ZIGZAGGING.
One more delightful and joyous day spent in climbing the pine-clad
Nosol, and in driving to the beautiful valley of Kościelysko,
terminates our stay at Zakopane.
Starting for the former at 9 A.M., we are accompanied not only by a
guide, but by the Herr Graf himself, who still wears his William Tell
costume and looks meekly ferocious with his moustache well cosmetiqued
for the occasion. At his side dangles a miniature barrel, filled,
before leaving the inn, with some invigorating beverage in readiness
for any emergency that might befall us on the way. He is likewise armed
with his gun, for who knows but that a chamois or two, or a spotted
deer, might cross our pathway, these animals being such very friendly
game. Should either do so, it would be provoking not to have a shot at
him. In addition to these equipments of the chase he carries on his
shoulders a small scarlet flag, but for what purpose, other than that
of effect, we are as greatly at a loss to determine as in the case of
the net of the previous day.
The noble pine forest up which we were slowly zigzagging is one of
nature’s own gardens at this time of year, and our progress would have
been arrested every moment as we stooped to gather the lovely Alpine
flowers which were blooming in lowly beauty at our feet, had not our
guide warned us that time is a fast fleeting substantive, and that
if we went on loitering in that fashion we could never expect to be
“_auf der Spitze_.”
[Illustration]
Climbing with the aid of the Tátra staff--a strong hatchet-headed
stick, with which we are each provided, and which every one uses
on this northern side of the mountains--we catch hold of roots and
branches of trees, and ascend the precipitous mountain that would
otherwise have been impossible to climb. As we approach the summit,
the noble pines bear evidence to some recent tempest, for all is dire
disorder; the tops of some, partially severed from their trunks, are
upheld by the branches of the trees next to them, whilst others again
that have succumbed to the fury of the storm-king are lying like
prostrate giants where they fell, their beautiful foliage withering in
the sunlight, whilst the young and feathery larches are either strewn
about or bowed like withies almost to the ground.
“Four hundred trees were blown down on this mountain alone during the
storm,” remarked our guide, as he pointed to a splendid monarch of the
woods that, torn up by its roots, was poised against another tree, and
formed a pointed arch above us.
Whilst travelling in the Carpathians it has been a constant marvel to
us that any pines are left standing, for not only are these splendid
primeval forests exposed to the ravages of the north wind, and
ruthlessly cut down by the inhabitants, but it is the rarest thing
possible to see young trees planted in their place. It is true that
the forests being vast in extent, and the country thinly populated, it
is scarcely likely there will ever be a lack of wood, but it is sad to
see one of the most beautiful characteristics of this mountain land
gradually dwindling away.
In an hour and a half from the time of our leaving the valley, we
stand on the summit of the Nosol. For the last twenty minutes of our
way it has been a terribly hard climb, but we now find ourselves well
repaid by a magnificent view of the surrounding country. Below lies
the village of Zakopane, which contains 2500 inhabitants; its houses,
which, after the Polish custom, are erected in groups, looking like
mere toys. To the south rises the rocky summit of the Giewont, which,
although of lower altitude than others behind it, far exceeds them in
grandeur. Two peaks of this singular mountain form themselves into
pyramids, which at one season of the year serve as a clock to the
inhabitants of the village, the sun at noon standing almost immediately
over a chasm which lies between them.
The _Edelweiss_ grows in great abundance on the Nosol, its
silvery-white bracteal leaves and woolly flowers contrasting vividly
with the blue gentian. I was sitting silent and alone, making a rapid
sketch of the rocky labyrinth around, when something came behind me and
threw a handful of these lovely Alpine flowers into my lap. It was a
little child, who with another, scarcely older than herself, had come
from the village below, both having scrambled up the steep face of the
mountain, by a shorter way than that by which we had come--scrambled
up, goodness knows how! Both were such perfect little rustics, and had
such bright colours and rosy lips, that they looked like Alpine flowers
themselves, as, wandering in and out amongst the rocks in search of
the beautiful gentian and other flowers, they made them into bunches
and stuck them in my hat, and then without the least shyness threw
themselves on the soft grass beside me, prattling in their strange Sláv
tongue, and watching me while I sketched.
F. and the Graf, under the leadership of the guide, had gone for a
further climb to a group of rocks on the extreme summit, and I was glad
of the companionship of these little mountaineers. Presently out of
the sweet melody existing in their hearts they began to sing, not in
any regular succession of sounds modulated by art, but carolling like
forest-birds, until, with the impulsiveness of childhood, they jumped
up suddenly and were gone.
I shuddered as I watched them zigzag down the dizzy height by the steep
and almost imperceptible pathway, singing as they went and taking no
heed to their footsteps. I watched them out of sight, and felt that
the Angels must indeed have special charge over these mountain “little
ones,” for one false step would have sent them rolling over and over to
a depth of full a thousand feet.
On the return of my companions, we go to visit the remains of a glacier
moraine, which consists of blocks of granite and other _débris_
forming the bed and sides of what must have been a broad glacier
no less than a mile long. The surrounding rocks are of dolomite:
consequently the stones, like that of the Félka valley, must have been
brought hither from a considerable distance by ice-masses.
Some of the pines in this district are very singular, having no lower
foliage at all, only little patches of green upon their tips and
extreme points of the branches, and they look old--_so_ old--with
icicles hanging from their stems, that we are forcibly reminded of the
primeval forests of the mountains in the far East, where they stand and
lie by thousands, dead, and blanched by time, looking like phantoms
of themselves. The cones which fall from these Eastern forest-trees,
from some cause or other, have ceased to germinate; and there being no
inhabitants in those wilds to replant the forests with young pines, the
splendid primeval pine-woods will soon be quite extinct.
Gazing at these fine weather-beaten old fellows as, winding round
the mountain, they are perpetually presented to our view, our minds,
as I have said, revert sadly to the Nemesis that has overtaken those
in the more distant land; and we wonder whether, in that cycle which
is silently weaving gradual but unmistakable changes in the world of
nature, the same causes which so mysteriously affected the cessation
of their growth and natural reproduction will--it may be centuries
hence--operate here also, and many of these mountains be robbed of one
of the chief features of their beauty, unless man intervenes to prevent
the possibility, and plants them with young trees.
We had left orders before starting that Abraham and Sarah were to be
in attendance at two o’clock to take us on to the Kościelysko-Thal, so
that we tarry no longer in the neighbourhood of the Nosol, but descend
the mountain as quickly as we can. On nearing the inn, the first
things which attract our notice are these interesting animals, already
saddled and patiently awaiting our return; for we are nearly an hour
later than we had intended. A meal hastily partaken of--for day is
waning, and there is no time to be lost--and we are cantering off to
the beautiful defile, a quadruple cavalcade, not only the Graf but the
guide himself accompanying us _à cheval_, for the distance is too
great to walk our ponies and admit of his going with us on foot.
The road is excellent, and takes us through forests nearly the whole
way. In the small clearings in the pine-woods what sweet pictures are
seen! piles of newly-cut wood, and happy peasants in bright-coloured
clothing, lighting up the dark green foliage and tall grey stems of the
trees.
The entrance to the valley is guarded by two rocks, which create a
portal so narrow that we can only just pass in on our ponies; thus
jealously does Nature secure from intrusion one of her grandest
sanctuaries.
On the other side of this natural gateway we find a small meadow, in
which a cow and two goats are peacefully grazing. But no sooner does
the former catch sight of the Graf’s red flag--who is some twenty yards
ahead of us--than gathering herself up, with head and tail erect, she
waits his nearer approach with menacing aspect, evidently ready for an
attack.
The effect of this bovine demonstration on the Graf’s weak nerves was
startling. Paralysed with fear, he stood gazing at the infuriated
animal for some seconds until, whether from pity or scorn, the creature
forsook its threatening aspect and walked quietly across to another
part of the meadow.
Not far off is Alt-Kościelysko, where there is a hut in which benighted
travellers can, when necessary, find shelter till the following
morning. Proceeding farther still, we come to another pass, called the
“Upper Gate,” scarcely broader than the former, there being only room
for the pathway and the stream that flows beside it. It is at this
point that the grandeur and beauty of the gorge may with truth be said
to commence.
On either side the rocks, rising almost perpendicularly, assume the
most marvellous and fantastic forms, and to many of these names have
been assigned. Thus, about half a mile from the Upper Gateway there is
a narrow cleft called “Krakow,” on account of the resemblance the rocks
are said to bear to some of the old buildings of the ancient capital of
that name.
Leaving a giant rock behind us, 3400 feet in height, on which the
Browns, Joneses, and Robinsons of Hungary, Poland, and Germany have
inscribed their names, and on which, to the inexpressible astonishment
of our guide and the Herr Graf, I need scarcely say we did _not_
immortalise our own, we pass on to another yet more magnificent group
of rocks, and are not overtaken by the Graf--who has been enlightening
future tourists with a long list of his titles--until we have entered
a forest leading to a small lake which lies in its centre, and whose
waters are almost black from the boggy nature of its bed. As we
approach it, a flock of wild ducks rise from its margin and soar away
over the tree-tops. F. shouts to our gallant sportsman, who is still
slightly in the rear, but on his joining us we ascertain that he had
brought every mortal thing with him with the exception of powder and
shot. These it had escaped his memory to bring! So that, although the
sedges are evidently full of game, we were not permitted to witness
his prowess; a circumstance which I shall always feel was a most
fortunate circumstance, so far as our own lives were concerned.
We have a lovely ride home, the moon shedding such radiance over all
things far and near that the night was once more almost converted into
day. Not until ten o’clock did we espy the roof of our hostel, and
recognise the hoary pate of the hospitable landlord, standing outside
in the moonlight, watching for us anxiously and wondering what could
have kept us so late. There were tidings for us, too, which the old man
was burning to communicate. The _Jäger_ had returned and brought
down from the heights not only a chamois, but some smaller game,
together with a bear. Great was the excitement in the inn, from which
came the sound of many voices; for the _Jäger_, who had arrived
only an hour previously, were being regaled with supper in the kitchen.
Having been two days in the mountains, they were doing full justice
to their well-earned meal, and formed an exceedingly picturesque
group, and one which might have done capitally for a representation
of freebooters or robber-knights, so thoroughly did they sustain the
character so far as externals were concerned.
The game lay in an _álás_ opposite, whither one of the _Jäger_ soon
accompanied us. The chamois, which had received its shot in the
neck, was one of only moderate size. It had been roused--so said the
_Jäger_--at a place not far below the Frozen Lake; and had fled for
safety to the peak beneath which the Graf had been stationed, having
passed within a few yards of the very stone behind which he had been
concealed, about two hours previously.
The party slept in a _Zufluchtshütte_ or hut of refuge, and then
beat a forest for bears. The one they had bagged was a fine shaggy old
fellow, but very much mutilated, having received no fewer than seven
shots,--a great pity, on account of the injury to its skin.
The Count did not seem so chagrined at his absence from the sport as
one would naturally have imagined, but took a very lively interest in
its results. He is to depart early on the morrow to catch the morning’s
train at Poprád, where, journeying by the Kaschau and Oderberger
railway, he will return to the _Vaterland_, no doubt full of his
daring exploits.
As we leave the shed and re-enter the inn where our own repast now
awaits us, we hear him giving directions for the head and skin of the
chamois, together with that of the bear, to be forwarded to him so soon
as they have been cured; after which they will doubtless be carefully
suspended in the baronial hall, in the company of the William Tell hat
and the various accoutrements of the chase, as a witness to successive
generations of the valour of their ancestor.
The story will be recorded of how one Ludwig von ----, in the year of
our Lord 188-, did fight with a bear, how that he was seized in its
grip, and hugged like a baby; but by the strength of his mighty arm,
and without either gun or lance, or any weapon whatsoever, did overcome
the powerful monster, and fell it to the ground, where it immediately
lay dead before him. A bear erect, rampant, on a fess _gules_,
will be added to the family escutcheon, and the name of Ludwig von ----
will be immortalised for ever.