On my trip to Auschwitz, I met up and spent the day with a traveller from New 
Zealand - Julie.  We click pretty well, have typical backpacker conversations 
about places we've been to and are going to, and talk about potentially heading 
to India together.  For dinner, she takes me to a great vegetarian restaurant in 
Krakow.  Over dinner conversation, she tells me about her recent hiking 
adventure in the Low Tatra Mountains.

Zakopane (pronounced Zah-koe-pah-neh), the entry town into the Polish Tatras, 
was on my original itinerary, but I originally believed that I would be passing 
through it on a train while admiring the scenery.  Of course, as you know, I 
took a night train and missed everything completely.  Julie starts rustling up 
my mountaineering spirit with her vivid descriptions of her expedition.  My trip 
thus far has included only beaches and small towns, and I have been itching to 
do something adventurous.

I look over my itinerary, realize that I could spare the time, and on impulse 
make the decision to hike into the Tatras.  It's past 8pm and I'm not prepared.  
Julie hands me her bus schedules and potential accommodations, and 40 minutes 
later I find myself sitting on a bus to Zakopane.

The craziest adventures seem to be the ones that happen at the spur of the 
moment.

The bus ride is really cheap - $2 Cdn. for the two hour trip over.  I arrive 
pretty late at night.  The air is much colder, and combined with the appearance 
of the buildings, I can tell I'm in a mountain resort town.  Pretty exciting, 
right?

Well, it's dark, it's late, I'm alone, and I have no accommodations. According 
to Julie, upon arrival in Zakopane, I should be hounded by people asking me to 
stay in their houses like in Croatia, but it's too late and no one's around.  
For some reason, I'm not really worried though.  It's starting to rain also.  
Wait ... I look at my jacket and realize it's not rain but ice pellets.  Now I'm 
excited.

I pull out my papers (I don't have a map either!), and sort through the list of 
potential accommodations in the dimly lit street.  Suddenly out of nowhere, a 
voice calls out to me.  I see an older gentleman smoking a cigarette, and he 
signals me to follow him.  He leads me through a gate and to his hotel.  Using 
my magic combination of basic Polish, sign language, and a calculator, we work 
out the duration of my stay and the cost.  

The cost is surreal - $5 Cdn. for a night.  You know, when I first wrote about 
living on $10 a day, I was joking, but if there's anywhere I can accomplish this 
feat without comprising my personal hygiene, it's here.

The room is pretty basic - two beds, a closet, and a sink.  Showers are shared.  
It's an old room, but it's better than any hostel because I have my own space.  
I immediately spread out my belongings on one bed and crash on another.

I wake up early feeling well-rested, noting the quietness throughout the night.  
There must be 100 rooms in this hotel, but I know I'm the only guest.  I'm so 
confident of this that I walk to and from the showers with only a towel - on my 
shoulder.  

It's a beautiful morning.  The ice pellets have converted to light snow and 
there's a lovely white blanket covering Zakopane.  I eagerly head out into the 
lively town.

After asking around for directions, I make my way to the local bus terminal.  I 
purchase a park map and hop on the bus to Tatras National Park.  Aside from a 
few locals hopping on an off early on the bus ride, I'm the only one on the bus.  
I know it's off season.  

Arriving at the park entrance, I walk over to a small shack to stock up on some 
food and have breakfast.  Deciphering the Polish menu, I order kolbasice, pretty 
much the sausage, bread, and mustard fast food combination you get anywhere in 
Eastern Europe.  Note that for the real Eastern European experience, the slice 
of bread is always eaten separately on the side, and not in the sausage-and-bun 
combination most of us are used to.  Out here the shack's only cooking appliance 
is a microwave, so breakfast is unsettling, to say the least.  

After paying the 50 cent fee to enter the park, I begin the 25km hike to Morskie 
Oko, a glacial lake nestled in the Low Tatras.

The hike is mostly simple, following a service road, with some marked shortcuts 
(which I confirmed on my map).  I pass tall trees, waterfalls, and of course, 
the mountains, which are partially concealed by a low cloud covering due to the 
snowfall.  The snow is nice to start.  It snows a little.  Then a lot.

At this point, I really have to praise my gear.  Again, my fleece sweater and 
snowboarding jacket make me invincible to the weather.  Combined with the hood 
and my sport goggles, I forge ahead without a problem.

By the time I reach the chalet at Morskie Oko, the snow has accumulated to a few 
inches.  Morskie Oko is nice, but with the immense cloud covering, I kind of 
feel robbed of a fantastic view.

Nevertheless, I think to myself that if I've made it this far to the lake, I 
have to make the hike around it.  This part of the hike is significantly more 
difficult.  The trail isn't a beaten dirt path.  Much of it is composed of a 
series of large rocks and boulders.  Since no one has hiked this trail yet, the 
snow covering conceals the crevices between the boulders.  A hiking stick or ski 
poles would have been invaluable.  

The path is really slippery too.  I have to say the most useful (and oddest) 
skill I put in practice today is the equilibrium I've gained from doing rail 
slides (aka grinds) on my inline skates.  My feet slip and slide out dozens of 
times over the course of the day, but I manage to counter my body and feet 
position to maintain my balance.  

Part way through the hike, the sky opens up, and I'm finally rewarded with 
incredible views of the mountain peaks.  I immediately pull out my camera and 
take a number of (hopefully) beautiful photographs.  

Halfway around, I encounter a waterfall and get the urge to climb it for some 
better views.  Note that this wasn't some kind of daredevil stunt, although it 
would have been better if someone else was around.  I am an experienced climber, 
and drop my backpack at the base, stretch my arms, and study the route before I 
ascend.  

Climbing beside a waterfall is pretty tough.  Snow covered moss is very 
slippery.  Needless to say, I do slip out a few times.  My camera is yelling at 
me, because not only does it take a physical beating each time I slip, it's 
getting pretty wet from the snowfall.  Thank goodness it's an older camera that 
can handle the abuse.  

The hike is invigorating, and I'm tempted to follow other hikers deeper into the 
mountains to see what else the Tatras have to offer.  Eventually, I make my way 
around the lake and hike back to where I started.  The snow picks ups again and 
easily adds another few inches.

Seven hours later from when I started, I'm back at the park entrance. I look at 
my pants - they're wet half way up the shins.  My shoes are completely soaked, 
because I slid into pools of icy water during my hike and climb.  I hop into the 
express bus breathless and pretty tired.  Back in Zakopane, I fill up on a 
traditional cottage cheese perogie plate.  It's pretty plain - I think the Poles 
don't like sauce, but given my hunger factor, it hits the spot.

The day is not to end here though.  Back in Krakow, I drop my bags off at the 
train station and head over to the base of Wawel Castle to see an outdoor 
photography exhibition.  It's an amazing and inspiring display of aerial 
photography from all over the world.  Unfortunately, I wrote down the 
photographer's website and lost it, but I'll try hard to recover it.

So, to end the day, I grab a filling Turkish kebab before hopping on a crowded 
night train to Prague, a city I've been longing to visit since my last trip 
through Europe.

Next: Prague - Bohemia for Tourists