Day#4 - The Malá Fatra - A symbolic cemetery
Vrátna dolina, where the hike began
Utorok (Tuesday), 22. augusta 2017-- (excerpts from my
journal The Pressburg Diaries, vol V and a separate travel diary)
Sometimes I think the guidebooks lie. Or at least
they’re written by “hiking gurus” who have “been there, done that” and have
their own idea of what’s what and what they think should be the "norm". The hiking guide we have said yesterday’s hike was
not so difficult, but I think it assumes you have reasonable hiking experience.
I believe Slovaks spring forth from the womb knowing how to tackle even the
steepest mountains, so that’s the basis on which to base everything else. I
quickly learned the Slovak word for tough: naročný.
That’s because I experienced it yesterday. There are also much more challenging
climbs than that. And then there are the High Tatras. It makes me wonder whether
each mountain chain gets progressively higher and more challenging. Hiking’s a
Slovak mindset; kind of like guns and football are to Americans. Maybe that’s
not the best comparison, but you get the idea.
So, it’s Tuesday. I almost lost track of the day—which is a good sign that I’m on holiday and disconnecting from the world. It’s overcast and even a bit foggy. That’s good because we’d agreed to do some lighter hiking today, anyway. Zuza suggested taking the bus in the direction of Starý Dvor again, but this time we’d take a different trail from a bit further and go to Chata na Grúni. It’s a bit of a diversion from our original plan, which was to take the chairlift to Chleb and walk along the ridge of that mountain. But because of the fog, the nice view (otherwise the reward for the hike) will likely be obscured. Of course the very original plan would have been to climb at least one of the Rozsutecs (Veľký or Malý) today, but after yesterday on Sokolie, we put that idea on hold. I think Zuza wanted to tackle the smaller (Malý) one for personal reasons. It was a favorite of her late father.
We got the bus from Štefanová to Vrátna dolina (not too far from Starý Dvor) and walked up to a “cemetery” honoring those who have died in the mountains. This includes hikers as well as mountain rescuers who lost their lives trying to save others. I put “cemetery” in quotations because Slovaks call this a symbolický cintorín, or a “symbolic cemetery”. There was quite a plaque commemorating the victims of a flash flood in the area on June 11, 1848. Virtually all the victims had the same surname, so they must have been related somehow.
At the "Symbolic cemetery", the names and ages of those who perished in the flood of 1848
Hiking back down to the bus stop, we picked
up the yellow trail and took this a gentle hike up to Chata na Grúni. Here was
a lodge in the middle of a meadow atop the 970-meter mountain. It had a large
porch stretching around two sides of it. We sat out on the porch and enjoyed
lentil soup, strapačky (gnocchi-like dumplings
with sauerkraut), strudel, a radler
(non-alcoholic beer with fruit flavoring) and 10° Urpiner beer. We stayed quite a while, despite a chilly breeze, and romped with a bunch of local kittens who
were playing on the property.
As is to be expected in these parts, there were Poles galore hiking about. Every second couple or group seemed to be speaking Polish. They were loud but friendly. When the chill got to be too much, we decided to start moving again. We took the blue trail back down to Štefanová, which was basically a logging trail. It was steep and muddy, but nothing like yesterday. In fact, it reminded me of a page out a Ken Kesey book or from a scene in the Coast Range in Oregon. By this time, the fog and cloud cover had lifted, and the sun came out, bringing warmth and light to the valley. The trail came out at Stohový Potok, where we walked briefly the day before yesterday. And before we made it back to our lodge, we went up to Koliba pod Rozsutcom. Zuza had tea with rum, and I treated myself to another Vŕšky beer.
Chata na Grúni.
I’d picked up a walking stick along the way in Vrátna, at the “symbolic cemetery”. This stick, about a meter long, is smooth. The gnarled head at the end forms a kind of handle. I started carrying it, and after awhile I realized it felt right. I used my pocket knife to smooth out a few rough spots on it, and I think I’ll take it back to Bratislava with me. I can finish it, sand it a bit, or at least drill a hole in the handle and slip a leather thong through it.
The walking stick I adopted
Dinner back at the lodge is, like
breakfast, included. But if you want to order something off the regular menu, you
pay extra for that. Yeah, they have pizza, and I was ready for that. And it was
really good. It was a better day. I consumed less energy and paced myself
better.