Trakai's Island Castle

A town of wooden houses strung out along a slender peninsula which tapers until an island castle, reached only by wooden footbridge, comes into view. A dwindling, little-known people brought thither by a conqueror's sword from a distant country. All on a rush-fringed, wood-framed horizon of mirrored meres.

Below: Pinch me, out on the bearded barley... Oh wait, wrong verb.

It was the stuff of fantasy. Except that when the chill wind bit and the wife pinched, everything remained in place. Trakai was real (OK, it's partly reconstructed, but forget I said that), and special. It's also, we're told, the only castle in Eastern Europe to be built on an island.

Below: The lakeside paths in Trakai are full of serene views such as these. The bottommost picture shows Uzutrakis Manor, built in the late nineteenth century, which during the Soviet period was used as a sanatorium for Soviet security officers.

The castle we know today was built by Vytautas, grandson of Gediminas whom we encountered earlier as the founder of Vilnius. Vytautas' brick castle, which replaced earlier wooden predecessors, was intended as addition fortification against the threat posed from the west by the Teutonic Knights. It was never used as more than his personal residence, however, as shortly after construction began Vytautas defeated the Knights in the landmark Battle of Grunwald and decisively curtailed the latter's formidable military prowess.

The dwindling, little-known people were the Karaite, whose kinsfolk we met on our 2013 visit to Chufut Kale in Crimea (we visited just two months before the thinly-disguised Russian takeover occurred, as recounted in an earlier post). As previously introduced, the Karaite professed a religion akin to Judaism, and although they're also spoke Hebrew, their native tongue is Turkic in origin. They were acquired as captives on a raid to Crimea and brought to Trakai by none other than Vytautas himself, unwitting victims of dynastic upheaval and meddling by foreign princes. Together with some of their Tatar kin who were also forcibly relocated, they served as soldiers, scribes and envoys (particularly to the Turkic khanates in the east who spoke similar languages). Today, all that remain of this once thriving community are an ethnographic museum, a handful of wooden houses and several restaurants serving up Karaite cuisine.

Below: the Karaite kenessa, the local prayer house, one of a handful of wooden reminders of the Karaite presence in Trakai.

As usual, we arrived in pressing need of food. It was nearly noon on Sunday, and it seemed the town had barely got moving. Our empty stomachs led the way to Kybynlar, a restaurant serving Karaite food which we were mightily relieved to find open. A brunch of kibinai, stuffed pastry like our very own curry puffs, rebuilt Mary's resolve to walk again.

The streets had gotten livelier by the time lunch was over, and a steady traffic had built up on the footbridges leading to the Island Castle. We all resembled a column of villagers seeking refuge behind castle walls from war in the outlands. Nobody was in any particular hurry though, tarrying to tease the local waterfowl and to contemplate the strength of the castle walls through camera lenses.

Above: No queues for dole, as the resident waterfowl participate in the daily, longest-neck-first scramble for sustenance.

Below: Stepping out from the marching column of outland visitors to contemplate the strength of the castle walls through my camera lens.

The castle was astir when we approached the gate. An animated voice on a microphone rallied a crowd in the courtyard within. We could have braced ourselves for a sortie, except the would-be skirmishers were children at a Sunday event. Outside the castle, families and couples took strolls on the peaceful path that went around the keep.

Below: You only see this once through the castle gate, but this Sunday event for children could be heard for miles around.

Much of the action took place within and around the Island Castle. Crossing the footbridges to town led one back to the dead of winter. Quieter lakeside trails passed upturned boats which awaited the resurrecting touch of summer. No ripples disturb the lake in these parts, the offending mallards and swans being found closer to the castle where crumbs might more likely be enticed from curious visitors.

Below: One of many seasonally retired boats awaiting the onset of warmer climes.

It might sound timely for a visit, and there is a lot to commend one. The cold is a small price to pay.

Logistics

Trakai is an easy half-hour's bus ride out of Vilnius (so many buses head there and back that you won't have to worry about timing your visit specifically). From the bus station, it is a two-kilometer walk to the castle. Turn right upon exiting the bus station and walk northwards (with the lake on your left). There are frequent maps along the way to help, and supermarkets and restaurants if you're hungry.