Money in the Bansko: March 21st - 27th, 2024
After struggling to meet our winter sports ambitions in Romania, Susan and I were wishing for a few last days of decent skiing in Bansko, one of the largest ski resorts in Bulgaria. We hauled our bags up out of the cave apartment into the bright sunshine, and despite the mid-morning warmth in Sofia the slopes of Vitosha mountain to the south still shone white with snow. We remained hopeful that the online reports of a decent snowpack up high would bear out and that, even without any powder, some nice, consistent pistes would hold on against the heat.
Our bus to Bansko (there is a train but true to stereotypes the Bulgarian train takes longer than the bus) didn't leave until about lunchtime, so despite Susan's antsy-ness I dawdled in the apartment and we left about 10 minutes later than intended. This wouldn't have mattered much, except that finding the bus that goes to Bansko turned out to be a bit of a scavenger hunt. First, we'd asked our taxi driver to drop us off at the slightly wrong bus station. We saw signs for our bus company, but nothing said anything about buses going to Bansko, just farther away cities. I spent about 5 minutes waiting in line to ask someone at the bus counter where we were supposed to go, but we were running out of time. Google said there was another bus station about a 5 minute walk away, so with about 8 minutes before our bus left we decided to scurry over there, and I realized that 5 minutes takes longer when you're carrying about 75 pounds of baggage on your body.
Getting slightly panicked, we passed a bus driver impatiently checking his watch in front of what appeared to be the only bus in the station and Susan asked the first lady she saw in an official looking vest "Bansko? Autobus Bansko?". She responded that we needed to wait in bay 2. So we went back to bay 2, where there was no bus nor a crowd of people waiting expectantly to board one. No boards or signs or anything gave any sort of indication where to find what busses. Maybe it was late? Maybe we'd already missed it? We stood anxiously for maybe a minute, really not sure we'd received good information, and as the clock rolled over to our departure time decided to make a last-ditch check with the driver waiting outside the lone bus. "Autobus Bansko?" He responded with "Da", but then a bunch of things that definitely weren't "Bansko". But he opened up the luggage hatch for us, so Susan and I gave each other a "I guess this is our best option" look, threw our bags in, and rushed on board. The driver didn't bother checking our tickets and left the station right after we got on. For about the first 10 minutes we shared anxious thoughts about what we'd do if this bus didn't actually go to Bansko, but then we heard some Brits talking about going there, and the first stop matched our itinerary, so we had in fact made it. We probably should have left earlier like Susan wanted.
This bus was HOT. We'd already worked up a sweat rushing around with all the bags, and kept it going during the ride; I think they had the heat running even with the full sunshine coming through the windows and the mid 70's temperatures. Still, snow persisted on the mountaintops, and I really enjoyed the scenery as we came up and out of Sofia, dropping down the edge of a broad valley where the Rila mountains rose broadly from farms far below, before we made a turn and started heading east, with the other side of the Rila range to the left and the peaks of Pirin mountains showing above the skeletons of still-dormant trees on the right.
We got off in the town of Bansko along with the other tourists, and then found out the taxi app I downloaded only worked in Sophia. There was an unoccupied taxi parked at the bus station that seemed to be more of an advertisement than anything, and for a minute we seemed stuck. Thankfully we found a poster for a different taxi app that served the local area (Bulgaria has banned ride-share apps like Bolt and Uber so now they have a patchwork of individual taxi company apps to cover different places), so after waiting on a download and setting up an account in the hot sun we were able to call a ride and get to our hotel. It was only a short drive away but I was pretty happy to have a car haul the duffel bag up there.
At the "Mountain Romance Hotel Bansko", where we had a room booked for a week, a sweet older woman checked us in and expressed great surprise at seeing a couple of Americans there. She showed us down the stairs to our room, and then down another set of stairs to the hotel restaurant and spa/sauna area. After our experience in Kyrgyzstan we were really looking forward to coming back from skiing and using the sauna or hot tub, although they had mostly wrapped up for the season so we'd have to track down one of the staff and ask them to turn it on if we wanted it. The hotel room was very spacious and had a kitchenette equipped with a small stove, microwave, and fridge, but had no cookware and only a few plates and bowls; good thing we were still hauling around our camping kitchenware. The bedroom had two separate single beds so maybe the Bulgarians have a slightly different idea about "mountain romance". The TV was set in a big, dark-wood shelving unit that reminded me of my grandparent's house, so it felt weird to put ski gloves and ski goggles on shelves behind glass doors that seemed like they were meant to display bottles of wine or porcelain.
We walked down to the grocery store through quiet side streets and past cute, small houses in typical wood-and-stone Bansko style, red clay shingles contrasting with white plaster walls. It was fun checking out the Bulgarian food options before mostly falling back on our typical rice/pasta + veg + protein formula; as a touristy town they had a good variety so we didn't have to think too hard. On the way back I spied some pull-up bars next to the soccer pitch - perfect. At the hotel we settled in a little more and flipped through channels on the TV, greatly amusing ourselves by landing on the Bulgarian Blue Man Group. 8 older, mostly balding men stood on a stage belting out what I assume are Bulgarian folk or patriotic standards, accompanied by accordion and guitar. They all wore the same style of blue suit which blended perfectly into the curtains behind them, so if you didn't look too carefully they came off as floating heads held up by nothing but their enthusiasm for showing their love of country through song. Susan and I laughed a lot. It had been a long day.
Bansko ski resort is situated above the town, in the Pirin mountains between about 5,300 and 8,500 feet. There's even theoretically a piste that extends all the way down into the town itself, which would be a *huge* run from the top of the mountain, but I'm not sure it ever had 100% snow cover during the 23/24 winter season. Despite the warm spring feeling in town the mountains looked to have a reliable cloak of snow, so we got ourselves organized and spent our first two full days there enjoying the slopes! Things still seemed shaky when the midway station for the gondola from town had almost no snow, but as the cable pulled us into the base of the ski resort a consistent if somewhat thin carpet of firm white snow blanketed the ground and uniform pistes cut cleanly through the trees above. They had their snow making operation dialed in.
We decided to ride all the way to the top of the mountain first, aiming for a few blue (which in Europe means "easiest") runs up there to warm up since we hadn't had any "proper" skiing days since leaving Sinaia in Romania almost a month ago (sorry, Brașov). As we neared the top of Todorka mountain and took in the views of the surrounding Pirin peaks I could understand why the resort sat on the edge of a national park; rolling, pristine slopes peppered with native Balkan pines hid deep cirques surrounded by lofty rocky faces, while boney ridgelines punctuated the sky in the distance.
For our first two days on the slopes we had wonderful spring weather - clear blue skies and abundant warm sunshine. Freezing conditions were good over the nights, so the groomers would be pretty hard and icy at first in the morning but then soften up nicely as lunchtime approached. They did a great job with their grooming and we had fun practicing our carving a little more, cruising down the more moderate slopes, and getting some thigh-burn on the two longer, steeper, more sustained runs. It felt really nice to have good, consistent groomers without errant rocks or branches or *too many* random icy patches. They even had two chairlifts that criss-crossed, with one going over the top of the other - haven't seen that before!
Off-piste didn't look very appealing with the lack of recent snow, plus some confusing signage seemed to indicate that off-piste skiing was "forbidden", while other signs warned of severe avalanche risk, so for the most part we contented ourselves to stick to the groomed tracks. There was a lightly-moguled bowl that I really wanted to try but Susan talked me out of it in fear that the Bulgarian ski police might come kick us off the mountain. Still getting a little bored, though, I couldn't resist dipping off the sides of the piste from time to time to work around bumps or little trees, even if that snow was mostly a jarringly unpleasant wind-crust. To keep myself entertained on the groomers I found myself trying to go faster or ski more aggressively. On Saturday, when the resort was more busy, I finished charging down one run and waited for Susan at the bottom for the lift when an older man skied up to me and started speaking in German. He was one of the other skiers that I dodged on my way down as most people funneled towards the sides of the run to dodge a particularly icy patch. He told me in English that I was skiing faster than my ability and putting people in danger, but I felt like I'd been in control the whole time so my pride would only let me shrug. I spent most of the rest of the afternoon, though, wishing I'd been more apologetic about troubling him and making sure I kept my speed in check on the crowded sections.
Saturday was much, much busier than the Friday, to the point of unpleasantness by the afternoon. We were surprised to see how many more people were out, but reasoned that Bansko made a pretty reasonable weekend trip from the major population center of Sofia. Plenty of other international tourists also filled in the crowd, a lot from Romania, Greece, and the UK; I recognized an American by his (lack of) English accent and we had fun talking about how all the Euros get to the top of the lift and do healthy warm-up exercises and stretches at the beginning of the day, while folks from the US just yeet down the hill. Honestly it worked out that we didn't feel like competing with the crowds in the afternoon, since by about 1 or 2 o'clock the snow midway and lower turned into a mashed-potato slush that started mixing with the dirt and liked to grab your ski edges funny, and ponds started to grow next to the bases of some lifts. We'd read tips online to get in line early for the first gondolas, since it's a bottleneck and Bansko has a reputation for long queues, but that advice also worked really well to make sure we got the best of the spring skiing before the sun did too much work.
It also really helped that, at last, we had a rental experience where the shop actually cares about how you ski and gives out quality equipment to match! It was run by a Greek family that had had many family members in the Winter Olympics, so they were serious about skiing. In fact, the rental shop we used in Bansko in many ways felt far higher-end than any experience we've had in the US. First, the staff *talked* to us about how we like to ski (groomers? off-piste? fast carving? tight turns?) and helped us pick skis to match and go with the conditions. And their skis were actually maintained - they put on a fresh coat of machine wax right front of us! I don't know if any of the other skis we'd ridden all winter had seen wax in the last year, if ever. They stored our boots and rental skis in the shop so we didn't have to lug them back and forth from the hotel, and even helped put on and take off our ski boots and sprayed the insides with freshener for us (much to our embarrassment since generally we have gross, sweaty feet). No way could we ever afford that in the USA! The first day out I had some fast Atomic skis and Susan was on a pair of Salomons; the second day I took out Susan's previous pair which were much lighter, springier, and more playful, which normally I enjoy but I'm not sure it was great for the groomers. Susan got on a pair of Nordicas that are basically the female version of her regular skis back home, and immediately commented how they felt just like her skis! She skied much faster and tackled more variable snow with confidence, trusting the skis would get her through; I really appreciated seeing her have so much fun, since for much of the winter subpar equipment and Susan's concerns about her back kept a ceiling on what she was willing to do. It's official - our level of skiing skill is still low enough that improving the gear really ups our game.
The skiing went well but the spa facilities were a bit of a let down. We arrived back sore after our second day at the slopes eager for some heat to soothe our tired muscles, but finding the hostess and asking her to start the sauna took a few tries. Once we pinned her down and she started the sauna she showed us around the rest of the facilities, which included only a women's changing room and a very public shower tube, and we had to pay a few lev for disposable slippers since we hadn't brought our own. Navigating Pavel's sauna in Kyrgyzstan gave us a little confidence, but unsure of Bulgarian sauna culture we awkwardly brought down the towels from our room and rinsed off in our bathing suits. It helped that the place was deserted since it was the end of the ski season, but at the same time maybe with more people we would have had clearer instructions. The sauna itself didn't seem nearly hot enough, and after about 15 minutes we reasoned that the temperature was probably too low to be helpful. It certainly wasn't scorching my nose and gelatinizing my muscles like Pavel's 95 degree hotbox. We gave it a bit longer before throwing in the towel, rinsing off again, and trying the jacuzzi. The jacuzzi also wasn't quite warm enough and we couldn't figure out the confusing controls or get more than half of the jets to work. The water had a distinct odor, but was probably sanitary by virtue of over-chloronization. After a bit of soaking and trading off seats in the chair with the best jets we went back up to our room questionably relaxed. I think we were supposed to find and tell the hostess to turn off the sauna but the hotel was a ghost town.
So after two days of skiing and a pseudo-spa it was definitely time for a day off. Factor in the third or fourth day in a row of high temperatures and sunshine on an already dwindling snowpack and the crowds likely to persist on a Sunday, plus the chance for colder temps and a little fresh snow the next day, and it all added up to a day spent touristing around Bansko town. The town is an interesting mix of the old-style architecture and quiet neighborhoods that remained from its pastoral beginnings, fairly-new construction and hotels designed to look like the traditional architecture but really containing a lot of styrofoam (like where we stayed) closer to the lift, and even newer glass and concrete hotel and condo developments sprawling along the base of the foothills. Right next to the lifts is a hub of bars and restaurants whose staff aggressively tried to hustle us inside every time we passed, interspersed with the odd casino or strip club, all giving off a "ski party town" vibe that made us very happy to be visiting at the end of the season and staying a few blocks away. A beige flagstone road packed with souvenir shops and tour agencies lead the way from the gondola down to the city square.
In the square we finally found a functional fountain! I guess it was far enough into spring that the water could run. Across from the fountain was a well-kept monument to Paisius of Hilendar, an Orthodox clergyman who wrote the first modern history of Bulgaria and played a key role in starting the Bulgarian national revival that would lead to their modern state. Behind the fountain was an art gallery that occupied an old bank building. Every hallway, nook, and cranny was crammed with art pieces, so we were very grateful the curator gave us instructions on how to tour the space. The old bank vault had a bunch of work that could be centered in an "art or pornography?" debate. We had a lot of fun seeing all the different pieces for sale, some really impressive and others rather amateurish, fantasizing about having both the space and the money to make buying art a feasible proposition.
Of course the town square also had a cute old Orthodox church, the Trinity Cathedral, so we stopped in to see more wall frescoes and shiny, gold-plated icons. The church also had some lovely walled grounds and a clock tower where a pelican roosts. We also took the excuse of being in a smaller town (albeit a touristy one) to seek out a nice Bulgarian meal and ended up at an "ethno-restaurant" that seemed surprised to see us for dinner before 7 PM. But they served us anyway and we feasted on a huge pile of peppers, potatoes, and various meats that they said fed 2 but really could have fed 4 - 5 people. We enjoyed the leftovers for another day and a half.
The weather allowed for one more good day of skiing; a cold front moved in, firming up the slush and bringing a little bit of fresh snow but also some wicked winds up high. Lucky for us they ran the lifts despite the gusts! Although at the top it was a bit hard to stay put and get ready because the buffets of wind would push us around on the freshly-waxed skis. Most of the pistes were icy and really hard, but the wind had gathered the couple inches of fresh snow into drifts that gave silky powder turns, so Susan and I played a mostly-enjoyable game of "connect the drifts". At one point I caught an edge and had my first real wipeout of the season, hitting my tailbone and whipping my neck hard enough that both would be sore for days afterward. A bit shaken, I dialed it back for the rest of the day and had a lot of fun doing laps down the "off-piste forbidden" mogul-bowl I'd been eyeballing the two days before (a woman on the lift assured me they only put those signs up for legal-liability reasons), and I got Susan to to play "connect the drifts" in the baby trees. Later I looked at the data from my watch and saw I'd been going about 17 - 19 mph when I'd wiped out, and realized how serious it would have been if I'd crashed while going 40 mph on the pistes the days before. Combined with how much fun I had making quick turns and picking lines through the moguls and trees, even if a little slower, I realized that's my preferred form of skiing.
Skied-out and thrilled to have got a last few excellent days on (finally) good equipment, our last two days in Bansko were pretty chill. We tried the sauna again, and even though I took the initiative to try to adjust the controls myself and crank up the heat, it still couldn't live up to Pavel's. We checked out one more tourist attraction, the Velyan House Museum. The town of Bansko gifted this 18th-century home to the artist Velyan, to show their gratitude after he decorated the Holy Trinity Cathedral in the town. Velyan then also decorated the house, beautifully painting the inside and outside for the joy of his wife and children. We learned that many of these houses were built in a "fortified" style, with thick stone walls and small windows with heavy shutters, so that occupants could resist the Ottoman raids of the late 1700's and 1800's. The Velyan house even had a secret staircase leading to a tunnel that connected it to the church, in case they needed to escape.
I also finally had the time to finish researching how to train for mountaineering and put together a training plan, so that after a fall of sport climbing and a winter of mostly resort-skiing (with the odd day of ice climbing thrown in) we'd be in some kind of shape to spend the whole summer in the high peaks of the French Alps. So we went on a somewhat contrived trail run where I was happy no one came out from lodges to yell at us for running across their lawns. Otherwise it was resting, reflecting on the twists and turns of our 9 months abroad, and doing one more round of complete repacking for our final leg to Omaha! The dumpster outside our hotel became the final resting place of our very tired shoes and cracked climbing helmets, although someone seemed to have picked up the dependable blue tarp and given it another life.
RIP bag collection!!! What worthless treasure 😭
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