On a defunct ski slope: Galyatető – Mátraalmás

Itinerary

• We wind down from Galyatető on the Z▲ mark towards Mátraalmás.
• From Mátraalmás we climb back to the summit on the extremely steep incline of the P▲ mark.
• On the K mark (to the left) we return via the lookout touching the Galyatető Tourist Center, then to the parking lot.

Detailed description of the route

Galyatető, past and present

Although we might not think so based on its current appearance, the High Mátra was not always widely known. Before the Treaty of Trianon, the low-altitude Mátra was considered a secluded mountain range visited by few, nestled in the shadow of the wild pine forests and rocky spurs of the Carpathians. This is emphasized by the case of Kálmán Mikszáth, who around the turn of the century questioned his fellow parliamentarians if they knew where Galya-tető was, but even his colleague from Gyöngyös had no idea.

The word "galya" refers to a treeless summit, as the southeastern side of the peak was decorated from afar by flowering meadows. Its first building was a log shelter opened in 1894, founded by the Mátra Association. The shelter named after Archbishop Samassa of Eger ceased operation after a few short decades; following the post-Trianon border changes, from 1924 Galya, which became the country's second highest mountain massif, received a new 100-bed tourist house (the "University Shelter"). A lookout was also built later. At that time, an active skiing culture characterized the settlement. The longest slope extended all the way to Mátraalmás, a ski jump was built in the Martalóc valley, and steep hillsides and the summit were covered by level ski routes. Today, these function as forestry paths. The intensive developments included the inauguration of the luxury-level Nagyszálló in 1939. World War II swept away almost everything: the shelter was demolished, and the hotel became a trade union holiday home. The ski slopes disappeared during the socialist decades, but in 1976 the Csór-réti reservoir, playing a key role in the region's water supply (visible from the lookout towards the Mátra pass), was built, and corporate holiday homes and weekend cottages increasingly appeared. The Galyatető Tourist Center opened in 2014 (on the site of the old tourist house, which earlier served as the construction office of the Nagyszálló), and at the same time the decrepit lookout of Péter hegyese was raised and renovated.

Down to Mátraalmás

From the edge of the parking lot, peeking through the trees, we can still catch a glimpse of Kékes, then we move downhill towards Mátraalmás on the Z▲ mark. Descending alongside the abandoned, overgrown ski slope – its pasture still recognizable as it was cleared in the 1990s. Passing under the cable of the platter lift, considerable rust reveals the fate of the infrastructure and the ski sport of Galyatető. One of the northern ski slopes once stretched to Mátraalmás, but today only pedestrians can travel between the summit and the mountainside village.

Under old trees we find a small saddle point where the hiking trails diverge. We don’t change the mark; the increasingly wild path forms a loop and gently slopes transversely on the steep hillside. Shortly, water trickles along the path from the squeeze of piled andesite boulders – somewhat inelegantly flowing out of a rubber hose as a fresh stream. The Mátra is rich in springs: despite its small area and resistant rock, its deep fracture system is able to absorb and drain large quantities of water. The precipitation falling on the summits, exceeding the national average, is visible as springs with varying yields near the ridge – as water cannot always travel far in the well-sealing andesite. Most of the springs dry up in summer, so the water demand of the country’s highest villages has been supplied by the Csór-réti reservoir since its construction in 1976.

We approach again the narrowing line of the "winter sleeping" platter lift and our path takes a sharp left turn. Steep slope, increasingly dense forest, then a long bend to the right ending with another strong left turn approaches Mátraalmás. We pass a temporary spring, cross the P mark path, and reach a clear-cut where the large forest gap reveals the pastures of Mátraalmás; further back, the green waves of the Cserhát and Karancs-Medves region guide our eyes towards the hills of Heves-Borsod (or Vajdavár region, Óbük, Tarnavidék hills).

We enter again the shady beech forest. From the increasingly steep slope, huge andesite boulders appear here and there. We step across the Szuha stream, turn north, and trek down through a young stand to Mátraalmás. We arrive at the neat, flower-decorated center alongside weekend houses.

Mátraalmás, or Szuhahuta

An interesting past, a steadily shrinking village lives on the northern slopes of the Mátra. Mátraalmás has been called so only since 1962; before that, its more expressive name was Szuhahuta. Its founding dates after the Rákóczi War of Independence; its history illustrates episodes of multicultural coexistence of peoples settled in the embrace of the Carpathian arc. Four families found home here – the infertile land allowed at best the cultivation of potatoes and plums, so the forest provided nearly all resources. In 1777 a glassworks was built, mainly employing German skilled workers, with Poles producing potash needed for glassmaking, and Slovaks supplying the forest wood with their arduous work. Unlike other domestic glassworks, this one was not an estate but a (Szuhai) communal property, but it could not operate for long: it closed after significant thinning of the large beech forests in the 1830s. Previously, the population engaged in small-scale crafts (e.g., handicrafts, tool, and furniture making), but new economic elements such as brick firing based on clay on the slopes and logging also appeared. According to contemporary records, the road to Szuhahuta was rocky and narrow, hence difficult to pass; the settlement had sparse trade connections with the world. In this spirit, villagers mostly married among themselves, but in the second half of the 19th century, isolation began to ease – albeit slowly; despite the population swelling to about 500, in the 1930s only the radio with earphones in the teacher’s house connected daily to the outside world.

The remote location helped the place to survive the world wars mostly as an observer (although residents were also conscripted), but true danger arrived only in 1946. After the Hungarian-Czechoslovak population exchange agreement, recruiters appeared in the village, and mixed with promises of a better life ("The land of South Slovakia, where we want to settle you, is shining, richly fertile, fat-soiled plain [...] That land waits only for the industrious hand of the Slovak man, who would cultivate it with love. It awaits you! It calls you! Come!" – the contemporary appeal in Sloboda, a Hungarian Slovak paper) and blackmail ("sooner or later you will have to move anyway"), breaking families, ending peaceful coexistence, the relocation took place. Szuhahuta’s 60% of 576 inhabitants left then.

After the decades of socialism, tourism appeared in the slowly depopulating village; more and more people buy holiday homes on the green skirt of the Mátra.

Through the Galyavár

The route leads back towards the summits: the P▲ marks show the right direction. As we climb between houses, looking back we can see the wooded waves of Mătralába. We say goodbye to Szuhahuta, and from now on on a pine forest, on a slippery, sometimes muddy path we traverse sideways. After turning left, we tackle one of the toughest climbs in Mátra. Stumbling over packed, washed-out soil and root networks, we climb steeply, with stones making the already slippery section even less reliable. Rugged rocky blocks block our way; the path leads over natural steps between them. Suddenly the forest opens up, revealing a magical panorama of sharply falling, wooded northern slopes; in the distance we see the end of the Tepke ridge and the Karancs region.

Further up the slope finally eases, and we arrive at a rugged, grassy ridge – here exceptionally warm-loving communities cover the hillside. We cross the moat, the only perceptible remnant of Galyavár. The fortress itself is only definitely known to be the highest castle site in present-day Hungary; its origin, builders, and age remain uncertain. It is believed to have been in use in the Middle Ages and fortified then according to research. It stood in a strategically excellent position: slopes providing natural obstacles protected it on three sides; large moats were needed only in the south. It was probably also protected by a palisade.

We climb through pine-beech forest to Lengyendi saddle, crossing abandoned cross-country ski trails on the way. Turning left onto the National Blue Trail K mark, we reach the edge of Galyatető on a wide forest promenade, touching a pine forest as well. Behind the Székely gate stands the cross-country skiing and biathlon center, which has seen better days; our route, however, leads beneath the tall beeches. A short walk takes us to the lookout of Péter hegyese (960 m). The tower was raised in 2014. Its distinctive design not only earned architectural awards but also contains 3 bivouac rooms. (These can be rented at the nearby Tourist Center.)

After inserting a 200 forint coin, we can start climbing the stairs and crown our hike with the view from the tower. The spectacle is sensational: the entire green sea of Northern Hungary undulates below us. Mátraalmás seems just a step away – though several hundred meters lower. We can look across the Mátra ridges; to the east the Kékes peak massif and the Bükk dominate the horizon. In clear (especially winter) weather, the rocky spires of the distant High Tatras attract attention against the backdrop of the many ranges of Slovak territory.

From the base of the tower, the path leads to the Tourist Center, and then the paved street leads to the parking lot.