Lychakiv Cemetery, Ukrainian train and white Volga

Ukraine, V.2012

Lychakiv Cemetery is a very old necropolis of historic and symbolic value, established in 1786. Seems not so long ago, but if you take for example Père-Lachaise in Paris, where Molier, Balzac, Oscar Wilde and Marcel Proust are buried, it is younger then cemetery in Lviv.

Full with chapels, sculptures and tombs, gives chills both because of the artistic beauty and because... you know, it is a cemetery.

To fully experience and understand the complexity and diversity of Lychakiv cemetery a bit of historical background is necessary. The necropolis served for Catholics, Orthodox, Protestants and Eastern Rite Catholics - all together. Along the graves of Polish insurgents of 1794, 1830, 1863 and Polish defenders of the city during war with Ukraine (Lviv Eaglets volunteer militia), there can be found graves of SS-Division "Galicia" and Ukrainian National Army fighting on Axis' side. And a bit further - memorial to Soviet troops fighting Nazis during World War II. Alongside with the victims of NKVD...

Cemetery of the Defenders of Lviv (Lviv Eaglets)

Devastated during communist times - one time even with a bulldozer - now is restored and considered a symbolic place for Poles.

After such strong experience there was no time or will to see something else. We reached the train station and with mixture of my ill-learned Russian and piece of paper managed to buy tickets for the next morning. Shocked how cheap they were we asked Sofiya two times to confirm it is a full price and we won't be left somewhere in the middle of the field. And we had so-called "plackarta", which means a car with lying places. For around 2 euro per person.

Next morning we left for what was about to become a most fun and weird train ride. Cars filled with "sort of beds" made from red artificial leather, but no compartments. We loved the places after not more than an hour ride in about 30 degrees, when every part of your skin was sticking to them. And sweat began to gather in small puddles in the most frequently used, worn-out fragments of the seats. Sheets and pillows were available, I guess, but no one can be sure what have they seen. Don't get me wrong, I am not a fancy person, but knowing how sticky I am I couldn't figure out how hard they'd need to be washed...

photo by Ania Korol

Luckily the atmosphere was worth the sweat. No compartments and feeling of being trapped in this sauna for several upcoming hours brought people together. Lively talks between strangers, small bottles of smelly fluids being passed by, somebody playing an accordion, somebody playing a guitar...

photos by Ania Korol

As much as we wanted to get out of this deadly heated trap, the main difficulty was that we didn't know how to spot the station. No signs on several stops. Train conductor and passengers when asked about Ivano-Frankivsk were just waving that it's not here. And from what we've understood the train already had a huge delay so we couldn't even count on the watch.

FInally we've arrived and somehow managed to confirm it is our station. So here I was, in Ivano-Frankivsk with night falling and two girls for whom I felt responsible. Damn, had to figure out something. There was one last bus Yaremche, but judging by the number of people waiting for it our chances were not that good.

Just in this moment we've got approached by an Ukrainian woman with a small son, asking if we are going to Yaremche. She must have overheard us, and lucky for us she was going the same direction, so she offered to split a cab. Cab? For sixty kilometers? We must have looked really rich. But when she said what it will cost us and that she will negotiate with the cab drivers, the price was acceptable.

So after around half an hour and two dozens of cab drivers leaving with laughter after the negotiations she found a white Volga car with driver that accepted the conditions. In Poland in the communist times we've had a city legend about black Volga going around the streets and capturing little kids. Around 30 years ago. And this Volga looked like it remembered these times. But ah, adventure! Anything is better than to be stuck in a big city in the night.

After a long ride in the night the woman and her son paid their part and left in front of a house in Yaremche. So there we were with an uncomfortable question where the driver should leave us... Haven't thought it through, it was around midnight or one o'clock and we just wanted a place for a tent.

For some reason people are always looking strange at you when you say "Just leave me anywhere close to a forest or a field, I will sleep there". Like you're mad or something.

The roofs of Lviv

Ukraine, V.2012

Time to go back a bit, to my first entirely self-organized trekking abroad, in 2012. At first we've aimed for 5 people and Romanian Muții Rodnei, in the end we settled on 3 people - Ania, Ula and me - going to Ukrainian Svidovec. Date: long May weekend, operational time: 10 days.

Just before setting off, actually just before hopping on a train south, I got a call from my mom with worrying news. On this day there have been several bomb attacks in several cities in Ukraine... the story was all over the news.  Honestly I was a bit stressed about it, but after all I was with two girls. Maybe that will sound a bit sexist, but somewhere deep inside I felt like I have to be the calmest one about it. And, after all, it had happened in the East of the country, and we were going to the much more peaceful West.

Another surprise was waiting for us in the train - my friends from scouting were going in the same direction. Kraków - Przemyśl - Lviv. Time passed quickly while playing card games and we arrived in Kraków before we knew it. Quick tour around the city center, after which we've found ourselves fighting for a single place on the next train to Przemyśl. Not for a sitting place, oh no. It was even hard to find a space on the corridor, full of people, backpacks and bikes. Huh, what do you know, long weekend in Poland.

Later the bus we've taken with the rest of the tourist towards the border in Medyka, was full just as the train. To this degree, that just on the second stop noone from the regular passengers - citizen - could enter, someone started shouting angrily, it all turned into a big mess. We've listened to this smashed somewhere between a sit and a rail, or a window... This kind of memories are wash away by the excitement that comes later when you make your first steps in the foreign country.

photo by Ania Korol

We've gotten stamps in our passports and all happy started our wait for bus towards Lviv. How sweetly naive we were! If we'd only knew what trouble will we get because of these stamps on our way back, we've would be far less excited. But that's the part of the later story.

photo by Ania Korol

Thanks to my friends' from scouting offer, and to Sofiya positive response, we managed to stay in the office of the biggest scout organization in Ukraine, Plast. We've experienced great hospitality from them, and had a lot of fun playing games and getting to know Ukrainian scouting.

Lviv has its own characteristic beauty, especially dear to a Polish person. Although it was established by a Ruthenian prince, for several centuries it laid inside Polish borders and it's closely connected to our culture and history. I regretted that we've had only two days to walk through its streets and that I've came so unprepared for this, I mean in terms of history and sights.

Nevertheless we've gotten amazed in particular when we've left the streets to look up over the roofs from the Town Hall tower, where we get with all the scout team. The view on the whole city was marvelous, but the thing that became engraved on my memory were the roofs. I stood there, taking pictures and imagining the stories that have been taking place underneath them. Families, single people, children. Working or unemployed, going every day to school, playing in their rooms. Under a new roof, a damaged roof, a leaking roof, a flat roof, a sloping roof... You know, normal stuff, but somehow more appealing to imagination thanks to them. Anyway, see for yourself:

Next stop was at the Lychakiv Cemetery, so to get there we've had to take a tram. Little did we know, what was awaiting for us. Few stops after we've entered, a bald and rather fat guy started to wobble, and in one quick moment he lost his ground and felt on the floor. Woman accompanying him began to cry and scream as he started to fall into epileptic seizure, rolling on the floor in uncontrolled spazms. The whole situation suddenly became surreal, like we were inside a movie set. The screams, the man on the floor, the stunned passengers....

Luckily Marek and Przemek used their first aid training from scouting, holding the surprisingly strong guy still, blocking his teeth so he won't bite off his tongue and waiting for the ambulance to come, as the tram stopped. Unexpected and thrilling experience, taking into account that we were on the way to a cemetery. Makes you think and be uncomfortable aware that one moment you can be riding the tram and the next one you can be in the ambulance or even worse.

So, if we're uncomfortable and creeped out enough, I can stop my story here to continue it next week with the Cemetery, ride in an Ukraine train and arriving in the mountains.

Where the sun flows down the stream - Stara Planina

Bulgaria, VIII.2014

Finally, everything in its place - paperwork for leave from work, backpack ready, alongside with map of Macedonia. Plan is short, but intensive - Canyon Matka and mountains around Tetovo for five days. Packing took place in the middle of the night, but nevermind, with the list it was quick and easy (no self-advertisement of the previous post about packing, but let me get back to that...).

Course of action takes a major turn once I show up at the bus station for the last morning ride to Skopje, and woman in the office says "9:30? Nqma da patuva.". Next one's at 16:00 and that means a day lost for me. Great start. Quick change of direction and I decide not to waste a day and go to Stara Planina, starting from Karlovo. Doesn't take long and I am walking up the Stara Reka, one of the most beautiful mountain rivers I have seen.

I've overestimated my stamina, which ran down like hell thanks to no jogging and sitting workplace... On the bright side - lots of stops for taking pictures, that I can share below:

Enough to say, on the second day's afternoon I land on 2000m, on the main ridge of Stara Planina, between Ambartitsa and Kupena. I decide to head east, camp somewhere around Kupena and next morning cross it to fill on water. When I reach the pass just before the mentioned peek, I see this view, which I can call only the essence of mountain wilderness:

Tabun of horses running down to the lake. Magnificent and breathtaking, and at the same time maybe a bit discouraging from camping near the pond and taking water from there (didn't have my chlorine tablets with me). I decide to camp on the ridge not to be stomped on in my sleep, but in the moment I unpack my tent I see that something is wrong...

You may have a list of things to pack. But if you don't check every item you might end up with one model of a tent flysheet and poles from another model... A little of creativity, some additions and my Tordis stands more or less proud, with poles from Troll, short rope and a strap from my camera bag.

Another unpleasant surprise awaits me as I try to fall asleep early and get up for night shots. Voices of a group of Gypsies, that I met earlier on the way to Ambaritsa pass, having a very loud bonfire. Why would they? It might have something to do with supermoon, that peeks out from behind Kupena. Marvelous, beautiful, close like on my trip with Dani in July. Lucky coincidence, of course, I never plan such things, maybe I should start?

Nevertheless I cannot judge if the voices of Gypsies are getting closer or not, I'm starting to freak out about some magic stuff that they are about to do... Mind drifts off to strange lands when you're alone on 2000m with no help from anywhere.

Survived the night, I prepare to climb last 100m of Kupena, but I find ropes and steep rocks on my road. No way I can deal with them with heavy backpack, photographic equipment and no water. I keep trying for thirty minutes, but I am not crazy - no mountain is worth risking a fall. Kupena joins Wołowiec and Małołączniak (both in winter) in the row of mountains that I retreated from. Not the best feeling, the score has to evened one day.

I decide to shorten my way around Kupena out of the trail. This detour takes me around 500 meters down of which few I fall with a small rock avalanche, and nearly step on a snake. Finally - a spring, so I can refill water and look up on Kostenurka up above.

Trail for Kostenurka

Looking back on Kupena

Going down is the worst part, most tiring. And going down 500 meters is one of the worst kinds. I decide that for this time it's enough, no more climbing. The plan was to reach the ridge and walk it, I guess plans change. After all a change of plans was beginning of this story...

I head back home, making myself a challenge (I really like the Bulgarian word predizvikatelstvo for it) to walk the 20 km far and 1800 m down (altogether) in 10 hours to reach the last train to Sofia. Managed.

Why "where the sun flows down the stream" may you ask? My inspiration for the title of this text was series of photos I did while climbing up on the second day. Long story short, it is better shown than described: