Sunshine in the High Tatras mountains

Nick and I are not beer drinkers as a rule, but we both enjoy the occasional cold one in the sun at lunchtime. In Scandinavia this was an unaffordable luxury, as it was likely to cost us half our daily budget. So we promised each other we'd treat ourselves when the opportunity arose. Throughout the Baltic States either the weather was against us, or we were moving on in the afternoon in areas with virtually zero blood alcohol limits for driving. When the cold weather arrived in Lithuania and Northern Poland we thought we had lost our chance. And then suddenly, the weather changed, we found ourselves free parking in a ski resort in the Slovakian Tatras, and we worked up a thirst climbing up a third of a mountain. So today we sat in glorious sunshine, in shorts and t-shirts, on a terrace, drinking beer. Gosh it tasted good.

No idea what we were drinking

900m ascent in a phone box

You may be wondering why we only climbed up a third of the mountain. Our overnight spot for last night and tonight is in the huge car park at Tatranská Lomnica, a popular resort in the High Tatras with multiple cable cars and chair lifts, and hiking trails in between. I persuaded Nick that such a playground in this weather was too good an opportunity to miss, and we should stay two nights and work out a combination of walking and cable cars that worked for us all and didn't break the bank. We planned to walk up to the second cable car, then take that up to the restaurant for lunch, and walk all the way back down. The third and final cable car has only a single gondola that travels almost 900m up to the tiny peak of Lomnicky štít (2634m) which has no other way of access. It doesn't allow dogs.

We set off at about 10am, having checked with the information desk that we could buy tickets on the mountain for the second cable car. The climb wasn't too arduous, and we were soon in the short queue for tickets. Only to be told that this halfway station didn't take cards. Fortunately I remembered I had an emergency €50 note stashed in my phone, and we were on our way. Elsa had a lovely time looking out at the view, but Max was less impressed. The ground fell away quickly, as we rose to 1751m, giving us a panorama of the plains below, and more of the Carpathian mountains in the distance. The Tatras is the highest range in the Carpathians, which curve through eastern Europe in a great question mark from Southern Poland through Romania and into Serbia. We'll be seeing more of them.

What Elsa saw

Right now it was the Tatras that had our full attention as we sat in the sun with our beers, gazing at the peaks behind and the panorama below. Nick generously offered to wait with the dogs if I wanted to go up to the very top, he knows how I love to get to the top of mountains, but sadly the tickets were sold out for the day. Instead we relaxed in the sun, then enjoyed a locally inspired lunch of goulash and pork knuckle to sustain us for the return leg. It took a couple of hours to climb back down the mountain, with both spaniels on their best heel-walking behaviour - essential if one is to avoid a rather more precipitous descent than intended. We shall all sleep well tonight.

The path back down

Dobczyce castle. Because it was there

The nights are definitely drawing in, and these last few days of relatively low mileage cannot continue for long if we are to get south before any risk of bad weather. But the area south of Kraków has been delightful, and worth a bit of time. After leaving Wieliczka, with its impressive salt mine, we headed cross country to the pretty village of Dobczyce, for no other reason than it had a lake (reservoir) and a castle, and somewhere to park Florence and walk the pups before lunch. In the afternoon we rejoined the main road south, where I got increasingly excited at the sight of the lumpy bits in the distance. Our destination that night was Zakopane, the most famous ski resort in the Polish Tatras. 

We parked up for the night in a small car park after a bit of good natured haggling with the attendant. Park4Night reviews had warned us of a tendency to hide the rates and overcharge foreign tourists, but he was remarkably phlegmatic when I insisted: "My friend said 20 zloty." And that was what we paid, having carefully husbanded our last remaining cash in preparation. We left the spaniels in the van, and set off to explore Zakopane. We were expecting a small mountain resort. What we found was basically the Polish version of Banff (the Canadian one, not the Scottish one) with the best part of a mile of posh shops and restaurants, every outdoor brand you have ever seen, magnificent wooden villas, and crowds the like of which we hadn't seen since the last encounter with a cruise ship. It all felt a little surreal, but rather impressive too. 

A busy night in Zakopane

The outskirts of Zakopane

The next morning we headed in the opposite direction to walk the pups, towards the National Park. Soon it was like walking to a game or a concert, with people appearing from all directions, all walking in the same general direction, and all dressed alike - in hiking shoes and technical gear, carrying rucksacks and walking poles. (You can make that joke, I couldn't possibly.) We only went as far as the National Park centre, a good walk with beautiful scenery right on the edge of the town, and then turned back. 

We had decided to cross into Slovakia via the border village of Lysa Polana, and to take the mountain road from Zakopane to get there. Having initially dismissed the road as being too curvy, I had used Google Maps Streetview to establish that there was a white line and a good surface, it was only 18km, and we had driven much worse. The road itself was indeed fine. But it was a Sunday in the middle of period of warm and dry weather in October. The whole of southern Poland was trying to get to trail heads in the Tatras, and those that couldn't get into car parks were parking on the road. I managed to squeeze Florence through the gaps, but there was nowhere to pull over to let traffic past, so I was treated to a couple of loud blasts of the horn for daring to be on the road holding people up. I breathed a sigh of relief as I saw the more major road ahead, and was about to follow Nick's direction to turn right at the roundabout, when I saw that the turning had a 3m height limit. I turned left instead, and pulled into the first space off the road. 

Florence is 2.9m high. But she has a 15cm rigid aerial on top. We have survived a 3.2m height limit with relative comfort. But what was this obstruction, and could it rip her aerial off? Having established that a) it was a relatively main road, b) the weight limit was 7.5 tonnes and c) the alternative meant a long diversion, we decided to risk it. There were a lot more cars parked in the road, the massive car parks for hikers at Lysa Polana were completely full and traffic was backing up, but we made it through the border, and we still haven't the faintest idea what the height limit was about. There was no bridge, didn't appear to be low hanging branches, no cliff walls looming over us... we shall probably never know, but suddenly we were in Slovakia.

Not a bad place to stop for lunch

It was almost lunchtime, and so we pulled over at the first piece of rough ground with no cars, and took a deep breath. To our surprise, we were at a modest trailhead. Nothing too popular, but there were a few people returning from a hike, and we had managed to get one of only about six spaces. Given that we were planning to spend the night in a popular hiking resort, we felt it made sense to stay put until spaces were likely to become available later. After lunch we watched the Scotland-Japan Rugby World Cup match, and then spent an hour or so exploring the path we had parked beside. At about 4pm we headed on to Tatranská Lomnica, and found a space fairly easily in the top tier, which is where campers are supposed to park. Luckily it was Sunday evening, and most people have to go back to work. Oh well.