The rocky world of Bél-kő

Itinerary

• From the starting point, head south following the K trail, which we follow up to the parking lot after the monastery.
• From the parking lot, follow the K/ educational trail marking to the Bél-kő lookout point.
• From Bél-kő, the S▲ marker leads to the junction with the Z marker, where we turn left.
• At the Green Meadow, turn left onto the K marker.
• We climb up to Őr-kő following the K▲ marker, then continue on it to Őr-kő Meadow.
• At Őr-kő Meadow, turn left onto the P marker, which leads back to the starting point of the route.

Detailed description of the route

Lost barkók, chased monks

We start towards Eger along the main street of Bélapátfalva, then turn left after a small park following the K marker. Behind the houses appears the defining landscape and relief element of our route, the huge, jagged bastion of Bél-kő. The gently rising street forks before the cemetery; turning right towards the abbey parking lot, we find the downward sloping promenade. Looking back, Bélapátfalva rests at the foot of a hilly area, once inhabited by the barkók (about 50 other villages were similar). This small ethnic group living at the borders of Borsod, Gömör and Nógrád differed only slightly in customs and dialect from the much more widespread neighboring Palóc people. The origin of none of these groups is fully clarified.

Along the paved, illuminated path runs a small brook, behind the trees the cliff face scarred by mining becomes more impressive. After a short ascent, another monster intrudes the view: at the top of the stairs we confront the huge gate of the Bélháromkút Cistercian monastery. As in its settlement, the prefix Bél in its name refers to the former owner of the area, the Bél ("Bel") clan, while the three wells count the nearby springs.

The abbey, founded in the 13th century, was started by Cistercian monks from Pilis until their efforts were thwarted by the Mongol invasion. Gothic influences joined the Romanesque style later on. The monks could move into the completed buildings before the mid-century but their monastery was burned down by King Ladislaus IV's troops a few decades later. The abbey, managed by the archdiocese of Eger, began to decline in the 15th century; the last few monks were expelled in 1534. The Baroque vault was built after the Turkish occupation, at the beginning of restoration in the 18th century. The towerless church rises on a secluded clearing in the forest; despite its angular form, it gives an airy impression and fits perfectly into the landscape. This is the only well-preserved Romanesque Cistercian abbey church in Hungary.

From the beginning of the 19th century, a hard tile factory operated for nearly a hundred years on the same meadow, very close to the ancient walls. This factory was not the only one in the Bükk region producing lead-glazed earthenware from local clay. These were cheaper than porcelain but looked similar at first glance. Crossing a small parking lot among the ruins, the next bushy section tests our orientation: the signs are not easy to find, but keeping roughly a straight direction, we come upon the asphalt road, then turn right, continuing our hike on the Bél-kő educational trail K/ marker. Our urban walk ends here as we head into the natural Bükk, or rather to the peaks of cliffs almost above us; the wild forests must wait, for now, we remain on concrete.

The "wrinkled forehead" mountain

Looking upward, we notice accordion-like twisted, sharp-edged rock ledges. Mining at Bél-kő continued for a long time with terraced-step cultivation, a legacy visible as a defining visual element of the western face of the Bükk. In the words of Magda Szabó, "the mountain frowned" until the 1960s, when dangerous walls were abandoned, and quarrying was moved to the summit.

We will return to the mountain's history later but for now, vegetation captures our attention: during the continuous ascent on the asphalt strip, tall beech forests cover us. The steep slopes of the mountain block differ in sunlight exposure and thus in microclimate. This is reflected in the vegetation: dense beech forests dominate the shaded mountain side, while above them, the warm-loving oaks occupy the sloping, sunny hills and peaks—opposite to the usual order.

The wildlife of the bare rock surfaces is also special: the rocky fauna resembles that of the Balkan mountains, but in sun-protected niches close to them alpine species flourish. This varied (sometimes bare, elsewhere closed forest) habitat is protected by the national park, making its touristic use a subject of debates. Bél-kő would be an excellent place for rock climbing and via ferrata routes, but rare, strictly protected species have found a home in this artificial environment, which has already suffered from human intentions.

Shards of the broken rock

The trail leaves the asphalt at one point to cut a bend. We climb on a deeply incised path, among roots sticking out into the air, until we reach the road again. After a right-left turn, we see the only well-preserved part of a once magnificent rock collapse: the southwestern ridge. Originally horizontal limestone layers formed under the sea bed, pressed by tectonic forces over millions of years into vertical plates, later eroded from the softer shale matrix—the sharp rock slabs slicing through the forest's green coat create a picturesque scene. This corner was the first (in 1984) to be annexed to the national park, preserving this small piece of the former Bél-kő. On the western edges of the plateau, possibly three smaller fortifications stood, now with no trace.

On the next straight section, the educational trail calls to the left; in a disused quarry yard, there's a covered rest area. The mountain serving the Bélapátfalva cement factory is notable not only for its especially pure limestone but also for supplying clay shale used by industry. Despite dense vegetation, it quickly becomes clear we stand at a mining yard: slate mining operated here until the 1960s.

Geologically, the site is interesting: limestone forms the plateau, while shale is typical for the Southern Bükk. The large limestone flow is a debris tongue rolled down from blasts in the upper mining yard, but if we follow the bushy trail cutting through, after some bush-fighting, we face an even more special feature. A vertical cavity was carved in the limestone at the junction of the two rocks, and the extracted clay shale was dropped inside—then transported by horse-drawn carts through a hole piercing the mountain's interior to the north side, from where it was carried down on a cableway with limestone to the cement factory. As the shale was mined, the shaft opened up. On the remaining wall we can see scratches caused by the sliding and rubbing of pressed limestone and shale layers—essentially marking the boundary between the plateau and the Southern Bükk. After the observation, we return to the asphalt!

The wide transport road rushes up the mountainside, then turns its back on the forest. Beneath the trees is the memorial of István Baranyi, a hermit from Mikóháza, who lived in the 18th century and played a role in preparing the abbey's renovation. The next left turn reveals the southern horizon, but the geological delights are not over yet, as another episode in the region's formation crosses our path.

The asphalt skirts brown, knobby basalt, once erupted into an ocean trench between drifting crustal plates. In the cold environment, the quickly solidifying "freezing" rock formed rounded shapes, earning the name "párnaláva" (pillow lava). We also meet it at Szarvaskő, and if we do not feel the significance of this geological monument, consider that Iceland in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean is built from this flowing lava. The basalt here is covered by shale, but mining and road construction opened the layer. Crossing the guardrail, the panorama opens: before us are the ridge mountains towering over Szarvaskő and a piece of Southern Bükk; farther away, the ridge of Mátra hides the Great Plain. Its TV tower makes Kékes easily identifiable, and westward the block of Galya-peak. Shrubs daringly cling to the rocky, scree-covered slope of Bél-kő's southern spur, like the wild, Mediterranean limestone surface’s hostile terrain.

Above Northern Hungary, behind the dismantled mountain ridge

The asphalt's last part lies ahead, still gently rising, ending at a clearing: large boulders block vehicles, while hikers find a covered rain shelter. Finally, we enter a forest road, bending sharply, but the slope becomes steeper.

The wild forests of the Bükk plateau appear: wind-twisted beech stumps and huge old specimens shelter the winding road. After a particularly tiring but short climb, we reach the S▲ marker, where we turn left first. We cut through young forest and within 1-2 minutes already see the fence of the Bél-kő lookout. Another large boulder (perfect for placing our packs), and we stand above the breathtaking view. The mining remains of Bél-kő gleam as huge, trimmed rock plateaus: an elongated, barren rock courtyard, which forces our gaze towards the ridge of Mátra. To the left, the flattening spurs of Southern Bükk, to the right spreads half of Northern Hungary. There is no place for plains here; endless hilly landscapes are framed by higher mountains: far away the Börzsöny peaks, to the north the Carpathian highlands of Slovakia. The Karancs block and the peaks of Heves-Borsod Hills are well recognizable, below lie the houses of Bélapátfalva. Surely no other view in the country is as impactful or awe-inspiring.

From this perspective, it's easiest to assess what happened at Bél-kő: during about 100 years of mining starting in the early 20th century, around 19.5 million tons of limestone were removed, with about 7 million cubic meters missing from the mountain’s original mass. These were used by the cement factory and the lime kiln built after World War II. We look around from the highest point of Bél-kő, at 815 meters, but a point exceeding this by 2 meters also existed mid-way — about 100 meters were taken from there. And although vultures no longer circle above the cliffs, and the seemingly dead rock courtyard doesn't hint at vibrant life, the fauna and flora make the slopes of Bél-kő a nature conservation area of outstanding importance.

Heading to the plateau!

Saying goodbye is difficult, but the truly captivating forest section of our hike is just ahead as we turn back along the S▲ marker, heading to the Bükk Plateau. At first, the landscape shows little, as we cross the young forest through the Bél-kő pass, relating the visited rock monster to the plateau. At the fork, we continue straight, following the Z marker. To the right appears the mossy limestone outcrops patched with soil and dark beech forest—the plateau's most characteristic, atmospheric woodland.

We reach another junction, where on the right branch of the K marker, we continue with a short ascent to rest at the Green Meadow. The K marker turns left; after shaded forest meters, the clearing of Sándor Hill opens. In the cool, windy, narrowing plateau's wild, hardly disturbed forests, we can only be guests—the canopy above us, the grimly towering cliffs create a unique atmosphere. In the large, hard-to-access, and strictly protected forest, in recent decades wolves, sensitive to disturbance in their habitat, and the "ghost of the Carpathians", the lynx, have resettled. We don't have to fear them; thanks to their amazing senses, they avoid humans and instinctively fear them. However, the rocky ridges, hindering animal movement, are favorite habitats of the less shy mouflons, which we may occasionally glimpse or hear their frightened galloping.

Our gently waving path leads from logged pine forest to fragrant clearing where the K▲ marker to Őr-kő forks left. (Those tired can stay on K, passing the Őr-kő house, skipping the climb, and rejoining the hike at Őr-kő Meadow. True, the panorama will be missed.) We twist upward on a narrow trail. Scrawny, thin-trunked trees indicate survival on thin soil. The mountain ridge is covered with dense small limestone ridges reaching ankle height: karst meadows, or in folk terms "devil's plow," furrowed on the surface by water and plant root acids dissolving limestone.

The view from the edge is breathtaking despite Őr-kő not being at the plateau’s edge but rising in the "row of Bükk stones," in the second line. To the left appears the mottled neck of Tar-kő and Pes-kő; behind them rolls the southeastern mountain range. Below lies the "terrace" forested behind Oltár-kő; in the distance, Felsőtárkány, the Vár-hegy - Nagy-Eged ridge, and Eger emerge—long, forested hedges sloping down in this direction. Looking right, the silhouette of Mátra blurs blue behind Király-szék ridge. The name Őr-kő may refer to its prehistoric function.

Back into the shade

At Őr-kő, we reached the summit point of our hike; from here on, we only descend. Continuing along the trail, the karst meadow disappears, trees grow larger, but so do the rocks: on a slippery path using our hands, we pass through a narrow stone gate. A few steps later, we emerge onto small Őr-kő Meadow, then turn left onto the P trail for the last kilometers. Behind Őr-kő ridge, we descend gently into the valley's mouth; the path cloaks itself in a cool pine-mixed forest. Our right-bending way leads on stony ground, steeply downward, passing a lime kiln, and reaches the saddle where small stone piles and green helmets hanging on crosses mark two soldiers' graves. Horst Ostenburg and an unknown companion lost their lives here in the winter battles of 1944 during World War II. Winding among water erosions, on a wide forest road, we reach the bottom of Lak Valley, where soon we walk again on asphalt.

We pass the Lóczy spring, and shortly after a wide meadow opens to the right. On a small stone wall, there is a washbasin and a tap to fill our water bottles—although now close to Bélapátfalva. (Camping is also possible on the clearing.) Just a few minutes, and from the shore of Gyári Lake (or Great Lake), we once again face the jagged rock wall of Bél-kő—doubled immediately. The small reservoir dammed on the creek once supplied water for the cement factory; today it is a popular fishing spot, offering perhaps the most beautiful panoramas focusing on Bél-kő, where the waves bear the blurred "face" of the monster. The view can be enjoyed from the terrace of the Szomjas Csuka restaurant too, and if we don't rest, a 15-20 minute walk will take us to the railway station. Turning left at the end, along the street, we finish our route completing the circuit.