Balkan Road Trip - 21. Shirakawa-go of the Slovenian Alps

The spectacular herdsmen village of Velika Planina was a fitting climax and final stop of our 22-day Balkan Road Trip, which kicked off on a sun-drenched Greek island in the Adriatic and wrapped up at a cosy chalet a mile high in the Slovenian Alps.


Exactly 10 years ago, we visited Shirakawa-go in mountainous Central Japan and became mesmerized by the ingenuity of its Gassho-zukuri cottages, engineered to withstand the heaviest snowfalls of the Japanese Alps with nothing but local cedar and thatch. And the same bewilderment overcame me when I first saw a picture of this eeriely similar hamlet, halfway around the world in Slovenia, known as Velika Planina.

Velika what?


I dare to say that 99% of visitors to Slovenia -- not exactly a tourism heavyweight compared with neighbouring Croatia or Italy -- have never heard of Velika Planina, not surprising as the remote settlement lacks the prestige of UNESCO World Heritage Site designation and international fame that Shirakawa-go enjoys. Despite its near anonymity, its photogenic quality as an alpine village is arguably unmatched in the entire Slovenian Alps.


Inaccessible to outsiders until the 1950s, the high altitude pastures of Velika Planina have been seasonally inhabited by Slovenia's indigenous cowboys who nourish their livestock here every summer before retreating to the valleys for winter. Centuries of geographical isolation has led to a fascinating local culture with its own unique architecture, traditional costumes and gastronomic inventions.


Even in the 21st century, access to the 1500+ metre plateau is provided largely by a relay of cable car and seasonal chair lift installed for alpine skiers. Frequent buses connect Ljubljana to the picturesque local town of Kamnik, making Velika Planina a possible day-trip from the Slovenian capital. With two full days we took a direct bus from Ljubljana to the cable car station, overnighted in a mountain top chalet, visited Kamnik on the way back before returning to Ljubljana for our flight home.


The weather could hardly be worse. In drenching rain the cable car took us up two-thirds of the way, connecting with a two seater ski lift that was stopped due to lack of demand and restarted just for the two of us. It was my wife's first ever ride on a topless chair lift, through a rainstorm as we huddled underneath a flimsy retractable umbrella.


Having arrived at the top in our soaking wet parkas, we decided to take refuge at the nearest mountain chalet to warm up with a hot meal while waiting for our cottage's caretaker to show up. What was supposed to be a quick pit stop at Zeleni rob (see map) turned into our most memorable lunch in Slovenia.


Chuckling at the far corner was a wrinkled herdsman, at least in his 50s and dressed in a traditional cape of shaved tree bark, pointy wooden clogs and round black hat, and carrying a long staff. So we had Gandalf from Lord of the Rings chatting up the young waitresses at one corner, a family of Slovenian hikers at another and a modest spread of hearty alpine grub arriving at our table. The ambiance was dreamlike.


The local staples of barley stew and Kranska klobase provided sufficient fuel for our afternoon hike, but it was an exceptional soup of seasonal wild mushrooms that elevated this humble meal to an unexpected gastronomic delight at an alpine hut. After all this wasn't quite St. Moritz in Switzerland, and we're paying only 6 euros for the soup.


While we were finishing our slab of Gibanice, a quiet man sitting next to Gandalf suddenly spoke up in broken English and asked whether we were from Canada. It was then that we realized ... this was the mysterious caretaker that we had been waiting for!


Unbeknown to us as we were lunching and drying our clothes at Zeleni rob, our attentive caretaker had been busy kindling fires for our furnace and our outdoor hot tub in anticipation for our arrival. A couple dozen such cottages scatter on the northwestern side of Velika Planina, modelled after the herdsmen huts and fitted with modern amenities catering to us lowlanders.


No more than 35m2 in size, our cottage likely slept up to six adults between a bunk bed on the main floor and a small attic accessible only by hatch door and ladder. The 21st century necessity of Wifi turned out invaluable for contacting the management in emergencies, as we would learn that evening.


Main floor featured an old-fashioned kitchen with a Yugoslav-era wood burning stove that doubled as the heating furnace for the small cottage. Bottled water and a limited supply of imperishable food were available for purchase in the storage room, though it would be wise to carry in your own food and drinks in your backpack.


Towards the back door was a mud room for hiking boots or perhaps skiing equipment, a shower equipped with an electric water heater and best of all, an infrared sauna for the frosty evenings. This was far from the hard lives of the roving herdsmen, but it was also tantalizingly decadent.


The most intriguing feature was an outdoor hot tub fueled by fire wood. The design was brilliantly simple with a regular hot tub fitted with a semi-submerged metal box that heated the water with the wood burning inside. Along with the infrared sauna, this was our evening entertainment on the remote mountain top.


Fifty years after Slovenian architects started adapting the herdsmens' folk architecture into modernized cottages, the tourist quarter has grown into a side business that supplemented the community's income while introducing a disappearing facet of Slovenian culture to the masses. Meanwhile the original Batje huts have since been elevated to national cultural heritage status.


A 15 minute hike to the east began the expansive landscape of alpine meadows that coined the term Velika Planina, or Big Pasture, speckled with herdsmen huts sporting the signaturelow roofs covered with weathered spruce shingles and few exterior windows. Aside from the occasional solar panels and ATVs parked in front, it could have been a picture from the 16th century.


Every year the herdsmen would arrive en masse in June, performing annual maintenance on their seasonal town and making communal plans at a makeshift assembly house nicknamed the parliament, all governed by a council with its own president. Towards the end of the grazing season the community would disperse back to their individual farms ahead of the first snow in the Kamnik Alps, which could arrive as early as October.


Revealed before our eyes was a semi-nomadic commune of herdsmen huts with uncanny resemblances to Japan's Shirakawa-go, both being remote alpine villages surviving from the Middle Ages. While its Japanese cousin has developed a 60-degree thatch roof capable of bearing five metres of annual snowfall, Velika Planina has developed a drooping roof extending almost to the ground to survive the 100 km/h gusts and blinding snow drifts of the Slovenian Alps with minimal maintenance, as the cottages are meant to be buried under a heavy layer of snow until late spring.


The term convergent evolution comes to mind from university biology lectures, describing how unrelated organisms develop analogous traits as a result of adaptation. The same can be seen in architecture where human ingenuity across continents independently arrive at similar solutions when faced with similar climatic hardships, as in this example of two alpine settlements.


At the village's high point stands a cottage-shaped chapel known as Our Lady of the Snows, burned down by Nazi troops in WWII and rebuilt in 1988 based on the original plans by the legendary Joze Plecnik, arguably Slovenia's greatest architect. Its Midnight Mass still draws hundreds of faithfuls to congregate in the freezing cold every Christmas Eve.


Velika Planina would have been a prime candidate as a UNESCO World Heritage Site, except all of the historic huts had been razed to the ground during WWII with only one -- the minimalist Preskar's Hut preserved as a museum since -- rebuilt entirely according to its pre-war appearance. Nowadays a number cottages still retain the village's unique semi-oval floor plan, though many had been rebuilt in a newer rectangular form.


With Zeleni rob closing at 18:00, we headed back and made a simple dinner -- our first time on a wood-burning stove -- out of a supermarket risotto mix, canned goulash, and a mushroom soup with fresh wild mushrooms purchased at Ljubljana's open air market that morning. The idea was to finish dinner and spend most of the night in the hot tub and sauna room, until ...


... the power went out while I was taking a shower!

After rinsing off the shampoo in pitch dark with icy cold water, I called the management and hoped that someone could get to our remote cottage before the morning. Incredibly a two-person crew showed up at our doorstep within 10 minutes and reset our well-hidden circuit breaker. We learned not to take a hot shower while turning on the infrared sauna, which was quite enjoyable once we figured out how things worked.


We went to bed hoping for better weather the next morning, but it turned even foggier as we took one last stroll amongst the herdsmen settlement prior to checking out. So we never encountered the elusive cheese makers and their legendary Trnic cheese, molded in the shape of female breasts and customarily gifted to the herdsmen's wives and prospective girlfriends. Just one of the colourful rituals that this isolated alpine village is known for.

BONUS SIDE-TRIP TO KAMNIK


A trip to Velika Planina automatically comes with the chance to visit one of Slovenia's prettiest medieval towns, as all buses from Ljubljana inevitably passes through historic Kamnik. Buses were rare on Sundays as we found out, and our one-way taxi from Velika Planina cost 15 euros.


Once the capital of Carniola, sleepy Kamnik is now best known for its pair of evocative castles inherited from its former Bavarian and Austro-Hungarian overlords. While the larger Grad Zaprice hosts the town museum within an 18th century Baroque palace, it is the pictured Mali Grad and its cute double chapel that has become the town's symbol.


From the top of Mali Grad one can appreciate the medieval layout at one of Slovenia's oldest towns, featuring charming squares, 16th century guild halls and a Franciscan monastery famous for a newer chapel also designed by Joze Plecnik.


With nearly every shop and restaurant closed on Sunday, we fueled up with leftover bread from breakfast before sitting down at Kavarna Veronika (see map) for coffee and dessert. On a weekday we would have visited the town museum at Grad Zaprice and perhaps one of the new microbreweries that Kamnik has become famous for in recent years.


After the light meal we caught the next bus back to Ljubljana and spent our final afternoon at the few supermarkets open on Sunday, completing our last minute souvenir shopping prior to our evening flight. After traveling 1200 km through six countries in the Balkans, it was time to go home and pay for the bill.


In hindsight we could have held off booking our cottage at Velika Planina until the last minute in hope of picking a sunnier date, but we should be satisfied with memories of that magical hour as we strolled through this inimitable medieval village. Velika Planina is not quite Shirakawa-go yet -- as of 2019 it remains largely unknown to foreigners and, perhaps most amazingly, villagers outnumbered tourists on the day of our visit. Get here soon, before it gets discovered by 21st century mass tourism.

IF YOU GO

Velika Planina is easily accessed by a cable car nearly year round, but the best season for hikes is between June and September. The bottom station is 90 minutes from Ljubljana on direct buses operating in high season. Alternatively one could take one of the frequent buses to Kamnik's bus terminal and transfer to a local bus for Kamniska Bistrica. If scheduled buses don't work for you, our taxi from the cable car station back to Kamnik cost about 15 euros as of 2018. One more practical tip -- the Tourist Info office at Kamnik's town square was happy to stash my backpack for a few hours while we toured the historic town. Don't bank on leaving it overnight though.

Balkan Road Trip - 20. Gorgeous Lake Bled

Three nights in Ljubljana afforded plenty of world-class excursions including breathtaking Velika Planina, the UNESCO-listed Skocjan Caves and the most popular tourist destination in this pint-sized nation -- the iconic Lake Bled that graces the cover of nearly every Slovenia guidebook.


Nestled in the Julian Alps an hour north of Ljubljana, this sapphire-coloured lake and its fairytale island have long been considered an obligatory pilgrimage for first time visitors to Slovenia, from Paul McCartney to the North Korea's infamous Kim Il Sung.


Since its transformation into a luxurious health resort for 19th century Austro-Hungarian elites, Bled has served as the preferred venue for diplomatic conferences and retreats for aristocrats and celebrities. Its hotsprings still entertain an upmarket clientele at Park Hotel on the lake front, though the town has largely been popularized as the vacationing backyard for Ljubljana's citizens.


Right off the 75-minute bus ride from Ljubljana, we stopped by the 100-year-old tavern of Gostilna Pri Planincu (see map) for a quick lunch of wood-oven pizza topped with Slovenia's famous cured prsut/prosciutto from the Karst region. At 8.8 euros for a pizza and less than 4 for a green salad, prices were astonishingly cheap for a world-renowned resort town.


Across the street stands another local institution dating from the Austro-Hungarian Empire. The highly revered Slaščičarna Zima (see map) -- formerly known as Šmon -- has churned out Gibanice and other confections for its generations of diehard fans since 1880.


The delectable Blejska Kremšnita -- Bled's famous contribution to Slovenian gastronomy -- originated at the Park Hotel in the 1950s. Since then every cafe in town has developed its own interpretation, all invariably topped with a signature thick layer of airy chantilly creme.


Slovenia's premier resort by a country mile, Bled owes its year round popularity to its rare combination of winter sports venues (three ski hills including a World Cup slalom run at nearby Kranjska Gora) as well as summer aquatic activities and hiking trails. For those who have trouble circumnavigating the lake on foot, the old-fashioned horse-drawn carriage is a lavish option.


More active visitors can race down the grassy hill in a one-man summer toboggan on a rail, or perhaps rent a rowboat to circumnavigate Bled Island at the lake's centre. The option of renting a kayak was no longer available during our 2018 visit, much to the disappointment of this Canadian.


As noisy motors are strictly banned from the lake's glassy waters, most tourists visiting Bled Island opt for a traditional ride in a flat-bottomed Pletna, Slovenia's answer to the Venetian gondola -- minus the serenading oarsman.


On a summery day it is just as easy to circumnavigate the lake, 2 km long and barely 900m across, on foot in less than two hours. From the opposite shore one gains a good view of Bled's 900-year-old castle -- the oldest in Slovenia -- perched on a rocky cliff above the old peasant town.


This postcard panorama of Bled would require slightly more effort in the form of a 25 minute hike culminating in a steepish approach to the local hill of Ojstrica above the lake's western shore. The reward? Breathtaking 180 degree vistas from a little park bench installed at the peak.


The legendary island of Bled appeared afloat in the lake's blue glacial waters, cradled by the snowy peaks of the Julian Alps. This would be the northernmost point of our 22-day Balkan Trip, bringing us closer now to the Austrian border than Ljubljana.


An easterly view revealed an impressive terraced pavilion rising above the shoreline and overlooking Bled Island. Once part of the Yugoslavian royalty's summer palace, the complex served as one of President Tito's favorite residences before being reinvented as Slovenia's top hotel in recent years.


The descent took another 20 minutes before we returned to shore, next to the Bled Rowing Club and its 2 km course to the north of the island. This is the site of the International Rowing Regatta held every June, when the serene lake transform into an aquatic arena hosting thousands of rowers from around the world.


Further east we passed the imposing stairs to Tito's old residence, designed by the great Slovenian architect Joze Plecnik who single-handedly transformed Ljubljana into the seamless marriage of classic and modern aesthetics that the city is known for today. The state guesthouse has since been reincarnated as a 5-star hotel, with prices starting from 250 euros in low season at the time of writing.


While pletnas make frequent departures for Bled Island in tourist season, the lake does become completely frozen once every few winters when visitors could simply walk up to the island's baroque church.


Towards the end we discovered that we didn't need to circumnavigate the entire lake just to catch the return bus -- there was another bus stop (Bled Mlino, see map) conveniently located below the Straza hill on the lake's southern shore. By 18:00 we were back in Ljubljana's old town, perfect timing for a night market dinner at the outdoor culinary event of Open Kitchen on this Friday evening.

IF YOU GO

Highway buses departing Ljubljana Station reach Bled in roughly 75 minutes, stopping first at Bled's bus terminal on the north side of the lake near Slaščičarna Zima and Bled Castle. But if you remain on the bus, it will stop at Bled Mlino on the south shore for access to Tito's old residence (now Vila Bled) or a short walk to the trail head for Ojstrica. The return bus can be caught at either bus stop.

Balkan Road Trip - 19. Skocjan Caves

One of Ljubljana's unique attractions is its proximity to some of the world's most spectacular underground caves accessible to tourists, tugged away in Slovenia's legendary Karst region that became the namesake of limestone landscapes around the world.


Even with the luxury of three nights in Ljubljana, we were faced with the difficult decision between two world-famous caves for an optimally paced day-trip, or attempting to fit both into one long and hectic day. It was the UNESCO World Heritage Site of Skocjan versus the immensely popular Postojna, or both if we're content to return to Ljubljana after dark.


It may surprise some readers that we picked Skocjan which, despite its magnificent underground canyon, receives only a tenth of visitors to Postojna, one of Slovenia's major tourist draws since the late 1800s when the caves received Slovenia's first electrical lights ahead of Ljubljana. Two years ago I made another tough choice of declining a chance to visit the Akiyoshido Caves in Western Japan, opting for the annual Yanai Festival instead as we already had Skocjan in our sight.

Getting to Skocjan was supposedly a breeze with regular trains and highway buses both making the same trip in about 90 minutes to the local train station of Divaca, where a free shuttle bus from the Visitor Centre was to meet the train's arrival ... except this wasn't quite Switzerland and trains don't always arrive on time. We were lucky to have taken a highway bus that connected seamlessly with the shuttle which, despite being operated by the train company, took off before the train's arrival.


With three tours being offered by the Visitor Centre, we join the classic Tour #1 with multi-lingual guides leading hundred of visitors to the underground canyon though a well-maintained yet slightly claustrophobic tunnel. The initial 20 minutes was your typical show cave of stalagmites and other dripstone formations, fascinating but nothing compared with the upcoming canyon that made Skocjan a UNESCO World Heritage Site.


No photos were allowed, but everyone's jaw dropped as we crossed the man-made bridge over the magnificent canyon, a precarious 50m above the raging rapids and cascading waterfalls and still another 90m or so below the airy ceiling of a ginormous cavern reminiscent of Tolkien's Middle-Earth dwarf kingdoms.


Aside from its touristic appeal, the Skocjan Caves' unique microclimate also harbours its own ecosystem of endemic subterranean species, the most famous being the endangered cave salamander considered the giant panda of Slovenia in terms of cultural significance. Just look at the popularity of their plush toy versions at the gift shop.


The trail back to the Visitor Centre would swing by the collapsed cave entrance known as Velika Dolina where the Reka river seemingly funneling into the underworld and would not be seen for another 34 km, before resurfacing and emptying into the Adriatic Sea.


The return path also passed by the Tominc Cave inhabited by prehistoric cave dwellers some 10,000 years ago. It is hardly surprising that a furious river draining into an abyss would be associated by ancient civilizations as the entrance to afterlife, attested by the discovery of a cultic cave temple in the park.


The guided tour lasted for 60 minutes, followed by a 20 minute walk back to the Visitor Centre. Those interested in exploring the course of the underground river could move onto Tour #2, but we decided to grab some lunch before returning to Ljubljana for an afternoon visit to its 12th century castle.


Lastly I must commend Skocjan's Visitor Centre for bucking the trend of overpriced souvenirs and bland cafeteria food at national parks everywhere. 13 euros for an entree of grilled baby calamari was refreshingly reasonable, and I still regret not purchasing another bottle of truffle-infused olive oil at its souvenir shop, priced shockingly cheaper than most epiceries in Ljubjlana.


Before returning to Ljubljana I took a picture of the elusive shuttle bus timetable outside Divaca's train station. With only 5 buses per day even in summer tourist season, it does take some planning -- or a taxi call -- to make a good connection with the return bus or train.


It was only after reviewing the highway bus timetable that I decided to quickly hop on the next train back to Ljubljana. Buses however would be ideal for travelers connecting to the Postojna Caves or to Koper on the Adriatic Coast, as a springboard to lovely Istria.


One final advice to fellow travelers transferring from the Istrian Peninsula (e.g. Rovinj) to Ljubljana. In retrospect we could have saved a return trip (3 hours total) from Ljubljana by fitting Skocjan into an overnight stay upon entering Slovenia. All it would have taken was to hop off the Rovinj-Ljubljana bus at Koper's Bus Station and transfer to the next bus to Divaca, check into a local hotel and leave the heavy suitcases either at the hotel or at the lockers at Skocjan Visitor Centre, and pick up the baggage after visiting Skocjan before taking the next train or bus to Ljubljana. If this sounds too complicated, leave me a message below with your questions.

IF YOU GO
Skocjan's visitor centre is connected by free shuttle buses from the small train station at Divaca, 90 minutes from Ljubljana by trains or highway buses. From Divaca it is also possible to connect to Postojna for more subterranean adventures, or to the local transport hub of Koper where one could easily transfer to Slovenian (Piran), Croatian (Pula, Rovinj or Porec) or Italian (Trieste) cities along the Istrian coastline.