Shypit festival. A true Ukrainian, Carpathian, alternative experience. An event which always changes, yet remains the same, has never had a year off, despite COVID, war, and everything else that comes life’s way, and attracts people from all sorts of backgrounds deep into the middle of the mountains. I have written about it before, two years ago, and things have changed since then, and I wanted to share my experience, and how it changed, and give advice to those of you who may want to attend one day. This has ended up becoming longer than I thought, so I’ve decided to break it down into different parts, and I will publish them when I can.
This was my sixth attendance at the festival, my first being in 2019, in fact, the only year in “normal” conditions. I’ve changed, the festival has changed, Ukraine has changed, and the world has changed since then. Yet, the fields remain, the views from the hillsides remain, much of the atmosphere remains, and the appeal remains.
So, what is Shypit Festival? It is a completely grassroots-organised event that happens every year in the same spot, culminating on the same weekend as Ivana Kupala (which is sort of the Orthodox Calendar’s solstice…despite the astrological inaccuracy). People come from all over Ukraine, and abroad, to camp in the fields, and on the main day, the Sunday, there is a large fire (well, two these days), that people dance around and jump over, as per the ritual. However, the spot can attract visitors for days in advance, and after, with many camping for weeks. Additionally, some people live in large tipees and makeshift constructions through most of the year when the weather isn’t too cold, and work in the village or nearby the rest of the time.
It started simply as a group of friends camping in a field back in 1993. Each year it grew, until it took a life of its own, and people just knew from word of mouth where to go, and how it worked. Now there are telegram groups or Facebook groups, of course, and it has some effects. There’s no bands, no organisers, no tickets (Well, apart from to pay for entry into the park area, a whole 20 UAH (equivalent of about 0.5 Euro), no toilets (but you can go down at the village — more on that later), just you, a load of people, your tent, your company of friends, and whatever supplies you bring.
It is located near the village of Pylypets, and the Shypit waterfall. In the village, there are shops, hotels, amenities for some comfort, and often people make a daily trek down (or two) for beers, cigarettes, food, maybe a shower. Some may stay some nights in a hotel for comfort. You have to walk up the hill from the waterfall, about 20–30 minutes depending on your speed and how many things you have with you Unless you’re one of the people who don’t respect the nature of the festival’s vibe by attempting to drive up the hill (which is ar ecent event, and more on that later).
There are a few unwritten rules. One can honestly be best summarised as “don’t be a dick”. To elaborate a bit, don’t force anything onto anyone else. Be respectful of one another, the environment, and the vibe. Some people come with children and have a very wholesome camping experience. Others come and get absolutely hammered on booze. Some use it as a chance to completely detach from modern life, drinking water from the streams, never going down, and embracing nature. Some will embark on psychedelic journeys. All are valid, but you are all to respect others. The other rule, quite simple, is to take your own rubbish.
There’s a third rule in my opinion, which is to share and receive alike. Someone asks you for a bit of food, a bit of drink, something to help their tent, even drugs, you should share a little. However, those who request should ideally trade something in return. Quid pro quo relationship. It isn’t always the case; maybe you are content not to receive something, but it’s a polite form of exchange to show you’re not ungrateful. If you get something from someone, give something back. If someone asks, don’t ask for it, but they will likely trade.
More will be revealed as I continue, with a day-by-day (ish) overview of my experience. Note, I have omitted certain details to protect identities, and for readability’s sake, however, I have tried to be as honest and raw as possible.
Day 1 — Wednesday
After negotiating with a driver, and getting ripped off quite frankly, we arrived to Pylypets. Once a village consisting of two shops, one hotel, and only accessible via dirt road, it had developed over time with a much more pleasant road, an abundance of hotels, and even since my first year, more shops have cropped up with a greater variety of goods. Pine houses, restaurants, souvenir stalls, and tourist coaches all adorn the once sleepy village, nestled under various mountains, located about a fifteen-minute walk to the Shypit waterfall.
Before, to get to the festival, unless you came by car, you would get off in a village called Podobavets, and walk about 45 minutes just to get to Pylypets, and if the sun is beating down, there’s very little shade. Now you can get all the way to the start of the site of the waterfall. That is where our car took us, by the barrier, or Schlackbaum, because apparently they took the German word in Ukrainian.
Now, as I had to work, we went into what would be our hotel the next night. We went inside and said hello to the owners. This hotel is where we’ve been coming to eat since my first year. The closest accommodation to the festival site, by the car park for the visitors of the waterfall, is a proper wooden Carpathian building with simple but cosy rooms, that stay cool in the heat and warm in the cold. They have “altankas” (basically covered benches outdoors) for eating, which I’ve enjoyed many a coffee and beer in. A proper family-run business.
This would be my base of operations for the next few hours while I worked, and my wife went to get some drinks and things for us to take up (despite the fact we had four bags with us to take up as well).
There is a rather new addition to the village. On the way from the village, towards the car park, is a “spa and resort” boasting two restaurants, a hotel, and a spa. It had been under construction for years, but previously, all we could see was the work to put logs around the river and land management. Now, multiple buildings had sprung up, and a road with golf carts shuttling guests around, and a large paved space for outdoor seating. Surprisingly, the restaurant was no more expensive than many places in Uzhhorod, though I suspect that will change.
I view these developments with mixed emotions. On the one hand, more developments improve infrastructure, bring jobs to the local communities, and generally make it easier for people to visit the area. But it does come at some expense. Without proper, central planning (which, when it comes to this, Ukraine does not do). Over tourism, more pollution, impacting the general charm the area has. And, no doubt, it is impacting the festival; by increasing the numbers, we will see some inevitable changes in the vibe. Things change, okay, that’s life, but I cannot help but worry that as more developments take hold, it will become unrecognisable, and not in a good way.
After several hours of working, we found some friends of ours who had just arrived. They had taken the bus we had a day later, but got off at Podobavets, and walked that treacherous path. Okay, perhaps not treacherous, but it was sunny, and with large bags, not what I’d recommend. However, it’s an option that saves you cash.
I left the laptop at the hotel and took the rest of our things. My wife was still shopping but I came with the others to get some food. The man at the counter didn’t give me a ticket. I say, man, he was quite young, probably 18 at best, and said it was not necessary. I had an experience the previous year that said otherwise, but okay, I wasn’t in the mood to argue.
The souvenir and shashlyk stalls that adorn one track to the waterfall, on the left hand side as you enter go on a lot, selling CHinese made tat, some entirely irrelevant to the local area, others are at least trying to look local and with names of place engraved in. we found a sheltered bench and I ordered shashlyk (BBQ meat skewers) and potatoes, and finally a beer. My wife met us, and we sat, discussed the day, and figured out I had been undercharged for my beer, after they tried to charge more to everyone else. It also took a long time for my food to arrive, but I was certainly grateful. After eating, we finally embarked on the trek up.
Now, the trek is straightforward. When you arrive at the ticket office, you cross the river, and instead of following the stalls, you take the road that goes up the hill. And you go up. And up. And up. Without baggage, fifteen to twenty minutes up? With bags…eh, depends.
You walk up sheltered by the trees, with the sound of the river and waterfall providing a constant soundtrack. There are conveniently located stumps and rocks for pauses if you’re overburdened, hot, or just fancying a drink or a snack.
We managed the trek to the first stop in about 20 minutes. The field emerges, and the rest of the hill entices you to climb ever onwards. I will describe the geography of the festival. As you climb, you come across this field. It has “floors”, so to speak. The first floor is the one you emerge on. It used to be very popular as a spot to camp in, due to its proximity to the bottom. However, as in previous years, the TSK (recruitment guys) would arrive, or the police, or locals coming to gawk at the hippies on the Sunday night, it has become less popular. The second floor is after the next steep rise, which offers a sweet spot in terms of access down but a touch more privacy. The third floor is another ten minutes from there, up anyway, and used to be the end of the festival. This has become one of the most popular spots for camping, especially with the younger people. You can go further and find the “reservation” where many of those who live up here reside, with their elaborate tree-based constructions. This field is lined by two woods, which contain small rivers, one, the Shypit river itself, and another on the other side, where people get water, bathe, swim, etc. You can hear both when sleeping in your tent, which is a welcome sound. Many people now, however, camp in what is referred to as the “sunny meadow” and the “moon field”. You walk about another thirty minutes through a trail, uphill, and on the left is the moon field, which lacks sun exposure and is small, though a permanent tipi for some people resides here, or you go straight, and into the sunny meadow, a wide field with space for a large fire, and various tents.
I was actually fortunate enough to watch some old tape recordings of the festival in 2003. I saw how basically everything was spread almost at the first and second level, and that was it. It shows the scale change and dynamic changes in the last twenty years.
As soon as we arrived, a man who can only be described as the Platonic ideal of a dishevelled hippy emerged out of nowhere. Adorned in nothing but underwear and a waist bag, and clutching a small knife, he asked, “Hello, I’m a hippy but I don’t have any bread. Do you have any?” and, to which, someone among us replied yes and handed him several slices. The unwritten rule. I realised how blaise I was, but realising if this was my first time, I’d have been more shaken by the situation. So, be prepared for such characters. In fact, this man was one of the first people I had ever met here. When arriving in 2019, my wife and I rested in the same spot. It had begun to rain lightly, and my wife went to find where other people had camped. I sat by a fire, and this man was reading and cutting an apple. He never said a word. But he had clothes on.
After the pause, we climbed higher and debated where to go. We had initially settled on a destination quite high up, across the second river that trickles down the mountain, parallel to the main Shypit waterfall river, as some friends were there. However, as we climbed, we saw the perfect spot emerge. Sheltered in the sun in the morning, as it faced north and was adorned by trees to the side, a fire pit was already constructed. The river was close enough for water, and there were enough trees nearby for a more…private toilet experience.
We first sat, throwing bags down and opening drinks. We sat, people drank, smoked, and began, slowly, to consider setting up the tents. One by one, we did. Despite our best efforts, my wife and I somehow managed to place our tent over a huge rock, which we didn’t notice until we tried to get to sleep.
The day crept by. We had no energy to go further. From this spot, we watched as occasional people climbed up to find their own spots, although the field was effectively empty. A few friends were camped lower than us, a few higher up, but probably fewer than ten tents in total.
The sky turned to orange and pink, and eventually to black, lit up with the vast array of stars, as we drank and smoked the evening away. I turned my phone off for the next 24 hours and resigned to the peace, quiet, and good company of the first day.
Those earlier festival evenings have a feeling of complete leisure. As the festival increases, you become more eager to explore, go catch certain friends, explore spots, and fit in trips to the village. Here, you have everything, and nothing but the skies above you, and the company you keep around you, and as long as you want ahead of you, as the stars emerge.
This was part 1. I will get to part 2 when I can, which will go over the next couple of days. Then probably the main weekend and return. Let’s see though, this was even longer than I first expected it to be.
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