The instructions were clear and succinct last night: breakfast starts at 7:00, and everyone needs to be ready and curbside by 8:30. For those accustomed to the $30-a-night roadside motel where you might be lucky to find stale cornflakes, this luxurious hotel in Zagreb put on an extravaganza for breakfast. While we skipped the caviar and champagne, we scoured the tables for those things we hoped might be uniquely Balkans-influenced before heading back upstairs to grab our bags and comply with our trip leader Petar’s request to be punctual. It was raining as he pulled up on the narrow street that he might not have been allowed to stop on. We packed up our luggage, piled in, and were soon on our way to Plitviče Lakes National Park.
The necessity of the timely departure was in small part due to the 130km (80 miles) two-hour drive we had ahead of us, but more importantly, was that we were on a timed entry schedule. To deal with the extraordinary popularity of Plitviče Lakes, the park service has started to schedule entry times in an attempt to combat overcrowding. After parking, our group took shelter near the entrance while Petar finalized our entry, and some of our fellow travelers replenished their supply of coffee.
Established in 1949 as Croatia’s first National Park, this place is knock-your-handknitted-socks-off-your-feet beautiful, and we’re here in the rain. It’s quickly apparent just how lucky we are to be here on a Monday before the summer vacation season gets fully underway, as it’s easy to imagine the trails with 100 times more people than are here now. The poor weather also likely worked to our advantage and probably dissuaded some people from showing up today, and it nearly feels like the park is ours alone, even though some might have thought otherwise (there were plenty of buses in the parking lot). Peeking through the forest is a small hint of what lay below. Fortunately for me, I never researched any specifics about the locations we’d be visiting on this journey into the Balkans.
There’s another important thing to note for me here: as I don’t watch television, I’ve not been exposed to every amazing location on Earth. My bucket list is still being discovered with surprises that continue to capture my imagination here in my mid-50s. I learned not too long ago to not always hope for great weather and disallow disappointment should I encounter what some might call less than ideal conditions. I’m lucky to visit places at least once in my life that I could have never dreamt of seeing in person as a younger adult.
One can visit the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon under clear blue skies in the middle of summer and never see a drop of rain, but they will have been cheated from seeing clouds collecting below the canyon rims. They will not see spontaneous waterfalls come into existence with a good monsoon soaking. Had they been in the park in the winter, they might have had the pleasure of looking up to see snow-capped rims. Measure your expectations and allow yourselves to be enchanted by the opportunity instead of finding disappointment that your ideals were not realized.
Petar stops at the park map to show us the route we’ll be taking today, promising us a solid four- to six-hour walk through this extraordinary landscape of lakes, travertine pools, and waterfalls that promise to astonish us.
It should be obvious from this photo that the first impression that strikes hard is that the water is extraordinarily and profoundly crystal clear. The second impression, if you are in a group situation, is that different people have different ideas on how long one should dwell in being mesmerized staring into the pools. Lingering what might be an adequate amount of time for Caroline and me would require a multi-day visit to the park and probably across the seasons, too.
The third likely impression is going to be your astonishment at the boardwalks that are guiding you through this environment. There are no guide rails on the trails; they are bidirectional, and when they are wet, they look deceptively slippery, though they are surprisingly not, and at times, they are barely a hair above the water except for the occasional spots that are actually in the water.
With these elegantly placed boardwalks taking visitors directly over the water, they are able to bring people to the best imaginable views that would otherwise be impossible to see without the help of a small boat.
Caroline and I struggled to race ahead of our group to remain out front in order to capture these photos without getting in the way of others. Along the way, I was told by one of our guides how, at the height of the season, it often happens that people effectively move along on a kind of conveyor belt where the flow of traffic forces the stream of visitors to rarely, if ever, stop.
Water is seemingly flowing everywhere as it cascades over the majority of surfaces, wrapping us in its web of channels, waterfalls, and pools. Returning to the thought of how fortunate I am to have not seen anything about Plitviče prior to our arrival, how many times have you watched a movie trailer only to be left feeling that you’ve seen the best parts of the movie? Today, I can stand here and honestly say that every corner is a constant non-disappointing surprise of standing in awe with mouth agape that such a place is so easily accessible to people without the ability to walk on water.
What’s missing from this photo? The audio of what it sounds like to stand right here, well, that and a hammock.
The elevation is constantly changing as the water falls from one pool to another. We walk along shores, next to ledges, through the trees, and over streams until we emerge at wholly new views that could not have been anticipated just seconds before arriving at them.
You’d think that while taking in a million new impressions, a few more would easily fit, but you have to make a serious effort to stop and look at the other trillion things if you are going to process the fraction you are struggling to hold on to and make space for just one more detail. There are tiny orchids along the path, along with other delicate flowers, all competing with the constant movement swirling around your feet that beg you to see them, too. Immersion is inevitable here as you are surrounded by a reality that envelops you as deeply as the flower here is part of its ecosystem.
The path to the right will remain a mystery to me as we came from behind and took the boardwalk to the left. Then again, there were moments I felt I was in a maze, and only our guides’ familiarity with the park helped me find where to go.
I’m still wondering how these and many other trees take root in the flowing waters of Plitviče Lakes. I get that the water freezes during winters, but that’s not the time when trees sprout, either. Maybe the travertine pools that contain the waters that flow through here occasionally break and allow the water to change course, but then how do all of these trails through the park seem so perfectly aligned to guide us past the most spectacular sights?
The obligatory selfie (in front of Veliki Slap – or the Big Waterfall) is required to prove that we were, in fact, here where we claim but not for anyone else except Caroline and me as we are ourselves hardly believe we have been where our travels have taken us. Look to Caroline’s right, and you will see a hint of our umbrella. It was nearly constantly open to protect the camera from the rain while I snapped away. I can appreciate that even under gray skies, we were treated to a landscape that required no embellishment, and will look forward to a day we might return when winter brings a new level of solitude and quiet to the park or when we arrive to witness the glorious sun smiling down upon the Plitviče Lakes.
Looking at these incredible formations of travertine implies some amazing limestone deposits and, consequently, a rich hydrological world below us. I’d guess that there’s a labyrinth of caves that are still quite active in their development. Matter of fact, during our walk-in to the park, we passed many a sinkhole where the ground had subsided, and in some cases, former trails had become inaccessible.
We are not necessarily in a rush to exit the park, but we also have a lot of ground to cover in trying to explore a wide variety of sights along the trails. I see untaken photographs that will have to wait for a return in the future while others beg to be illuminated under the gaze of the sun in order to show their full spectrum of color. Even with their vibrant hues muted in the gray light of an overcast sky, there are hints that tease the passerby that an order of magnitude more beauty verging on the psychedelic is waiting for the rays of our star to truly shine. All the while, I sense that everything within our purview is evolving right under our noses more rapidly than we can comprehend.
What is it that we find intrinsically magical by observing flowing water? Why do the depths of the sea draw us into their mystery while being inherently dangerous to our very survival? Something runs deep within us that remains inexplicable to my conscious mind, where water seems to speak to me on some basic level. I cannot be certain if it is my awareness that is excited by proximity to water or if maybe my cells are communicating to this larger force excited by the energy at play.
Self-contained and able to live up to 25 years in captivity, I’d imagine that due to their languorous speed while moving through nature they experience life to be thousands of years before they move on to snail heaven. For whatever reason, I perceived this snail to be quite old. From its broad foot to a massive scar on its shell, I could easily believe that this specimen of snailhood has been cruising across Plitviče Lakes for a long time and has taken in kilometers of the park. This would be quite the feat, considering it moves at a maximum of 25 meters per day or about 82 feet.
What kind of tragedy befell this boat? Were its passengers able to be rescued from the turbid waters that must have been raging back on that fateful day? Is it possible that Gilligan has been able to survive all these years since this small craft took its tragic turn? The mysteries Plitviče Lakes National Park will continue to hold back from sharing its knowledge, keeping me curious for years to come; obviously, we will have to return one day.
There are waterfalls within waterfalls just beyond what the camera can observe. Our ears are useless in teasing out all of the directions where the sound of flowing water is traveling. While down there on the trails that take you right into the heart of this multi-level cascade I found it impossible to capture with photos what it looks like to be surrounded in such an environment. If it is true that under direct sunlight, we see a near infinity more beauty than we are allowed to observe on the day we are visiting, I can honestly say that should we have been exposed to such a sight, my tears would have certainly sprung forth adding yet another layer to the waterfalls too numerous to comprehend.
The visitor to Plitviče will never know what this place truly looks like. They may have some small idea of a corner, a snail inching over the lichen, the song of a bird in a nearby tree, or the raindrop that fell out of the sky to touch their cheek, but what they believe they saw will be profoundly altered by the light, changed angle, the height of observation, or the frame of reference operating in their mind after getting lost in the visual symphony of complexity that is too grand to remember every note. Try to comprehend the many layers, the flow of water, the work of nature sculpting an environment that is always being reshaped, and you will be lost. The macro overview is easy to have; it may be simple to say one has been to Plitviče, but seeing is not knowing, and knowing the intrinsic universe that is found in this corner of Croatia will continue to mystify you in your dreams and memories of such a wonderful place.
Through the hills and over dale, we drove until we reached a designated meeting area in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere at which our host was patiently waiting in his van for our arrival. The shortcut he would lead us on took over an hour off our drive time had we taken the roads Google had recommended. Good thing he acted as a guide because the single-width lane we took is a maze that zigzags over the lush rolling hills.
We arrived at Imanje Jelaš, where our host Juraj welcomed us to his homestead with several different flavors of homemade Rakija, Croatian fruit brandy. There was the famous Šljivovica (plum brandy), but also concoctions based on grapes, lavender, apples, and herbs. I believe Caroline tried them all, but with five or six to choose from, I lost count at her third shot.
Dinner felt like a true Croatian experience. We sat outdoors on long tables next to the cooking fire (complete with the aforementioned iron bell). The homemade dishes were a gourmet delight and accompanied by large helpings of heartfelt welcoming from our hosts. While our fellow travel companions were relatively benign, I felt a bit embarrassed for their lack of enthusiasm. I don’t mean to imply that anyone was rude, but from the reaction to our dinner and tempered response to heartily digging in, I’d say that the crowd couldn’t truly appreciate the wild boar and deer goulash served with polenta and dumplings that were all cooked “under the bell.”
Dessert of walnut bread and poppy seed bread followed with offers of more wine, beer, or Rakija.
Shown to our rooms, Caroline and I were the lucky ones who had first dibs and consequently felt like we scored the best room of all – under the roof.
Plitviče Lakes National Park is already becoming a memory as I scratch out the notes I’m able to collect. It’s now after 11:00 p.m., and after a long day and the pleasure of spending more than a couple of hours with our hosts at the same table they fed us at, I need to give in to the need for sleep. As has been the situation with nearly every other river trip Caroline and I have taken, most everyone goes to sleep before 9:00 p.m., leaving us to be the ambassadors with our hosts who genuinely seem to appreciate that we are interested in hanging out with them into the middle of the night even though they’ll be up well before everyone else in order to make our breakfast.
If today were the totality of our Balkans adventure I’d say that we already received the full value of our investment to visit this corner of the world. That we still have almost 11 days of experiences ahead of us only lends wealth to our incredible good fortune to be able to participate in such opportunities.