Ukrainian-Hungarian ecological expedition begins
It is planned to study the river basin, status of the banks, protective installations, water, and biodiversity. An expedition of eight researchers decided to cover a distance of 500 kilometers to the Hungarian city of Szeged on two rafts (locally known as bokora or darab) made of pine trunks. Such rafts were used to transport timber in Zakarpattia, the technique dating from the Roman Empire used until the mid-twentieth century. Now, half a century later, the craft of strong and fearless raftsmen has been revived.
At first they planned to set off from the confluence of the White and Black Tisza, where the Great Tisza begins, but the summer was scorching and the river too shallow. It was sufficiently deep a short way down, near Luh. Two rafts were transported from Mezhyhiria district nearby where they had been made by 74-year-old former raftsman Ivan Tatsyn. Each was three by six meters, made of ash timber. Some joked that they would sail down the Tisza and sing a popular Ukrainian song about ash trees one sees in his dreams, longing for home. Myron Tsiubyk, head of the expedition, said he often visualized a full-flowing river with rafts tied to each other racing down. His father was a raft helmsman and would sometimes take the boy with him, when the waters were calm.
The expedition wanted to set off without pomp, but things are not done that way in the countryside, and very soon the whole locality knew what was about to happen. The residents of Luh decided that the raftsmen should be seen off with speeches and music. In the end, a typical Transcarpathian holiday took place on the riverbank. Too bad the local trembita-player [trembita is a Transcarpathian straight version of the alpenhorn] had left for Rakhiv. While preparations were being made for the voyage, 75-year-old raftsman Petro Traksler of Luh told the travelers how the rafts had been made. Tree trunks were gathered in special ponds and tied to form bokora rafts. Several such rafts formed a caravan that would sail down to Szeged and its timber exchange. In 1945, the Tisza became the border line between Ukraine and Romania, so rafting timber became a problem.
“We would sail down on the bokoras and approach a bridge with border guards posted there. They would shout halt or we’ll open fire,” recalls Petro Traksler. “They’d train their machine guns on us. How could we stop the rafts in the middle of the rushing Tisza? We’d flash our passes, shouting we were allowed passage.”
During the ceremony, the village authorities wished the expedition bon voyage by presenting the traditional bread and salt. The parish priest gave his blessings. After that, by the new tradition, someone should crash a bottle of champagne against a raft. But the head of the expedition was impatient to cast off, so no one even had one for the road. A pity. On the other hand, professional raftsmen have never consumed alcohol before sailing down the river. Expedition members spoke with Peiter Valajosz, deputy director of the Gotubad National Park in Hungary. Although he played water polo a number of years, he lit a candle in church, lest the expedition experience something like what one sees in Repin’s famous picture, Boatsmen. But they would, anyway. Many a caravan have crashed there over the years because of the rapids, and many a mariner has died. A big cross over the river reminds us of the victims. The expedition experienced the hazards of the rapids and rocky bottom. Only two of the travelers had plied the Tisza in boats or catamarans. The rest had no experience whatever. They had to learn en route, the hard way. The rafts were thrown sideway, turned around. They ought to have spent several days, at least several hours, practicing rowing, using folding oars, so as to synchronize their efforts. In the evening on the first day of the voyage, the heavy bokoras got stranded on a rocky shoal several kilometers from Luh. Hard as they tried, using even wenches, the rafts did not budge. After spending several hours in the river, the travelers went ashore and set up camp. Then someone suggested the reason for their misfortune. In olden times, no woman was allowed to step on a bokora, while in Luh, before casting off, several women had done just that, posing for photo cameras and brandishing oars — an unheard-of act of blasphemy! Then it took a whole day to get through the rapids by Bila Tserkva. The expedition members were desperate. Finally, they cut the ropes binding the rafts and retied them. Now they had four darabs, two men per raft. Myron Tsiubyk seemed to retain his optimism. They would sail one, even if they had to do more cutting and mount a tree trunk each, rowing like canoes.
Some of the impatient and tired among those accompanying the expedition along the river suggested loading the rafts in a truck and bringing them to Vylok where the river broadened, and sailing on from that point. This met with indignant looks from our romantic voyagers. The message was clear: mind your own business and let us enjoy the adventure. Mykhailo Hrenko, a veteran traveler, would take over command at especially trying moments. Half a day passed and everybody knew when to jump into the water, swim and push the raft, and how to row. All the while the expedition remained under the border guards’ watchful eyes, accompanied by Romanian patrols with Kalashnikovs at the ready, and by Ukrainian patrols, unarmed, which made the voyage somewhat more exciting. A young serviceman with field glasses said the scene reminded him of an episode from Jerome K. Jerome’s Three Men in a Boat.
They got stranded again at Velyky Bychkiv. While wallowing round the rafts, the ecologists were several times visited by a respectable middle-aged former raftsman who would shout from the bank, telling them what to do and how to work in pairs. The national colors and a Hungarian flag hanging from the masts were jealously kept. Once the golden-blue flag was torn away and caught in the swift current. Ostap Tsapulych instantly dived from the raft and seized it. What added to the travelers’ enthusiasm was the fact that all were insured against mishaps by the Garant-Avto Transcarpathian Directorate. Director Viktor Matiashovsky had personally handed everyone an insurance policy. The expedition was a research project in the first place, so that even at the most trying periods they were careful to observe and record things, making notes and using video and photo cameras.
Oleksandr Hurevych had spent eleven years plying the Tisza, mostly onboard a catamaran. He said there was a very big difference between watching the river from the bank and vice versa. Watching from the river allowed one to spot whole strata, discerning fertile layers, different soils, birds, and plant varieties.
They had covered 150 kilometers of the most difficult rocky Transcarpathian section of the Tisza. Ahead were 350 kilometers. of the Hungarian navigable part of the river. The rest of the voyage was uneventful in comparison, although the current was slow and the rafts moved ceremoniously. Approaching every village and town, they were met by crowds eyeing them like Noah’s Ark. The whole voyage was to take two weeks, with findings to be presented at an international conference on problems of the Tisza in Budapest, under the auspices of the European Union. A book on the history of timber-rafting in the Ukrainian Carpathian Mountains will be published.
The author, Roman Ofitsynsky, docent at Uzhhorod National University, says such rafting gained special momentum in the nineteenth century, when 200,000 cubic meters of strength timber were rafted down the Tisza each year. Caravans would sail as far as the Black Sea. Rafting was stopped in 1954 in Zakarpattia. In Bukovyna, the last darab sailed down the river 25 years ago, in 1979. Roman Ofitsynsky remembered his army service and skillfully towed the rafts to deeper water.
Over 10 million residents of Ukraine, Romania, Hungary, Slovakia, and Serbia live by the Tisza. An expedition with ecologists from these countries on five bokoras is planned next year.
Tourist groups often ply the Tisza from Ukraine to Hungary on catamarans and in boats. Naturally, quite a few — especially those in the timber business — will want to use rafts made of tied tree trunks. Customs authorities warn, however, that such timber will entail duties. Once paid, they will be free to cast off. Otherwise their rafts will be returned to Ukraine. The ecological expedition was not bound by such restrictions, although two bokoras worth Euro 500 are said to be meant for a Hungarian museum.
