"Star route" to Nagy-Kopasz

Itinerary

• During the route, we follow the Z▲ marking from the Erzsébet buffet to Nagy-Kopasz, then back.

Detailed description of the route

Standing at the Erzsébet buffet, only the hikers who usually gather in groups make you feel that we are standing under the highest point of the mountain range, as the terrain doesn't reveal this. We set off on the path through a closed oak forest marked with Z▲, which soon opens into a clearing of hare. The forests seen now appeared here due to long and winding forestry activities. The barren areas caused by wood hunger in previous centuries, then grazing and mowing on deforested mountains, were planted with pine forests in the 20th century to "fatten" the eroded surface's skeletal soil. Only after this, by replacing the pines, did they replant native communities favoring southern slopes, characterized by oak dominance.

The gradual ascent is not interrupted by the slope becoming steeper, as the forest road cuts it crosswise. At the end of a right turn, the forest disappears and huge, grassy clearings open before us, framed by black pine forests. We arrive at Tarnai Resting Place, where a path fits onto the ridge's forefront. The view from the projection is magnificent: opposite (marked by Kis-Kopasz), the gently rolling wooded ridges already make a connection towards the Zsámbék Basin, Széchenyi Hill's block appears to the left, and views open towards Gerecse to the right. At night, the lights of settlements between the slopes and the continuous sea of lights of the Budapest agglomeration reveal the site's elevation, and above the pines, the city's glow tones also appear. Tarnai Resting Place is a perfect spot for stargazing; sitting on the ridge, there's plenty to get lost in looking both upwards and downwards.

The site is named after László Tarnai, a tour guide who lost his life in an Austrian bus accident in 1991 while traveling with a group.

Mediterranean immigrants

The striking spot with a somewhat Mediterranean atmosphere is bordered by dying black pine forest, with raw dolomite surface popping up here and there in the grassland. This well-fragmented rock carpet hinders soil formation, so trees only rarely established on the slope. Thus, the open dolomite rock grassland is dominated by herbaceous plants – that's why it's important not to leave the path, as our steps can easily displace the loose, dry soil crust, destroying the habitat of the vegetation. In this harsh place, you can still find a rarity that has persisted since the Ice Age: the King Stephen carnation.

The mood makers of the landscape, which somewhat resembles the Winnetou films, are clearly the elegant black pines, the "gardeners" of the former dolomite barren slopes. This species is a specialist of limestone and dolomite ridges, favoring sunlight, tolerating dryness, and even thriving in harsh corners, so it was chosen when it was considered necessary to strengthen the eroded, depleted soil again. The plan for the denuded mountains was that the fast-growing conifers would help humus formation, preparing the soil for native species, and then their planting could also start as a second step. As a result, black pine habitats resembling the original environmental conditions have settled on the slopes in a park-like manner mixed with deciduous trees. Today, the transitional state has mostly been completely replaced, and as the procedure's culmination, the original oak communities reclaimed the terrain – elsewhere, however, economic interests prevailed, and the "loosening" or replacement of rapidly growing pine forests could not take place.

As we continue up the wide curve on the now steeper road, we can clearly see that many conifers covering the slopes of the Black Mountains (which give the name) lie fallen, and the pine forest has remained only in patchy clearings. This thinning is desirable from a wildlife perspective because if the black pine grows too densely, the soil level darkens and the understory vegetation, which provides shelter for wildlife, becomes sparse or even disappears. Occasionally, we can still see westwards between the trees, but it’s worth watching our steps carefully, as the dolomite gravel road is deeply carved by water runoff, creating ruts. This also spares the ridge's edge, so a lively micro-relief has developed here, where the stump's edge tilts into a slope. Soon the pines disappear, and our path drills into a dense scrubby Downy Oak forest. Further ahead, we cross a clearing and finally turn left at a fork marked by a sign. Arriving under tangled branches forming a tunnel, we reach the 559-meter Nagy-Kopasz, the Budai Hills' highest point (which, contrary to its name, was treeless only during the grazing and mowing heyday).

At the top of the Budai Hills

At the peak, the sizable Csergezán Pál Lookout swells like a sail covered with slats. (Its namesake was a painter, graphic artist, and hunter who often depicted forest animals and whose illustrations can be found in books by István Fekete and Kálmán Kittenberger.) Let’s climb to the uppermost floor to look around the landscapes surrounding the capital! The panorama is twofold: on one hand, the flat ridge around the summit offers a monotonous relief with little to discover; on the other hand, the whole Budai Hills unfolds before us. The group of separate mountains lines up in a semicircle: to the east are the Budapest heights, the Széchenyi, Hárs, and János hills, and the Hármashatár-hegy group rises. Looking at them, it’s hard to believe we’re observing the area of a million-inhabitant city. To the north, we see the patchy waves of Nagy-Szénás and the Kutya Hill (of the same height as Nagy-Kopasz), and to the west lie the Zajnát hills. To the south stretches the Zsámbék Basin, behind which significant vistas open: in clear weather, the Velence Hills stand out, the Bakony and Vértes become visible, and Gerecse can also be spotted. Looking further, behind Nagy-Szénás rise the ridges of the Pilis and Visegrád Mountains.

It is also possible to sleep at the lookout’s covered levels and on its roofed panoramic terrace (except during stormy weather when lightning makes staying in the tower dangerous). The view is completely different from the daytime: the city’s merging light carpet and scattered settlement lights of the nearby hills blend with the dark masses of the range. From the lookout, sunset and sunrise are also very impressive, the former uninterrupted, the latter partly observable.

The return route is the same as the ascent, descending to the Erzsébet buffet along the Z▲ mark.