One of my most cherished childhood adventures

It all began on a late summers day when I was 6 years old. I had been at my grandparents house in rural Romania, in a little town called Mihai Viteazu (roughly translated to Michael the Brave after one of our national heroes who if I'm not mistaken his head was buried not far from there after being assassinated) for a few days and my parents were ready to head back to the home city later that night, leaving me and my sister there for the summer.

Down the street from my grandparents there was a levy and on the other side the infamous Aries river which was riddled with deep parts where the people had quarried gravel and which claimed victims almost every year, many who were considering strong swimmers. I would wander among the flood plain which extended a good distance from the levy to the river, and find all kinds of sunbathed bones, from cows to goats and little rodents, or random trash that had been washed away from the dump which was by the dirt road going over the levy.

By the river there were two barges that had been used to move the gravel, and they had been left abandoned for some time. One of them was complete while the other had a large section of the exterior hull cut out. They were sitting next to each other with one perching the edge of the cliff facing an especially torrenting part of the river, rusted red but still very much solid and had been swept by the prevoius spring swell to rest in that place. I had explored them the previous year but briefly with the supervision of my uncle so that day I was excited to crawl all around them with my younger cousin and sister's cautious gaze.

The bow of the one that had been cut into was perching a good 20 feet over the cliff which was about a 60 foot drop and little to no shoreline. I had convinced my sister and cousin to come up there where to my surprise there was a wreath of hazel branches with my favorite nuts still all over it and a bouquet of some grains and field flowers. I had eaten all the delicious hazelnuts and by that time it was getting close to sunset and time to head back to the house, but I had other plans in mind. While on the top of the barge, I spotted a group of teenagers crossing the river about a quarter of a mile from us with their BMX so after sending my cousin and sister home I knew what I wanted to do.

I remember walking past a fisherman and reaching the spot where I knew the water was waist high from watching those older kids cross and feeling a bit overwhelmed by what I had set out to do since I didn't even know how to float let alone swim. I decided that one step at a time will lead me across relatively safely, and it did, getting my shorts wet I had cautiously traversed the slippery bolder and large rock covered river which came up to my waist.

After making my daring crossing I was in a state of exhilaration and started sprinting towards the hills skipping across these large crevices eroded into the landscape by rushing water. I stopped to grab a couple wild growing olives and my adventure had begun.

I had been on the other side of the river with my dad after crossing a narrow cable bridge which seemed quite dingy and had stretched the previous year over that certain whitewater part of the river, next to the barges, but which wasn't there this time, it had been swept away or someone took it down. When we crossed the previous year, on the other side, further upriver from where I crossed by myself, we made our way down a small path in between the hills to the other side which had a couple lakes surrounded by cattails and this time I was planning to go there and muck around for some of those fine cattail specimens.

After making my way through the crevice laden part of the bottom of the hill I darted across to the almost vertical face of the hill which looked like it had been carved away by the spring swelled Aries. Someone tried to stop the erosion by planting a lot of pines on the exposed dirt face which didn't do well at all, they weren't much taller than me and most were so dried that they would uproot effortlessly and felt like empty carcasses. I had a couple close calls where I almost slipped because of holding onto them while scaling on the face of the hill which looked like a good 120 feet to the top.

With the excitement of crossing the river still in my veins, scaling that side of the hill only built it up even more, I was bursting with joy having made it to the top which looked like the greenest most vibrant grass I'd seen. I started running down it and then the land started going slightly up, I was running so fast that it felt like I was barely touching the ground.

Across the way, way across, was the prominent landscape feature called Turda's Keys, where a small stream cut right through the middle of the mountains leaving a narrow canyon and the sun was shining in my face as it was about to peak behind the mountains almost in the canyon. As I was running with joy I suddenly plopped down on my butt in a last chance effort of stopping.

What I didn't know, was that the other side of the hill was even steeper than the side I scaled with the help of the bone dried pines. This side was a straight drop and as I was running a little uphill and expecting the landscape to turn and go downhill, I had lucked out and landed my butt right on the edge of the concave plateau.

Before my frightened self sprawled for what seemed like hundreds of miles, a landscape with small rolling hills and small lakes leading into larger wooded hills without any sign of civilization. No telephone poles or roads or even houses, it looked like completely untouched wilderness. It was upon that sight that a feeling of awe struck me and I remember the tears that it came with. I had experienced everything that day from courage to terror and it culminated in total amazement of the Creation before me and it's infinte vastness. I sat there only briefly, as the sun had dropped behind the mountains and I had to turn back if I wanted to save the skin of my butt.

I don't recall exactly how I made my way down the hill, I think I went a different way and I only recall passing by the fisherman who told me my parents were looking for me. When I had gotten home it was about to get dark and my parents, I found out, had started to accept that I might have drowned in the river. I know my dad wanted to whop me so bad yet he couldn't, he was relieved to see me as was everyone else.

I've looked back through the years and each time I have a sense of being blessed, from the wreath of hazelnuts to the sudden stop on the edge of the cliff to the amazing sight before me, giving me some perspective of how small I really was.

Hope you enjoyed the adventure.

Source

A aerial view of the village with the erroded\exposed hills in the background under the shadows of the clouds and the keys to the west

Reposted from my WhaleShares

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