CHAPTER VIII. Hospitable welcome at Uibanya Excursion to the

Previous
CHAPTER VIII. Hospitable welcome at Uibanya--Excursion to the Servian side of the Danube--Ascent of the Stierberg--Bivouac in the woods--Magnificent views towards the Balkans--Fourteen eagles disturbed--Wallack dance.

A couple of days after my arrival at Uibanya, my friend F—— kindly arranged a little expedition into Servia, with the object of making the ascent of the Stierberg, a mountain of respectable elevation, commanding very fine views. Our guide was the postmaster of Plavishovitza, who professed a knowledge of the country round about. We drove down to the Danube, and there crossed the river in a primitive "dug-out," and almost immediately commenced the ascent of the Stierberg. It became quite dark by the time we got half-way up the mountain; this we were prepared for, having made arrangements for camping out the night. We had brought with us an ample store of provisions, not forgetting our plaids. The heat was so great when we started that we dispensed with coats, and even waistcoats, and went on rejoicing in the cool freedom of our shirt-sleeves. Each wore a broad leather waist-belt, stuck round with revolvers and bowie-knives. I believe we looked like a couple of the veriest brigands. Had we only been spotted by a "correspondent," I make little doubt that we should have been telegraphed as "atrocities" to the London evening papers.

The more civilisation closes round one, the more enjoyable is an occasional "try back" into barbarism. This feeling made the mere fact of camping out seem delightful. Our first care was to select a suitable spot; we found a clearing that promised well, and here we made a halt. We deposited our batterie de cuisine, arranged our plaids, and then proceeded to make a fire with a great lot of dried sticks and logs of wood. The fire was soon crackling and blazing away in grand style, throwing out mighty tongues of flame, which lit up the dark recesses of the forest.

Now came the supper, which consisted of robber-steak and tea. I always stuck to my tea as the most refreshing beverage after a long walk or ride. I like coffee in the morning before starting—good coffee, mind; but in the evening there is nothing like tea. The robber-steak is capital, and deserves an "honourable mention" at least: it is composed of small bits of beef, bacon, and onion strung alternately on a piece of stick; it is seasoned with pinches of paprika and salt, and then roasted over the fire, the lower end of the stick being rolled backwards and forwards between your two palms as you hold it over the hot embers. It makes a delicious relish with a hunch of bread.

Our camp-fire and its surroundings formed a romantic scene. We had three Serbs with us as attendants, and there was F—— and myself, all seated in a semicircle to windward of the smoke. The boles of the majestic beech-trees surrounding us rose like stately columns to support the green canopy above our heads, and in the interstices of the leafy roof were visible spaces of sky, so deeply blue that the hue was almost lost in darkness; but out of the depths shone many a bright star in infinite brilliancy. The scene was picturesque in the highest degree. The flickering firelight, our Serbians in their quaint dresses moving about the gnarled roots and antlered branches of the trees, upon which the light played fitfully, and the mystery of that outer rim of darkness, all helped to impress the fancy with the charm of novelty.

After supper was finished, and duly cleared away, we all disposed ourselves for sleep, taking care to have the guns ready at hand, for we might be disturbed by a wolf or a bear on his nightly rounds. Our attendants had previously collected some large logs of wood, large almost as railway-sleepers, to keep up a good fire through the night. Wrapping my plaid round me, I laid myself down, confident that I should sleep better than in the softest feather bed. I gave one more look at the romantic scene, and then turned on my side to yield to the drowsiness of honest fatigue.

But, alas! there was no sleep for me. I had hardly closed my eyes when I was attacked by a regiment of mosquitoes. I was so tormented by these brutes that I never slept a wink. I sat up the greater part of the night battling with them; and what provoked me more was the tranquillity of F——'s slumbers. I could bear it no longer, so at three a.m. I woke him up, saying it was time for us to be stirring if we wanted to get to the top of the mountain to see the sun rise. I believe he thought I need not have called him so early, and grumbled a little, which was very unreasonable, for the fellow had been sleeping for hours to my knowledge. Rousing our Serbs, we set them about making preparations for breakfast; but when the water was boiled and the tea made, it turned out to be utterly undrinkable. The water-cask had had sour wine in it, and the water was spoiled. We consoled ourselves with the hope that we might get some sheep's milk on the mountain.

We reached the summit of the Stierberg before five o'clock; it has no great elevation, but the position commands magnificent views of all the surrounding country. Advancing to the verge of the precipice overlooking the Danube, a sheer wall of rock 2000 feet in depth, we signalled our arrival by discharging our rifles simultaneously. This "set the wild echoes flying." Each cliff and scaur of the narrow gorge flung back the ringing sound till the sharp reverberations stirred the whole defile. Before the fusillade had ceased we beheld a sight I shall never forget. The sound had disturbed a colony of eagles, who make their nests in these rocky fissures. They flew out in every direction from the face of the cliff, and went soaring round and round, evidently in much alarm at the unwonted noise. We counted fourteen of these magnificent birds. I wanted to get a shot at one, but they never came near enough. After circling round for several minutes they flew with one accord to the opposite woods, and were no more seen.

The view from the Stierberg is splendid. On every side were stretches of primeval forest. Bounding the horizon on the north-east we made out the Transylvanian Alps; to the south lay Servia, and more distant still the Balkan Mountains. As the sun rose higher, lighting up in a marvellous way all the details of this fair landscape, we could see far eastward a strip of the Danube flashing in the sunbeams.

We turned reluctantly from the grand panorama, but we began to feel the distressing effects of thirst. We had failed to procure any sheep's milk, but the postmaster declared that when we got back to our camping-place we should be able to find some fresh water. Arrived at this pleasant spot, we rested under the beech-trees, and sent off two of the Serbs to look for water. After waiting some time one of them brought us some, but it was from a stagnant pool, alive with animalculÆ, quite unfit to drink. I never remember suffering so much from thirst. The heat was excessive, but happily before reaching the Danube we found a delicious spring gushing out from the limestone rock. It was an indescribable refreshment for thirsty souls. We further regaled ourselves with a good meal at the village on the Hungarian side of the Danube, after crossing again in the "dug-out."

The pope of the village entered into conversation with us, and finding I was a stranger he ordered a Wallack dance for our amusement. The costumes of the women were picturesque, but the dance itself was a slow affair, very unlike the lively czardas of the Magyar peasant.


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

Clyx.com


Top of Page
Top of Page