Letter from the Czech Forest
The Czech Forest – or Český Les – is a thick band of pine forests traversing the entire south-western side of the Czech Republic. Unlike the tourist draws of the Krkonoše mountains to the north or Šumava national park to the south; and unlike the heavily industrial north-western side of the country, this part of the Czech Republic feels decidedly empty, quiet, and even a little lonely. Even getting to a small town like Bělá nad Radbuzou, bordering the southern flank of the Czech Forest, is a four hour bus trip from Prague via Plzeň – such are the limited transportation options for this remote region of the country.
The pine forests of Český Les offer endless walks, fresh air, great views, and a paradise for mushroom pickers. As I edged past the cow fields and into the hilly terrain towards the German border – the former Iron Curtain West German border – a strange sense of “am I allowed to even be here?” still lingered, thankfully now merely part of my over-active imagination. For this was the Soviet bloc’s western wall. Following the expulsion of Sudeten Germans after World War II, the region, unlike other areas, was not aggressively repopulated. The thick hilly forest led to nowhere but trouble – meaning border guards and a double, several kilometre thick, perimeter fence separating east from west. If you know where to look, you can still spot the scarred lines of the inner fence.
Thanks to EU funds, the Plzeň region has marked the locations of the remains of countless abandoned German villages in this area with green signs featuring both their former Czech and German names. Such places are labelled as “bývalý” on maps – meaning “former”. I came across one such place called Korytany – or Rindl in German. Located not far from the Czech town of Poběžovice, the former village of 210 inhabitants, founded in the 16th century, burned to the ground in 1947. Today, all that remain are stone foundations. But the entire area has been turned into a miniature outdoor museum in which a visitor can walk through the site and read about the history of this village, and view photographs of the former inhabitants. A couple of modern photographs even show some very old Germans – likely the last surviving inhabitants who were children in the mid 1940s – conducting pilgrimages here. Such experiences add to the very strange atmosphere of the Czech Forest region. It’s eerie here. The ghosts of the past are often the loudest voices amidst the silence...
The town of Poběžovice, a few hours walk south-east from the forest, served as a headquarters for the notorious communist-era border guard service. Now that is gone too. Today, the town is visibly struggling. Its 16th century historic chateau has fallen into severe disrepair. I confess to being stunned as I walked around the grounds of this site – the broken windows, crumbling brickwork, and empty courtyard filled with a couple of smashed stone monuments. The town centre too looks like a decisive counter-offensive against grimness has yet to be waged here. I can’t help but wonder again: it’s been more than 25 years, so when will the crumbling Soviet-style, beige-tinged, dilapidated gloom finally disappear from the Czech Republic once and for all? For now, the houses and buildings with proudly re-plastered and repainted facades are still in a minority. It’s well worth coming to visit this fascinating region. And spending money at a local establishment or two is certainly one way to help spurn an economic revival.
