So….the kombie was leaving at 5 am, an early morning by anyone’s standards – the temperature was already about 25 degrees as we left Makarska – frantically trying to get the aircon working, hunkering down for a long drive. Mmm the music is going, and there is plenty of time to snooze.
First we follow the coast road, then up that splendid hard corner onto the road towards Bosnia (you know, we have travelled this road a few times now..) out onto the autostrada, through the toll gates…. falling asleep … coffee stop, back into the kombie, lots of laughing and joking.
The villages that we pass through have seen the worst of the war – most are all but empty, many houses lie destroyed by bombs, roofs collapsed, walls caving in – some with ‘prodaje se’ (for sale) signs, but who would. Villages of ghosts, where the cemeteries are full. The music suddenly seems discordant.
And then the rain starts, the wind picks up and the temperature starts dropping. Four hours later when we reach our destination, it is though we have come to the top of the world, and dropped into a plateau between the mountains. A damp plateau. This town has seen a recent face lift – the school is new and the housing is more modern, with piles of firewood around the houses – winters are cold, even now is cold. This is not to say that the town is bustling – it is early morning and the only person we see is the guy who is handing out wet suits. The tramp part is off – the raft part is on!
A quick marenda (snack) and clutching our wet suits and booties we climb back into the kombie – another 30 minutes deeper into the countryside (more empty houses, but some are showing a determination to regenerate – gardens are full, and there are signs of life emerging). And just when we thought you couldn’t go any further, you could! Out of the kombie and into a yellow kombie which may or may not have a warrant…. It is raining hard and the mud track that we are following is turning into a stream, we can see it through the sliding door which keeps opening...
Now, at this point, we are all looking sideways at each other, wondering what on earth – there is no-where out of the rain to change, there don’t seem to be any boats, no-one seems to be in charge , and the yellow kombie guys seem a bit flustered… stoically we follow the leader along another path in the rain, around a corner to the most magnificent waterfall. I’ve seen screen savers of waterfalls that need to be replaced immediately with this sight! This is Strbacki Buk – with a ‘sh’ on the ‘s’ (please) and a ‘ch’ on the ‘c’ (please). A buk is a waterfall and comes from the word for the thundering noise that it makes. The Štrbački Buk waterfalls are on the Una River, spanning the border between Bosnia and Herzegovina and Croatia.
We shrug our wetsuits on and stand in awe – awe at the sound, the smell, the sight of the spray coming off the fall. Of course the humourous guide tells us that the boats (where are they, in his pocket??) will be launched above this first waterfall..
We trek along a railway track that bounds the river - it is not currently operating (another thing that had a pauza with the war) but is under repair - down some steps and into the most verdant glade I have ever seen – the intensity of the colour of the mahovina (moss) is luxurious, velvet-like. I love it!
I tell the story of the patupaiarehes to one of our group – it may have been lost in translation, but for those who want to know (go on, I know you want to hear about it, it’s a Kiwi classic!)… ‘In the misty mountain tops or deep in the forests lived the patupaiarehe – fairy-like beings who were seldom seen. They could lure people away from safety with the music of their flutes, and had magical powers and special knowledge..and as soon as the people were alone and sat or lay down to rest, they would cover them with moss, to be trapped in the forest forever.. *sigh* I digress…
Evo ga, Mr Guide does produce boats (two) from his pocket (almost), together with a portable pump – Mr Guide then explains to the group the basics of rafting – turns to Ms Engleski and says – ‘there are five words to remember - RELAX – just to move with the motion of the boat DANCE – just to let the boat and the water take you on a dance CONTINUE just to keep going forward with the river LOVE to love the river and the movement PASSION to be so taken by the sights that no cameras are needed to remember…
There it is! Simple.
Climb in the boats and away we go – four in one, six in the other – down the falls, through the rapids, squeals of delight (and that was just Niksa!). We stopped to drink with cupped hands at a spring that was feeding the river - cisto i bistro - ; stopped again to check out a cave above the river (where six of the workers on the track lived for 6 months), and stopped again to see another spring that emerged from under a cave to join the river. Una is one of the biggest springs in Europe – divers have plunged to try and see how deep it is exactly but were not able to reach the hidden depths, and it disappears under the rocks and emerges to join the river.
Did you enjoy that? We did! Oh and did I mention that in this special green and damp place on the earth, the temperature had dropped to 11 degrees when we started rafting?
We needed Jagermeister to warm up, honestly. And kava. And then food ….. and finally returned home at midnight, twelve happy but tired little trampers. There. I told you it would be good!
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