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With a girlfriend to the sea, again! The August 4th and 5th
You can come back on the previous part of this travelogue here.
The August 4th
If you don't want to read, skip the text and see the images of this day here.
You can see the map of this day of the journey here.
It was a wonderful thing to sleep. Because of the freshness due to yesterday's flood, what about the sweet physical fatigue, and what about the fact that we don't travel today, there is no need to get up early.
Because of that, (just) nine hours ago, I decided to wake up. After that, I got out of the tent.
After waking up, my companion enjoyed the morning coffee while I was filming our tent in the camp.
The sun was shining cheerful and luxuriously in the morning, the freshness of the humidity held on for a long time, so it was a sin to hurry anywhere for any reason.
Water was still all around us even though it was not noticeable at first glance. Each footstep in the grassy soil was accompanied by a quiet whimper of extruding water from the soil around the shoe. Because of this, two boards came to us as ordered, which we placed in the "foyer" of the tent, which my companion noticed last night when erecting a tent in meadows not far from us. The boards served as a doorstep on which we took off shoes out and saved the cleanliness of the interior.
More out of curiosity and less out of need, I went to the front desk looking for information on the nearest shop. And got an uphill instruction which I needed to get to a grocery store less than a kilometreaway. It would not be a lot of it was not for that kilometre that uphill that took my soul to my nose while climbing, and on my return, I preferred to walk, because it seemed to me that if I should braking harder I will fly over my own bike over the front wheel.
I procured what was the need, and my companion prepared, followed by a lavish feast. It was luxurious in terms of content and ambience. Namely, not far from our tent is a restaurant, currently closed, and across from it, under the birch, where tables are benches made of solid wood and free to use. Whoever will! At no charge!
We put our table for breakfast there.
Maybe someone, extremely critical, would have noticed that the menu was not God-knows-what, but it was fantastic to us. Both in quantity and in variety.
After breakfast, my companion, like any conscientious wife, washed her laundry (which she had soaked in a plastic bag yesterday and left to soak in front of the tent all night), and during that time I was solving the problem of a dryer. I took a rope and stretched it between two trees. Finally, the laundry, clean and smelling, but also wet, merrily fluttered on that rope.
As we were solving the problem of washing and drying our laundry, I noticed that we got a quiet, peaceful and hardly noticeable tenant tonight (or this morning). One snail settled comfortably on the outside of our tent and here, in the peace of God, lightning for snail manners, imagined his future. He doesn't touch us, so we didn't touch him either.
Now when we got breakfast, and left our laundry to swing in the breeze, we went for a walk around the campsite. At the entrance to the campsite, next to the reception desk, someone really gave it an effort and made a miniature. I myself do not know from what angle (sub)consciousness I drew an analogy with Legoland, or something similar where the European metropolises are made in a ratio of 1: 10 or in what proportion.
The images show abundant sunshine, and it really it was like that. The opposite of yesterday's rain, as if it had just wasted up well yesterday, so this day is left to the sun. The whole day will remain in the sun, which, unfortunately, will not be the case with the coming days.
However, the aftermath of yesterday's flood is still present. There was purring, leaking, dripping from all sides. Often walking in the meadow, we squeezed water out of the ground like the duty guards do at the school from the sponge before wiping the blackboard.
Our intention was to visit the wooden mills on Pliva's waterfalls, here called "Mlinice", and there was a mention of swimming in Pliva's lake. Okay now, swimming was more of a challenge to my companion, while I was, to say the least, moderately sceptical. It's not about the lake, it's more about me. A few years ago, when I was satisfied with the realization that apart from a rocker soul, I was also a rocker body, that is, on two occasions I squeezed out two large kidney stones, I have been constantly scared, or at least anxious about the kidneys colds and everything related to them. Because of this, every water which does not steam is too cold for me.
But, there was no swimming. Not only did not the two of us swim but no one swim at the swimming area. Embarrassed by the desert, as far as the bather was concerned, we asked a local WHY!? He shook his hand at us with the comment: "What swimming, when it rains every day !?" We didn't really know what to the swimming was bothering with the daily rain, but when we looked at what the swimming area looked like, we were definitely not in the mood for it.
I was a little bit satisfied, but my companion was a little bit disappointed, so with the lack of swimming, we went for a walk. The walk was at the area between two Pliva lakes, one up and the other down. Between them are countless streams, creeks, pools and waterfalls. Just like on the Plitvice Lakes style there were also trails for walking along or across the creeks.
We walked beside the prime example of spontaneous improvisation. The locals, the younger ones, made the jumping board above the lake into more, what we would say, floors. This way without a swimmer, it looks sad, unfinished, abandoned, but still, to me as a person prone to improve, interesting.
It's also thought about juniors, so there is also a small, but small, small, pool with a slide in which the water is of the tremendous depth of half a meter. Desolate again without these little bathers who would certainly make this setting as much, significantly more likeable than it is now without them.
The view across the “upper” lake is one of the main favourites of the whole scene of this journey. A scene which does not give me peace, and it persistently and patiently pulls my sleeve and calls for it to return to one of its future journeys.
They say that a man in life regrets more that he didn't do, rather than he has done.
Four years ago, I was at this place, when I found out while preparing and planning the trip that there were bicycle paths around these lakes that go along the old narrow-gauge railway line. On the other side of the lake even have two tunnels. I didn't go either this time or this time. All I had to do is look longingly across the lake, where part of the trail is perceived, apparently after leaving the tunnel. Good God, for sure next time!
From this upper lake, an abundance of crystal clear water flows through the outlet, and branches into three water channels and flows to the mills.
About these wooden watermills, Google says that there is a Big and a Small Pliva Lake on this site, between which, on the travertine barrier, there are watermills, called "Mlinčići" (small mills).. Nineteen mills, covered by shingle, were built of oak. They were made without attics, windows, chimneys ... From the surrounding villages, people had been carrying full sacks of grain for centuries on horseback, in pack saddle. After a awakened night by the stone wheel, under which warm flour fell into the basket, people were coming back to home. After them, there was a long trail of hoof and golden yellow flour afterwards. He also notes that with the help of the Swedish organization Cultural Heritage without Borders - CHwB, four medieval mills that were destroyed in the 2011 fire was restored, and that the "Agency for Cultural, Historical and Natural Heritage and Tourism Development of the City of Jajce" notes that the mills will soon to be returned to the order. They will be allocated to interested citizens who, with minimal compensation, will be able to grind grain to generate income sources.
Well, there is something going on in this centuries-old beauty lives.
Although a century-old beauty, watermills are all made of wood, and wood is known to suffer the most damage from the tooth of time, if not used.
That something is being done is most evident on the roofs and on the footpath, because they have got new wooden boards.
As for the interior refurbishment, better days are waiting. Only one of the watermills was given the internal appearance it used to be. There was here a millstone with all its apparatus. It needs the drive, so it can start grinding grain.
However, the situation under the watermill with a well-groomed interior is not nearly as well arranged. For many years, the master's hands have not been underneath it, so someone will be needed to roll up his sleeves pretty much for this mill started to work, or to put it another way, much work still needs to be done that the mill would be in operation.
Twenty-seven years ago, when I visited the mills for the first time (see: Honeymoon), the situation here was much more favourable. Well, I am old enough to be able to compare the development of a situation during that time. At that time, there was also some kind of valve/door on channels for opening and closing water flow. Today, the channels are barely recognizable, while the valves/doors are gone totally.
However, there will be some progress for the better, as evidenced by the fact that, unlike today, thirty years ago, there was no sign of any renovation or maintenance. Quite simply, everything was younger than it is today. That is why I am particularly pleased with the renovation, however small (and it was not small).
We still had a lot of time of this day, so we got on our bikes and made the short lap, just 5-6 kilometres. We rode by the old road between the cliffs and the lake. Now that traffic was diverted by a new road, this narrow, but extremely picturesque, almost no traffic at all. So, ideal for biking and admiring the scenery. And there is much to admire!
Some hundred metres between the hills and the lake is so narrow that on one side is a vertical rock and on the other a massive fence that divides the road from the blue emerald water.
That fence, though a little scarcer and uglier, was there twenty-seven years ago too, when I was mesmerized by the scene behind it as the same as today. Well, here's a shot of the same scene, but with a time difference of more than a quarter of a century.
That narrow winding road along the lake takes about a mile and a half, up to two. If it were a hundred miles, it would be too small how impressive it was to watch, listen and feel with the other senses.
At a motel with a large parking lot in front, we connect to the main road, where we turn right. We went out, in fact, on a kind of detour, a fast road, which was bypassing the lakes. However, to make it, it first ascends to the sky under clouds, a steep, very steep uphill about a kilometre long. The sun was already warming well, a lot of the water from yesterday's rain had evaporated from the ground, so that, because of the uphill slope and the heat, it was very hard to us. After a rest where we calmed down our breathing, heart rate, and restored our soul to its proper place, we continued our leisurely journey, watching the scenes. Forests and clearings alternated in the surrounding hills, where houses were scattered only be understood to their builders.
On one gentle curve to the right, at which the road passes an embankment, below us is a view of the campsite, where beneath some of the shade was our tent.
I showed to my companion the store and its supplies, bought some little things, so we went by that steep downhill, and eventually returned to camp.
It's lunchtime, so we gave ourselves imagination and creativity at will. The result was a delicious lunch in the cosy shade of the birch, in which we had breakfast this morning.
I waited for the sun to go west, for those wooden water mills to be illuminated properly. and finally - I was late. When we got to the watermills, they were already in the shade.
For my consolation, I noted two ducks. I was not overly interested in them, so they began to snooze while they were floating on the water. I wonder if that's how they stayed until the morning !?
We went back to the tent, put together our dried laundry, and rested, lying down. It was necessary to prepare with mind and body for tomorrow's journey.
The August 5th
If you don't want to read, skip the text and see the images of this day here.
You can see the map of this day of the journey here.
At half-past nine we were at the front desk, where we paid for our stay, got our IDs, said hello, and moved on. The stay cost us 20 KM (10,23 €) a day. It seems to me that it was a really low price for this big and very good camp. By the way, I would just like to point out that our stay in Bosnia was generally favourable to us in terms of money above all optimistic expectations.
We had that 4 km to go to the Jajce town in the opposite direction than two days before, which was not difficult because where we had uphill then, now we have downhill. Plus, the Pliva river was on our right side now, so it was a pleasure to watch her blue-green clarity from a height. Near the end of one of her many waterfalls is a restaurant, a deserted and sleepy one from the last night.
Exiting the main road, we continued on the road where we left it the day before yesterday. Driving along the Vrbas river, our current goal is to reach the Gornji Vakuf today known as the Uskoplje town, town via the Donji Vakuf town and the Bugojno town.
On similar rides from earlier years, I noticed that it was better first to take the ride half an hour, or one hour, in the morning, and then have breakfast. Because first, we get out of the hustle and bustle of the city, and second, to awake our bodies (something like morning gymnastics). Then breakfast gets tastier, and we also extend the time till lunch. So we did it this time. Some ten kilometres behind Jajce, in the absence of a better one, we found some unfinished new construction and turned it into a dining room this morning.
I admit that, as nature lovers, we did not find the right place for breakfast, but empty and hungry stomachs did not allow further searching.
Around us, everything was bathing in an abundance of sunlight. The sun was scattered the light generously as if it is not only certain how long it will do. The freshness of the morning stretched over most of the day so driving conditions were ideal. Contributing to this was the Vrbas river, which was on our right, and the straight road, as far as the ascent is concerned. Truth be told, we're slowly climbing as we travel upstream, but that climb is either imperceptible or more like a slight extra load on pedalling, than a serious uphill climb.
The Vrbas river and the road with it wind constantly between the surrounding hills, so when I got bored of the cheerful murmur of the clear waters of Vrbas, I looked up and watch the play of forests and glades in the surrounding hills.
In addition to the small, flat and fenced meadow along the Vrbas with a secluded cottage, where there was no living soul (either in the meadow or in the cottage), they would have passed without a view, had it not been for the signpost for the camping. Like the one from the Banja Luka town where we spent the night, this one, as I said, was deserted, but unlike "ours" a boss of this one we didn't even see. It's like winter, so it's all abandoned, in anticipation of the summer season.
We came across the pedestrian suspension bridge, which is irresistibly reminiscent of the adventures of Indiana Jones. For me, is necessary to stop here during any bicycle trip to these parts, so I stopped this time too and filmed it.
Entering Donji Vakuf, which is only halfway on today's journey, the skies began to seriously blur. Dark, very dark clouds began to come, the horizon dimming as if it were dusk, and already well-known wind from yesterday's drive through the Banja Luka town again appeared ominously announcing the storm and the deluge. Because of all this, we stopped in front of the store just for a moment, supply ourselves on liquid reserves and fruit, and immediately moved on. That twelve miles to the Bugojno town, we rode in observing the situation in the sky (it started to lightning and thunder) with the frantic search for some shelter in the form of a house, a shed or any eaves, in case of heavy rain. Because of all this, we didn't even notice the nicer sides of the environment, overshadowed by the coming storm. After the Donji Vakuf town, this environment transformed into a wide valley with arable land surrounded by high mountains somewhere in the distance. The relatively high altitude of the valley (576 meters above sea level), as well as the high surrounding mountains, cause quite low temperatures in winter. Because of that the Bugojno town very often has the lowest morning temperature during the winter anticyclone.
I hoped for our successful arrival in the city where we shall settle down in a restaurant, and with a nibble of ćevapi and sipping beer, on safely and dryly place, we shall watch the rain.
Unfortunately, the hope was in vain. It seems that the storm was faster however, so it started to rain. It was true that it was just a drop by drop, practically nothing, could still be driven, but I could not (excessively) risk it, so I told my companion that we to go back a hundred meters back to the large complex in which were a gas station, workshop and cafe. Just a moment after we entered in a safe dry place, the downpour has begun.
Again the same as two days ago in the Jajce town. It remains unclear to me, even today, how so much water has been able to pass through such vast expanses of the sky that it would now spill on the ground here.
Water, water, and only water. Raining, raining, raining ...
Almost unchanged, the fall intensity continued after the wind and thunders had stopped.
Two and a half hours, I repeat once again, two and a half hours we were waiting to stop the rain.
That is why we sat at the cafe table, drank our drinks, no matter how long they were, we ate what we had in our reserves (again without the ćevapi and beer), we processed with all the topics of conversation, and in search of a new one, we were viewing the rain and rain environment.
With a sense of over-available time and deprived of the idea of what to do with it, I reached for a camera to remembering this situation during the journey. Contrary to the surrounding weather, my travel companion was watching the map in idling, studying where to continue the journey, donating me a momentary glance when shooting.
The two characters behind her were just as gloomy as the surrounding sky. At first, it seemed to me that they did not know each other, that they were two completely separate worlds. But occasionally they would exchange a word, or a few words, showing me that they knew each other.
The rapturous conversation seemed like this:
First one said, "There!"
After three months of blunt silence, the other replied, "There, what will you do?"
Then the first one, again with a month of deep reflection answered, added: "Hm!"
Without hurrying up with a reply, after a year or two, the other confirmed, "Yes it is!"
(I apologize to the reader for my poor English, but I think that much better translator than me would have a great problem to translate this local mode of communication)
After the extremely lifelike communication which lasted infinity, described above, the left one moved, and, barely noticeably waving his hand (goodbye, I suppose), leaving his beer unfinished, he goes to the Mercedes (far left in the picture) and drove himself away. I guess it all happened in hundredths of a second because the remaining one seemed not to notice that, and by no change on his face or body showed that something had happened since the moment before.
In the meantime, the rain had almost stopped, so we were already very close to the intention to move on. And we would do it, but we had noticed a new group of black clouds across the sky, which was approaching toward the void left by the first group of black clouds. And again the deluge began. No wind, no thunder, its just rain, rain, rain.
After a long, too long two and a half hours, the rain seemed to have stopped. Seemed, because on the puddles was showing that drops were still falling. We decided to continue the journey because we were waiting really long.
We entered the city centre, still accompanied by a small, boring rain that could not be dispelled. I suggested to my companion, by the way, should we visit the centre of this Bugojno town, to which she just shook her hand and said, "Just ride, what a visit !?"
The case wanted that we came across the church during passing through the town, so, as we are also pilgrims along this journey, we stopped by it.
I reached out to the omniscient Google again, where I found out that Bugojno Parish was formed by separation from Gornji Vakuf Parish (then Gornja Skopje) as a local chapel in 1844. It was proclaimed a parish in 1858. Construction of the present parish church began in 1879, which took a long time. The church was covered in 1886. In its architecture, it follows the basilica type of the church. It is the largest catholic church in Bosnia, together with one in Tolisa place. The bell tower was built much later. Because it is disproportionate to the size of the church, it was built in height at the end of the 1970s. The project for the extension of the bell tower was made in 1936 by architect Karl Pařik (Paržik). There are three bells on it. In the first half of the 1980s, the church was covered with copper. During the last war, the church was badly damaged and the bell tower set on fire.
We stayed briefly, just enough to take a picture of the church, and, as usual, to pray one-tenth of the rosary. The rain didn't stop completely, as if it was in doubt: will it stop or will it continue as hard raining. The air is humid, the waters all around us, whether it standing in the puddles or flowing through canals and streams.
In the continuing of the ride, I stopped for a moment to ask the local for the road to the Uskoplje town, I notice a lot of stray dogs, not very small and not very harmless in appearance, were wandering the town. more than themselves, I was astounded by the mutual indifference between them and the people who walk the town. With some strange logic, only to them understandable, they walked ones beside each other, calm and quiet. The dogs were not barking to the people nor the people were not yelling on dogs. Still, that dogs didn't look small, pretty and cute to me, quite the opposite.
Whether because of the rain (which is still raining, although just a little), or because of the abundance of water, either liquid or stagnant, I did not feel comfortable in this town, so I was glad when we passed by the signboard which informed us that we had just left the town.
Nine years ago, when I travelled the same way as I did today, it was a real summer, dry, sunny and warm. Just before the entrance to the Uskoplje town, the surrounding mountains became so close to the valley that it became questionable further existence of that valley. It was impressive to watch the huge slopes of the Vranica mountain in front of us, as well as a zigzag road on it.
I didn't see anything from that. But that's why I watched the torrent of water in the stream along the road, somewhere just an inch or two below the level of the road, where it can be seen that until an hour or two ago, water was crossing the road. Everything around us was all in a sign of the water. People, muddy from head to toe, dug channels for the water that flooded the fields, the yards of the shed, and even the house. More resourceful, happier or faster, they were able to get pumps that pumped water out of the basement. That tiny, tiny, rain was constantly entering in that general wet environment, so, boring and persistent, it falling on my face like annoying mosquitoes. With that tiny rain, it was joined by a quiet and gentle but cold and insidious breeze that, because I was moist with rain and sweat, was not comfortable with me. On the contrary!
The road between the Bugojno town and the Uskoplje town narrowed well, and the traffic intensified as if we had not only been those ones who had to wait two and a half hours for the flood to stop. Not only was the traffic-heavy, but there were plenty of nervous drivers in a hurry at all costs. So one guy in the Mercedes car, who was coming to meet us, was just flashing lights when overtaking the truck. That flash was sent to us, as information, notice, ultimatum, to get off the road if we wanted to live. I managed to panic in front of myself, shouting "Run to the right!" And a moment later we were at the widening of the road, while on the left, close, very close, the said Mercedes car passed us.
"Maniac!" I said to myself, not allowing myself to be further disturbed, while my companion watched me with fear and astonishment with her eyes wide (though the cause was nasty, her eyes was pretty to me!)
We continued to drive and just as soon as we were able to put our soul back in place and calm our hearts, which wanted pop out from out chest just a moment ago. But just the moment after, when the truck was coming, something whistled behind us. I looked in the rearview mirror (the blissful day when I put it on the bike) and saw a frantic truck which was flashing by its headlights and undoubtedly indicated that it does not intend to wait for passing the first one truck. And there is certainly no enough width on the road for two trucks and cyclists.
Again "Run to the right!", again the extension, again the vehicle passed close to us, very, very close with my comment (again) "Maniac!"
I was standing confused for a while and wondering what was this, should we ride further at all or not, what awaits us in the sequel !? A moment or two later I shrugged and told my companion to continue riding. Perhaps all this is God's temptation (we are pilgrims after all), and in the end, God will look after us as much as we look after out on ourselves.
Objectively speaking, these are two cases of extreme traffic hazards that, thank God, we have survived without any consequences throughout all this journey.
I was relieved when we passed the signboard of the place with which the Uskoplje town welcomes us. I guess staying in this place will be a little better than the road to it. That rain finally stopped, but that cold, sinister wind didn't give in. On the contrary, these last few hundred meters, with intensified blows straight to the face, made us stifle our journey as much as possible.
We reached the church finally. End of today's riding!
Despite all the problems of today, and even the mortal danger, we were able to reach the end of today's journey in a reasonable amount of time. Indeed, we came a little bit earlier.
In front of the church was a bunch of cars and people. It was a wedding, so just at the time of our arrival at the church, someone was saying fatefully, "Yes, until death breaks us apart!"
Weddings, like weddings. Those who are more religiously oriented were in the church (the custom here is to make the wedding ceremony an integral part of the mass), but those "declarative believers" have gone on cafes across the street, placed side by side to each other. Those in between, while they were hesitating between the two options, stood right between the church and the cafe and they were chatting in anticipation of the newlyweds on their way out of the church. They are all well dressed, refined according to the latest trends in world fashion, so they could be as they were in Sarajevo, Zagreb and any other town.
We were quite the opposite of them. We were tired, unkempt, sweaty, dirty. My companion and I slipped beside them and headed to the parish court behind the church.
Behind the church was an extension, a beautifully landscaped courtyard with a complex of equally beautifully buildings. This parish is very active. In addition to the parish court itself, there was religious classrooms as well as rooms for other religious activities. In harmony with the ambience, decorated and refined, there was a bench with a backrest that my companion fell in love with instantly. We parked our bikes, she sat on a bench,
Nine years ago, my companion on that journey and I spent the night here. Then I received a written request from the parish priest of my parish confirming that I was a member of the parish and that my pastor was praying for me and my companion for hospitality. Not only that, but I also made a phone announcement on which day I would arrive so that these people here knew who and when they were coming.
This time none of it.
I admit, out of some curious curiosity, I wanted to see what would happen if we went completely unannounced, just out of the blue !?
I saw the nun coming, I approached her, and explained to her, as calmly and warmly as possible, who we were and where we were going, and that we were asking for lodging. I mentioned that it doesn't have to be a bed, it can even have a floor, a meadow even, because for all that we have adequate equipment (sleeping bags, coasters, tent). Conventionally calm, as the priests already are (or is it just my impression?), she warmly told me that the wedding Mass is in progress, so when he is finished, the priest will come, so I will make arrangements with him.
"But I don't think it will be a problem!" she added as she left.
I wanted to go to a companion who enjoyed the peace of mind resting on a bench, when a young man (about 25 years old) approached me with a bicycle (ordinary, Bicyclus Vulgaris) and asked me where we were coming from, looking at our bikes loaded with equipment. When I answered him, he added that he had heard a little earlier conversation with the nun, so if we had problems, we could spend the night with at his place (!!!).
I greeted him and parted, so a moment later I ran to my companion and told her a little earlier conversation. I was so impressed that I had to share this impression with someone, and with whom if not with my companion. To my journey companion and to my life companion, at the same time. Just to remind, my companion is also my wife.
Then the priest has come., He seemed to me as such a "normal" and down-to-ground man, by an appearance and by manner, so I did not immediately realize who he really was. Because of that, I stared at him confusedly when he approached me with a question, what was bothering us?
Half an hour later, after we accommodated, we were on dinner (though ćevapi among other things) in cheerful conversation. At first, he rebuked me that I did not announce our coming, but when I told him that I was already here nine years ago and proved it with text and pictures from this blog (he immediately found it on his "smart" cellphone) a cheerful conversation followed "to deep into the night". Who knows how deep that night would be that I did not meet the dreamy look of my companion's tired eyes, who quietly and condescendingly begged me to end the conversation and get to bed, and she with me.
The nun, the same one I asked for an overnight stay in the backyard and who had quietly and imperceptibly served us dinner, led us to "our" room. She was apologizing that the room had no double bed, so we sleep on our own. We laughed at her stern repentance, almost we were so tired, and we were not interested in other night activities except than sleep.
We did not enter the room but into the small hallway. Straight ahead was the bathroom, and on the left and on the right side were doors for separate rooms with an ordinary bed. When the nun left us with a wish for a good night, it was followed by an alternate showering with warm water (ah, what a pleasure!), doing an evening toilet and going to bed. After I was settling down, clean and smelling, into the bedsheets of my bed, a moment before I fell into sleep, I heard breathing, deeply and calmly, from the other room, so I decided that my companion was already sailing the vast expanses of sleep.
You can view the continuation of this travelogue here.
Post je objavljen 19.12.2019. u 18:50 sati.