Plitvice and Paklenica National Parks, Croatia - January 2016

We approached Plitvice National Park (plit-vit-za) from the south.  It had been snowing all day inland, over the mountain. We passed through small seemingly abandoned towns, the snow piling up. A few people milling about, a business here and there, and a lot of crumbling buildings.

Part way through one of the towns, we experienced a rare phenomenon.  There was a flash that caught our eye from above. In the brief moment afterward, we wondered out loud if it was the street light or something else.  Then BOOM. The unmistakable crack of thunder. 

It was thunder and lightening.  Thunder snow. A pretty rare occurrence that simultaneously surprised us,  frightened us and excited us.

We didn't have accommodations for the evening, relying on booking on the spot one of the many rooms surrounding the park entrance that we read about.  It was late afternoon as we approached the park,  getting dark.  We began to wonder a little bit where we would stay.  It was snowing heavily, and there wasn't much life out there.  The southern flank of the park is not very developed.  The northern area around the jezeros (lakes) is what makes the place so famous, and where 99% of visitors spend their time.

We have grown accustomed to seeing signs for "sobe, zimmer, room", advertising accommodations as we have traveled through Croatia. Usually not looking open or inviting this time of year. Such was the case as we trudged along in the snow in the dark in our miniature car. A passing park bus provided minor comfort that we weren't stranded.

We neared the entrance to the lakes and traffic increased and so did development. We were very road weary after driving all day, the last several hours in a blizzard. With six inches of fresh snow on the ground and counting,  we saw the sign for a hotel and decided to turn. 

We both knew that this decision would be costly. We didn't have to verbalize it to agree that a hotel would likely be expensive, but also the option we needed to pursue.  We have traveled enough, stayed in enough Airbnb apartments, rooms in folks houses etc to know that a hotel in a place like this is not a budget option.  While we aren't traveling on a shoe string, two months is a long time so we are conscious of how much we spend on accommodation. We rather splurge on food than a fancy room.

We turned in the hotel entrance,  snaking down and around to the entrance in untracked snow.  Uh oh we thought.  This place doesn't look open, we are driving down a hill in our little car in a bunch of snow.  Turns out the place wasn't open, but a little sign taped on the door said that hotel jezero was open, just up the road.  We took a running start and squirreled our way back up and out to the main road.  We pulled into the appropriate hotel a few minutes later and asked for a room. The price was well over a hundred bucks, but it included breakfast and the guarantee of one more day of marital bliss.

We woke to 12 inches of fluffy snow. Trees covered, every branch decorated by the heavy snow fall in the absence of wind.  No clouds, sunny.

We strapped on our gators and away we went.  After a short bus ride, we were making fresh tracks down the trail. There were a couple others on the bus and we passed a few more on the trail, otherwise we had the place to our selves. (We don't know it any other way, but supposedly it's a mad house in the summer, so we reveled in our good fortune).

The trail descends down to the stair step complex of lakes connected by rambling, beautiful water falls. The plank walkways traverse across the water and along the shore line.  The walkways were covered with deep snow, making the journey extra entertaining in the absence of hand rails and icy water below.

As we gazed up at the main falls, the warm sun started to peak over the canyon walls. We were surprised when large chunks of ice calved from the top, the sun and flowing water loosening their grip.

We hiked around all the open trails (the "upper area" all being closed in winter), leading to the boat launch that carries visitors back to the entrance.  We opted the walk the trail along the lake shore instead of the boat ride. The trail was technically closed, but it was gorgeous out, and we were equipped to break trail in the fresh snow. The sun was rapidly melting the snow on the trees by this point, so we were showered the whole way back by dripping branches.

It was a beautiful park, and very well developed, providing up close access with low impact. We are fortunate to have seen it on a day like that.

We got back to the car, which was still covered in snow since it was in the shadows. We cleaned it off and headed back down the road. 

Traveling due south from the park,  we passed through the two small villages where my great grandparents were from.  Josan (on the main road) was where my great grandmother, Pera, was from and Mekinjar (off the road a few miles was my grandfather,  Mile, home town). There is not much left in these places, so we didn't stay long. We would have poked around a little more,  but with a foot of snow flanking the road, it was impossible to pull off or turn around. We did walk through a cemetery in josan, all the headstones reading Radakovic, Peras maiden name. While in the cemetery, a villager walked down from the hill above, likely wondering what our car was doing blocking his road. He didn't speak English. We said "Marinkovich", and it motioned off toward the valley and said "Mekinjar".

We found our way to Mekinjar, took some photos of the few rubbled buildings and the surrounding agricultural land.

Pera and Mile immigrated to the usa after world war 1 and landed in Anaconda, Montana.  Mile worked at the smelter until he was killed in a rail car accident. The Anaconda Company compensated Pera by paying off her mortgage and providing her wood to heat the home that winter.  Legend has it that she took to distilling spirits to support her troup of sons,  placing them in a box on the front stoop so they would be safe in the event of an accident. Supposedly there is a copper still or two hidden away in one my grandpa Dan's late brother's place in Anaconda.

The landscape was very reminiscent of South west montana,  the big hole and the area they resettled, Butte-Anaconda. I certainly had a twinge of nostalgia while here, I suppose they did too, over on the other side.

We forged ahead and zigged back out to the coast, to a little town outside of Paklenica National Park (pak-la-neet-za). We stayed in a cute, modest apartment in Rovanjska. Our host, Dora, was a cheerful and outgoing gal in her late 30s. During the war,  she was a refugee for 5 years in Germany, having to flee croatia.  The apartment building,  originally her grandmother's, was occupied by soldiers to "process people", and was beat up pretty badly.  Bombs, bullets,  shrapnel all taking their toll. After the war her grandmother returned and got the business going again.  Eight years ago Dora returned to help her out.  Her grandmother has since passed, and Dora runs it herself now. She tells us this story over breakfast she prepared for us. 

This time of year is slow, so we were fortunate to have the opportunity to connect with her.

Of course, we didn't know her story when we booked the inexpensive room on Airbnb. How enriching it was to ponder while we stayed amongst the freshly painted walls and new windows. You don't need to venture far to hear first hand accounts of war in this part of the world.

Paklenica national park is known for its abundance of rock climbing routes and vast network of hiking trails.  Be sure to look at a map, or stay on the trail, though, as there are still areas with land mines. They are only in the more remote regions, deeper in the park. The lower, more accessed areas, have been deactivated in one way or another over the years.

We hiked up the main corridor, along the the river, up the steep canyon that is home to all the climbing routes. This trail was paved in massive stones, the path wider than many roads in this country. We figured only the first few km would be built.  No, some poor sobs broke their backs for miles building this thing.  It was both impressive and highly annoying. Walking on rocks isn't fun very fun.  I would much rather dirt. It was pouring rain, too, making the rocks slick,  adding to the discomfort. 

We ultimately reached a little mountain hut. It's likely a busy place in the summer, bustling with hikers and climbers based on the number of picnic tables.  On this rainy day,  it was just us and another couple that arrived just before us.  It looked like they were staying for the night in the upstairs accommodation. The guy that runs the place invited us in to warm up, but we opted out because the other guests were in there smoking.  It's true, no place in Europe is smoke free.

I explored around the hut and discovered a sign with an arrow that said "swimming pool".  I followed the arrow, and much to my surprise there was a giant rock basin. It was empty now, but was connected to the river via diversion channels.  This thing was about 8 feet deep and probably 40 feet in diameter.  I could imagine good times being had here.

That night, we scoured the little towns looking for food.  Not much open this time of year.  We ended up eating at a small family run hotel. I had the "pork". They brought me a plate containing 3 pork chops and nothing else. We are getting a little fatigued of the meat (and potatoes, if your lucky) diet in croatia. Especially in these small towns in the off season.

The following day,  we bid Dora adieu and pushed farther down the coast.