Budapest, Hungary. Fifteen hours from my front door, no sleep on the overnight. I am here for a solo long-distance hike along the length of Lake Balaton, a hundred miles to the southwest. Waiting for a train, I used the extra time for a few practice shots.
Lake Balaton, Hungary. My goal was to walk from one end of the lake to the other in a long series of arcs into the countryside (red marker). It would take five days, starting in the town of Keszthely on the western shore and marching northeast to Balatonfűzfő on the NE corner. The lake is fifty miles long but I had figured out a series of shortcuts that would make the trek about eighty-five.
I overslept. Started down the driveway with no time to lose. My next bed is in Kisapáti on a mountain sixteen murderous miles away.
Hello! Yes, of course, please climb over!
I will kill you.
Kisapáti is on the backside of Mount Bazaltorgonák up ahead. I had about five more hours to get this done.
Turned my head for three seconds.
Half moon.
Entering the village of Kisapáti, Hungary.
Room with a view.
Brother and sister.
Twenty-five miles. The mutts in the valley were future dinnertime stories for now. I sat here for awhile to catch my breath. Drank some water, ate two Kind bars and changed into fresh underwear. Révfülöp is several hours to the southeast.
Nobody home so I kept walking.
Entering the outskirts of Révfülöp, Hungary.
Day Three. My target is somewhere behind the ridge. About nine hours, give or take a day. It's not too bad out here.
The village of Mencshely.
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Your trespassin' ass,
I will chew.
An opening.
Today ends somewhere past the hill. I could do this my whole life.
Early evening, Veszprem County. In a hundred and fifty yards, the barking will begin. I either cross an open field to the north or wade across the river to get into the village. 
Nagyvázsony, Hungary. Forty-nine miles.
Camera Shake.
Day Four. In the early afternoon, I came upon a fire tower and climbed to the top. My target is the town of Csopak on the horizon. Better snap to it.
Bushwacking in all its glory. Sixty-eight miles.
Csopak, Hungary.
Day Five. Fall arrived overnight.
Seventy-nine miles.
This is close to the east end of Lake Balaton. The storm was pushing hard on my back and the end of my journey is down below, a few miles to the left, at which point I'll be completely drenched and happy.
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