The Sudetes - Where Winter Still Lives

This was our shelter - the place where we spent an exceptionally relaxing time.We found this aerial photo of the shelter hanging on one of the walls at the “Pod Muflonem” shelter. Photo credit: Cris Froze Pics.

We went to the Sudetes because we missed snow.

Evening walks through mountain forests are something that binds our human-canine team together.

When we were younger, real winters - cold, snowy, demanding - were something we waited for from early autumn. Skis, long walks to snow-covered summits, towns buried under white.

Just fragments of the mountain road on the slope, running through the forest - the way that could take you all the way to the shelter.

Everything that today feels like a problem once felt natural to us - and now, with each warmer, snowless winter, it becomes something we quietly miss.

White mountains and white forests - this is how the Sudets looked.

The decision was simple: southwest Poland, a mountain shelter called Pod Muflonem.

You can reach it by 4x4. You can stay there with a dog. And we happened to arrive at a time when there were very few guests.

I never know if it will be warm inside the shelter, but the light from the windows that welcomed us when we arrived warmed us immediately.

We got there in the evening - that moment when every mountain shelter, with warm light glowing through its windows, feels like a promise of safety, no matter what is happening outside.

Outside it was –18°C. Snow creaked sharply under our boots. Even more of it rested on the pines surrounding the shelter. The whole place felt transferred from somewhere between winter and memory - almost unreal, but completely familiar.

Bent birches, like snow-covered umbrellas, were leaning over us…

What struck me was that when I entered my first mountain shelter over 45 years ago, I felt exactly the same.

Different mountains. Different place. Yet the same quiet “something.”Maybe the way we receive such places is deeply individual - someone else might describe it entirely differently. What surprises me is how I remember details: a dark wooden windowsill, thick floorboards, that specific architectural style of old shelters. Perhaps this is why, in each of them, I feel a little at home.

Mrok was going wild - disappearing and reappearing in different places.

Monika sees these places in her own way.

Her perspective is close to mine, but I find more gentleness in it - small gestures, simple movements around the room that almost immediately make it ours.

What she does - in every shelter, in every mountain range, in every country - always feels obvious once she’s done it. A small lamp covered with a scarf in the right colour. Chairs moved slightly. A warm towel placed on the bathroom floor. And suddenly something shifts.

When we come back from the mountains, I know that in a moment we won’t be returning to a room, but to our room.

The white forests surprised us every day - all it took was stepping out of the shelter to be transported into that fairytale world.

We like places where we are together, because it’s us - together with Mrok - who quietly create them. Small details, invisible to others, make them more ours.

That’s how Monika works her kind of magic.

While we were taking photos for the Dog Backpack gear article, Mrok was actively “helping” :)

The routes around the shelter aren’t demanding. They don’t resemble our trips to the Tatras or the Alps. There’s almost no one here, so we chose long walks with Mrok through pine forests, using barely visible paths - summer forestry trails now buried under snow.

Two one-hour walks each day, and one longer - two to three hours, if the temperature allows.

Every place was beautiful, and at the same time it felt as if it had been made just for us - we didn’t meet anyone on the trail.

We watch Mrok carefully. Fascinated by the surroundings, driven by energy and strength, he could one day simply overdo it - and in these temperatures exhaustion quickly turns into cold.

Forest roads vary - some flat, some steep. We rarely see human tracks. Animal tracks, though, are everywhere. Sometimes we spot them in the distance.

The warm shelter interior - this is where we ate our meals, and where Mrok met Lufa, the dog who lives at the shelter.

One day we almost walked straight into a herd of roe deer - three young among them.

We stopped, surprised.

Probably only dog people will fully understand this moment. A herd of deer appeared out of nowhere. We managed to recall Mrok after he went to take a closer look. You can hear Monika saying “turn back” - a cue that reinforces the recall - spoken to Wojtek, who froze in place for a moment. This was a completely unplanned, accidental recording.

Mrok moved a little closer. I was unsure whether I’d be able to recall him - the scent of deer is beyond competitive with any command. I tried anyway, adding the sound signal from his collar. The deer moved. And Mrok… turned and ran back to us. He surprised us completely - especially considering he had just turned two and is still emotionally maturing.

When the old forest began to thin, the second and third layers of this fairytale place revealed themselves between the trees.

Moments like that matter to us. We don’t want him chasing or frightening wild animals.

Years ago I asked an Australian ACD breeder whether these dogs hunt wildlife. His answer stayed with me. He said that what looks like “hunting” is often an attempt to herd - and if the wild animal doesn’t respond, the dog eventually lets go.

Mrok returning from the edge of the ravine - it was the day we got exhausted walking in wet snow, as the temperature shifted within hours from −18°C to +4°C.

We saw this ourselves weeks later during a walk with friends and their dogs. Deer appeared. All dogs gave chase. The deer had space and quickly accelerated.

If you don’t recall a dog before it commits to the chase, calling during the pursuit becomes pointless - often even counterproductive to training. Instinct takes over in a way that’s difficult to break through.

“Uuuu, uuu…” - that’s how Mrok starts his speech when he really likes something.

The deer were already disappearing into young forest, dogs behind them.

Then one slowed. Stopped. Turned back.

It was Mrok.

And it repeats, every time.

The old, dense forest let us breathe with it - and every breath filled what our eyes were taking in at the same time.

The valley below - and for a moment, the fog finally let go.

The Kłodzko Valley - where Pod Muflonem is located - has its own specific microclimate. For decades the region has been known for supporting respiratory health and for its mineral springs.

A different way of looking at the forest…

In the mountains, the combination of humidity, temperature shifts and snowfall builds white landscapes that feel almost story-like - even to someone who doesn’t like fairy tales.

By the second day we already had favourite spots, formed by young trees on a nearby summit.

Mrok and Monika both enjoy challenges - each with their own, very different point of view on what should be done.

It’s worth noting that the nearby Table Mountains have a unique geological structure - uplifted horizontal sandstone layers with steep slopes. From the right perspective they resemble enormous tables.

The change was sudden - just yesterday the whole valley was white. A rapid shift in temperature, and we were looking at something completely new, just as surprising. As it warmed up, “rain” began to fall - not from the sky, but from the trees, where the snow was melting high in the crowns.

It was on one of these flat “tables” that we found several of our winter places - quiet, almost unreal - and we returned to them nearly every day.

If you stop measuring it too closely, time passes in the mountains without getting in the way.

Still, days and nights move forward - and we walked after dark as well - until, almost unnoticed, a week had passed. We slowly began preparing to return home, where our two cats, Tru and Zoe, were waiting.

On the trail we sometimes found animal tracks - and sometimes we simply wondered what would be waiting behind the next turn.

On the way back we had one more good moment.

We visited Iza and Jacek - friends who had moved here a few months earlier. They live in a very old house with a historic forge at its base, all set at the foot of a mountain. Both are experienced handlers and trainers of their four dogs. We share several other interests as well, so time passed too quickly - but it was enough to make us plan a return.

Not only to them.

There’s always time to rest in a shelter. Everyone rests in their own way - Mrok too :) (always in the bed we brought from home).

...also to the Sudetes - mountains and places I first came to over 40 years ago, back when ski camps and winter holidays here meant deep snow and views that stayed with you for life.

Mountains are patient.

They wait - ready to take our breath away once again.

We’ll come back here…

On our way back from the night walks, “Pod Muflonem” was already saying from afar: “Welcome home!”

“Hey Mrok… make a face for the photo!”