This route, winding and tough to trek, takes even the most skilled of Human or Elven explorers hours to journey up. The track, a stream of dirt melded together and held by the wind and rain-filled weather-current above the peaks of the Farniev Range, is narrow enough for only one donkey to be abreast with its rider at one time; if two or more travellers are teamed, they must ride single file, lest there be the risk of tumbling into the surrounding Tel'args.
This is not an uncommon type of path to be found upon in the North. With a barrier of jutting stone both above and below the ground-level, both Elves and Humans have had to journey to their habitations by use of innate, interwoven tracks that sweep about the map. Though the two races of the North dare not intermix or pass each other, each side of the Farniev Range is just as perilous as the other.
It happens that most riders- and those without donkeys, though it is less common to journey by foot- have an intellectual knowledge of the paths and roads that might weave around the edges of the crags and mountains of the North. When a journey has to be made- and it is that those journeys will be days long, without factoring in distance or the ill-tempered weather- it will have been planned meticulously beforehand, for neither of the Northern races would tempt Fate with a lack of direction around the dips and troughs of the landscape.
In truth, when a journey has to be made, it is traveller upon the chagrin of the one who must journey, against much positive will. This is for the reasons of time and constant perils. Often journeys are abstained from, unless they are of the most important. And those characters who have dared to leave their nations to find better living have made history.