The slopes of Kasprowy Wierch summit in Tatra National Park.Andrew Findlay/Supplied
With characteristic Polish bluntness, mountain guide Jacek Zieba-Jasinkski states, “geography is cruel.”
On the shady north-facing side of the hill – the cruel side in his estimation – sheep-herding farmsteads cling stoically to snow-dusted pastures, seemingly left behind by Zakopane’s rise as the winter sports capital of Poland and the accompanying tourist-driven real estate sweepstakes.
On the sunny side, holidayers crowd around tables that slosh with Polish pilsners among heaping plates of plump dumplings and venison sausage, among them skiers enjoying a well-earned timeout from the busy slopes of Szymoszkowa Meadow. It’s one of more than a dozen ski resorts around Zakopane, some with one or two chairlifts and others with a multitude of high-speed lifts and slopeside restaurants. Prices at all of them are a bargain.
I arrived in this mountain city in February during Poland’s winter school break wanting to explore the country’s love of sliding downhill, which on paper struck me as improbable that mountains rise along just a narrow fringe along the country’s southern border with Czechia and Slovakia.
These mountains have produced notable skiing aficionados, such as the late Karol Jozef Wojtyla (Pope John Paul II), an expert skier nicknamed “the Daredevil of the Tatras.” Even after his ascent to the papacy in 1978, he would escape Vatican City incognito with bodyguards to ski in the Italian Dolomites.
After lunch with my guide, I join the current of skiers and snowboarders dodging one another on Szymoszkowa Meadow’s one main run, a slushy ribbon of artificial snow that snakes down from the top of the high-speed lift through farm fields. ABBA’s Dancing Queen pumps from lift-tower speakers.
I look longingly at the rugged peaks of Tatra National Park to the south, a 211-square-kilometre postage stamp of protection along the Slovakian border. They beckon with a covering of real snow that I look forward to skiing later in the week.
Make sure to pick up some oscypek, a smoked sheep cheese that is unique to Zakopane.Andrew Findlay/Supplied
Not much time passes in the mountains of Poland before talk turns to food. Later that evening, I head out for dinner on the Krupowki, Zakopane’s bustling pedestrian thoroughfare. Vendors hawk LED-lit propeller toys that drop like multicolour shooting stars from the night sky. Young women in tiny booths sell oscypek, the delicious smoked sheep cheese made in this region. Families line up to enter the Parrot Zoo, oddly out of place on this winter day.
We navigate through this carnival-like atmosphere to a corner table at Karczma Sabala, located in the same finely wood-crafted building as the Pension Staszeczkowka, one of the first hotels built in Zakopane in 1894. A band of two violinists, an upright bass player and a virtuoso accordionist perform lively mountain folk music. One of the violinists sings lead and the rest of band joins for a spirted chorus. Music and dance have a strong tradition among Gorals, as the Slavic people of the Tatras are known. The Polish word Goral means simply “highlander” and these people like to party.
Wandering among the lively throngs on the Krupowki, it’s difficult to imagine the isolated hamlet that Zakopane once was. Its name means “buried,” and is thought to capture the feelings of the first Slavic settlers who arrived here in the 15th century to clear forests and herd sheep. In the late 1800s, fresh mountain air and thermal hot springs prompted Zakopane’s transformation into a popular health retreat. The picturesque town soon attracted intellectuals and artists.
Stroll along the Krupowki, Zakopane’s pedestrian thoroughfare with traditional wooden buildings.Andrew Findlay/Supplied
After the First World War, more Poles flocked to Zakopane for skiing and mountain climbing. In 1936, a cable car was built to the top of Kasprowy Wierch, a craggy 1,987-metre summit in the heart of Tatra National Park. It’s also Poland’s highest ski resort. The original cable car is long gone, replaced by a modern one that whisks us the next morning into the high mountains.
Light clouds cling to the surrounding peaks. A bracing wind gusts from the south. Despite the chill, Tatra National Park is a hive of activity, as though the carnival crowds of last night have decamped en masse for the alpine.
Lovestruck couples, young families with infants in backpacks and others who look as though they’ve never set foot on snow before, follow a slippery path along a narrow ridge to a high point. Several mountain guides, scattered at intervals along the rocky crest, teach students rope, ice axe and crampon skills. The ski runs are blessedly quiet. Just a few dozen people carve turns down a long run descending from the gondola to the bottom of a natural basin.
On the way up to Kasprowy Wierch, Poland's highest ski resort.Andrew Findlay/Supplied
A skiff of fresh snow tops the groomed runs in a year when good snow is hard to find in Europe. A couple of young ski racers, in tights, train on a course at the edge of the run. A coach, parent or both barks encouragement from the side.
With the slopes virtually empty, I burn off a half-dozen glorious top-to-bottom laps. From the lift I spot a trio of ski mountaineers bound for one of the couloirs that splits the surrounding peaks. The stoic Polish temperament coupled with a love of mountains and comfort with risk seems to be a recipe for skiing prowess. Last year a 37-year-old Pole named Andrzej Bargiel, who developed his skiing chops on these very peaks, became the first human to climb and ski down Everest without supplemental oxygen.
Later that afternoon, back in the bustle of Zakopane, I join a few other shoppers browsing books on local history and nature at Baza Tatry, a gift shop next to the main train station.
High up in the Tatras, the borderland peaks catch the last of evening’s soft winter light. In a country that endured Nazi occupation followed by nearly 45 years of stifling Communist rule, mountains were an escape. They still are. On good snow and bad, the joy of sliding downhill is alive and well in Poland.
If you go
From Krakow, it’s a pleasant three-hour train ride to Zakopane, a resort town in southern Poland.
Kasprowy Wierch: What this resort lacks in piste options it more than makes up for with a beautiful setting and views of rugged Tatra National Park. Full day tickets start at 145 Polish zloty ($55.)
Bialka Tatrzanska: Don’t be fooled by the soft rolling hills as you approach this ski resort. Once on the slopes, you’ll find nearly a dozen lifts servicing terrain on three adjacent forested mountains, with long easy groomers, steep mogul runs and everything in between. Full day tickets start at 160 Polish zloty ($60.)
Nosalowy Park Hotel is a five-minute walk from the Zakopane train station and a 10-minute stroll to Krupowki, the downtown pedestrian promenade. This luxury hotel features a full-service spa and an epic breakfast buffet to start your day of exploring. The concierge can arrange shuttles to nearby ski resorts.
Zakopane has a mind-boggling selection of restaurants serving hearty Polish mountain food. For some local specialties, try oscypek (smoked sheep cheese), kwasnica (sour cabbage soup), rydze z patelni (fried pine mushrooms,) or szaszlyki jagniece (lamb skewers) served with potato pancakes (placki ziemniaczane.)
The writer was hosted by Visit Poland. It did not review or approve the story before publication.