LIVING SOULS – Zdeňka
SLOVENIA | Planina Viševnik (1,618 m a.s.l.) | Autumn 2025
Planina Viševnik | a conversation with Zdeňka | Triglav | Česka Koča Hut and Davo Karničar
We drove up the winding mountain road, higher and higher. Five women in the car. Five women who love the mountains—hiking and spending time there. Despite the bad weather, we were all excited to finally head up after the long journey from the Czech Republic. The road twisted like a snake from side to side. It was raining heavily, and torrents of water were rushing down the hillsides; fortunately, the water was channeled beneath the road, spilling out into the wooded landscape between the bends. A wild mountain stream. Given the unpleasant weather, we were a bit reluctant to set out so late in the evening. We considered waiting until the next morning to make the ascent, but in the end, we voted to head up that very day. Ahead of us lay the hike to the Viševnik Plateau, where we planned to spend about four nights and take excursions to the surrounding area. It took a while to get our bodies moving again after sitting in the car.
It was a bit of a shock to the system—going from zero to a hundred right away. And a bit of an ordeal awaited us at the start. After about three hours of hiking uphill with heavy packs in the rain and darkness, we finally arrived. We knocked on the door of the first cottage that looked occupied. An older, kind, and energetic woman opened the door. This lady, Zdeňka, welcomed us very warmly and heartily. Although she was a bit surprised to see us—apparently due to some communication mix-up—she accommodated us. In the small room containing the kitchen and a heated stove, we hung up all our wet gear. We brushed our teeth outside in the rain under a small overhang and then immediately crawled into our sleeping bags on the mattresses in the attic. Two other girls were sleeping there with us, and Mrs. Zdeňka was in a nook nearby—she had her own little sleeping spot there. There wasn't much space, but having a roof over one's head in the mountains during such foul weather is a real blessing. You truly sense your own smallness and the immense power of nature and the elements. Sore muscles and fatigue quickly cleared our minds and energized our bodies.
The next morning, the sun came out, and the place itself—originally a shepherd's settlement on the plateau—along with the surrounding views, was magnificent. Mrs. Zdeňka prepared our breakfasts and dinners. During those times, we chatted with her, got to know her better, and shared plenty of laughter. During the day, she offered refreshments to passing hikers. She warmly welcomed everyone who arrived and bid them farewell just as warmly—sincerely and attentively, yet never intrusively. She generously moved our group to a nearby cabin that we had all to ourselves for the rest of our stay, which was fantastic.
If I were to give this woman a name that best defined her, it would be "Kindness"—kindness in its purest form. She often answered all our questions with, "Yes, yes, do what you need." She possessed a deep sense of calm and a certain grace. She wore slightly worn leggings, a 90s-style denim skirt, and slippers—her own version of mountain gear 😊. Every day around 7 a.m., she would make coffee, then savor it on the porch accompanied by a cigarette and a prayer... a wise woman indeed. I can picture her closing her eyes and letting the sun's warm rays fall on her face while she stroked her little dog. That feeling of peace, acceptance, and timelessness.
She spent several weeks on the plateau during the summer season, rotating with other colleagues. The season usually began in mid-June—when she often had to wade through the deep snow still lingering on the plateau—and ended in late September, when the herds of cows were brought down to the valley. Her industrious nature was evident: one moment she was tidying the kitchen, the next heating water, then cleaning rooms and straightening blankets to prepare the beds for the next guests or preparing dinner for eight people. She did it all calmly and with her own characteristic elegance; there was a natural fluidity within her movements. Between the small cabins, along the path to the outhouse lay a small mountain garden filled with flowers and herbs that she tended to herself. She even grew calendula there, which her older daughter used to make wonderful homemade soap.
Her lean, athletic physique and her stories made it clear that she knew the surrounding mountains inside out. Judging by her time estimates, she would run up and down them at practically a marathoner's pace. We had to take her timing recommendations with a grain of salt, though, as her expectations didn't quite align with our own pace and performance. Performance—was it about counting kilometers and elevation gain, or experiencing the landscape? Was it about sensing how I felt there and how those beautiful places affected me, or just rushing through with barely a glance? I looked forward to exploring the surrounding mountains and sites, yet I also felt incredibly at ease right there on the Viševnik plateau. I just wanted to be there, to rest, to soak up the energy of the place and let the tranquility and surrounding beauty wash over me. That was exactly what I needed. But our plan was different…
During one our track, I wasn't feeling well, so I headed back early and had the chance to have a nice, private chat with Zdeňka. My digestion was upset and my stomach hurt. She poured me a shot of some local herbal gentian spirit. It helped.
We struck up a deep conversation.
And she told me…
They say the best coffee is in Trieste, by the sea. At the same time, she was adamant that Trieste is in Slovenia. I believed what the maps show—naturally, maps are my bible, right? :D—that Trieste is Italian. Historically, the two nations have mingled there. But at that moment, there was no need to argue about who was right. It didn't matter. Zdeňka has two daughters; she didn't mention a husband. She worked as a midwife and later in long-term care. She thus witnessed many arrivals into the world and many departures from it. She loves herbs and mushrooms, most likely the magical kind, too: hallucinogenic mushrooms. She even visited Prague twice and really liked it. She was very interested in absinthe.
She would often gaze out through the small kitchen window. I looked too, wondering what she saw and admired out there.
"A lovely view isn't it?" she said to me. Hmm, interesting, I thought; some people really find happiness in the little things...
It wasn't until after a shot of the local spirit and a second look out the window that the outline of the majestic Mount Triglav (2,864 m)—Slovenia's highest peak—revealed itself to me. It appeared small, tucked away in the corner amidst the clouds, but it was there. In that moment, I understood the beauty she had been talking about.
Ah, yes.
A wise woman.
I remembered the Slovenian climber and ski alpinist Davo Karničar. A few years back, we met him with a group of friends at the beginning of our ascent in the Kamnik–Savinja Alps. He was just coming down the hill and literally whizzed past us with a short greeting.
And he was running from the Češka koča cottage, which his family has managed for several generations, and where we were headed. This hut under the walls of the Grintavec peak (2558 a.s.l.) was built in the style of a Czech cottage and was opened in 1900 as the first Czech mountain hut in the Savin Alps (Kamnik–Savinja Alps). The Slavic friendship between our countries and Alpinists has its roots in history.
Zdeňka knew Davo. Not directly personally, but she knew about his alpinist family, the Karničar family, about his two brothers. Davo Karničar was the first person to ski down Everest. It wasn't any of the many challenging mountain climbing feats that proved fatal to him, but his work in the forest. A broken tree fell on him, and he succumbed to his injuries on the spot. He was 56 years old at the time. Life is fragile.
The time spent in Zdenka's presence was truly delightful. She was incredibly grounded in the present moment. She encouraged me to listen to my body and discover what it needed. Ah yes, of course, I thought to myself. Back to oneself and to simplicity. Nothing more, nothing less.
She offers questions and reflections, never judgment. She gives one a profound sense of being perceived, seen, and acknowledged—seen as a being, as pure existence in the present moment.
A wise woman and a beautiful soul. A vibrant soul.
It was a joy and a privilege to meet her.
* * *