The weather was still bad. I could hear the windows of the hut rattling in their frames and the rain was drumming out a tinny tattoo on the metal roof. I dragged my slightly aching body out of bed and descended to the huts common room. I asked our host what the weather was looking like for the day. She stated that it should get better in the afternoon as she poured me a mug of coffee.

Not wanting to brave the mountain ridge in the tempest raging outside I decided breakfast may be in order. I asked for a recommendation and was told to get an omelette breakfast. This omelette was purported to be world famous. Having never heard of it I decided to give it a shot. Lo and behold! It was the best omelette I have ever eaten. People should make pilgrimages to Cabana Suru just to taste one of these omelettes.

I spent some time reading one of the many books in the common room (Peter Pan, the only book in English) and listened to mother nature begin her retreat. Eventually everything seemed calm enough to venture out into the mountains. I settled my bill, which came to just over $20 for everything, and began the 3km climb back to the top of the ridge. By the time I had reached the top it was back to raining. The wind was slowly picking up and pushing the fog from down in the valley up to the ridge. Soon I was shrouded in fog, wind and rain. Head down I pushed my way forward through the weather following the well worn, well marked trail.

The well worn trail.

The trail.

A trail.

A Grass and Rock filled hillside.

Fuck.

I was lost.

I usually have a good sense of direction, at least as far as being in the woods goes, but I lost concentration for a moment, a few moments to be fair, and was now terrifyingly lost.

In a storm. In the mountains. In Romania.

I sat down on the wettest rock on the mountain. Pulled out my map and compass. Laughed like a maniac and put them back in my bag. Only 20 ft of visibility due to the fog. No use for a map here. And without taking any readings prior to being lost, and lacking the navigational acumen of Meriwether Lewis, I had little use for the compass. Then I remembered! my GPS beacon!

I had the GPS along with me in case I fell off a cliff or was partially mauled by a bear. A small button was located on the side. a press of that and a Romanian mountain rescue team would swoop down on my position and rescue me. But the button wasn’t what I was after. The GPS was also loaded with a map and a route. I could use the device to navigate blind and get back to the path! This I did. After some scrambling over rough terrain and skirting mighty close to some cliffs I was back on track and we’ll on my way.

Eventually I hit the first major sumit of the hike Varful Suru 2283 m high and shrouded in fog. I’m sure in clear weather it would have offered beautiful views. But at the moment it only offered beautiful views of the inside of a cloud.

I continued on using my GPS to guide me toward the next stopping point. Tonight I would stay at Refugiu Scara. Not as nice as a Cabana but much nicer than a tent. Or so I thought.

The weather had been getting progressively worse since I had set off. I finally spotted the Refugiu through the horizontal rain and made my way toward it. I pounded on the door and was admitted entrance by another group of Czechs. And was I ever disappointed by the shelter. A section of the roof was missing. So inside was foggy, rainy, and windy. Two tents were set up inside the shelter and two of the bunks had been converted to storm shelters using other tents. “HA! HA! Welcome! You have made it Mike! You do not look Impressed!” Mark one of the people I had met the night before in the Cabana had beaten me here. And he was right I was not impressed.

The story goes that Refugiu Scara had been a cozy, dry, dare I say warm location. Untill about noon that day. The group who had let me in had been inside the shelter for a day and a half waiting for the weather to get better. But the weather just got worse. The wind getting so bad that it riped part of the roof off and caused them to have to set up the temporary shelters in the shelter. I sighed peeled off my soaked clothes and hung them on a string to dry (they were wetter in the morning) climbed on one of the top bunks wrapped up in my sleeping bag to stay warm and my tent fly to stay dry and slipped off into a fitful soggy sleep.