**  SLOVAKIA 2008  - Weeks 5~6  **

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SLOVAKIA 2008 - NE SLOVAKIA,  the POLISH BORDER,  and HIGH TATRAS MOUNTAINS:

Traffic was light on a sunny Sunday morning as we resumed our westward journey towards Humenné, to visit the skanzen devoted to the culture of the Rusyn people. Parking next to the town's Soviet war memorial, we were puzzled by the absence of signs for the skanzen; after all there was little else to tempt visitors here.

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We eventually tracked down the skanzen, set out on a hillside, with preserved 19th century wooden rural buildings from nearby villages, but most particularly for us, the former wooden church from Nová Sedlica, Slovakia's most easterly village visited by us last week. The town's trim central square of Námestie Slobody (Liberty Square) commemorates the 1944 Soviet liberation which totally obliterated Humenné, hence all the modern buildings.

The road north from here passed through a series of Rusyn villages all with dual language names in Slovak and Ukrainian Cyrillic, to Medzilaborce, a remote town on the edge of nowhere. But quite surrealistically, the town manages to celebrate its most famous son, Andy Warhol, whose parents emigrated from a nearby hamlet to USA in the early 1900s. The museum in his honour recalls Warhol's dubious 'art', the building annexed by giant Campbells soup tins. Warhol never actually visited his parents' home town, discounting it with the throw-away line 'I come from nowhere'; seeing Medzilaborce, would it be too unkind to say this was not an entirely inaccurate description of the place!

In scorching early September heat, we followed the road westwards over rolling wooded hills to the small town of Stropkov, and the huge lake of Vel'ka Domaša, where we found the perfect camping spot for the next few days. Set on a flat headland with panoramic views down the length of the lake, Camping Verejné Taborisko near to Norá Vel'ča was another informal camping area, complete with power, loos and even hot water, and at this late time of year, no charge. It was all you could ask for, except the ubiquitous midges (do NOT camp in Slovakia without midge protection) and the constant armada of heavy trucks thundering past to and from Poland. It was a perfect base for our time around the Dukla Pass, and that evening we were rewarded with a vivid flaring pink sunset; and later the moon rose accompanied by bright Venus, trailing its gleaming light across the lake (Photo 1 - Moon rise with Venus over Lake Vel'ka Domaša).

The following morning, we woke to heavy mist covering the lake; the air was still and heavy, but by 8-00, breaks magically appeared revealing blue sky. By 9-00 the sun had burnt off the mist to give another hot day for our visit to Svidnik and the wooden churches of the remote Rusyn villages leading up to the Dukla Pass crossing the Carpathians over into Poland. Svidnik, like so many towns in NE Slovakia, had been totally destroyed in the heavy fighting of October 1994 as the Red Army fought their way down from the Dukla Pass, pushing back the German armour marshalled to prevent the Soviets crossing the Carpathians. Rebuilt since WW2, Svidnik might be seen as a characterless concrete sprawl, but somehow it endeared itself to us. On a hillside above the town, the local Skanzen-Museum of Ukrainian-Rusyn Culture preserves traditional agricultural dwellings from the region. Its highlight however is the magnificent 3-domed wooden church of St Paraskeva, conserved from the nearby village of Nová Polianka (Photo 2 - Wooden church of St Paraskeva at Svidnik skanzen). Here at last we were able to gain entry to one of the Greek-Catholic churches and to photograph its interior. As in Eastern Orthodox churches, the nave is separated from the sanctuary by a screen of icons, the iconostasis, beautifully portraying St Nicholas, Mary the Mother of God (Hodegetria), Christ Pantocrator, and the church's patron saint; see the picture attached to Photo 2. During the next couple of days, we visited similar wooden churches in various remote villages: Potoky, Dobroslava, Ladomirová, Hunkovce, Bodružal, Mirol'a, Nižný Komárnik and Višný Komárnik, the first Slovak village to be liberated in October 1944. In fact, for many of these villages with their traditional wooden churches, 'liberation' from German occupation meant destruction and many of the restored churches still bear traces of damage from the intense fighting of October 1944.

Inevitably the fighting of late 1944 is the subject of many memorials in and around Svidnik. The Dukla Pass had for centuries been the principal route from the east across the Carpathians into central Europe. The Germans knew that if the Red Army's tanks and endless supply of troops breached the Pass, the days of the Third Reich's control of central Europe were numbered. With the Allies advancing on Germany from the west following the June 1944 D-Day Landings, Hitler threw all his forces in Czechoslovakia against the advancing Soviets, hence the desperately costly fighting of late 1944: casualty figures for the Dukla operation were: Soviet 86,000 and German 52,000. The Military History Museum in Svidnik recounts the events with tedious displays of guns, uniforms, maps and military ironmongery, but the monumental Soviet war memorial (Památik Sovietsjej Armádé) commemorating the 1000s who died to liberate Slovakia presents a grimmer picture, with a huge stark marble obelisk and bronze statue of a Red Army soldier standing guard over the mass graves. In Svidnik's main street, Soviet Heroes Street, stands an oversized statue of General Svoboda, commander of the Czechoslovak forces serving with the Red Army. Just north of the town, the now peaceful villages and agricultural countryside of the side valley which saw the bloodiest fighting are despoiled by tanks and artillery which stand as poignant reminders of the horrors of 1944. A little further at Hunkovce, a German war cemetery spreads up the hillside, most of its grim grey crosses marked simply unbekannter. More memorials litter the road up to the Dukla Pass, either in the form of military hardware  (Photo 3 - Soviet WW2 Ilusion 10 fighter-plane memorial at Dukla Pass), or monuments such as the monolithic memorial to Czechoslovaks killed in the Dukla fighting (Photo 4 - Memorial to Czechoslovak war dead at Dukla Pass) with its morbidly sorrowful figure of a woman clinging tearfully to the soldier. At the summit of the Pass just before the Polish border, the 50m high Dukla Watch Tower was built in 1959 to give a panoramic view over the scene of battle and surrounding wooded hills of Slovakia and Poland.

Having spent the day bemused by military memorials of 1944, and enchanted by peaceful 18th century wooden churches, we found ourselves at the Polish frontier at the top of the Dukla Pass, and since this is now an open-border, we drove down into Poland in search of a campsite for tonight, feeling hopelessly mystified by the Polish language after 6 weeks in Slovakia, and not even having any Polish Zlotys currency. 6 kms further, we found a straightforward farm-campsite at Tylawa; Slovak koruna were quite acceptable, and the primitive earth privies would not have been out of place in the skanzen we had seen earlier. Darkness seemed to fall earlier, but perhaps it always does in Poland. The seeds of a venue for a 2009 trip were sown.

Crossing back to Slovakia the following morning, we headed westwards towards Bardejov. Originally founded by Saxon colonists in the 13th century, Bardejov still retains the air of a well-preserved medieval town, its centre perched above the later sprawling suburbs surrounded by the restored town wall. The industrious German traders were able to exploit Bardejov's status as a Royal Free Borough; the scale and magnificence of the town's elegant houses which surround the spacious cobbled central square and the vast Gothic Basilica whose spire stands out above the town are evidence of Bardejov's affluence. As we walked through the square, it was like steeping back into the town's medieval Saxon past. And climbing the narrow, steeply winding stone steps up the Basilica bell-tower, we had the perfect bird's eye view down across the town's wonderful medieval square (Photo 5 - medieval town houses at Bardejov viewed from bell-tower).

Prešov , a city of 100,000 and capital of the Slovak Šariš region, was our next stop. Once past the unattractive suburbs, the city's central area has been beautifully restored, and with its lively university, Prešov has a youthful and vibrant air. The elongated central square of Hlavná ulica is lined with elegant, pastel-coloured Renaissance and Baroque buildings, their façades topped with ornate gables and pediments. Towering Protestant and Catholic churches vie for visitors' attention amid the square's flower gardens and fountains. The city also serves as the cultural centre for the outlying Rusyn population; with today's greater religious tolerance, Prešov's Greek-Catholic cathedral now enjoys a renaissance and has a bishop once again after the persecution of the Communist era. The cathedral is filled with lavish ornate Orthodox furnishings with an elaborate iconostasis topped with gilded filigree. On a bright sunny afternoon, we walked the length of the square, past the decorous town houses and old town-hall from whose balcony the First Czechoslovak Republic was proclaimed in 1918- so small a balcony for such a momentous political event. Trolley buses trundled through amidst crowds of shoppers and trendily-dress youngsters (Photo 6 - Prešov city centre on a sunny afternoon). But we had a long continuing journey ahead, and set off again across rolling hilly countryside, passing Prešov's other claim to fame, the Šariš Brewery, home of the excellent Šariš beers we had been enjoying during the trip.

After crossing dour-looking gloomy hills, our destination that evening was Dunajec Camping in the tiny village of Červaný Kláštor, set on the banks of the Dunajec river which forms the border with neighbouring Poland. Viewed from our riverbank camp, the pine and birch-covered hills of Poland rose up across the 20m wide river; it was a glorious setting. The reason for venturing to this remote corner of the country was to take one of the rafting trips for which the fast-flowing River Dunajec is renowned. In the early 20th century, 1000s had emigrated to escape the desolation which had long plagued the impoverished Zamagurie region. Nowadays with the setting up of the Pieniny National Park spanning the border, tourism, and particularly rafting along the River Dunajec's limestone gorge, forms a significant part of the region's economy. Early next morning, the sounds of rafts being prepared at the nearby launching stage echoed across our camp. Each raft is made up of 5 narrow sections lashed together and spanned by seats for the 90 minute one-way trip down-river through the gorge (Photo 7 - Rafting on the Dunajec river); the rafts are then dismanted and returned upriver by lorry for the next trip. Two rafts-men, dressed in the colourful traditional costumes of the Goral mountain people of the region, punt and steer the boats down the shallow and fast-flowing river (Photo 8 - Goral rafts-man). It was a bright morning for our rafting trip, but with a chill NE wind. In the space of a few days, we had moved from t-shirts to sweaters and thick jackets; nights were now getting cold: autumn was definitely on the way and the beech and birch woods across the river were clearly showing a golden hue against the dark green of the pines. The rafts set off past the village on the Polish bank with the Three Crowns limestone peak looming overhead, and soon enter the Dunajec gorge as the river winds its way through the towering cliffs of the impressive canyon. With low water levels, the river's pace quickened as the rafts were steered through the shallows, not white water thrills but still exhilarating (Photo 9 - Rafting through the Dunajec Gorge). Rafts-men from both the Polish and Slovak banks banter in friendly rivalry, but the effort involved in punting and guiding the rafts was clearly demanding. It was a memorable venture but left the slightly nagging concern that this thriving tourist industry was exploiting the employment potential it offered for local Goral men for whom there would be little or no work other than the traditional alpine agriculture. For them rafting was hard graft; we wondered how well (or otherwise) they were paid. That evening we walked across the footbridge and the open-border with the Polish village opposite, as the late sun sparkled on the river and gave a distant foretaste view of the High Tatras craggy peaks where we should soon be heading.

In bitterly cold and gloomily wet weather, we moved on, pausing at Kežmarok to collect emails at an internet café; we have struggled with many alien keyboards but Slovak ones are bewilderingly puzzling. If you've received an email from us with random mis-keyings of y's and z's, you'll understand the dilemma of searching through Slavic accents for the @ symbol!

The next few days were spent in the Slovak Spiš (pronounced Spish) region. The federation of 24 Spiš towns was originally founded by industrious German emigrants attracted here by trading privileges granted by the Hungarian Crown to repopulate the region after the devastating 13th century Mongol invasion. The medieval walled town of Levoča, once capital of the Spiš region, was one such town whose merchants grew rich on trade and invested their wealth in adorning their town with opulent buildings and a glorious Gothic church. The local campsite in the narrow valley just north of the town was poor value, but it provided a base for our visit despite the continuing bad weather. The 15/16th centuries were Levoča's golden age and the Gothic-Renaissance treasures of that period still dominate the beautiful central square, particularly the sturdy town-hall, the town's most elegant public building. The square is lined with a fine array of 16th century burgher houses, their sgraffito-ed decorations showing the wealth that trade had brought to Levoča. But the town's showpiece is without doubt the Church of Sv Jakob with its magnificent carved and gilded wooden altarpiece created by the town's craftsman, Master Pavol of Levoča. The 18.6m high masterpiece completely fills the church's Gothic arched eastern window, and is reportedly the world's tallest such piece of medieval ecclesiastical artwork. But walking the circuit of the town's surviving medieval walls, the view of modern-day Levoča with its grim-looking tower-block paneláky was a harsh contrast with its elegant showpiece centre. This was the side of Levoča the tourists did not normally see.

The countryside east of Levoča is dominated by another reminder of Spiš wealth and power, the imposing outline of Spišsky Hrad (Castle), the gaunt shell of the medieval fortifications standing on a high limestone bluff and visible for miles around (Photo 11 - Spišsky Hrad (Castle) dominating the Spiš countryside). From the castle's ramparts, the view westwards of the distant High Tatras should have given us a foretaste of our forthcoming time in these glorious mountains. Today, the horizon was totally obscured by rain clouds; it was indeed the unwelcome prelude to a cold, wet and gloomy period for what should have been the trip's highlight in the mountains.

In gloomy weather, the modern-day capital of the Spiš region, Spišská Nová Ves seemed a cheerless place, full of industrial estates and paneláky. But beyond the town, Nature reasserted herself in the form of the wooded hills and limestone gorges of the aptly-named Slovensky Raj (Slovak Paradise) From our base at the straightforward but good-value Podlesok campsite bordering on the dark pine woods of the lower Raj near Hrabušice village, we enjoyed a splendid day's walking up the lower and more accessible section of the Hornád Gorge. A nerve-wracking scramble along the side of the deep river-gorge and a briskly steep uphill flog through pine and beech woods culminated at the rocky shelf of Tomašovsky Vyhl'ad. From this outcrop-balcony, the ground dropped away sheer, some 400 feet down into the valley from which we had climbed, but the anticipated views up the higher section of the limestone gorge were totally obscured by the endless pine woods (Photo 12 - Endless pine woods in Slovensky Raj).

The bitterly cold nights and wretchedly wet days had become the established norm as we paid a brief visit to Poprad to consult the internet weather forecast; we wished we hadn't: 5 more days of rain and gloom, certainly not weather for mountain walking. Poprad would be an unappealing town even in sunny weather and certainly so as we walked in centre muffled in thick jackets against the 9°C temperature. Far more engaging was another of the Spiš towns, Spišská Sobota, now rather engulfed by Poprad's industrial estates. The highlight of the elegant central square was the late-Gothic church of Sv Juraj (St George). The main altar was another product of Master Pavol's workshops, centred around a large carved and gilded wooden statue of the church's patron saint skewering a particularly monstrous dragon.

But the time had come for us to head up into the Tatras foothills to find Camping Tatranec. The huge open camping field with no sheltering trees was as unwelcoming as the receptionist's attitude: When we questioned the extortionate price, the girl just shrugged as if to say 'Take it or leave it, you haven't much choice'; and she was right, we hadn't. Tatranec was one of the few sites open at this time of year, but with its decrepit facilities, it was poor value for money. The Tatras, which should have presented a noble evening skyline, were engulfed by rain cloud, and savage-looking plumes of black cloud spiralled upwards above the mountains. We warmed ourselves with mugs of cuppa-soup, hoping the forecast was wrong and tomorrow would bring better weather. It didn't. Early the following morning, after a tantalising brief glimpse of the Tatras peaks shimmering in a clear sky, the band of cloud rapidly refilled the valley and the cloud-base solidified again at 1,500m. That was the only clear view we were to get (Photo 13 - Distant view of High Tatras in early morning light). Through their shroud of drifting cloud, the mountains showed further fresh snow covering from the recent rains. At mid-height below the line of mountain peaks, a tramway known as the Tatranská Electrička links the series of mountain resorts, the easternmost of which is Tatranská Lomnica near where we were camped. Friendly little red trams trundle along the lower slopes of the mountains, providing reliable transport between the main climbing centres.

The delightful lady in the TIC gave no encouraging news of improved weather, but we had to make the best of it. From the settlement of Starý Smokovec, we tackled a mid-height climb around the cirque of Studena Dolina, kitting up in ultra cold weather gear: 2 sweaters, gortex, woolly hat and gloves against the bleakly cold, wet conditions. We gained height steadily on a wet path up through the dark, dank pine woods. Down below we had a clear view of the trail of devastation from the November 2004 hurricane which had cut a swathe of destruction and de-forestation across the lower face of the mountains. We continued upwards into the soaking mist, meeting more fresh snow (Photo 14 - Early snow in High Tatras) and just above the tree-line, reached our objective; from this rocky shelf, we should have had a magnificent panorama of the ring of snow-covered peaks around the head of the dolina. But today, nothing. All that was visible was the dim outline of ridges descending from invisible higher peaks buried in cloud. But a brief window of sun brought minor reward for our efforts on the cold and wet ascent: a hesitant rainbow arcing across the mist covered mountains (Photo 15 - Low cloud and rainbow in High Tatras mountains).

The following day, the cloud was down to valley-bottom level and all we could do was take a ride on the Tatranská Electrička tram. Monday, no change, so we drove over the White Tatras towards the Polish border, visiting the Goral village of Ždiar, its the traditional wooden houses having painted patterns around windows and beam-ends. These mountain people spoke a dialect of Polish and had for centuries shepherded sheep and horses across their Carpathian homelands spanning the Slovak-Polish border. We continued over the alpine meadows and pine-covered hills down to the river which forms the Polish frontier at Lysa Polana, again crossing the now open-border for a further brief visit to Poland.

We had one more day left in the High Tatras, and despite continuing poor weather, we had to get one more walk in the mountains from Strbské Pleso. With the cloud base still low, we set off from the village; it was truly depressing in the murky, misty half-light. 'Walk towards the mountains', the Sunflower guide instructed; we could scarcely see the pine trees in front of us, let alone distant mountains! After 45 minutes of steady height-gain, the pines gave way to birch, rowan and dwarf pine, and through gaps in the trees as the mist cleared, we began to get distant views of the ring of snow-covered mountain peaks of the Rysy massif. The path was superbly constructed, shelving across the face of a high spur with the forest-filled valley beneath us. Despite the moist and misty dampness, we made good progress encountering more snow, and descended to the mountain tarn of Popradské Pleso nestled in a hollow with the mighty walls of Mengusovska Dolina rising sheer above. Returning by the same path, we at last had the views we had waited a frustrating 5 days for (Photo 16 - Mengusovská Dolina and Rysy peaks in the High Tatras). Dodging the logging work in the pine-woods we made our way back into the eerie half-light of Strbské Pleso.

With such a drastic and sudden turn in the weather, this had been a frustrating period, but despite this, we had achieved so much in a short space of time, learnt much and enjoyed new adventures. Perhaps the most frustrating aspect had been the disappointment of the poor weather in the High Tatras which had prevented us from savouring the many superb mountain walks which this confined alpine range has to offer. We shall doubtless return one day to pick up on what the weather prevented us achieving this trip. So now, onward to the Low Tatras and the wine hills of western Slovakia. Stay tuned ....
 

   Sheila and Paul

   Published: Monday 29 September 2008    

Next edition to be published in 2 weeks

 

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Slovak folk melody

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