The fourth day was a fairy-tale, melancholic story. Hraničky. Mountain meadows instead of spruce woods, and only one (last) house standing.
Wikipedia entry is worth the quotation here:
The abandoned mountain village of Hraničky lies about 12 km south-west from the town Javorník and historically always belonged to the township of Nové Vilémovice. In 1785 the settlers founded the village in a broad valley under the Špičák mountain on the border as drawn by the Silesian Wars. Hraničky was initially exclusively settled by ethnic German farmers, who came to the area from the Northern Moravian districts Králíky and Staré Město.
Because of the elevation (696 m), the people of Hraničky were only able to grow barley and most of them worked as forest workers. By 1836, the village had 26 houses and farmhouses, and 281 inhabitants. Also from 1811, Hraničky had a resident teacher and by 1885 also a school.
After 1945, under the Beneš decrees most Sudeten Germans were denaturalised and forced to leave Czechoslovakia. All but four families were expelled from Hraničky by 1946 and 3 years later the village was empty. In the early 1950s, a former resident Franz Schlegel and his family all of whom successfully avoided the expulsion of Germans, moved back to one of the farmhouses and continued living there until the early 1970s. The rest of the village, however, remained unoccupied and therefore in 1959 the Czechoslovakian communist government decided to completely destroy the settlement. In the summer 1960, the Czechoslovakian Army demolished nearly every standing structure in Hraničky, including the local church and St. Joseph's chapel. The only remaining buildings were two farmhouses occupied by the Schlegel family.
Today, the picturesque, former village Hraničky is once again empty. The last still standing structure is a mountain cottage owned by a local family from Lipová-lázně.
When I reached this beautiful outpost on that hot summer day in early August 2008, there were three youngsters camping on the grounds of the lonely wooden house, having been invited by the elderly and friendly owner.
With no need to hurry and being invited too, I quickly decided to join them for the rest of the day. The old man kept talking: about planes in the sky and their itineraries, about black grouse birds, about a non-existent bus stop, about evertything that's important - about life.
Goulash was served in the afternoon and ash potatoes with grilled sausages ("špekáčky") in the evening.
Will never forget my stay here.