On 29 August this year, the ninth anniversary of the death of the great Bolesławiec tourist and naturalist LEON PIĄTKOWSKI passed.
In the previous issue of "Głos Bolesławca," the splendid "silver-tongued" word artist (PS) published a soothing tribute to Leon.
As a friend from tourist trails (and not only those), I would like to take some of the bronze coating off this figure and give my memories a more vivid character. There is no doubt that Leon "Lojsi" was a versatile man, for he could paint and sculpt while working as an official.
However, fatally infected with the tourism bug and everything tourism entails, he marked out tourist trails with young people in mind, cleverly "attaching" them to nationwide trails. During his hikes, he did not count the proverbial kilometres; instead, while observing the terrain, he catalogued every natural curiosity. He used every free moment for tourist excursions. His wife Dioniza, affectionately called "Dyzia," did not have an easy life. Not only was her husband almost never at home, but her beloved sons Zenek and Leszek also insisted on following their father into the field. On his initiative, an elite tourist group called "PIKONAKA" was established in Bolesławiec. With a little knowledge of the disciplines practised by tourists, the name can be deciphered as follows: PI – hiking, KO – cycling, NA – skiing, KA – kayaking. I was fortunate enough to belong to this very group. We had already explored the south-eastern part of Lower Silesia, but we did not know the north-western areas containing the magnificent Bolesławiec–Zgorzelec forests. Until 1956, ventures of this kind had been unthinkable. The border-zone strip, where strict permits were required and where, as early as Węgliniec, the WOP would put people lacking them "in the cooler" until the matter was clarified, prevented tourists from getting to know these areas. In those days, the lands that had "returned to the Motherland forever" were inaccessible to us. This situation changed during W. Gomułka’s tenure.
Thinking that the situation had stabilised, on 2 February 1964 "PIKONAKA," consisting of L. and Z. Piątkowski, Łukawski, Salwerowicz, Tatarek and me, M. Żołądź, set out to find the legendary "wolf pits," which were supposed to be somewhere in the Bolesławiec–Zgorzelec Forest, near Węgliniec. Equipped with binoculars, compasses and, of course, food, we reached Węgliniec. From the railway station, crossing the tracks, we went into the forest. Marshy terrain covered with ice and a thin layer of water was ideal for walking. Our group had already attracted the railway workers’ attention at the station. "Lojsi" summed up the fact with the words: "Idiots, they’ve never seen real tourists."
After many hardships, we finally reached our desired destination. Admiring exceptionally rare specimens of flora, and often fauna as well, we forgot about the world. The "wolf pits" were nothing more than wild marshy ponds situated among magnificent forests, where unique plants grew in the undergrowth of moss-covered, bearded spruces—ziele molne, ferns, clubmosses, feather grass, sedges, sweet grass and many others.
There were adventures, too. In marshy areas, melting ice creates unpleasant traps for the unwary in the form of unexpected baths, and unfortunately several of us took advantage of one. Yet what was that compared with what we were fortunate enough to experience while communing with "Mother Nature"? After eating a substantial dinner by a symbolic campfire, we promised ourselves we would return in summer. February has its own rules, however: the day is too short. We decided to return. According to our calculations (map, azimuth), the nearest route led to Stary Węgliniec, and then along the tracks to Węgliniec. An unpleasant surprise awaited us there.
At the railway crossing, an armed-to-the-teeth group of ORMO members, Militia officers, SOK railway guards, soldiers and even scouts was waiting for us. Each of us had a different theory about such a gathering—war, manoeuvres, a search. None of us thought that we ourselves were the reason for such an operation. It turned out that one zealous railway worker, on seeing people laden with backpacks and other equipment, had notified the appropriate "authorities."
And then it began. The entire security apparatus was alerted and began searching for spies and partisans. Border posts were notified, and security forces were brought in to "comb" the forests. We were surrounded by a tight cordon of armed guardians of order and law. "March down the middle of the road," and "You’ll lose your taste for this tourism, damn you," the escorts instructed us. The problem was that the "middle of the road" was covered with puddles of fresh meltwater. In this situation, only "Lojsi" and Łukawski kept their cool. I lost my nerve, which only further complicated matters.
At the SOK station in Węgliniec, a long and laborious interrogation began. When they finally found no criminal element in our actions, we were allowed, after an appropriate admonition, to travel to Bolesławiec. The return journey was great fun for us. At the station, already in Bolesławiec, Lojsi gave us all a tourist’s blessing with the words: "See you on the trail."
MIECZYSŁAW
P.S.: It is a shame that many years later, when I went to these areas with my first-born granddaughter, Agnieszka, instead of the magnificent natural wonders we had admired in ’64, I encountered foul-smelling marshes and burned-out forests—the results of our magnificent civilisation.