Morskie Oko

I've been looking forward to this excursion for years now, and today was finally the day it would happen. Would it go as planned, or would weather or something else put a damper on our day?

We took a shuttle from Zakopane to Palenica Białczańska, the starting point for our jaunt into the High Tatra Mountains of Poland. Our destination, Morskie Oko, was five miles away, and there were only two ways to get there: on foot, or by horse-drawn wagon. We chose the latter.

Of course, we had to pay a steep fee for that option⸺200 złoty⸺but Jenelle's back still hurt from her surgery and we didn't want her worn out by having to walk up the mountain.

The path to the lake is paved and the vast majority of people walk it. And there are thousands of them! Young, old, partially crippled, mothers with strollers. It's like a long line of ants on a 5.6 mile path.

We, on the other hand, waited for over an hour for our turn to ride the horses. We weren't going to ride the horses directly, but were to sit in a covered wagon pulled by two horses. The problem was that only so many people could ride in a wagon at once.

When a team of horses completed the circuit, we would have to wait for them to take a break, drink, eat, and get pampered by their owners. This was quite a tiresome job for them, and they couldn't continue the loop without a rest. Although there were many teams on duty for work, it was a slow process to rotate through them.

Riding in a horse-drawn wagon to Morskie Oko.

Our driver of the wagon dressed in traditional Polish attire, with a brown leather hat and gray sweater. As we moved up the road, the horses' hooves clacked on the pavement. Their tails swooped back and forth, and the fresh scent of manure mixed with cold mountain air.

We passed two brown does feeding off the road, then small rivulets of water coming down the green slopes. As we got higher we passed a much larger waterfall.

Waterfall along the way.

I felt sorry for the horses. Their job was to pull a wagon full of people up a tediously inclining road, and sometimes at a trot. When we passed other teams coming down, I saw sweat on their flanks.

As we got higher on our route, views of the craggy peaks of the Tatras became more splendid. Streaks of snow in the gulleys of the upper slopes still lingered from winter.

At last, after a 3.8 mile ride, our adventure on the horses came to an end and it was now up to us to walk the remaining mile or so up to the lake. In true European fashion, an ice cream shack and restaurant stood beside the road to serve us. Not now. Maybe on the way back.

Morskie Oko.

When we arrived at the lake, the view was just as spectacular as I had anticipated: a beautiful deep-blue pool of water surrounded by majestic mountains. Hundreds of people loitered about the edges of the lake admiring the view and taking selfies. Near the shore was a large wooden “hut” where hungry hikers could buy a sandwich and beer.

After a few quick pictures we moved around to the eastern edge of the lake. A trail made with relatively flat mountain rocks made a circuit completely around the lake. We enjoyed the view as we hiked. A handful of waterfalls tumbled into the lake from random points, most likely from melting snow and springs.

Swiss pines grow along east side of Morskie Oko.

Morskie Oko, the name of this beautiful lake, comes from Polish meaning “eye of the sea.” It has been recognized as one of the most beautiful lakes in the world.

It's about half a mile to the back side of the lake, and it is from here that another trail climbs nearly 600 feet to another lake. This one is named Czarny Staw pod Rysami, or "Black Lake Below Mount Rysy" when translated into English. By this time, Jenelle was doing better than expected, so we decided to make it a go to the upper lake.

Sign on south side of Morskie Oko.

Looking down at Morskie Oko from the trail going up to Czarny Staw.

Cascading stream coming down from Czarny Staw.

The trail was steep and tedious, but was made bearable by elevated views of Morskie Oko, as well as a cascading stream that tumbled down alongside the trail. I was proud of Jenelle. She was doing much better than either of us expected.

Half an hour later we arrived at the second lake, and what a wonderful view it was! Not only did we have the grand view of Morskie Oko, but now the full view of Czarny Staw. Unlike the lower lake, this one was more transparent and had a turquoise ring around it when the sun was out. The center, however, was a dark blue, probably the reason for the lake's name.  At 249 feet, it is the fourth deepest lake in Poland. Mount Rysy, the highest peak in Poland, reigns supreme above it.

Czarny Staw pod Rysami, or "Black Lake Below Mount Rysy" in English.

Mount Rysy, above Czarny Staw, is the highest peak in Poland.

Hikers enjoy the shore of Czarny Staw.

The craggy ridgeline on either side of Rysy serves as the boundary between Poland and Slovakia. If circumstances were different, meaning I were here alone and it was later in the summer, I would have hiked Rysy. Apparently hundreds do it every day during the latter part of the summer. It is a steep ascent, but there are cables to assist the climber.

We spent nearly forty five minutes at Czarny Staw. It was enjoyable to watch the groups of hikers as they lounged around and rested. I was very pleasantly surprised that it hadn't rained. Juicy storm clouds threatened, but with no success. I was worried that by this time we would have been deploying umbrellas and fighting slippery rocks.

Natural platform between Morskie Oko and Czarny Staw.

The way down was much easier than the trip up. We decided to complete the circuit and take the west side of Morskie Oko. We didn't take nearly as many pictures, so it went a lot faster.

Hiking on the west side gave us new views of the lake and mountains. We enjoyed walking across the base of one of the waterfalls. There I refilled my water bottle.

Looking across the lake at "the hut."

Waterfall tumbling into Morskie Oko.

Looking back across Morskie Oko toward Czarny Staw (not seen) and Mount Rysy.

Looking northeast across Morskie Oko.

When we completed our hike around the lake and again returned to the hut, we had accumulated 3.7 miles. Jenelle was still doing great. Adrenaline must have been kicking in.

Our plan was to hike down instead of taking the horse and wagon. I was excited for this. It was an opportunity to see the mountainside at a slower pace.

We stopped at the lower hut and ordered an ice cream and pannini. It really hit the spot! We sat at a table and watched the hikers on the road.

Eating a snack at a hut about a mile down from the lake. 

Then we continued. We took note of the thick, fairy-like forest with moss growing on the logs. Jenelle noticed the thousands upon thousands of scrape marks in the pavement where horses' hooves clanked across the top.

From time to time we would hear the clapping on the pavement behind us, then would turn around and watch a team and wagon come along full of people. One wagon was singing a song as they passed.

Beautiful forest in the High Tatra Mountains. 

I was most impressed with the sheer amount of people walking the trail, especially families with young kids. One set of parents hauled up little scooters, then once at the top, let their two little girls⸺no older than four years old⸺ride them down. Several parents pushed strollers. It was a level of commitment that I have rarely seen in the States.

Five point four miles later we had made it to the bottom! Our total for the day was 9.1 miles. Luckily for us there was a line of shuttles waiting at the bottom to take us back to Zakopane. ♠

Evening in Vienna

After a 7-hour bus ride through the rolling hills of the Czech Republic, we pulled into the Erdberg Bus Terminal in Vienna.

We walked across the street and took an elevator down to the subway. It wasn't too difficult to buy our tickets and hop on the orange line. In only four stops we arrived at Landstraẞe, where we exited the underground and returned to the street.

We were in Vienna! As we rolled or carried our luggage, we took note of where we were. The architecture was older, but I knew it wasn't as old as what we'd find in the city center. People everywhere were walking, biking, riding scooters, driving and using the tram.

In just a couple blocks we found our hotel and happily plunged onto the bed and eventually took a one-hour nap. We were exhausted. We were at the end of a two-week vacation and came to Vienna to fly out the following morning. We had one evening in The City of Music, and intended to make the best of it.

After our nap, we were outside once again, but this time without the encumbrance of luggage. (I strategically booked a hotel close to the city center, but one that also had easy access to the airport.) Within a block we came to a large shopping mall, and inside was a two-story grocery store. That was exactly what we needed: a place to grab a bite for now and some snacks for tomorrow.

Interestingly, it was the biggest grocery store we'd been in during our two-week sojourn in Europe. There was a cornucopia of food and other items. I found a mozzarella and tomato baguette sandwich and Jenelle some lasagna.

But the people-watching was the most interesting part of all. There was a different feel to the chaotic crawl of the store. The people⸺although varied and not fitting any single stereotype⸺were taller and had darker hair than I expected to find in Austria. Except for the obviously foreign-born shoppers, most had typical white skin. And, of course, German was the language of the chatter.

Grocery store in Vienna, Austria.

We crossed Stadtpark and quickly were immersed in the old historical center of Vienna. Many narrow streets bent slightly, with cobble-stoned paths. Iron railings on the balconies came in elegant styles.

Our first “place of interest” was Mozart's house, an apartment on one of the old narrow streets. A group of Asian tourists stood across the doorway and took pictures. Across the street a small shop sold Venetian masks and costumes, reminiscent of the movie Amadeus. The theme of Vienna throughout the evening was a theme of Vienna being the world capital of classical music.

Domgasse Street, with the Mozart House on the right.

Beyond the narrow street, an archway tunnel lead to a big plaza, and the backside of a gigantic church. From this angle we could see the massive outer walls and a myriad of medieval motifs. The steeple was dizzingly tall. This was St. Stephen's Cathedral, an icon of Vienna.

Flanking the house of worship was a line of horse-drawn carriages. As we made our way toward the front, the plaza opened up and suddenly thousands of tourists came into view. It was a madhouse! They walked, took pictures, and many along the outer edge of the plaza sat at outdoor cafes and ate.

Stephansplatz, a popular square in the center of Vienna.

St. Stephen's Cathedral.

It was sensory overload. We couldn't take it all in. All the buildings surrounding the square appeared elegant and were probably of historical significance. On the corner of the cathedral a carousel took children for rides. On the other end a gigantic souvenir shop dazzled us. We would come there later.

The open door of the cathedral lured us in. The sound of organ music echoed throughout the massive interior, coming somewhat near the front. Tourists respectfully moved around, admiring the tall nave and arches.

As I moved toward the front I passed lit candles, Baroque paintings, and carefully sculpted statues. The music became louder and more distinct until I finally noticed the organ player. He was still at a distance, but I admired his work. I had long hoped to someday come across an organ recital or concert inside a cathedral.

Candles inside St. Stephen's Cathedral.

Inside St. Stephen's Cathedral.

Back out in the plaza we continued to move, being very conscious not to lose each other in the crowd. Vienna, I could tell, was a large collection of people from everywhere around the world. We quickly noticed the high percentage of Muslims, most dressed in a range of traditional clothing, women in hijabs and scarfs, and some men in long white robes. Many of the women, especially, wore captivating and colorful apparel.

Around each corner was a new architectural masterpiece: elaborate hotels, modern buildings with reflecting windows, St. Peter's Church with its light-green dome, fancy shops and restaurants. In the middle of Graben Street was a large Baroque statue dedicated to the Great Plague of 1679.

Graben Street and a statue dedicated to the Great Plague of 1679.

Many Muslims on the streets of Vienna.

Louis Vuitton on Kohlmarkt Street.

Taking a rest on Graben Street.

Kohlmarkt was an intersting street. Here were many high-end stores like Louis Vuittan and Cartier. As we walked closer to Michael Plaza, the soft, deep sound of a stringed instrument floated like sweet aroma. In the background came the clacking of horse's hooves on the cobble-stoned street.

At Michaelerplatz, not only did we find the double bass player, but also a fragment of Roman ruins inside an enclosed viewing area. Below us we saw the bricked walls of a house and the arch of a door. A small stone canal led to the house. It always amazes me how ruins of the past are located so far below the surface.

Man plays a double bass at Michaelerplatz.

Roman ruins in the center of Vienna.

People-watching in Vienna.

Adjacent to the plaza stood St. Michael's Church. It was smaller and less flamboyant than many of its neighbors. We walked inside and found a mostly dark and near empty interior. A lone lady knelt at a pew and prayed. We quietly circled to the sides, admiring the artistry of the paintings and sculptures. One in particular caught my attention: a figure of Christ, after his crucifixion, being laid on a cloth by two of his disciples.

Inside St. Michael's Church.

St. Michael's Church in Michaelerplatz.

I should mention that it was much hotter and humid than we expected. Except for the occasional cross-breeze, or dampness of a church, we suffered from this pleasant heat. I say “pleasant” because, after all, we were in Vienna.

To alleviate this inconvenience, we found an ice cream shop. We had several Euros and we had to use them up. We sat at the base of a fountain, along with a couple-dozen strangers. We ate our ice cream cones as we people-watched. By the time I got to the bottom the treat was melting and the waffle cone crumbling. It still hit the spot.

By now dusk was settling in and the hue on the cathedral and other buildings was changing. Some of the places, like the carousel, now had on their lights. People wore a variety of clothing, including women now wearing evening dresses.

We returned to the souvenir shop, one of the biggest I'd ever seen. It had two stories and an endless supply of magnets, postcards, t-shirts, hand bags, small figurines of Viennese landmarks, and a plethora of other items.

St. Peter's Church.

The evening wore on and we knew that soon we'd need to return to our hotel to catch a morning flight. I had one last request, and that was to eat a wiener schnitzel while in Vienna. "Wien" is the German name for "Vienna."

I had a restaurant in mind on a street down from St. Stephen's Plaza. It was the Figlmüller and claimed to be the original home of the wiener schnitzel. But as we met the server at the doorway, we learned they had no tables available.

We moved to another place around the corner, but there was a line out the door. Then, Jenelle found a place down the street. Immediately we were seated and handed a menu.

Maybe they'd never heard of air conditioning in Austria. It was stuffy. No fans to blow the air, but at least the windows were open. The restaurant seemed to be dominated by shades of the color red, and had a feel from the 1920's.

Kaffee Alt Wien.

It didn't take long to decide what I wanted. It came in either pork, veal or chicken, and since I had eaten neither veal nor wiener schnitzel in my lifetime, that's what I chose.

It came with two schnitzels, a side of cranberry sauce, and a small bowl of parsley potatoes. It looked exactly like all the picture's I'd seen.

To make wiener schnitzel one has to pound and flatten the meat, then deep-fry it in batter.⸺It tasted how I thought it would, largely dominated by the taste and texture of the batter. I thought it was a little on the dry side, but was improved when accompanied with the cranberry sauce. I followed each bite with a chunk of buttery parsley potatoes.  It was a good compliment.

Wiener schnitzel. 

Our evening was now over. We lazily walked toward our hotel, taking everything in. It was now dark, but the city still buzzed with life. We passed a group of over a dozen couples waltzing to classical music. We watched in amazement as the couples moved in step, their legs and arms knowing exactly what to do and where to go. We both agreed that this was a lost art in the States.

We were both beat and feeling bloated from force-feeding ourselves all this “cultural” food. We were ready to get back to the hotel and sleep. But our evening in Vienna would never escape our minds. What a beautiful, pleasant and vibrant city! ♠

Evening of waltzing in Vienna.

Silver Peak (#23)

Silver Peak.

One of the benefits of trying to hike as many peaks as possible is that I inevitably find peaks that I never knew existed. Such is the case with Silver Peak. It is only a half-hour drive from my house, and I've driven past it dozens of times in the past without noticing it. I don't even know the history behind it, although I suspect that at one time there was a silver mine.

It is a smaller peak, and is surrounded by hills nearly as tall. I was excited to explore this relatively unknown summit.

There is a dirt road that meets the highway and I parked on a side-road of the dirt road, under a tree. Since this was a smaller peak I decided to attack it with a circuitous route. I would ascend the “Younger Sister” as I will call it, a nearby and connected peak a few hundred feet lower. Then I would follow the ridge in a counter-clockwise route that would descend several hundred feet before regaining it, and then some, to the top of Silver Peak.

"Younger Sister Peak."

The ascent up Younger Sister wasn't too bad. I was able to take it slow and steady without too many breaks. Along the way I found a snake skin shed, but it was so faint I couldn't tell whether it was a rattlesnake or not. But it kept me on my guard. I heard a few weeks ago that stepping on a rattlesnake is a lot like stepping on a garden hose.

The top of the hill became rockier and I found a chute, through which I ascended. Still the summit remained higher. I persisted, climbing over boulders until I reached the top of Younger Sister Peak.

I am not including this in my official peak count because it is minor. But the view from here was still great. The two dominant features to the south were Stoddard Mountain and Iron Mountain, the latter having a communication tower on top. Highway 56 stretched out below and the Desert Mound Road behind me. For this first little peak I gained just over 1,000 feet in elevation.

Looking south from Younger Sister Peak toward Stoddard Peak.

I continued on, following the ridge to the northeast. Through the juniper trees I was able to catch glimpses of Silver Peak to the northwest. As I walked I noticed there were a lot of downed trees and old horse droppings. The trees didn't appear to be cut through, just toppled over. And with the horse droppings, I couldn't decided whether they were wild or belonging to a cowboy or miner.

A gradual descending ridge brought me lower in elevation. I dropped into a ravine where I saw more human activity, including a fence that stretched across the canyon and a little gate. I followed the ravine until I came to what I was looking for: a pile of tailings and white rock. It was at the edge of the cliff, up a level from the bottom. I walked up to the site and inspected it. I was confident that a mine was here at one time, but now there was nothing left of the portal. I'm sure they were mining silver, hence the name of the canyon.

Mysterious horse droppings.

Supposed old silver mine. 

Interesting square hole in the ground.

I had another hour and 700 feet to the top. I followed an old mining road part of the way up, but eventually had to bushwhack it. Twice I found markers created from a pile of rocks and a long stick acting as a pole. The second of these sat adjacent to a deep square hole dug into the ground. It didn't go any further than maybe twelve feet deep.

Silver Peak provided a decent vista. I had a good view of “Younger Sister,” as well as Iron and Stoddard Mountains. Behind me sat juniper-filled hills with nothing of distinction. To the east I could make out Red Mountain and a glimpse of Cedar City. Out west were mostly hills, but also with a view of the agriculture fields between New Castle and Beryl.

Looking south from Silver Peak. "Younger Sister Peak" in foreground.

Looking east from Silver Peak toward Cedar City and Brian Head.

Geological marker.

Looking west from Silver Peak toward New Castle and Beryl. 

I did not return the way I came, but instead completed a circuit. I was happy to have this peak under my belt, but it was certainly nothing to write home about. ♠


Silver Peak

Distance from car: 3.4 miles

Net elevation gain: 1,306 feet

Total elevation gain: 1,985 feet

Final elevation: 7,256 feet

Total round-trip distance: 5.7 miles