 in the morning having lay down at 1:00 in the morning. Gamofokia did not let me close my eyes. The leak in the nose, however, stopped with a knife…
Last check on the backpack, because the last time I forgot the tent poles it turned out that only Rambo and Black can set up a tent with tree branches.
Identity, sleeping bag, gas stove, Aces, cameras, batteries, etc, etc, and ID again.
Lifting on the scales without a saddle… 75 kg, damn my diet, I am 2 kg over.
Climbing on the scales again, saddled… 91 kg !!!
Titanium cutlery turns out to be a waste of money.
(I'm thinking of starting to eat the bass sandwiches and lighten up a bit).
I go down to the gas station to wait for Spyros-I-am-never-late-in-my-appointments-you-are-coming-early at 4:00 am as agreed…
The asshole is English as always,… arrived with his Pleiades at 4:50 am.
We head to the meeting place of the others and find Thanasis, - the man who when he has to choose between 2 roads, will choose to lead you upside down to a one-way street, even when he sees that
There is a patrol car at the beginning of the one-way street with angry cops inside who rub their palms waiting for victims like us - and his son George, -re-father-do-not-spas-the-heads', as a Greek Highlander, with the long of the ear to caress his asshole.
Soon my namesake Antonakis arrives, a geologist who studied in the mythical Sofia of Zifkov. We will need his translation talent during the invasion of Galatia in Galatia, Bulgaria.
And as soon as we say to sell Panagiotis and make it, the atheist appears, meeting and waving.
Match-muts, let's go άνια
Egnatia road-bridge Strymona-Drama-Paranesti… .Here we load Kyriakos- the teacher who in front of every greatness of nature we meet in our various excursions, the only word he uses from his rich vocabulary is limited to the word MAGIA (Woe to the students who teaches) - and we start for the starting point.
The Stamna Forest Construction Site (a miserable complex of wooden buildings) famous for its fox, which of course we gave it fame, will be the parking lot for the Forester of Spyros. The foresters who leave the area at 10 am on Friday in the direction of culture (say in Drama) assure us that the car will be safe, because the Bulgarian mantras know that the 2 liter jeeps have a low resale price due to the financial crisis; Spyros sighs deeply, looks with a tearful look at the sheets that carry us on the various excursions, and is forced to follow us in the adventure that begins…
Or the truth is that the adventure started 3 km ago, when we were forced to leave Antonakis 'Astra due to a bat and a savage forester tried to throw a black pine in Spyros' car. Cariolis did not succeed and I wish him better to return στην
We have 20 fucking kilometers ahead of us, through a fucking beautiful forest full of beeches, lindens, birches, colostrum (the relationship with this tree is known, it is only good for Christmas accessories, something like Santa Claus) and other trees as the old in Vertisco. … MAGIC is constantly swollen by the public official…
The cherries that we find scattered in the forest road are remnants of the wild people who lived here in the past and whose traces of their settlements can be seen in the dense vegetation.
We walk in dense fog in a Scotland-like environment, leaving behind ruined land. Blackberries, cherries, wild pears and helmets are ruthlessly attacked by our team, which leads to a certain famine in the fauna of the area. As a reward for what Mother Rodopi provides us, we reluctantly rejoice in our journey, leaving that precious
they have our souls in the land deserted by our passage.
The Huns are blind.
New problem ahead of us. The road is impenetrable by the freshest cow dung. A sheepfold that envied the glory of the SEO, occupies both sides of the road and the candidate beef steaks turn the dirt road into a fertile land of promise. The shepherd who appears runaway and surprised - we probably interrupted his sexual affairs with the "scallops" -, makes ace of the Aces (I stayed with 9 packages, will they arrive for PSK?) And declares that he is Albanian. Another lucrative and enviable job was lost to our children.
Exactly at 3:00 pm as Sakis had promised us in the weather report, the skies open and we become a vagina. Contrary to what our fathers have nurtured us for so many years, we camp under the thick and tall linden foliage to find protection from the deadly rain and indifferent to the lightning and thunder that rumors bring down to the tall trees.
The fuckenflat only protects us for half an hour and a new danger is approaching. Drowsiness. The shit pill after 12 hours shows his teeth. I force my eyes open and to my surprise I realize that all the pussies around me must have consumed a lot of shit. Everyone yawns like crows.
We quickly decide to go out in the rain because the protection of the πούkaput linden tree ".
Soaked to the bone we continue in the rain - you idiot Saki, you said that the rains will be local and short, and you sent us to Noah's flood - for the next 2 hours.
Cow moans - the wildest animal in the area we have encountered, after the giant snails that abound in these places - warn us that we are reaching civilization. The well-known kalyvotsantiri of Greek breeders welcomes us to the area of the 1st camp. A green meadow that crosses a small river with color and its texture is reminiscent of a waste pipe, -we assume due to rain-, will be the object of worship for our camcorders and cameras.
We set up the tents in the rain - indifferent to the proper ways of setting up the tents that we had thoroughly discussed in the various meetings that preceded the mission and were summarized hereafter "we all help set up each tent to minimize getting into a bathtub tent" .
The defendant is interested in setting up the stage that will host him and in his chin what his companions will do next.
The plan works for everyone, proving the greatness of the theory of disorder.
Only the geologist-translator I want-To-sleep-Alone-And-And-I-carry-And-My-Pillow-Trouble who has alone carries a 5 kg tent capable of housing a circus, but only hosts himself . He no longer tolerates next to him, nor himself. I help him by cursing inside me, but I think we need the old communist in Bulgaria.
Shortly before we dry up in the afternoon sound we learn - because the scenes have thin walls - various personal situations of our fellow climbers. The gold-plated membranes of Athanasios and Son proved to be tulle and silk ribbons.
Panagiotis' boxer shorts were tucked in his lap, tangled with the existing hairs - eeeee you go to the mountain without halava find Yeti of the Himalayas - and there is no volunteer to untangle it. His roommate Kyriakos, declares himself a volunteer for the project by chanting MAGIC, but the mustache but Ocalan who decorates his upper lip is not sure that he is the ferez of the puss and terrorizes Panagiotis who declares that he will operate alone with the bayonet of traditionally carries with him.
Spyros -I have-all-the-pharmaceutical-medical-preparations-that-I-will-need-in-the-mountain-, curses his black fortune, which he forgot to take talc, to powder the ravine that separates his ass cheeks become due to rain like a monkey ass.
I try to sleep but hey, it became impossible, because I am terrified of losing my limbs. I have no legs… there are only soles at the end of the sleeping bag that scream in pain like the Greek patriots in the hands of George Moutsios…
At 8:00 pm we are dragged with promises and threats off stage to participate in the established snack in the Galatian village. The rain has given way to a warm and clear night
–Shamouri Sakis, you fell in again-.
The Tsipiripo of the company, Hesse-Me-Re-Patera, has lit a majestic fire - the fire brigade would characterize it as a fire - and we are making valiant efforts to consume as much as possible.
sausages-steaks-sausages-pasturma -sausages-village salad-sausages-sausages we can, in order to reduce the weight from our back tomorrow. In other words, we transfer the weight we carry on our shoulders, to our stomach for better weight distribution and more uphill torque.
Sea bream with anise and without, sea bream aged indefinitely, French wines (courtesy and transfer of the French-raised Athanasios), Spyros vinegar, are consumed in dt time, with the result that the discussion ignites and revolves around everything.
Politics, economy, society, poverty, climate, environment and of course puss talk. The last one I confess that it occupies 8/10 of the night and I leave you wondering who maintains it…
Χσσ, χρρ, ζζζζ… Goodnight John Boy
Due to the warning of Magia (which seems to be a group of Sakis' loser) that storms are forecast for Saturday at 3:00 pm, we decide to start early as soon as it gets dark. You will fall from the clouds if you find out how upset my companions were, when at 5 in the morning I turned on the iphone (-put Steve, more volume in the ass) and blew the alarm, learning that the sun rises at such a barbaric time.
We have a Continental breakfast (coffee and cigarettes for me-the rest of us are trachanas) and I take the road-I leave we start for the most difficult part of the mission. To find borders - to enter Bulgaria - not to be found by the Bulgarian border guards - and to find Bulgarians -.
We did it 50%… in the last 2 we failed… Let's see what my other pills will do with the idiots they took, not the shit, the other blues… wow resiles…
In this unknown field, which you have never climbed before, where there was no information from anywhere, the greatness of the systematic and painstaking effort I made to organize the route was evident. Google, GPS, political maps, military maps and secrets (that is, penis secrets) helped a lot to get lost IMMEDIATELY as soon as we crossed the border. Good luck to the comrades-in-arms of the once mighty Bulgarian Cuckoo who created on their own side of the border a maze of paths, which led us deep into the heart of the enemy (and when we say deep we mean deep, at least 4 kilometers instead 3, 2km is ok, wrap them to leave).
Shortly before we started to squirm from fatigue (Antonaki say flour), suffering, and grumbling, we met a tall, straight and rosy-cheeked Bulgarian on horseback, who, interrogated by the interrogator-translator of the team, confessed to we were illegal and indeed we were the first illegal immigrants to invade Bulgaria from Greece, after the outbreak of the Crisis.
Following his instructions we headed to the valley of Gorna Arda, from where the springs of the river Arda, known to those who had no plugs and served in the tourist area of the triangle of Evros.
The area is reminiscent of the country of the Hobbits. Green meadows, wooded slopes, small villages, settlements drowned in green, crystal clear rivers. No relation as you understand with the corresponding Greek part of Kuslar.
Trying to go unnoticed through the main streets of the settlements proves to be great bullshit. Residents have taken to the streets and marveled at the spectacle offered by our herd. Some old men are crucified (I do not know what the corresponding verb is said for Muslims, because it is about Pomaks, Blondes, Galanomatides) and believe that the capitalist Greeks invaded their country.
Our nobles inform us that what we did is rather illegal and warn us that we will probably get involved with the outpost guard that is on the way to the border.
My prostitute, I saw on the map a place marked as BF, but I can imagine that it means Bulgarian Outpost and includes a Bulgarian Guard.
An old man, probably the village elder, was asking exactly how many of us there were, if others were following, and where we crossed the border. Fortunately, the translator has a conviction and a smile that killed a virgin girl to lift her legs on his shoulders, he manages to convince him that we are a peaceful race of 7 people who do not want to enter Bulgaria, but to leave it.
With this information from the locals, we move between parked vehicles of new technology - trampant, 4x4 with atmosphere from Scarface Cuba, carts and horses, minarets, enchanting lakes, women licking with forks, - and we head to an area where there is a barbecue ( tavern) according to their statement.
The rest of us stay away from the tavern and send the most consumable for negotiations with the tavern owner, for the supply of iced beers.
Returning from the negotiation, the translator announces the unpleasant ones. The shop has only 3 beers, the tavern owner invites us to his house to take our bath (have you seen the Hostel ???) and the outpost is 300 meters away, located in the middle of the distance from the Greek lands…
We decide to camp next to the tavern owner's private river, while the discord has nestled in our otherwise solid team.
5 out of 7 state that we must return to Greek territory immediately, clearly remembering
the Brave of the North and the attack of Lakis Komninos "Dancing Dog" πάντα I have always liked Lakis Komninos and I will not object to becoming his dog… Besides, in all the prison movies I saw I noticed that the dogs are having a good time…. …
We set the table again in Galatiko Chorio, after previously heading to the river to wash, comb, groom and remind the various Bulgarians who watch from our street that we are descendants of Leonidas and the 300…
We fall asleep and in our dreams come scenes from minefields, chases by border guards, processions of handcuffed climbers on the main road of Sofia… brrr
At 2 in the morning the skies opened and it started to rain profusely and as in Forest Gamb it stopped after 2 months… that's why the area here is green.
We gather the tents under torrential rain-hail and with 4500 lightning bolts falling over our heads from the 5000 that the old-timer Sakis stated that they will fall all over Greece.
Protected behind the dense curtain created by the rain and betting on the fact that the Bulgarian intentions are not stupid, to sit in the rain and somewhere to loaf, we decide to go behind the outpost.
The meadow we cross provides no cover. However, it provides high grass up to the testicles, with the consequence that the pants become vetex-the socks, pipettes and our very expensive shoes, bathtubs…
We enter the forest cover and the gps show a distance of 200 meters from the safety of the Greek territory.
Moving in a forest with ferns, orgiastic vegetation and torrential rain, we hear the teacher uttering his war cry MAGIC… the hoe reached the border…
We pose fried in every column of the border line that we find heading to the saddle from where the forest road to Greek territory begins.
A small group of the wisest decides to cut through Greek territory and head to the safety of the forest dirt road.
The other 2 - one happens to be the co-star of my scene and my boss -, that is, Spyros and I, for dinner, head to the col where there is a bar to get points and photos.
We descend to the bar having between us the ditch that separates the 2
countries, when we realize that a guy is coming towards us from the saddle, gesturing, shouting and most importantly wearing a suit… not mountaineering of course.
Moving faster and out of the light, I jump over the ditch and teleport to Mr Spock, Greece.
And because the guy looks fierce and probably does not welcome us, we decide to do it deep in Greek territory…
We find our 5 Wise Companions and with the confidence provided by the camera zoom we immortalize our pursuers, say goodbye to them and make an appointment for another time…
The Magic continues to destroy the fauna of the area by collecting in one bag all the snails of the area - the size of the fucking snails are reminiscent of the bird of John Holmes–
We continue to Stamna under torrential rain. The all-day prayers of Spyros were heard. The Forester is still waiting for us there, proving the low resale price it has for the Bulgarian smugglers ster
We get in the cars and take the road that leads to the established food and drink at the end of each mission-excursion, under torrential rain β
It must still be raining there…
MAGIC !!! (we will tie you to the tree barde)
June 18, Friday morning of the Savior of the year 2010… unannounced.
40 degrees Celsius 4 days ago had as a result (due to the air conditioner) to run the pipettes of my nose reminiscent of EYATH pipes.
-Take a Nurofen (colored shit pill) every night and the leak will stop with a knife, mupe my wife following the
instructions of the neighbor, whose bride is studying veterinarian.
Or acting like a seal in a car refrigerator hole (I thought)
-Be careful only brings drowsiness… mupe affectionately…
I got up very fresh at 3:00 in the morning having lay down at 1:00 in the morning. Gamofokia did not let me close my eyes. The leak in the nose, however, stopped with a knife…
Last check on the backpack, because the last time I forgot the tent poles it turned out that only Rambo and Black can set up a tent with tree branches.
Identity, sleeping bag, gas stove, Aces, cameras, batteries, etc, etc, and ID again.
Lifting on the scales without a saddle… 75 kg, damn my diet, I am 2 kg over.
Climbing on the scales again, saddled… 91 kg !!!
Titanium cutlery turns out to be a waste of money.
(I'm thinking of starting to eat the bass sandwiches and lighten up a bit).
I go down to the gas station to wait for Spyros-I-am-never-late-in-my-appointments-you-are-coming-early at 4:00 am as agreed…
The asshole is English as always,… arrived with his Pleiades at 4:50 am.
We head to the meeting place of the others and find Thanasis, - the man who when he has to choose between 2 roads, will choose to lead you upside down to a one-way street, even when he sees that
There is a patrol car at the beginning of the one-way street with angry cops inside who rub their palms waiting for victims like us - and his son George, -re-father-do-not-spas-the-heads', as a Greek Highlander, with the long of the ear to caress his asshole.
Soon my namesake Antonakis arrives, a geologist who studied in the mythical Sofia of Zifkov. We will need his translation talent during the invasion of Galatia in Galatia, Bulgaria.
And as soon as we say to sell Panagiotis and make it, the atheist appears, meeting and waving.
Match-muts, let's go άνια
Egnatia road-bridge Strymona-Drama-Paranesti… .Here we load Kyriakos- the teacher who in front of every greatness of nature we meet in our various excursions, the only word he uses from his rich vocabulary is limited to the word MAGIA (Woe to the students who teaches) - and we start for the starting point.
The Stamna Forest Construction Site (a miserable complex of wooden buildings) famous for its fox, which of course we gave it fame, will be the parking lot for the Forester of Spyros. The foresters who leave the area at 10 am on Friday in the direction of culture (say in Drama) assure us that the car will be safe, because the Bulgarian mantras know that the 2 liter jeeps have a low resale price due to the financial crisis; Spyros sighs deeply, looks with a tearful look at the sheets that carry us on the various excursions, and is forced to follow us in the adventure that begins…
Or the truth is that the adventure started 3 km ago, when we were forced to leave Antonakis 'Astra due to a bat and a savage forester tried to throw a black pine in Spyros' car. Cariolis did not succeed and I wish him better to return στην
We have 20 fucking kilometers ahead of us, through a fucking beautiful forest full of beeches, lindens, birches, colostrum (the relationship with this tree is known, it is only good for Christmas accessories, something like Santa Claus) and other trees as the old in Vertisco. … MAGIC is constantly swollen by the public official…
The cherries that we find scattered in the forest road are remnants of the wild people who lived here in the past and whose traces of their settlements can be seen in the dense vegetation.
We walk in dense fog in a Scotland-like environment, leaving behind ruined land. Blackberries, cherries, wild pears and helmets are ruthlessly attacked by our team, which leads to a certain famine in the fauna of the area. As a reward for what Mother Rodopi provides us, we reluctantly rejoice in our journey, leaving that precious
they have our souls in the land deserted by our passage.
The Huns are blind.
New problem ahead of us. The road is impenetrable by the freshest cow dung. A sheepfold that envied the glory of the SEO, occupies both sides of the road and the candidate beef steaks turn the dirt road into a fertile land of promise. The shepherd who appears runaway and surprised - we probably interrupted his sexual affairs with the "scallops" -, makes ace of the Aces (I stayed with 9 packages, will they arrive for PSK?) And declares that he is Albanian. Another lucrative and enviable job was lost to our children.
Exactly at 3:00 pm as Sakis had promised us in the weather report, the skies open and we become a vagina. Contrary to what our fathers have nurtured us for so many years, we camp under the thick and tall linden foliage to find protection from the deadly rain and indifferent to the lightning and thunder that rumors bring down to the tall trees.
The fuckenflat only protects us for half an hour and a new danger is approaching. Drowsiness. The shit pill after 12 hours shows his teeth. I force my eyes open and to my surprise I realize that all the pussies around me must have consumed a lot of shit. Everyone yawns like crows.
We quickly decide to go out in the rain because the protection of the πούkaput linden tree ".
Soaked to the bone we continue in the rain - you idiot Saki, you said that the rains will be local and short, and you sent us to Noah's flood - for the next 2 hours.
Cow moans - the wildest animal in the area we have encountered, after the giant snails that abound in these places - warn us that we are reaching civilization. The well-known kalyvotsantiri of Greek breeders welcomes us to the area of the 1st camp. A green meadow that crosses a small river with color and its texture is reminiscent of a waste pipe, -we assume due to rain-, will be the object of worship for our camcorders and cameras.
We set up the tents in the rain - indifferent to the proper ways of setting up the tents that we had thoroughly discussed in the various meetings that preceded the mission and were summarized hereafter "we all help set up each tent to minimize getting into a bathtub tent" .
The defendant is interested in setting up the stage that will host him and in his chin what his companions will do next.
The plan works for everyone, proving the greatness of the theory of disorder.
Only the geologist-translator I want-To-sleep-Alone-And-And-I-carry-And-My-Pillow-Trouble who has alone carries a 5 kg tent capable of housing a circus, but only hosts himself . He no longer tolerates next to him, nor himself. I help him by cursing inside me, but I think we need the old communist in Bulgaria.
Shortly before we dry up in the afternoon sound we learn - because the scenes have thin walls - various personal situations of our fellow climbers. The gold-plated membranes of Athanasios and Son proved to be tulle and silk ribbons.
Panagiotis' boxer shorts were tucked in his lap, tangled with the existing hairs - eeeee you go to the mountain without halava find Yeti of the Himalayas - and there is no volunteer to untangle it. His roommate Kyriakos, declares himself a volunteer for the project by chanting MAGIC, but the mustache but Ocalan who decorates his upper lip is not sure that he is the ferez of the puss and terrorizes Panagiotis who declares that he will operate alone with the bayonet of traditionally carries with him.
Spyros -I have-all-the-pharmaceutical-medical-preparations-that-I-will-need-in-the-mountain-, curses his black fortune, which he forgot to take talc, to powder the ravine that separates his ass cheeks become due to rain like a monkey ass.
I try to sleep but hey, it became impossible, because I am terrified of losing my limbs. I have no legs… there are only soles at the end of the sleeping bag that scream in pain like the Greek patriots in the hands of George Moutsios…
At 8:00 pm we are dragged with promises and threats off stage to participate in the established snack in the Galatian village. The rain has given way to a warm and clear night
–Shamouri Sakis, you fell in again-.
The Tsipiripo of the company, Hesse-Me-Re-Patera, has lit a majestic fire - the fire brigade would characterize it as a fire - and we are making valiant efforts to consume as much as possible.
sausages-steaks-sausages-pasturma -sausages-village salad-sausages-sausages we can, in order to reduce the weight from our back tomorrow. In other words, we transfer the weight we carry on our shoulders, to our stomach for better weight distribution and more uphill torque.
Sea bream with anise and without, sea bream aged indefinitely, French wines (courtesy and transfer of the French-raised Athanasios), Spyros vinegar, are consumed in dt time, with the result that the discussion ignites and revolves around everything.
Politics, economy, society, poverty, climate, environment and of course puss talk. The last one I confess that it occupies 8/10 of the night and I leave you wondering who maintains it…
Χσσ, χρρ, ζζζζ… Goodnight John Boy
Due to the warning of Magia (which seems to be a group of Sakis' loser) that storms are forecast for Saturday at 3:00 pm, we decide to start early as soon as it gets dark. You will fall from the clouds if you find out how upset my companions were, when at 5 in the morning I turned on the iphone (-put Steve, more volume in the ass) and blew the alarm, learning that the sun rises at such a barbaric time.
We have a Continental breakfast (coffee and cigarettes for me-the rest of us are trachanas) and I take the road-I leave we start for the most difficult part of the mission. To find borders - to enter Bulgaria - not to be found by the Bulgarian border guards - and to find Bulgarians -.
We did it 50%… in the last 2 we failed… Let's see what my other pills will do with the idiots they took, not the shit, the other blues… wow resiles…
In this unknown field, which you have never climbed before, where there was no information from anywhere, the greatness of the systematic and painstaking effort I made to organize the route was evident. Google, GPS, political maps, military maps and secrets (that is, penis secrets) helped a lot to get lost IMMEDIATELY as soon as we crossed the border. Good luck to the comrades-in-arms of the once mighty Bulgarian Cuckoo who created on their own side of the border a maze of paths, which led us deep into the heart of the enemy (and when we say deep we mean deep, at least 4 kilometers instead 3, 2km is ok, wrap them to leave).
Shortly before we started to squirm from fatigue (Antonaki say flour), suffering, and grumbling, we met a tall, straight and rosy-cheeked Bulgarian on horseback, who, interrogated by the interrogator-translator of the team, confessed to we were illegal and indeed we were the first illegal immigrants to invade Bulgaria from Greece, after the outbreak of the Crisis.
Following his instructions we headed to the valley of Gorna Arda, from where the springs of the river Arda, known to those who had no plugs and served in the tourist area of the triangle of Evros.
The area is reminiscent of the country of the Hobbits. Green meadows, wooded slopes, small villages, settlements drowned in green, crystal clear rivers. No relation as you understand with the corresponding Greek part of Kuslar.
Trying to go unnoticed through the main streets of the settlements proves to be great bullshit. Residents have taken to the streets and marveled at the spectacle offered by our herd. Some old men are crucified (I do not know what the corresponding verb is said for Muslims, because it is about Pomaks, Blondes, Galanomatides) and believe that the capitalist Greeks invaded their country.
Our nobles inform us that what we did is rather illegal and warn us that we will probably get involved with the outpost guard that is on the way to the border.
My prostitute, I saw on the map a place marked as BF, but I can imagine that it means Bulgarian Outpost and includes a Bulgarian Guard.
An old man, probably the village elder, was asking exactly how many of us there were, if others were following, and where we crossed the border. Fortunately, the translator has a conviction and a smile that killed a virgin girl to lift her legs on his shoulders, he manages to convince him that we are a peaceful race of 7 people who do not want to enter Bulgaria, but to leave it.
With this information from the locals, we move between parked vehicles of new technology - trampant, 4x4 with atmosphere from Scarface Cuba, carts and horses, minarets, enchanting lakes, women licking with forks, - and we head to an area where there is a barbecue ( tavern) according to their statement.
The rest of us stay away from the tavern and send the most consumable for negotiations with the tavern owner, for the supply of iced beers.
Returning from the negotiation, the translator announces the unpleasant ones. The shop has only 3 beers, the tavern owner invites us to his house to take our bath (have you seen the Hostel ???) and the outpost is 300 meters away, located in the middle of the distance from the Greek lands…
We decide to camp next to the tavern owner's private river, while the discord has nestled in our otherwise solid team.
5 out of 7 state that we must return to Greek territory immediately, clearly remembering
the Brave of the North and the attack of Lakis Komninos "Dancing Dog" πάντα I have always liked Lakis Komninos and I will not object to becoming his dog… Besides, in all the prison movies I saw I noticed that the dogs are having a good time…. …
We set the table again in Galatiko Chorio, after previously heading to the river to wash, comb, groom and remind the various Bulgarians who watch from our street that we are descendants of Leonidas and the 300…
We fall asleep and in our dreams come scenes from minefields, chases by border guards, processions of handcuffed climbers on the main road of Sofia… brrr
At 2 in the morning the skies opened and it started to rain profusely and as in Forest Gamb it stopped after 2 months… that's why the area here is green.
We gather the tents under torrential rain-hail and with 4500 lightning bolts falling over our heads from the 5000 that the old-timer Sakis stated that they will fall all over Greece.
Protected behind the dense curtain created by the rain and betting on the fact that the Bulgarian intentions are not stupid, to sit in the rain and somewhere to loaf, we decide to go behind the outpost.
The meadow we cross provides no cover. However, it provides high grass up to the testicles, with the consequence that the pants become vetex-the socks, pipettes and our very expensive shoes, bathtubs…
We enter the forest cover and the gps show a distance of 200 meters from the safety of the Greek territory.
Moving in a forest with ferns, orgiastic vegetation and torrential rain, we hear the teacher uttering his war cry MAGIC… the hoe reached the border…
We pose fried in every column of the border line that we find heading to the saddle from where the forest road to Greek territory begins.
A small group of the wisest decides to cut through Greek territory and head to the safety of the forest dirt road.
The other 2 - one happens to be the co-star of my scene and my boss -, that is, Spyros and I, for dinner, head to the col where there is a bar to get points and photos.
We descend to the bar having between us the ditch that separates the 2
countries, when we realize that a guy is coming towards us from the saddle, gesturing, shouting and most importantly wearing a suit… not mountaineering of course.
Moving faster and out of the light, I jump over the ditch and teleport to Mr Spock, Greece.
And because the guy looks fierce and probably does not welcome us, we decide to do it deep in Greek territory…
We find our 5 Wise Companions and with the confidence provided by the camera zoom we immortalize our pursuers, say goodbye to them and make an appointment for another time…
The Magic continues to destroy the fauna of the area by collecting in one bag all the snails of the area - the size of the fucking snails are reminiscent of the bird of John Holmes–
We continue to Stamna under torrential rain. The all-day prayers of Spyros were heard. The Forester is still waiting for us there, proving the low resale price it has for the Bulgarian smugglers ster
We get in the cars and take the road that leads to the established food and drink at the end of each mission-excursion, under torrential rain β
It must still be raining there…
MAGIC !!! (we will tie you to the tree barde)
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Ομαλον
Ομαλον
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Μπαρουτίνακα
Μπαρουτίνακα
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Λεπιδα
Λεπιδα
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Στάμνα
Στάμνα
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Μικρή Στάμνα
Μικρή Στάμνα
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Στάμνα
Στάμνα
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Κιτρινοβούνι
Κιτρινοβούνι
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Κίτρινη δεξαμενή
Κίτρινη δεξαμενή
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Ρεματάκι
Ρεματάκι
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Τσουκάλι ρέμα
Τσουκάλι ρέμα
Fountain
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Καλύβια Λεπίδα
Καλύβια Λεπίδα
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Τρεις κορυφές
Τρεις κορυφές
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Λιβάδι
Λιβάδι
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Σφυρί
Σφυρί
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Τραπέζι
Τραπέζι
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Λοξάδα Ρέμα
Λοξάδα Ρέμα
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Νοβάτα Πλάνινα
Νοβάτα Πλάνινα
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Γκολέμοτο Μπέρντσε
Γκολέμοτο Μπέρντσε
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Ψήλωμα
Ψήλωμα
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Παράκαμψη Ψηλώματος
Παράκαμψη Ψηλώματος
Risk
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Βουλγ. Φυλακ
Βουλγ. Φυλακ
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Χωρίς τίτλο Σήμανση μέρους
Χωρίς τίτλο Σήμανση μέρους
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