The Eighth Tribe, 1976 (3. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
1976-09-01 / 9. szám
September, 1976 THE EIGHTH TRIBE Page 5 spirited little girl, when she became my pupil. I started to cherish the first-graders with true dedication. Nadine noticed in a hurry, that he was never an unwilling playmate. Therefore it would happen, that sometimes without a word she would climb onto his shoulders and sit there comfortably, until Gerdi Sonntag remarked, “Come down, I want to get up there too!” And Alfred bácsi laughed, accepting their playfulness, winning their hearts. He did his best to protect, guide and teach them. And as the children grew bigger, he exposed them to the mountains, the elevating miracles of nature. With groups of 20-30 students he would hike through the mountain valleys, midst tumbling streams, then to the tops of the peaks. Together we enjoyed the breathtaking view and the great feeling, of having reached the summit. Looking north from the huge windows of the school building, one could see in the distance the towering outlines of the High Tatras. In preparation for weekend climbs we saw Prof. Grosz hurrying through the corridors, from classroom to classroom, arranging for the hikes. Then Saturday afternoons, when classes were over, we met at the local railroad station—loaded packsacks, ropes, icepicks, or skiis, depending on the season and plans. His packsack was the biggest. We could barely lift it. The train ride didn’t take very long. After 1—2 hours we jumped off the little steam engine train, happy to be taking a deep breath of the pure mountain air. As we passed the resorts and recreation centers, we got many friendly, pleased looks and greetings from guests and patients. Our destination for the evening was one of the huts, high up in the mountain valleys, mostly built by the “Karpatenverein” an alpine club, founded in 1873. Prof. Grosz, in his book Die Hohe Tatra (The High Tatras), printed and edited in West Germany in 1961 described the foundation and development of the club. A Hungarian newspaper clipping, honoring him on his 80th birthday, called him the “living encyclopedia of the High Tatras.” Those hikes, often lasting till night came, were so peaceful. Alfred bácsi led us. I can still hear the sound of his corduroy knickers rubbing against each other as he walked. We were mostly very silent. In winter we took our skis, climbing with seal skins, or a special wax, applied to the bottom of the skis. During summer we sometimes stayed overnight among boulders, in sheltered places. The shelters were not always comfortable, but we didn’t mind — the big questions always were: “How is the weather going to be tomorrow? Will we he able to finish our climb”? And there were many sunny days. By dawn we crossed the boulder fields, seeing indescribably beautiful sunrises, the rising of fog, or cloud formations, before we reached the foot of the mountain. The climb was carefully planned, down to the smallest detail. The neatly wound ropes were untied and climbing groups of three or four were formed. Prof. Grosz led the most inexperienced ones, while the older ones, who had done it before, were able to take the leading responsibilities assigned to them. In winter there were often dangerous spots to cross, where avalanches had come down. How did Alfred bácsi always know, whether or not to proceed? During the many years of taking young people on trips, there was never a serious accident; but he and his group helped and rescued many a climber in trouble. At this time no organized rescue team existed. If there was a broken ski, out of Prof. Grosz’s pack came a tin top, or a spare basket for poles, if needed. The North wind blowing across the border from Poland, often was very biting and severe. Once in winter subzero temperature a group was stranded in the mountains. To protect the youngsters from frostbite, Prof. Grosz wrapped newspaper around their feet. This example of selflessness made other people more generous too. Sometimes the owner and chief physician of a sanatorium in one of the resorts invited Prof. Grosz and his brood for as much as a whole week of skiing. They could practice their snowplows and parallel turns and have little ski races on the surrounding hills. Prof. Grosz was a skillful photographer. He took artistic black and white pictures. It took a long time to set up the camera, a long time to take the pictures, mostly of small groups sitting or standing on rocks or beside the shore of a mountain lake. There were times when we became restless waiting for the pictures to be taken. But in later years, when world events had scattered his “brood” over every continent—most of them left without belongings—it meant much to us, when one or two enlargements, with familiar faces and scenery arrived in the mail from Kezmarok. When Prof. Grosz became 70 years old, then 80, a special mailman had to be hired, to deliver the mail to his little room, arriving from different parts of the world, by the bagfull! Behind our funfilled, wholesome activities were great values. The way Prof. Grosz led us, had a lasting impact on the lives of his students. We still can sense, after so many years, the “teamspirit” he taught us by his example. He urged us to have courage, but avoided reckless adventures. We learned that we have commitments toward other people and that we are re