In the land of pure water, between Horna Orava and Mala Fatra - 2 Frenchmen and 35 Slovaks on a field trip. (2/5)

26th May 2016

Day 2

I had a restless night's sleep. Our Slovakian friends enjoyed partying and drinking all night long in the dorm building. Luckily, I was in the teacher's bedroom, along with Vladimir and Mr Kichila. At 9pm we were able to go to bed. Even with earplugs they could still be heard!

In the early hours of the morning in the mountains of Horna Orava where we had slept, the mist created quite the atmosphere. The trees were so green, the air so humid, that one would have thought we were in the Vosges. I witnessed this scene as I left the refuge of the dormitory to head towards the breakfast room in another cabin. The menu offered a quintessentially Slovakian breakfast: scrambled eggs, or mustard sausage, or salami bread. Very filling!

Me with my scrambled eggs, the teacher, Vladimir, sat across from me with his sausages, I took the opportunity to ask him: "Have you been to France before?". His response was that of a physical geography buff, inherently less abstract: "Ten years ago, yes, to Auvergne, near Clermont-Ferrand. I was in a shelter like this one. I like this sort of lodging, in the middle of nature. In March when we first went in Krásnohorská Cave, in the Slovakian karst, he admitted that "it was his 43rd time!"

We can't help ourselves. At the Slana Voda shelter we are in the southern-most town in Slovakia (Oravska Polhora). We travel south for 30 km towards the Orava dam.

On an island in Slovakia.

We had planned to go on a hike but the overcast weather meant that the teachers wanted to avoid a repeat of yesterday's events. So since we were passing close by the Orava dam, why not get on a boat for a spin around the reservoir? They had to improvise.

The Orava dam is the biggest lake in Slovakia at 35.2 km². It is slightly bigger than Lake Annecy (26,4 km²) and a little smaller than the lake at Bourget (44 km²).

Our group of 37 easily filled the ferry, painted with sky blue stripes. Wanting to benefit from the fresh air, and avoid sea-sickness (lake-sickness is perhaps more fitting), I went out onto the deck. Manon, my fellow Frenchwoman, like all the other members of the group, also took the same precaution. "I've been sick on a boat before" she recalled.

Like me, Manon soon felt better as the small boat started speeding across the water. Only the wash of our boat created waves. The lake at Orava (Oravska Priehrada) is very smooth. . Towards the stern, 2, then 5 Slovaks messed around taking photos holding the national flag.

I stood up to inhale the fresh morning breeze, like the crisp air of the Breton coast or an Alpine mountain top. Standing up I was able to better make out the surrounding landscape which reminded me of an Italian lake, with the small properties along the water's edge and its morning sfumato. Although artificial, Orava appears natural, with its opal hue and the birds from the nature reserve, which fly off as we approach.

We dock at another island: Slanicky, certainly one of the only islands in the country. Located in central Europe, Slovakia doesn't have a single bit of marine coastline. Furthermore, since the lake was man-made, so was the island. At the time, it was the highest point of Slanica (at 609 metres), a village swallowed like 4 others in the same valley during the construction of the dam in 1953.

On Slanicky, only the Calvary and the Synagogue are worth visiting. We entered the synagogue which has housed a small museum since 1971. At the entrance, Manon and I met an unusual character on this small plot of land.

I asked the young brunette guide for a leaflet about the place in English. Then as Vladimir, our teacher, introduced us, she began to speak in French! "But how did you learn our language?" I asked, blown away, even more so than in the Poloniny mountains with the elderly Frenchman. "I spent a year on Erasmus in Paris a couple years ago. I would like to work in tourism. " She had been working there for two seasons and, although the crowds are as quiet as the lake, she doesn't complain.

As I wander among the multi-coloured statues of local saints, Vladimir took me aside. In a room to the right of the entrance, he showed me a map of the dam. "You see, there was a mistake with Orava, which is the biggest dam in Slovakia. The entirety of its surface should have been located in our country. However, a small part of it stretches into neighbouring Poland. "

Leaving the guide, happy to have spoken French to someone new, I almost missed re-boarding the ferry!

Drinking from the river in the Mala Fatras.

Heading back to the boat's gangway, the sun began to break through the clouds. An hour later there is only the sun in the azure sky. We travelled 70 km south-west, arriving at Terchova in the Mala Fatras.

A national park, the canyons in this mountain range resemble two water droplets, like at Slovak Paradise. Barely two weeks after my trip there, I returned for two and a half hours of walking through an environment of steep gorges and waterfalls. "Since it has cleared up, we will walk" Vladimir had stated on the bus.

The canyons at Mala Fatras, alongside those at Slovak Paradise, are the most remarkable in the country.

We rush out into the canyons of Dolné and Horné diery. To my great pleasure, despite the aftereffects of a restless night, I found this walk easier than that at Slovak paradise. The ladders are less primitive, with railings. The walkways aren't as old and slippery. I didn't have to always watch where I stepped, because we rarely left the river bed.

Even better, there is a surprise in store. As we prepare to turn back around, at 900 metres up, I see the other students filling their bottles with river water. In France, if a hiker did that, even in the mountains, they would risk being bedridden by diarrhoea or gastroenteritis.

On the way back I spoke to Mr Kichila, the other teacher who accompanied our roup. (The other half of the class had walked the Nove Diery canyon). "Aren't they going to be sick?" I asked. "No, the water here is pure. It's a national park. There is no pollution" he explains, as if it was normal. "Are you sure?" I pushed. "Yes, go ahead. Help yourself. You will see tha the water is fine. People from the village further down drink it all year long. I do it often and I've never had a problem!" Manon managed to convince me: "I have done it several times on a hike. "

So I filled my empty half-litre bottle, happy about having some water for the descent, even if I remained a little unsure. I reassured myself by recalling that there are many sources of mineral water in the limestone of the Mala Fatras. Slovakia has more than 300 such sources!

Like in "Fast and Furious"

After a Spanish lunch (at 3pm) in a Koliba, a chalet restaurant, we got back on the bus. Since Manon nor I understood the Slovakian spoken by Vladimir into the microphone, we didn't know if another work was planned. At times the geophysics teacher had approached our seats to clarify the plan.

Not tonight. We were forgotten. Sat next to me, Manon complains: "They could come up to us, be a little curious about France, get to know us. The trip is good but it would be better if we interacted with the Slovaks more". Calming down a bit, she says: "I guess it's true that before Erasmus I wouldn't have come up to speak to some foreigners from my university. It's really stupid. "

It's true that the 33 Slovaks on the trip with us stayed amongst themselves and hardly spoke to us. For my part, I had had a few short conversations with some Slovakian boys and a girl on the return from the hike. She continued "It's so stupid for people so young not to know a word of English these days. Despite the mistakes and the fear, you still have to try!"

We had been driving for 45 minutes to some unknown destination. We were going fast and the traffic was flowing. Suddenly, the bus brakes, drifting into the emergency stop lane. I thought there had been an accident, a collision, something serious. Vladimir got up, calming the students, he says: "The Slovaks stay where you are! Only the French come with me!". Manon and I don't look, not knowing what awaits us outside. Is it a police check? Are we bring hunted down like criminals?

Upon getting off the bus, there were no henchmen waiting to pick us up. However, Vladimir threw a test at us: "We will cross the fast lane, go along the other side of the safety barrier, cut past the tall grass and climb up to the monument to the French partisans of Strecno" Since he had just told us this road in the Vah valley was the busiest in Slovakia, we were slightly uncertain...

The monument to the French partisans of Strecno was erected in 1956. To the right at its base were the ruins of the eponymous fortified castle.

We made it across alive to hear the comments of our professor. Smiling, happy to have found such a spot for his French students, he begins: "This was the scene of a battle, the second biggest battle on Slovakian soil during World War Two (the biggest was on the Polish border). Here 155 French soldiers helped Slovakian and Russian [resistance] members, who are also referred to by the acronym SNP".

The column, engraved on one side with French text, pays homage to them. An extract from the eulogy: "Let the flowers of the fields/ Adorn the graves of the brave/ To eternal glory/ Sons of France/ Carried by the Marseillaise/ Towards heroic exploits/ Who fell as victors/ In the common fight/ For our happiness/ And that of humanity. " In 1956, when this verse was written and the monument was erected, it is doubtful that the designers thought about ensuring access from the road...

The bus was waiting for us a little further up the fast lane, parked by the ruins of Strecon castle. Once again we had to cross the extremely busy road. This time it was even more difficult. Gowing down the hill through the tall grass, along the safety barrier for several hundred metres with trucks grazing past us, and finally crossing the tarmac! Manon who was waiting with me for the teacher to clear the way through the grass became alarmed: "Him, the blonde, with his long legs, it's easy for him! But I am short, he didn't think about that!. "

Back on the bus, the two girls in front of us turned around and indiscreetly asked us: "So, was it good?" Manon, who if she hadn't been fearing for her life, had certainly been scared about the destination, laughed: "When the bus stopped... Oh and when we went along the barriers! It was like we were in the American film 'Fast and Furious' It was crazy! 2

Somewhere in the Velka Fatras

If only that had been the end of the day... A final cold sweat threatened us. After continuing along the main road, the bus turned right towards Martin. On the outskirts of the city the bus descended into a valley on the left, with views of the Velka Fatras Mountains National Park. We travelled 70 km south from the Mala Fatras.

In the meantime, the road changed. At first similar to the A7 the road ncity roads narrowed. It was more like a tarmac goat path. We passed hikers, knowing that at the end there was refuge. The road was so narrow that the wheels just fit on the tarmac. From time to time we heard the scratch of branches against the side of the bus. We were afraid of coming across another car, even though we had already been travelling for several kilometres. Manon put her hands in her short blonde hair and cried out: "He [Vladimir, the teacher] is trying to kill us Jerome! He couldn't find a better way if he tried!"

The cottages near the Havranovo shelter, in the Hautes Fatra.

Undeniably, this second shelter ("chata" in Slovakian) called Havranovo was nestled in the middle of nowhere. The setting is idyllic and remote at an altitude of 668 metres. A monk couldn't find a better place to withdraw from the world. Vladimir told me that the electricity is produced by a generator. When we went up to the second floor, all the Slovaks stormed the dormitories. The teachers too.

We remained alone in the midst of this commotion. Luggage and bottles of vodka were gradually taken into the rooms. We waited for Vladimir, our teacher, but we couldn't find him. When he finally arrived he informs us: "You will have your own room on teh thrid floor. The teachers and I will be in the room right next door. " Away from the din of the previous night, I intended to sleep through the whole night without being awoken by yells or shouting. The bedroom, charming yet old-fashioned, was inviting me to sleep. Manon agrred with me. She leaned out the window, pushing the door with small panes: It is so pretty here. I would love to have a house like this!"

Outside the Slovaks lit a campfire. We would have liked to go out but, like the sun, we were fading. At half past eight we were asleep.

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