Every Bulgarian schoolchild learns what happened here in 1876. When the April Uprising against Ottoman rule broke out, Batak joined it; when the rebellion collapsed, irregular troops surrounded the village and killed a large part of its people. Hundreds had sought refuge in the church of Sveta Nedelya and died inside it. Reports by foreign journalists and diplomats shocked Europe, and the outrage helped bring on the Russo-Turkish War that ended with Bulgarian independence. The church is now a memorial museum, low and dark, with the victims' bones in an ossuary and the marks of the violence left on the walls. It is not an easy visit, and it is not meant to be.
The Batak of today is a calm small town at around a thousand metres in the western Rhodopes, ringed by pine forest, and the contrast with its history could hardly be sharper. Above it lies the Batak reservoir, a big lake with forested shores where families camp in summer and anglers sit on folding chairs from dawn. The air smells of resin and woodsmoke, and on a clear day the light on the water is extraordinary.
Three good roads leave the town and each has its own character. North toward Peshtera, the road drops off the plateau down a narrow valley with a run of tight, steep bends that will test your braking on the way down and your clutch control on the way up. West, past the reservoir toward Rakitovo and the spa town of Velingrad, the curves are wider and more flowing through forest and clearings. South toward Dospat the road climbs into emptier, higher country with very little traffic. Surfaces swing from fresh asphalt to crumbled patches within a few hundred metres, so read the road ahead rather than trusting the last corner.
Batak has small shops and a few places to eat, but the safer bets for fuel are Peshtera and Rakitovo, each about twelve kilometres away, or Velingrad with its spa hotels if you want a soft bed and a mineral bath at the end of the day. Even in midsummer the plateau cools quickly after sunset.