Stary Smokovec to Polish Border May 15-16

By Eric

We had wanted to spend two nights hiking in the mountains doing chalet hopping. But it was still too early. Several of the passes were snowed out so it was difficult to make a long round trip. Also one of the key chalets had burned down a year before. We settled on a one-night trip with a long first day over an open pass (the woman at the tourist office called and someone told her it was "possible."), then a short second day back to Stary Smokovec.

The hike up was just incredible. The clouds came and went constantly and we had about an hour of continuous rain. But we also had several hours of sunshine afterward to dry us out.

The lichens, the rocks and the snow made the lower hillsides black and white like dalmation fur. Above them loomed the jagged peaks, looking ominous in the clouds. It was as pretty as the Himalayas or even Alaska.

We had to cross several sections of snow before we reached the burned down chalet. From that chalet on up to the pass the trail was completely covered with snow. We debated turning around but decided to "just see how it went." We were encouraged by one pair of boot tracks and one pair of cross country ski tracks.

We had a map and a compass and the route seemed clear enough so we weren't too worried about getting lost. We followed the footsteps, occasionally breaking through the surface of the snow, sinking in up to our waist once or twice. Once we both fell in the same hole. My foot packed the snow in around Joan's so much she couldn't get out until I dug her out.

Our boots were filled with snow. Unfortunately, in anticipation of a long European summer, we had sent our warm socks home from Portugal. So stupidly, all we were wearing was sock liners. We did have Gore-Tex boots, but no gaiters. So the snow just fell in over the top of the boots. Joan's boots had enough ice and snow in them to make homemade ice cream. (JOAN: that's the closest I ever came to getting frostbite. If you're hiking up there, even in the summer, stop by one of the shops at the base of the trails and buy some decent socks and gaiters).
 

Then suddenly the boot tracks turned left and went straight up the side of the valley. I mean, up a nearly vertical wall of snow.The ski tracks went up with the boot tracks. So we were wrong: no one had walked out of the valley. Instead, some skiier had carried his skis up as far as he could, then put them on and raced back down, for the ride of his life.
 

At the same time a black cloud covered the mountains in the direction of the pass. Things were seeming a little ominous. If we had at least some of the right clothing we could have kept going but we decided to turn around. We rushed down the way we had come then had another two hours up the trail we had planned to return on the next day.

The chalet had only about six guests as far as I could tell. We had a great view from our room. But the place was sort of a forced combination of a Motel-6 and an Alpine lodge. Not quite as cozy as a lodge nor quite as neat as a and efficient as a Motel-6. But it was cheaper than either.

The dining room, like several other restaurants in Slovakia and Hungary, reminded me a little of the Iris lodge in Zeballos, BC -- animal hides and heads on the wall, lots of square back wood chairs, slickly varnished light wood railings. But it looked better here.

The next morning most of the other guests headed off up the pass we had originally planned to come down the day before. I noticed they all had gaiters, heavy winter coats, ski pants, walking sticks, and looked like mountaineers. We looked like we were on our way to a picnic.

On the way back to Stary Smokovec was passed a lot of hikers, including several families hiking with one or two children. Everyone smiled and said hello, in Slovakian.

We were traversing the side of the mountains, about 800 meters above the valley. The views were terrific. The whole area was laid out like a railroad set. We could see a half dozen little towns, the road and railroad between them. The buildings seemed strangely distinct even from a great distance. I almost expect little sign beside the town like on a map.

We had lunch at an art-deco restaurant in Stary Smokovec that you could have filmed a 30's gangster movie in. Then we loaded the bikes and headed for Poland.

It rained much of the way, the temperature dropped steadily all day, and we had to climb a lot of hills. But we didn't mind so much. We kept stopping for beer and chocolate crepes. One of the few phrases we learned in Slovakian in our seven days there was "palacinky s cokoladou" or pancake with chocolate (which is really a crepe).

So despite some of the most awful weather we've had since Madrid (and it's been hard to travel from bad weather to good weather then back to bad weather), we were in good spirits.

Also by this point we were getting better at identifying restaurants in Slovakia. They can be hard to spot because the very much resemble empty, closed, private homes. Often the sign is very small and far from the restaurant and many times there were no cars in front. Plus, it was still the off-season so some places weren't open. But we learned that if there is a sign, there is probably a restaurant if you look hard enough.

The Slovakia-Poland border is in a deep valley. So when we reached it in a light rain, at about 6:30 p.m. it was pretty dark. Fortunately a Polish man was crossing the border at the same time and helped translate when the guards asked where I got more French Horn. Everyone seems to think I got the horn in their country, I guess because they figure no fool would bring such a thing with them all the way from America.

It turns out Poland actually limits guest to one portable musical instrument. Good thing I didn't have a mouth harp on me.

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