The seven lakes that step down one bowl in the Rila mountains of southwest Bulgaria are each named for a shape. The Tear is the highest and the clearest, then come the Eye, the Kidney, the Twin, the Trefoil, the Fish and the Lower Lake, in a bowl the ice scooped out between about 2,100 and 2,500 metres. None of them shows until you have finished the climb. The steep path toward Haramiyata peak keeps the basin hidden until you crest the ridge, and then all seven stand one above the next. From up there they read as a puzzle drawn on the mountain: the round Eye, the bent Kidney, the paired Twin, the clover-lobed Trefoil. Picking each one out by its shape is half of what you climbed for.
Between the lakes the valley floor opens into gentle alpine meadow, grazed in places and laced with purple, yellow and white flowers in high summer. The soft linking paths down there are the easy half of the day. Above them the walls of Haramiyata close the basin, loose grey scree and old snow gullies rising straight off the green shelves the lakes sit on. At any shoreline the water hardly seems to be there: every stone and ledge shows, down and down, until the deeper part goes cold dark blue. Each August the basin fills up with people for a different reason. Thousands camp by the Kidney and form circles on the grass in white clothes at sunrise. The dance is the Paneurhythmy, a slow round set to music by the Bulgarian teacher Peter Deunov in 1929 and meant to bring the dancers into step with the mountain. One of the seven breaks the pattern. The Fish Lake is the shallowest, barely two and a half metres, and it is named not for its shape but for the trout you watch cruising its floor. Fishing is banned across the basin, so nothing has bothered them for a long time.