A window to the universe

At 2,022 m above sea level, Chorna Hora, more known  like Father Ivan´s mountain, is not the highest in the Carpathians. Hoverla is a few meters higher. But Father Ivan is closer to the stars.

An observatory was built here in 1938 when the place was still part of Poland. But fate would not have it last for long as the war broke out the very next year, leaving the observatory bereft of everything except its stone walls. Grey and nearly impenetrable in the summer, in the wintertime the ruins turn into a fairy-tale ice palace. Severe mountain windstorms freeze the walls covering them with a wispy icy bas relief. Small wonder the locals call the snowed in observatory the White Bishop.

It was not mere happenstance that Chorna Hora was chosen as a place for stargazers. This is the site from which the clearest view of stars can be found in the Carpathians. And it is most clearest in the winter on the first night after a snow storm. So, in order to gaze at the starry sky, Father Ivan must be visited during the fury of a snowstorm.

The weather forecast gives hope: "Worsening weather, strong winds in the Carpathians of up to 35-40 m per second. A significant cold spell is expected".

There is a border point in the village of Shybeny. After presenting a passport to continue, a short walk through the village brings you to a path that goes only up and up. 

Days are short in the winter months in the Carpathians - darkness begins to descend at four o´clock. With each step the snow gets deeper. Gusts of wind can be felt even in the forest and we wonder what awaits us at the pinnacle…

The light from our torches dances on the frozen branches of beeches and pines until the trees finally give way to the mountain valley of Vesnyarka. Here, 1,400 m up, the first nights rest is spent at Pani Maria´s summer house, which is up to its eaves in snowdrifts. 

A slightly warmed morning greets us with fog and minimum visibility and the forest is left behind. Our GPS devices now show we are 1,600 m above sea level, and there is less than 2 km straight ahead to the top of Father Ivan.

The mountain now looks like a piece of icy soap and the wind achieves such force here that it seems you are a mere particle in a scientific accelerator. The GPS gadgets lose their bearings and show the summit is growing farther and farther away.

Somewhere out past the atmosphere, satellites are silently beaming navigation co-ordinates down to Earth, but here tiny shards of ice pound our winter storm coats like shrapnel bombarding bullet-proof vests.

Now we have no need for the GPS readers - we can see the boundary of the observatory. And beyond it, in the fog, stands the White Elephant, with dark windows peering out at us from the second floor.

We are left to seal the windows with the snow and drink tea to the cozy humming of our quiet gas fire as we wait out the storm.

The quiet falls without a warning and a window to the Universe opens. We are home.