**  CROATIA 2008  - Weeks 7~8  **

       This week's Photo Gallery

    Bottom of Page

     Return to Index Page

CROATIA 2008 - the inland Krajina region,  Knin,  Plitvice Lakes National Park,  Karlovac  and Croatia's capital city, Zagreb:

Leaving the orange-blossom scented shoreline at Croatia's southernmost tip at Molunat, we began the long return journey north. But which route should we take back to central Dalmatia? To continue along the coast entailed crossing the narrow strip of Bosnian territory past Neum, and technically UK insurers will not provide cover for Bosnia despite the wars having been over 13 years ago. The alternative route, taken coming south, via the long mountainous Pelješac peninsula was tortuous and meant another ferry crossing. Advice was that the so-called Neum 'corridor' was open space between the separate parts of Croatia, and we decided to take the risk. Approaching the frontier crossing was make or break point: would we be stopped and asked for evidence of insurance cover? No one challenged us and we accelerated into Bosnia, uninsured risk territory for the next 10 kms, and with Bosnian driving standards the risk seemed less than trivial! At the northern end of the corridor, more anxieties: a border guard stood in the roadway. Thankfully she waved us through, and with feelings of relief, we re-entered Croatia before she could change her mind.

 Click on 2 map areas for details  

From the high plateau beyond Neum, a startling vista opened up across the Neretva river delta, totally flat fertile land cultivated with citrus fruit trees as far as the eye could see; the roadsides were filled with stalls selling Neretva oranges. Bridge repairs meant a long diversion through impoverished villages, past the border town of Metkovic; from here we might have taken the road into inland Bosnia to Mostar with its medieval arched bridge, wantonly destroyed by the Croats in the 1990s wars, and to Sarajevo, last visited by us in 1974. Again lack of insurance cover meant postponing a re-visit; perhaps we should return one day.

We rejoined the Magistrala coastal highway at Ploče from where our journey to Dubrovnik had begun seemingly weeks ago, and continued north for a further night's halt at the delightfully welcoming shore-side Camp Čiste, with the lulling sound of the Adriatic surf and cheerful singing of the resident chaffinches. The following morning's bright sun lit up every detail of the monumentally craggy Biokovo mountains towering above us. We gained spectacular height via sweeping hairpins up through the coastal mountain chain for a diversion inland into the high Karst Zagora plateau land; utterly barren and scrub-covered grey limestone terrain stretched away to a distant horizon. Our goal was the small provincial town of Imotski set amid stony hills hard up against the Bosnian border; across the valley we could see the town, dominated by what looked like two huge craters in the high Karst plateau-land. These were the two spectacular Karst lakes confined within monstrous sheer-sided 300m deep pits, the Blue Lake and Red Lake, formed by the collapse of ancient dolines cut deep into the limestone. A path zigzags down into the Blue Lake's chasm, whose more open sides allow sunlight to penetrate down to lake level lighting up the cliffs beyond (Photo 1 - The Blue Karst Lake at Imotski). This was one of the most awe-inspiring natural phenomenon we had ever seen in our travels. Similarly, the scale of height gain and loss from Dalmatian coast up to the craggy mountains of the Zagora Karst was so overwhelming: the high plateau was divided by mountainous north-south ridges into a series of polje (broad, flat valleys), an inland repetition of the ridges and sea-flooded valleys off the coast which had formed the Dalmatian islands. The scale, immensity and frightening grandeur of this Karst terrain was simply staggering.

Back to the coast, we reached Omiš and shore-side Camp Ivo with the lights of Brač island twinkling across the water. Omiš stands astride the mouth of the River Cetina which flows from high in the Zagora plateau, carving a spectacular gorge down through the Karst terrain. We took a boat upriver through the narrow rock 'gates' of the Cetina's limestone gorge, with mighty cliffs towering on both sides of the enclosed canyon (Photo 2 - The gorge of the River Cetina). From Omiš, we drove via a staggering series of hairpins back up into the interior to the village of Zadvarje, high above the Cetina gorge which here forms an enormous 100m wide deep gash in the Karst plateau (Photo 3 - The Cetina Gorge at Zadvarje). Side streams tumbled in staggering cascades from subsidiary canyons which seemed suspended from the walls of the main gorge; and to add to the gargantuan splendour of the setting, a party of adventurers were abseiling from the rock face alongside the waterfalls.

Northwards from here lay days of uncertainty: our plan was to explore the interior border region of the Krajina. In busy traffic, we travelled inland from Split firstly to Klis, a village renowned for its traditional restaurants serving lamb grilled on large open spits. Whole skewered lambs were slotted into the huge wood-fired spits: this was not an experience for the carnivorously squeamish! (Photo 4 - Lamb grilling at Klis). The air was filled with the delicious smell of grilled lamb, and after 7 Lent-like weeks of lamb deprivation in Croatia, we were ready for a lamb feast; a large platter of carved meat was brought to our table along with generous servings of salad and crusty bread; this was one of the trip's more memorable lunches at the Krčma Uskot restaurant run by the Dodoja family. The village of Klis had grown up around the medieval fortress built to guard the strategic mountain pass on the trade routes linking the coast to the Balkan interior. The fortress fell to the invading Turks in 1537 but was re-captured 100 years later by the Venetians to defend their Dalmatian territory. The walls and bastions form an imposing structure clinging to the precipitous crags, with panoramic views over the modern city of Split; this was to be our last view of the Adriatic until almost the point we would leave Croatia (Photo 5 - Split and the Adriatic viewed from the fortress of Klis). We said farewell to the sea which had been our companion for the last 7 weeks, and began our journey into the unknown interior of the Krajina.

This was very different terrain with wide green polje stretching away to distant forest-covered high hills. Beyond Sinj, the road skirted Lake Peručko. As we approached Knin, the dramatic bulk of Mount Dinara dominated the whole of the eastern horizon; at 1831m this is the highest peak of the Dinaric Alps which form the backbone of the Balkan peninsula. In this crucial strategic setting, Knin had throughout history been militarily important, controlling both east-west and north-south communications. With the imminent break-up of Yugoslavia in 1990, Knin played a key part in Serbian military planning: standing astride the main road and rail links between Zagreb and Split, to bring Knin under Belgrade's control would seriously weaken Croatia's bargaining power if Croatia should pursue independence. Add to this, almost 90% of the Knin region of the Krajina was of Serbian ethnic origin, making it the obvious focus for Serb discontent in the Dalmatian hinterlands. Fears of racial oppression if Croatia achieved independence were fanned by Belgrade among the Serbian majority population for whom the law of the gun was a long-standing symbol of masculine machismo; ultra right-wing thugs were armed and supported by the Serb-controlled Yugoslav National Army (JNA). As a result, Knin became the epicentre of the 1991 Serbian rebellion as the capital of the Serb-controlled areas of Croatia, the so-called Republic of the Serbian Krajina. With the 1991 Serb armed uprising, ethnic Croats from the region were ethnically cleansed and either fled from the terror as refugees or simply shot; their abandoned homes were looted and burnt. After Knin was recaptured by the Croats following the August 1995 Storm Offensive, it was the ethnic Serb population's turn to suffer in the even more vicious counter wave of ethnic cleansing: again homes and farms were burnt and looted, and unknown numbers of civilians tortured, raped and shot. Will the Hague International War Crimes Tribunal trial of former Croat general Ante Gotovina prove his guilt in complicity with these war crimes, or will his plea be that he was 'simply obeying orders' from the now dead Croat President Franjo Tuđman?  Click here to see the Hague IWCT indictment against Gotovina for alleged war crimes around Knin after the region's recapture by Croat forces in 1995.

To understand the significance of the Krajina's mixed ethnicity, one must look back to 16th century history. Knin's fall to the advancing Ottoman Turks in 1522 resulted in massive demographic changes in the region's population profile with fleeing Catholic Croats being supplanted by waves of refugees of Orthodox Serbian origin from the Balkan interior. In 1991, these ethnic hatreds dating back to the 16th century exploded into nationalistic frenzied warfare with such tragic consequences for the region. Knin's census figures tell all: in 1991 before the war, 86% of the population was of Serbian origin with only 10% Croatian; in 2001 after the 1995 ethnic cleansing, the figures were reversed - 21% Serbian, 76% Croatian.

With feelings of trepidation, we descended from the surrounding hills into the town of Knin which nestles in a bowl of the upper Krka river valley. It seemed such a sad and despondent town, with derelict factories, unkempt-looking apartment blocks and none of the affluence which had characterised the coastal towns. The town is dominated by its hilltop fortress which had once been the seat of the medieval Croatian kings. We walked up to the fortress and climbed to the highest bastion where the Croatian national flag now flew. It was here that TV pictures of President Tuđman kissing the Croatian flag were filmed after the town's recapture by Croatian forces. The views down across the town and its railway marshalling yards were dominated by the distant massif of Mount Dinara (Photo 6 - the town of Knin viewed from its fortress). There was simply nowhere around Knin which felt safe to camp so we pressed on. The road headed north rising steeply out of Knin's bowl onto the high Karst plateau This was an immense and oppressively deserted landscape of high rolling, wooded hills and wide flat valleys stretching away into the distance; There was not a trace of habitation or cultivation, just the road and railway threading a parallel way across the desolately empty landscape. We passed the derelict shells of former houses and farms, long since abandoned in the aftermath of 1991~5 ethnic cleansing. But the saddest experience of the entire trip came a little further on: the map seemed to show a small settlement named Otrić; it even had a little station on the railway line. In fact, all that remained of the former village were a few totally shattered ruins of houses, not a trace now of any living habitation the former residents long since fled or shot. Even more tragically symbolic, the village name itself was gone; nothing remained of what was once Otrić, not even the name sign. We camped that night behind a small roadside inn, having exchanged the warm Dalmatian coast for a cold dark sub-alpine interior, and seen for ourselves the tragic evidence of the 1991~5 war's impact on the civilian population of the Krajina.

The following morning, we passed through Korenica; clearly this village had before the wars been of mixed Serb-Croat population since the cemetery had family graves inscribed in Cyrillic script. The ruined church opposite however and the newly built houses showed that the village had been enveloped by the 1991~5 war's destructive madness. Twenty kms further, we reached the Plitvice National Park, where some of the first bloody encounters between armed Serb irregulars and Croatian police had taken place in 1991. The park's unique topography is due to the build up over millennia of travertine natural barriers along an 8 km stretch of the steeply descending Plitvice river valley to form a series of 16 lakes linked by waterfalls and cascades, all set among hills forested with pine and beech. Water erodes the limestone and dissolved calcium carbonate is sedimented on algae and vegetation to form travertine. A way-marked network of paths and wooden walk-ways threads around the hills and across the cascades. The most spectacular feature is the 78m high Veliki Slap (Great Waterfall) (Photo 7 - Veliki Slap, Plitvice National Park), but the board walks enable close encounters with all the rushing torrents of foaming water tumbling down from the higher lakes (Photo 8 - cascades in Plitvice National Park). The crystal-clear water sparkled in all shades of blue, green, turquoise and aquamarine, and teamed with fish; one could see the embryonic travertine deposits forming on underwater tree debris and gathering as sediment on the bottom. This was the most spectacular of days, which is more than can be said of the nearby Korana Camping; honesty would call to mind descriptions such as over-expensive, over-pretentious and under-endowed with usable pitches. The best features of Korana were the birdsong and wild orchids growing among the un-mown grass (Photo 9 - Green Winged Orchids (Orchis morio) near to Plitvice National Park).

We continued north towards Karlovac, and in contrast found another of the 'best campsites of the trip'. Slapić Camping, run by Mataković family who work so hard to make their guests feel welcome, is set alongside the delightful Mrežnica river and is a green oasis among green and fertile countryside. The village of Belevići just 10 minutes walk away has an excellent public transport service, with buses into Karlovac and trains to Zagreb. Walking across the footbridge to Belevići, swans nested among the reeds and tree-frogs sang happily along the Mrežnica river; you could understand why they were so happy living in such a beautiful environment.

We have long forgotten in UK what a true public service a rail network serving rural communities is. From the little station halt at Belevići however, there was a regular rail service into Croatia's capital city Zagreb, the trains stopping at every village along the 40 mile journey. For a full appreciation of Croatia's rail service visit the  Croatian National Railways web site  clicking on the English tab and entering your journey details. Zagreb central station (Zagreb Glavni Kolodvar) is a grandiose marble affair reflecting its Habsburg origins. Stepping from the station, you cross the tram-tracks for the walk into the centre through Tomilas Park, lorded over by the equestrian statue of this medieval Croatian King. Our first stop was the Croatian Academy of Arts and Sciences to see the original of the Bašćanska Ploča (Baška Tablet) with its Glagolitic script, seen earlier on the island of Krk (see Krk web edition). Among Zagreb's elegant Secessionist buildings is the Archaeological museum which displays finds from Croatia's Bronze and Iron Age and Greek and Roman past. Among the most original finds are the superbly crafted artefacts and pottery from the 4 millennium BC Vučedol culture, the star exhibit of which is a libation vessel, the so-called Vučedol Dove, which is pictured on the 20 kuna banknote and was found near Vukovar in Eastern Slavonia which we should visit later. Along at Marshall Tito Square, we found the Croatian National Theatre (Photo 10 - Croatian National Theatre in Zagreb); the posters announced a production of Shakespeare's Oluja, but what had the Bard to do with the 1995 Croatian Oluja (Storm) Offensive to recover the Serb-occupied Krajina? Only after a moment did the kuna drop: of course, in this context, not Storm but The Tempest. Next came the greatest challenge of the trip: could we blag our way into the Croatian Parliament, the Sabor, as we had visited parliaments in other European capitals? We explained our request very courteously to the security guard. But with turgidly Slavic obduracy, he refused to acknowledge even understanding this simple request, and uttered the gist of the world-wide bureaucratic obstacle: it was more than his job was worth! No was no in any language. Frustratingly admitting defeat, we gave up with a shrug; Croatian democracy clearly had its limits (Photo 11 - St Mark's Church and the Croatian Parliament the Sabor, in Zagreb).

We had last visited Zagreb by rail from Slovenia in 2004, but this year the EU subsidies were clearly pouring in: virtually every building was shrouded in scaffolding for renovation works. But the Cathedral stood clear this year, its stonework gleaming almost white. We concluded our visit at Bana Jelačića central square, with the iconic statue of the 19th century Croatian soldier-hero lauding it over the passing trams (Photo 12 - Bana Jelačića central square Zagreb). His sword originally pointed northwards towards Hungary whose 19th century rebellion he had put down on behalf of his Habsburg masters. With Croatia's declaration of independence in 1991, Ban Jelačić's statue was restored but turned so that his sword now menacingly raged at the new enemy, Serbia! After such a fulsome day in Croatia's capital city, we caught our train back to the quiet rural retreat of Slapić Camping at Belevići.

The next day it was the turn of the local bus service, which even on a Sunday made it possible to visit the local town of Karlovac, originally founded by the Habsburgs in the 16th century as a frontier fortress along the military border with Ottoman Turkish-controlled Bosnia. As the Turkish threat receded, Karlovac grew in size and importance as a commercial centre with fine Baroque houses and palaces. Although the citadel walls were demolished, the outline of the old town is still clearly defined by the star-shaped earthworks of the fortress. The 20th century sprawling suburbs are home to the Karlovačko Brewery, whose products we had been drinking all across Croatia. During the 1991~5 wars, Karlovac had found itself within a few miles of the front line and had been heavily bombed and shelled. Even 14 years later, economic recession has left much unrepaired war damage and neglect in the old town and many of the grand Baroque buildings are still pock-marked with unrepaired shrapnel damage. It was harrowing to see that the impact of the Homeland War had reached into the very heart of Croatia.

It had been a gruelling period for us seeing such a different aspect of Croatia from that seen by the average tourist. We had learnt much about the historically derived ethnic mix within Croatia, the underlying ethnic hatred, and the careless political maladroitness with which Tuđman had handled the fears of the Croatian Serbs in the run-up to breaking free from federal Yugoslavia in 1991. The tragic consequences for the whole country might have been avoided, but with nationalistic megalomaniacs like Milošević and Tuđman squaring up to one another, perhaps the 1991~95 wars were inevitable. We had however seen for ourselves some of the results and certainly understood more of why things had degenerated into such barbaric atrocities and bloodshed. What had shocked us was that there seemed so few corners of the country that had not been in some way affected by the wars, either directly by the fighting, or indirectly by the impact of refugees or financially by the costs of the war and damage to Croatia's economy and infrastructure. Doubtless we shall see even more of this in the final two weeks of our trip as we travel eastwards into Slavonia and visit towns such as Vukovar and Osijek. This is an even more unvisited region with consequent total lack of campsites. We shall see. More of that to come in a couple of weeks.
 

   Sheila and Paul

   Published: Wednesday 18 June 2008    

Next edition to be published in 2 weeks

 

This week's Photo Gallery
 
Top of News Page
Return to Index Page

Music this week:
Sve da volim

  Denmark 2007

  Sicily 2007

  Alsace 2006

  Greece 2006

  Hungary 2005

  Pyrenees 2005

  Slovenia 2004

  Greece 2004

    Home Page    Site Plan    Who we are    Publications    Email us