In the footsteps of hunters on the forbidden paths of the Visegrád Mountains

Itinerary

• From Visegrád, follow the K trail all the way to the Borjúfő junction.
• Take a detour to the Borjúfő lookout point on the K▲ trail, then return to the K trail via its other branch.
• Follow the K trail walking into Pilisszentlászló.
• In the village, turn right onto the P trail that leads back to Visegrád through the Szent László Valley.

Detailed description of the route

Sandbank on the hilltop

Our hike starts on the street heading to town opposite the ferry; our guide is the National Blue Trail crossing the Danube, marked with K. "High castle," meaning citadel: this is what Visegrád means, and the namesake fortress proudly sits above the steep, bare slopes. We quickly leave the central street of the former royal seat to the left and shortly after begin climbing on a trail. The first view is easy to earn: we almost immediately stand above one of the country’s smallest towns, revealing the defining sight for the first half of our hike: the Danube winding under the pressure of the mountains. Slightly higher, the steep slope gives rise to a surprising architectural solution: gloomy rock blends with a white building in the small area. The chimney-like breccia towers are formed from the consolidated debris of the former volcanic structure. The fine-grained material binding the larger blocks gives a slightly slippery quality to the hiking trail as well. On inspection, a chapel with a tilted foundation and the way leading to it, a calvary, were built in the 18th century when German settlers inhabited the area after the Turkish occupation. (At that time, the site offered an outstanding panorama of the Danube.) Occasionally we step right from the sunlit oak trail onto the narrow ridge, catching glimpses here and there of the dense forests in the central part of the mountain range. The relentless climb is bordered in parts by huge rock piles — their constituent blocks testify to the ancient volcanic eruptions and explosive debris scatterings. Scattered shrub patches of dwarf rock forests sometimes open views of the river bend visible further below. Just as the path becomes increasingly rocky, suddenly a parking lot replaces the forest: we have reached the gate of the Visegrád castle. Next to the inn opposite, stairs lead back to the trees, and now a broad promenade with occasional beech and pine trees cuts densely through, invoking higher mountains.

A sharp right bend follows, then we cross a highway. A detour can be taken left to the Zsitvay lookout on the Great Hill, offering an excellent panorama of the Danube Bend, including the massive Börzsöny range. Our path goes straight across the meadows of Black Mountain (also called Tabán). The expansive meadow is filled with a mountain atmosphere, with Csóványos in Börzsöny and its neighboring peaks watching in the background. Beside a rest area, we enter the forest — we can glimpse the Danube Bend a few meters to the right. Despite its name, the summit is covered with very light rock: Leitha limestone. When German settlers began vineyards on the sunny slopes of Black Mountain, they piled the protruding white stones (creating dams, reducing soil erosion). The bright white Leitha limestone is essentially a coral reef remnant from the shallow sea surrounding the young volcano, formed about 16 million years ago in a much warmer subtropical climate.

On the kings’ road

Up until now, we have been at an established excursion site, but the next section awaits us with the atmosphere of the North Hungarian Mountains and dense forest. We hike on a wide cart road, following the eastern ridge line of the Visegrád Mountains. After volcanism subsided, the present-day Danube Bend was only a low hill region, whose rock mass was shattered in a chessboard pattern by structural movements and elevated along well-defined fault lines visible on maps. The limestone plateau of Black Mountain rose similarly to the mountain range followed in the next kilometers. After a junction, we transverse sideways down the slope until the King’s road ascends to the ridge: according to tradition, this route connected the Visegrád castle with Buda, more precisely with the Nyék hunting lodge, so kings and their entourages also traveled along it. From the side of the Salt Hill, we finally turn onto the Salt Lake Meadow. The mountain’s especially rich habitats, also unique landscape elements, are the small meadows that once served as winter feeding grounds for village livestock and today act as protected areas preventing reforestation. Rainwater collects in small depressions on the compact volcanic rock plains, saturating the soil — these clearings are related to the 'siblings' of the Zemplén Mountains. On the right among the trees lies a small, duckweed-filled pond that in dry periods is merely a puddle. Some of the small standing waters are artificial; they were intended as watering places for mountain grazing. Salt Lake is likely a natural formation; earlier records suggest it was divided by several intermittent and marshy water surfaces.

Forbidden forests

For the next half kilometer, it feels like walking through a tunnel, as the forest becomes much darker. We cross the Visegrád Gate saddle point, a passage on the eastern ridge, then a mysterious beech forest covers us. The ancient trees’ thick roots grip the deadwood soils like elephant legs, and as we start climbing on a north-facing slope, the K▲ trail invites to the right — only a few meters further we boldly jump forward onto a brownish rocky crest, reaching Borjúfő, with its back encouraging slow movement as the gravel easily slips beneath our feet. A quote from Albert Wass is carved into a stone, but the creation of nature is much more remarkable: under the gradually rising forest area of the Visegrád Mountains, the Danube bends guarded by St. Michael’s Hill. Behind the neighboring ridge, the peaks of Börzsöny appear. Though we have barely left Visegrád, the sea of ridges and valleys forms an enclosed, extensive mountain area around Borjúfő.

The view before us was not always accessible to the average hiker: in the 1920s, the growing social base of nature walkers and the question of restricted estate forests became increasingly loud in contemporary press. In 1927, a newspaper recalled a peculiar incident where a large group started from Visegrád aiming for Borjúfő, but a forester stopped them at his house, intending to turn them back due to lack of permission. Eventually, at their request and with the consent of hunters staying in the building, he let them proceed. That evening, while waiting for the boat at the end of the hike, they met the forester again, who told them that the dignitaries present inside nodded approval because the hikers were so quiet that they only noticed them through the window. As they didn’t hear their voices, presumably they didn’t disturb the game either. The brief news article in Magyar Hírlap has an added piquancy and offers a fresh interpretive frame, as it states that "Lord Zsitvay and company" sat in the forester’s house—Zsitvay Tibor, former president of the Hungarian Tourist Association, then parliamentary representative, minister, and again leader of the association, a prominent figure in the then tourism scene who initiated the construction of the Great Hill lookout in the '30s (named after him). The brief parable reflects the spirit of the times: tourists could only walk quietly and inconspicuously in the forest with the estate owners’ pardon. As the article’s closing lines indicate, the success of the careful struggle for free passage, due to contemporary social conditions, was tied to tourists’ rule-abiding behavior. While estate owners’ common expropriation practices weren’t loudly criticized for a long time, the endeavors gradually bore fruit: today’s K trail’s predecessor leading to Pap Meadow was established in the 1930s but bypassed the lookout spots we visit. It ran along the crown estate’s edge stretching from the Danube to the ridge and further down the eastern slopes via the urbarial lands of riverside settlements.

Creatures of Visegrád forest

Fortunately, nowadays, we can linger at Borjúfő as much as we like, but there is still a significant distance ahead: the right branch of the K▲ trail leads back to the K-marked path, following the ridge with excellent routing for decades. We climb through wild, naturally chaotic forest, then the summit opens up. We cross a small stone field, a petrified lava flow’s remains fractured in the ice age, its fragments cloaked with moss; meanwhile, the forest gradually brightens. The trail passes from oak woods with grassy floor to an open meadow, leading to perhaps the most beautiful viewpoint on our route, the Moli Rest Place on Friend Hill (named after tourist Lajos Molnár). From the small stone bench and surroundings, the panorama is breathtaking: far below, the Duna strokes the leg of Preaching Chair, forming a horseshoe around St. Michael’s Hill, and to the left rises the tangled forest area of the Visegrád Mountains. The site’s uniqueness lies in that instead of a distant viewpoint, we admire from inside a sizable section of the landscape surrounding the river. We get insights into the heavily eroded volcanic structure’s core, whose center was identified to contain a caldera (collapsed volcanic formation) ruin.

The broad valley head below Friend Hill is called Bölényes and witnesses exciting events. It is said that King Matthias last hunted these massive bison in the Visegrád forests, but later accounts likely only spotted a specimen that escaped captivity. Then, with Miklós Horthy’s cooperation, 5 bison were released here in 1923 from the Budapest Zoo. The then nearly extinct species was attempted to be bred through international cooperation, a purpose served by relocation allowing the animals to enjoy more natural conditions. While reportedly there were cases of calves born, it’s hard to judge the experiment’s success retrospectively, and the bison enclosure closed in 1930. Contemporary sources celebrate its realization and describe the bison’s home as a real paradise during visits by distinguished delegations. Decades later, reports—probably influenced by regime change—depict the site as water-scarce and neglected, regarding the breeding program as a failure. What is certain is that the surrounding area was largely off-limits to ordinary tourists at the time, serving as a hunting estate frequented by Horthy.

Deep in the mountains

The K trail winds along the ridge through wind-torn dense forest. We leave a bulldozer road on a narrow transverse path, crossing the Hajlékos-bérc peak, where again we marvel at the rare beech patch and the Bölényes grove. The "disorganized" forestscape actually approximates natural conditions: fallen branches and trunks lie on the ground, allowing sunlight through canopy gaps to foster thick young growth below. Soon, a vast meadow offers a new kind of idyll: a broad, grassy clearing at the saddle of Vízverés. At its edge, under the trees, is a rest area with a memorial stone bearing the name of László Madas, founder director of the Pilis State Forest Management. The K trail leads past these landmark trees — we now head up the side of Urak Asztala (The Lords’ Table). The intriguing name origin remains unclear; since the place is the area’s dominant point, it may reflect a religious origin related to elevation (according to one idea, from "from the Lord’s table"). Other theories suggest it was a resting place for royal hunts or a border where estate owners met during inspections. Our rugged transverse path winds through old forest, with views back to the Naszály massif and the eastern edge of the Visegrád mountains. The thick, untouched forest owes its existence to a former, now defunct air defense base installed on the ridge. The base’s concealment was ensured by the uncontrolled, impassable wild forest growth. We arrive at a junction where our trail turns right.

A few meters further, we see the elongated meadow of Palóczki-rét already joining Pap-rét. Behind fences stands a forester’s lodge with a small pond in the clearing: grazing once took place on the remote ridge, with dug pits to secure standing water for animals’ drinking. The forester’s lodge served as a hunting cabin visited by Horthy; the asphalt road was built at his request in the 1930s between his Szentendre mansion and the Visegrád hunting grounds.

Turning our back on the rest area, we stay on the concrete, then turn right, leaving it to ascend the Szent László Hill slope briefly, before returning to it ahead. Pleasant forest walking leads out onto the Szarvas-szérű clearing, named after its flattened soil (which is immediately understandable from the terrain) and, like Pap-rét, signals former grazing and mowing that have since vanished locally. We descend right, passing through gloomy hornbeam-beech woods and then oak woods. Dog barking already signals the proximity of Pilisszentlászló. We barely touch the village, as the P trail turns right along the street leading out of the houses. Pilisszentlászló’s history is closely interwoven with the noble hunting of the dense forests. In the Middle Ages, the royal road connecting Buda and Visegrád was flanked by the Kékes hunting trail, where today the church stands. From the 13th century, nobles on the same route enjoyed the hospitality of the Pauline monastery. Due to its location and noble recognition, the village held political significance but was destroyed during Turkish times and later resettled by the Pauline monks with Slovak settlers, naming it Szentlászló. (The stream flowing towards Visegrád likely gained the name Apát-kút (Abbot’s Well) due to the monastery, a name extending to the valley’s lower region.) After a few minutes’ walk, we leave the houses and stroll through young forests growing on formerly grazed clearings. We bypass a long fence, then sharply descend to the stream bank where the unique Szent László Valley path begins.

The valley left behind here

The cool, humid valley (initially "personified" by Old Abbot Hill) is compressed by the outer side of the caldera arch and the bulk of the Lords’ Table; the large stream has cut very deep at their feet. The watercourse produces many interesting phenomena following the topography: after the first small wooden bridge, for example, it meanders widely around its own debris, which settles in slower sections. Later it shows a rockier, more directed face as it goes straight. Beyond the plank bridge, the narrow path ascends into a mixed-age hornbeam-beech forest. The loudly "babbling" stream nearly echoes, paired with the dark canopy over the narrow valley, creating a mystical atmosphere. Tree trunks freshly cut in one area stand out of the soil, surrounded by mossy stone piles covering the slope — here, a bit more light reaches the forest floor.

Our path narrows, with a rest area appearing below, encircled like a ribbon by the stream water. On the far shore, a large clear-cut stretches, but crossing dense undergrowth we descend beside the stream; this presents a picturesque and adventurous section. It is rare in our mountains to have a valley without adjoining cart roads, but here it is exactly the case: just a narrow trail runs alongside the water, crossed several times by fording. During floods, turning back may be necessary, and it’s also not unique for the fickle water to rearrange its bed and the trail route used until then. Aside from a patch of forest felled by disease, here we can see what our mountains’ deep corners would be like without timber roads — as if the valley was forgotten from times before humans. At the end of this atmospheric stretch, we can hop stone to stone across the far bank; the gorge narrows further. The soft Carpathian character of the North Hungarian Mountains’ volcanic terrain reaches full bloom in these kilometers. Traces of the stream’s destructive floods are visible at several points on the bank, and the huge gray andesite boulders testify to the water’s power. Wade after wade, after wider terraces comes another narrow section where the trail barely fits between rocky sides. The steep, slippery section is continuously attacked by the stream, whose bed is almost covered with abundant debris.

At the end of a calmer section, we enter the valley’s middle part: although the darkest, it is also the most spectacular. Unlike before, here the hard lava rock barrier leaves no chance for the stream to spread out, so no matter how much water it carries, it can only use its narrow passage. Concentrated in a narrow band, its increased power reveals the birth of a gorge: within metres it has carved out walls, from which creeping plants’ vines hang down, and fallen rocks rest in the bed. Moving forward, dark and imposing andesite cliffs guard around the trail, slopes steepen, and only the stream separates their bases. We leave a rock outcrop behind, where Alpár Spring gushes out — our trail has notably developed into a wide, flat road here. In the 1920s, a narrow-gauge railway track was built in the valley from Visegrád, originally planned to extend to Pilisszentlászló to transport wood and people from the hard-to-reach village. But the mountains had other plans: the steep, spring-watered, slippery slope here slid and washed away the earthworks. Fortunately, otherwise, the picturesque, undeveloped valley would not exist in its current form. (A little lower, traces of a loading area are still visible today.)

The opened fairy garden

Two wooden bridges help cross the washed-away bank sections, then the basin widens; after the end of the wild ride, the spreading stream fatiguedly spreads its rock load lying scattered on the valley floor. We already approach the Abbot Well valley, where a richly developed hiking area capitalizes on the splendid natural conditions. At a broad clearing below the retaining wall sprouts the abundant and drinkable water of Kaán Spring, alongside which a rest area facilitates refreshment. Although only consumable at one’s own risk, it is not unusual to see drivers arriving with empty bottles and, after a long fill-up, departing with a serious shipment of spring water. In the next kilometers, the P trail follows asphalt, often lying over former railway tracks and having sealed the fate of the narrow-gauge railway: the road was laid in the 1930s for Miklós Horthy between beloved Visegrád hunting grounds and Pap Meadow hunting trails (later continuing further to the aforementioned Szentendre mansion). While 1920s press wrote about distinguished guests arriving by train near the bison enclosure, the narrow bridges making the valley walkable (as well as traffic disturbing stalking) made the tracks unwanted, and they were dismantled in 1930. Forestry roads allowed greater transport capacity, with these constructions beginning the opening up of the Visegrád Mountains’ forests, as well as the laying of the current paved road network.

A little earlier, a former devil’s mine takes a huge bite out of a mountainside — loaded with its stone, railway units clattered down to the Danube pier, where materials for Budapest’s construction were transferred onto barges. The hiking trail meanders lazily; the scenery’s beauty unimpaired, with the stream showing its wild, natural face at intervals. We pass a neat hunting lodge (predecessor of the István Hunting Lodge, from where the iron and later paved roads were managed), its yard hosting trout breeding in basins fed by the dammed flowing stream. The forest opens up, indicating arrival at Telgárthy Meadow’s broad clearing. The pleasant clearing is edged by pine trees, often frequented by picnickers in good weather; next to it springs the Telgárthy Jenő spring, named after the Visegrád forest steward. It is now hard to imagine, but the phenomenon of noble hunting runs through the history of Abbot Well valley and Visegrád forests — as a result, the area was mostly closed to tourist traffic until the mid-20th century. Due to the surrounding terrain’s varied topography and splendid forests, it was rich in game, lying close to two important cities (Visegrád and Budapest) with connections ensured by the Danube. Early tourist literature sometimes described the valley as a fairy garden, usually referring to the privileged who excluded booted visitors deemed too restricted in movement. The world has turned greatly: today, this may be the best developed hiking area in the Danube Bend, attracting many families every weekend with its variety and long list of sights.

The Devil’s mill

We hike again under the trees. To the right, a restaurant and the gate of the Miklós Bertényi Botanical Garden welcome (inside are one of the range’s short gorges and many tree species — the shady, half-dark pine forest deserves special attention). On the lower kilometers of the highway, we can expect heavier traffic, but the valley still holds surprises: the road cuts through a deep rock incision, and beside it, the stream has visibly sawed itself into the rock. The continuously rushing water divides into several small channels, around which smoothed benches lie covered by thick moss carpets. The gorge, destroyed by the roadway, remains a splendid ornament of the valley. Its narrow gate was one reason the track and the road could not coexist in peace. Before stepping onto the bridge crossing the watercourse, the P trail invites left: for the last time on our hike, we join the stream closely. The lush vegetated trail seemingly modeled on the upper valley part twists at the steep slope’s base, fully concealing the nearby asphalt belt. At the curve’s end, the stream cuts through polished rock slabs again and almost slide-like arrives at its sizeable small pond. At the basin-like, rocky corner’s bottom, the water’s constant swirling deepens a wide cauldron and carves a smaller cavity into the neighboring wall. Saying farewell to the continuous spinning pond of Devil’s Mill Waterfall, only the descent remains: the valley flattens, we pass a fishpond, then enter the street before the forest school. The stream once powered mills here (hence the name Mill Garden Valley), and on the far side, a memorial plaque for the narrow-gauge railway can be found. Here operated the Kincses Kolozsvár marshalling yard, where locomotives were "put up" in the short-lived functioning of the plant. We cover the last nearly 2 kilometers on the street until we return to our starting point on the Danube shore.