70 Hours in the Wilderness and My Encounter with Wolves

Early in the morning, water splashed quietly in the nearby river. On the third day of waiting, a feeling of persistent hope and expectation kept shifting inside me, mixed with slight flashes of morning fatigue. That morning seemed nothing special — it was sunrise time, yet the glowing orb refused to appear in the sky. The moist air above the river created an almost average view, broken up by clouds and a light haze. A faint movement in the grass on the opposite bank caught my attention only mildly at first. I slowly raised my binoculars to my eyes, when suddenly I saw…

In the middle of September, two friends and I set out on a long journey to eastern Slovakia. It wasn't the destination, only the direction. We wanted once again to experience the feeling of untamed nature, which—despite all our efforts as humans—continually finds new ways to preserve its diversity and beauty. For many of us, it becomes an inspiring well of ideas and a place to recharge our mental energy.

A trip like this always awakens in me a desire for adventure, an excitement about packing and preparing things. Packing the essentials, avoiding unnecessary items, yet not forgetting anything important. Late summer and early autumn days tend to be warm, but the lengthening nights can sometimes surprise you, so I made sure not to underestimate packing some warmer clothing.

Packing gear and food for three days in the forest wasn't something I was doing for the first time. I already had a pretty good sense of what would be useful and what, on the contrary, would only slow me down. What always surprises me, however, is the final weight of the backpack filled with camera equipment, food, water, and gear for sleeping and photography. A 30-kilogram backpack is only a small price to pay for the experiences that await me. Without overthinking the strength of the backpack's seams—or of my trapezius muscles—I quickly swing the pack onto my shoulders and set out toward adventure.

The nights and weather that September are kind to our adventure. The first day is followed by the first night, and that in turn is followed by the first morning. I like mornings. Nature awakens, and I can quietly watch everything happening around me. As usual, though, managing to capture something interesting or beautiful is rare. Most of the experiences on such mornings I can only store in memory and capture this way—through words or a story. During the day, life in nature usually slows down a bit. It's a suitable time to explore a new location, search for a new spot or a rock where I can sit somewhat comfortably during evening photography. But even on the second evening and the second morning, I'm not very lucky. I gather most of my experiences from the songs of birds, the splashing of water, or observing a deer more than a hundred meters away.

It is the third morning, the time of sunrise. Yet the glowing orb refuses to appear in the sky. The moist air above the river creates only an average-looking scene, mixed with clouds and a light haze. A slight movement in the grass on the opposite bank caught my attention only faintly at first. I slowly raised my binoculars to my eyes when suddenly I saw…

The color and shape reminded me of a deer at first. A strange deer. I've seen many deer in my life, and this one looked odd. It didn't behave like a deer, nor did it walk like one. It was crouched in a strange way. And suddenly, a second and third "deer" emerged from the grass. I adjusted the focus on my binoculars and my breath quickened. My eyes still couldn't see what my mind had been imagining for three days in a row. A sight I had never witnessed live in the wild. An animal that fills me with respect. Now not only my breath but also my heartbeat begins to race. I finally manage to focus the binoculars and command my hands to stop trembling. My eyes at last confirm what my mind had only been dreaming of all this time.

A wolf. A wild wolf in the wild. And he's not alone. One by one, the entire pack emerges from the grass at the edge of the river. In the first moments of realization, I am paralyzed. My hands instinctively lower the binoculars from my eyes and slowly, subtly reach for the camera. Focus, set the exposure, capture this rare moment—without scaring the wolves away. That is about all that's in my mind at that moment. The light is far from perfect, but the experience is not.

And so I watch the wolf pack, barely able to guess how long it lasts. The minutes seem to merge into a single moment etched into my memory. That morning, I experience a feeling I hope to find again someday. What at first seemed like an ordinary morning bids me farewell with an unexpected encounter. I didn't see wolves again that year, but it wasn't my last meeting with them. The following winter I would encounter them again… and perhaps that story is for another time.