In the footsteps of counts on the Fertő side

Itinerary

Expect poorly marked but easily followable paths!

• From Balf we start on Bozi Street following the Z marking.
• After the village edge, from the bicycle path we also turn right along the Z marking, into the vineyards, but markings are missing here.
• Among the vineyards theoretically on the P marking, but practically on an unmarked cart road we turn left aiming for the Gloriette lookout.
• From the terrace of the Gloriette we return along the houses to the Z marking, where we turn left.
• We wander to the trees in the plain, then with a left turn we visit the grave of Béla Széchenyi and his wife.
• We return to the sparsely marked Z marking, and follow it through the linden tree avenue up to the gate of the Széchenyi Castle.
• In Nagycenk, on main road 85, we turn left and reach the bus stop at the bend.

Detailed description of the route

Farkasd

After getting off the bus, we can look around in the center of Balf. Its name recalls a German past lost in the mists of history: at the beginning of the 13th century after Saint Wolf bishop it was called Farkasd, and from the second half it was mentioned as "Wolfs"; the form in use today is a distorted variation of that. There is barely any trace of Germans today (except for the memorial next to the bus stop), as most were expelled after World War II (from a local community of about 1300, fewer than 100 remained) against their will. (The German name of Fertő, Neusiedl, refers to the nationality settled here after the Tatar invasion.)

The Balf labor camp

At the end of World War II, Balf was the site of serious historic events. The retreating German troops established the largest labor camp in the area here from November 1944. With Gestapo and SS leadership, thousands of forced laborers arrived, housed in stables and barns. The prisoners had to build the Südostwall ("Southeast Wall") defensive line. As part of the defense aiming at Vienna, among other things, tank traps, trenches, and machine gun nests were built. Some forced laborers were transported by train, but many had to reach the village on foot from great distances; one group, for example, came from Kassa. The prisoners were starved, tortured or killed for infractions; many died of starvation or due to the harsh winter caused by inadequate clothing and inhumane conditions. The cruelty sparked resistance from local people, so many (often risking their lives) among the largely German-speaking locals tried to help the prisoners. Among other notable intellectuals, Hungary's prominent literary figure Antal Szerb also lost his life here when his guards beat him to death in January 1945. On March 31 of the same year, retreating German troops killed 183 prisoners unable to march on the edge of the village. About eight thousand people died in forced labor in Balf and the surrounding settlements during this period. Several memorials call attention to these events.

The healing water

Water plays the main role in the village’s history, but not the Fertő Lake itself; it is the sour water spring, one of the oldest known and used mineral water springs in the Carpathian Basin. You can taste it at the ornamental well next to the factory if you undertake the kilometer detour. The sulfurous healing water has good effects on the intestinal system, kidneys, and stomach functions, but also promotes the health of cartilage and bones; therefore, it has been used in the treatment of rheumatic diseases—quite a long time: finds from around AD 180 (e.g., a contemporary pipe inlet) suggest that Balf had a vibrant bathing culture even during the Roman Empire of Emperor Marcus Aurelius. Among the citizens of Sopron, consumption of this water and bathing in it was so popular that the town purchased the settlement in the early 14th century and more than two hundred years later built a bathhouse and a steam bath. It became a favorite destination for noble families; its reputation is indicated by the fact that Emperor Ferdinand I allowed fees to be charged for the services. The water pipes were built by Viennese craftsmen, and a bath attendant and later a medicinal stonemason were employed. The bathing duties involved many tasks: bathing guests, preparing healing ointments, performing hirudotherapy (leech therapy), cupping, and even shaving among many other hygienic treatments.

By the turn of the 18th and 19th centuries, drinking cures were already an accepted therapeutic method in the village, and locals built wooden floors in their houses to create the expected comfort level for guests coming from afar. Balf’s bath complex came under Chief Medical Officer István Wosinski at the beginning of the 20th century, who implemented significant developments, and under his leadership the institution was virtually reborn. Winter use was enabled, cold water cure facilities, electric and dry air baths were established, and a 100-bed sanatorium was built, also serving as a treatment facility for epileptics. The bath was damaged by a bomb hit in World War II but was later restored.

In 1975, when the springs were declared medicinal waters, the still-operating medicinal bath hospital was completed. If you walk to the northern edge of the village, at the bus turnaround with a small drinking pavilion, you can taste the sulfur-smelling, sour water—the ornamental well covered with Zsolnay ceramics is unfortunately in a deteriorated state, but you can still fill your bottles from it. The water outflow owes to a north-south fault in the crystalline shale and sedimentary rocks (Miocene clay, Leitha limestone, sand, sandstone, clay, and marl, with younger layers above) caused by tectonic reasons. Through this, pressurized groundwater flows upward—it is interesting that a similar sulfurous mineral water spring can also be found near Deutschkreutz (Sopronkeresztúr) at the southern end of the fault.

Up to the hills

From Balf we walk out on the Z marking, squeezed between the houses of Bozi Street. The pavement slowly disappears under our feet, and at the village edge crossroads, we step onto the bike path surrounding Lake Fertő. On the left, a marsh forest signals the closeness of the aquatic habitat, but soon our route turns right as we switch to a vineyard road descending the lowering hill (next to the Fertő-Hanság National Park sign). Among the vineyards, we climb up a small hill after a left turn. In the Balf and Fertőboz area, viticulture has a long tradition: the warm, sunlit slopes favor this activity.

The World Heritage Fertő Lake, Europe’s westernmost steppe lake

Above the vines, we overlook Balf stretching at the foot of the hills and the vast reed bed of the approximately 20,000-year-old Fertő Lake—the open water surface glimmers in the distance. The name Fertő refers to the considerably silted, marshy standing water body—the generally less than 1-meter-deep lake (its greatest depth does not exceed 2 meters) is largely covered by vegetation. (The Romans mentioned it as Pelsoke together with Lake Balaton, the later terms "blato" and Fertő meant basically mud, muddy water.) Nearly 90% of the Hungarian side of Fertő is dominated by reeds, which speeds evaporation, aids drying, and the dead plants fill the basin. Most water supply comes from the Vulka stream, and outflow is regulated by the sluice-controlled Hanság main channel (before its construction, only significant floods could drain towards Hanság). In rainy years, the lake's area can increase by a third, as rain is the main water source for the basin. The organic-rich water is about four times saltier than that of Lake Balaton, and the shallow water body is constantly stirred by the wind. Therefore, its color is grayish due to suspended silt, but dark brown in the reed areas due to dissolved humic acids from dead plants. During persistent strong winds, the water surface can "tilt": a height difference of meters can develop between the northern and southern ends (this phenomenon is called lake oscillation or seiche).

Although in the mid-19th century István Széchenyi attempted to initiate sailing on the then much less overgrown Fertő, unfortunately, at the same time (for the umpteenth time) the basin began to dry out. Between 1865 and 1868, there was no water at all, and huge salt deposits appeared in the muddy basin. When the lake returned, the reeds advanced, and locals cut the foundations of the still-existing canal system in the dense vegetation to reach the open water.

Our path continues to wind among the vines, after a right turn we say goodbye to the view of Fertő Lake. Chemicals used in the vineyards penetrate into the depths with rainwater, posing problems for the lake's water quality. One of the steps taken to address this was the creation of the cross-border national park, coordinating nature conservation. Looking right from the flat ridge, the modest silhouette of the Sopron Mountains appears, but alongside sightseeing, stay alert: at a hard-to-identify point you must turn left onto a vineyard road. Earlier, you can pass under the motorway in a green tunnel, but instead, choose the path rising along the right side of the tree row next to the agricultural sign! Soon we turn right and then a detour path leads to the small stone pavilion of the Gloriette lookout.

On Széchenyi land

From the natural terrace on the 185-meter hill, almost the entire Hungarian side of the Fertő region unfolds before us. From the box seat, we observe the endless reed world and the gentle rolling of the Fertőmellék Hills. In the distance, beside the open water, the Leitha Mountains shine blue. Regarding the building, it has stood on this hilltop since 1801 (or 1802 according to other sources) and is the creation of a meeting of two notable historical figures. In 1800, huge troop gatherings took place in Sopron at the western edges of the country preparing for the Napoleonic wars. Therefore, the army's supreme commander, Palatine Joseph (archduke), who visited Count Ferenc Széchenyi at his Cenki estate in October, also arrived in the town. The two men reportedly visited this hill via the famous linden tree avenue to look around the Fertő region. Ferenc Széchenyi, born in Fertőszéplak, is mainly known for donating his fortune to the nation, thus founding the National Széchenyi Library and the National Museum collections—but he also dreamed up the Gloriette lookout, which he had built from Fertőrákos sandstone in memory of his walk with Palatine Joseph. The architect is not certain but most likely was József Ringer, who worked in the area and was also employed by the count. Faded inscriptions under the dome preserve the memory of the original purpose and the 1943 renovation (led by Count Endre Széchenyi).

The memory of a tragedy

On the same side as the steps leading to Fertőboz, the trail reconnects with the tourist path. Passing houses, crossing the connecting road, we head into the forest. Just ahead, the wheel track branches right, but continue straight! A few meters further a decorative tomb greets us. In the grave made of red granite rests Count Béla Széchenyi (son of István) and his wife Hanna Erdődy, who tragically died young at the age of 26 after the birth of their second daughter due to puerperal fever. At her request, her grave was established here at the end of the linden avenue. Béla Széchenyi was a renowned traveler, and the results of his expeditions to Inner Asia are still utilized today; he was also elected as a member of the Academy of Sciences at that time. He never remarried and reportedly always carried an amulet with a portrait of the countess—he was buried next to his wife in 1918. On the side near the iron gate entrance, an inscription reads, "May they be as happy in the afterlife as they loved each other dearly and faithfully in life." Around the memorial site, several trees can be found, likely brought by the count from his distant travels. A hermitage stood here until Emperor Joseph II banned hermitism.

The avenue

With our back to the grave monument, we walk out from the dense vegetation through partly restored stone benches. We arrive at a wide grass pasture (already on the Z marking), and in the distance appears the stately facade of the Széchenyi Castle in Nagycenk. The sight could be more splendid: above the building, the blades of a wind turbine circle in their round dance, and most of the linden trees bordering the avenue have died, destroyed. The planting of the tree line was initiated in 1754 by Antal Széchenyi and his wife; originally 645 specimens were planted on both sides of the 2600-meter-long strip. Only on the roads at the edge of the promenade did people ride horses and carriages; in the middle, they traveled on foot. The bizarrely gnarled tree stumps do not provide an elevated view, and the railway line cutting through the corridor spoils the overall picture. The concrete blocks lying here and there are signs of a previous rescue attempt aimed at stabilizing the trees’ condition. The linden avenue is one of the country’s oldest protected natural values, declared so in 1942.

Nagycenk

The silhouette of the castle grows as we approach the building. On the right, the narrow-gauge train rails join, then we arrive at the museum fence (the entrance is on the other side). The 1960s were a period when narrow-gauge forest railways were discontinued; therefore, the idea arose to somehow save some elements of this industrial heritage. On the line built in the early 1970s, vehicles no longer needed on other narrow-gauge railways run, which we can see in the exhibition and during the ride (the latter available from April to October on weekends). Children take over service on the trains—except the locomotive driver, of course.

The end of our trip is the bus stop on the main road to the left, but allow time to visit the castle and its park! (Also in Nagycenk, on the other side of the Ikva River, the family mausoleum built near the church can be visited.) The construction was ordered by General Antal Széchenyi in the 1750s; with the family moving in, it became the estate center of the family originally from Nógrád. Its classicist appearance was only acquired at the end of the 18th century based on József Ringer’s plans, when Ferenc Széchenyi renovated it. He left the estate to his son István, who expanded the castle. The estate suffered serious damages during World War II but was later restored; since the 1970s, a memorial museum and hotel have operated within the walls.