Spring deluge
At Kőlyuk, I had seen a picture online of a waterfall that usually isn’t there, but only appeared due to the increased water volume from snowmelt. Since I missed it then, I decided that for the next significant rain, I would go there in hopes of seeing something similar again.
I don’t like photographing in the rain, but unfortunately, there was no other way to achieve this. After a family lunch on Sunday, with rain falling, I made the decision that now was the time to go. I wondered if my hiking boots would be sufficient or if I should put on my waders. I thought the latter would give me more freedom, as I wouldn’t have to worry as much about puddles and mud. At that moment, I didn’t know what awaited me. I parked near the Kőlyuki Betérő restaurant, put on my waders, and then realized how foolish I was. I had successfully left the tripod at home. This was essential both because of the low light and, more importantly, because I wanted to photograph with a long exposure to capture the water flowing over the rocks in a smooth blur. Doing this without a tripod is not straightforward.
Since the sun had already set quickly, I had to decide whether to go home for the tripod, which would leave me with much less time, or to use natural objects to stabilize the camera or simply shoot handheld. Due to time constraints, I chose the latter. I set off, and after the first few hundred meters, it became clear that if I had gone in hiking boots, I wouldn’t have managed to get past the beginning anyway. So:
The hike starts with a walk along a fence on a dirt path. Anyone who can’t see the dirt path shouldn’t be surprised; it’s somewhere beneath the water, which was ankle-deep to knee-deep. Thanks to the waders, I was able to even begin the hike. At this point, I was still completely calm, as the situation looked like this:
Then, as I reached the end of the fence, I was hit with an unpleasant surprise. So much water had flowed down from the higher areas that instead of a small stream, most of this valley was covered with water. The depth varied. There was another spot I wanted to check out before Kőlyuk, and to get there, I had to cross this flooded stream area. That was a really bad idea. I tried to tread carefully, especially when it started to get deeper and the waves were licking at the bottom of my coat. Suddenly, I found myself standing in the pouring rain in waders, with water up to my waist, clinging to a 3-4 cm thick branch. The current was strong, and I couldn’t see where I was stepping, so I decided to turn back and look for another, more passable area in the water that wasn’t as deep. I managed to cross, checked out what I wanted to see, and then continued on my way to Kőlyuk.
The rest of the journey was characterized by the water’s territorial claim and its all-consuming force.
The weather had caused quite a bit of damage.
Finally, I reached my original destination, Kőlyuk. Without a tripod, I had to make do by propping the camera against a tree, resting it on a rock, and trying to shoot handheld. In the rain, on the wet ground, and on the hillside, this was not easy. I didn’t manage to capture the shot I wanted, so I settled for a more documentary approach.
From here, the trail continues to the large limestones and there are also beautiful parts of the valley before that. I thought there was still enough time, and since I couldn’t get any wetter, I decided to keep going.
Without a tripod, my photography options were still quite limited, but I decided to let it go. The large limestone steps didn’t excite me as much anymore. I enjoyed a good walk, witnessed, and experienced the impressive flow of a stream up close. Thanks to my own foolishness, it was a bit of a scare, especially with the camera gear. But the adventure was worth it.