Paklenica and the hike up Babin Kuk

Near the summit

The Paklenica National Park towers over the Adriatic coastline of western Croatia, steep barren shoulders of treacherous-looking rock carved by the strong winds off the sea. The peaks appear imposing from a distance, no less so from up close, rising sharply to over 1700 meters above sea level. We stayed in a small, family-run hotel on the coast in the very small town of Starigrad (literally, “Old Town”), a town composed of a few houses, some hotels, a grocery store—really a mini-mart, and a small church. The hotel ran excursions into the nearby hills and owned several safari-style jeeps parked around the exterior. Out the back was a view of olive trees and scraggly pine up a slowly-rising slope that ran up to the foothills of Paklenica, jutting suddenly upward to limestone cliffs.

View out the back of our hotel in Starigrad, Croatia

We came to Paklenica wanting to hike, and set off up the valley our first morning after a pleasant breakfast at our hotel. A little late setting out, we had enjoyed the luxury vacation provides after a long time on the road the day before of sleeping in. But the air in the morning was fresh, crisp, and the hills beckoned us; and so we packed our day bags, made a quick run to the store for fruit and other hiking snacks, and drove the short, narrow, winding road into the park.

From the parking lot, the main path up the valley was paved with rough-cut limestone blocks, smoothed over by filled concrete. The cliffs to either side were popular with rock climbers, and draped with ropes and clips, attended by partners standing squarely, slowly playing out the rope as the climbers above negotiated the crags and crannies of the rock face. We could hear the clinking of metal clips, the calls of shared advice and shouts of excitement echoing down from the bluffs above as we strolled along the slippery limestone flags of the trail. The tall peaks seen from the coast looked yet far away and inaccessible, but the maps along the trail showed paths, the dotted lines tempting us forward. Lines can be so easy to draw on a map. I needed to be talked down from a more ambitious day’s itinerary. That turned out to be a good thing, in the end; but at the moment, in the late morning, the cliffs still called to me. They filled me with visions of rocky summits, of fading, jaunty ridge-lines into an emerald sea.

On the way up the valley the path was pretty well laid out for us

The tallest peak in the Paklenica National Park is Vaganski Vrh, which soars to 1757 meters above sea level. The peak sits in the middle of a towering ridge which we first saw from a ferry on the way to Cres Island on our first day in Croatia, far away from us but just visible far down the coast in the hazy evening light. The path we chose headed in the direction of this peak before veering east, toward a lower rocky outcropping, around 1450 meters, with what we hoped would be a nice view down the ridge and toward the coast. The number, in any event, seemed large enough to satisfy; the hike long enough to count as a solid effort for a day in the mountains. So I told myself as I pointed excitedly to the dot on the park map, gesticulating excitedly to my wife, who agreed, if somewhat reluctantly. We would see, at any rate, how far and how high we could get.

First we hiked up the main path down the river valley, which proved longer than anticipated though mostly flat; a couple hours on a wide path with a nice view of the mountains before us, past mountain huts with taps for drinking water; the water cold and fresh from the source, unlike anything ever marketed as such in a bottle. After a moment of confusion finding our trail at the last lodge, we started to climb. No longer on the smooth, slippery limestone, we now crossed over sharply pointed edges of rock, sharp enough to slice a hand if not careful, before turning into a thick forest of mountain pine and up a steep, unrelenting grade of trail.

We passed several mountain huts in the river valley, used by hikers as base camps to reach the highest peaks in the park.

Donkeys at a mountain hut. We saw some donkeys on our way out bringing supplies up the trail.

It was around this point that I started to wonder how difficult our hike had been rated. When we first entered the park, there was a nice, highly-detailed, though difficult to read map showing a number of possible hikes in the park and rating them for length and difficulty. We studied the map for some time, but not yet being sure exactly where we would be entering the park, or what the conditions would be as regards signs and markings, we continued into the park before deciding where we would hike. Now I was wishing I could have another look at that map, but alas, it was too late for that and the trail continued to climb.

Now I like a good workout and a strenuous hike, so the difficulty of the trail was of no great concern to me. I felt the trail for sure—my calves burned from the heels up and I took deep breaths; I could feel my heart beating a quicker tempo. In my mind, physically, it was like a good race; and I am fortunate to have a wealth of experiences to pull from in these kinds of situations. I know I will get to the finish line eventually if I keep going. I was once a runner. What annoyed me and gave me some despair was how long this hike was taking. We were not prepared with flashlights and needed to be back to our car before the sunset, before that glowing orange disk snuffed out over the blue, blue sea. Exactly where we were on that red dotted line on our little ticket-sized map proved difficult to determine, we had been climbing straight up for more than two hours, and the trail continued through the trees as far as we could see.

Considering the situation

We stopped and considered the situation. It would feel like a terrible failure to turn back now: where was the payoff? What was a hike without a view, with all that exercise and nothing to show for it? We must be close, but were we close enough? We decided—and my wife was the firm one here, to turn around now would be disaster—we would give ourselves at least another ten minutes. There would be enough time then still to turn back, and we just might find the end of the trail. We did. The trail divided: straight towards Vaganski Vrh or to the right, to Babin Kuk, a promontory of rock jutting just above the tree line, connected to the larger ridge by a narrow saddle with a steep wash sweeping down into valley to either side of the Paklenica range. The trail climbed straight up the rock in a vertical ascent to the top, but we stopped on a more easily accessible ridge and took pictures. We caught our breath and tried to paint in our minds the gorgeous scenery: the limestone bluff shadowed with caves that extended to one side, rocky ridges and mountain forest continuing beyond. And far in the distance we could see the Adriatic, still a deep blue, and the sun on its journey, dipping toward the horizon.

Views of the Adriatic

The ridge line as seen from the top

On stiff legs, we journeyed back down the steep slope, through the mountain forests and the meadows, and over the sharp rocks, past the mountain huts and into the river valley. The return trip always seems longer. The valley, though flat, still proved difficult with tired legs on the slippery stone, but we made it just as the shadows were darkening the valley around us, the sun still in the sky but blocked out by the steep cliffs of Paklenica. We were tired, and spent, and satisfied. In the end, was it worth it? Sure. That path up Babin Kuk was a good hike. When we got back to the hotel, we looked at the map of the park in the lobby, curious about the difficulty rating for the trail we had been on. Four and half out of a possible five on their rating scale. That sounds about right.

On the way up I unwittingly posed in front of Babin Kuk (the rocky promontory to my left) while taking pictures.

A nice view during the descent

On the way out, the sun lit up the hills as it dipped toward the horizon.

Croatia: A Land with a Beautiful Coast and a Complicated History

Secluded beach at Lubenice, Cres Island

To cap off a wonderful, if exhausting, month of travel, we went at the end of September this year to Croatia for almost two weeks. We flew into Zagreb and drove down most of the coast of the country, finishing our trip in beautiful Dubrovnik. On our journey, we saw dry, wind-swept islands filled with the smells of freshly growing herbs, groves of pale olive trees, and roaming fluffy, white sheep. We saw cascading waterfalls filling turquoise pools of burbling water amidst limestone cliffs; the bright, towering white bluffs over the coast of Paklenica National Park; and cities, living reincarnations of the past, built on the ruins of earlier civilizations. Croatia was a fascinating destination, a country with a complex though important history located at a crossroads of civilization where East met West. Being there now, you can sense this history still, if you open your eyes to it: the vanguard of western civilization.

Town of Lubenice, perched on a cliff, Cres Island

We started in Cres, driving down from Zagreb and taking the ferry. The sheep here are famous for their flavor, and it is said to be from the wild herbs they eat as they freely roam the island. We saw flocks on the sides of the road as we drove into town, the hillsides terraced with olive groves; and when we got out of the car we could smell thyme on the air. It was like we were in Mother Nature’s kitchen everywhere we went. In the small towns on the island, we saw Venetian influence in the architecture. Cres Town has an old clock tower and some old churches from those times. We hiked to a small town on the other side of the island called Lubenice, perched on the cliffs and full of old Venetian buildings; here also was a steep trail down the hillside to a secluded beach. We hiked down and snorkeled in the waters until a rain storm came to shore and drove us, dripping wet, back up the hill and across the ridgeline back to our car.

Plitvice Lakes National Park

We left Cres and drove to Plitvice Lakes National Park and spent the day at the park before moving on to our next hotel at Starigrad, a small town near Paklenica on the coast. Plitvice Lakes is a natural wonder, a series of waterfalls and lakes in a broad valley meandering over and through sinkholes and tunnels in the limestone bedrock. By walking, riding a bus and a ferry, we made our way around the upper and lower lakes and took many pictures—it was difficult to put down the camera here—and breathed in the fresh air. There were many tourists and the boardwalks around the lake in some places could get crowded, but we also found quiet places at the further ends of the lakes, space for reflection and appreciating the beauty that was all around us. We found a trail up to a vantage point to get a better view of the biggest waterfall in the park, Veliki Slap, which I thought was a fantastic name for a waterfall—‘the big slap’.

Pag Town as the sun sets on the barren ridge, with Paklenica in the background

At Paklenica, we hiked up to one of the highest viewpoints in the park at Babin Kuk, and the next day went for a drive to Pag Island. Our guidebook describes Pag as straight out of a 1950s Italian movie set, and the reality was close to this. We had a glimpse of it all at once as we came around a bend in the road down the spit of coast that reaches out to the island; suddenly there lay Pag, a barren desert, stripped of life by the steady salty breeze coming off the Adriatic. Pag has four major industries: salt, wine, animal husbandry (which means sheep, the lamb here is also renowned for its flavor), and cheese production (they produce a very unique strongly-flavored cheese here using sheep’s milk). We saw the salt flats outside Pag Town as we came into town, drank the wine, and bought a good-sized wedge of the cheese to take home.

Swimming at the Falls, Krka National Park

The next day we left Starigrad and drove to Krka National Park, a park located along a river also formed above karst limestone bedrock, with networks of waterfalls and rapids. The Park also has Roman ruins and churches, but the most fun is had at the southern end of the park where there is a public swimming area at the base of one of the biggest waterfalls and you can sit in the turquoise waters and marvel at the surrounding wonders. Over the years, the constant flow of water over limestone has formed tufa, a hard, calcified substance—actually rock—that looks like algae built up over around the falls and gives the water a magical appearance.

Split waterfront

We finished our adventures in the cities of Split and Dubrovnik, two cities with very different unique histories, but similar charm. They are both built on top of very old cities and amongst ruins. Split has been built around Diocletian’s Palace, which was built for the Roman emperor at the turn of the 4th Century as a place for his retirement. He abdicated from his position as emperor and moved there. Since those days, the city has changed a lot, but many of the buildings remain. The Roman Temple of Jupiter and Diocletian’s own mausoleum were at some point taken over by the early Christian church, which converted them to their own purposes. The buildings remain a fascinating mix of competing mythos, filled mostly with later Christian decorations but also some carvings, especially along the edge of the ceiling, of animals and other images that evoke an earlier era.

Dubrovnik from the ridgeline

Dubrovnik was different, comprising a larger area of old ruins—the entire fortified city-state of Ragusa, as it was known in its day. The ruins are on the whole better kept, not so dilapidated, and flooded with even more hordes of tourists than in Split. This was especially the case in the later morning to midafternoon hours when the groups from cruise ships descended on the city. Here we stayed in the old city in an apartment within the fortress walls. The most charming part of these cities—both Split and Dubrovnik—was how alive they are today. They are filled with restaurants and other businesses, occupying buildings and rooms, many of which were part of the original structure of the city and the fortress. We walked the walls with the crowds and marveled at the teeming city below us.

Islands off the coast at sunset

Later, we went swimming from the very cliffs that formed the fortress foundation, sunning on the rocks before jumping into the water with our snorkels. Tour boats and kayaks passed by with passengers waving their approval, and the fish in the water played hide-and-seek among the rocks. It all seemed so surreal, which pretty well sums up our time in Croatia. Ironically the only time the walls of Dubrovnik were ever fired upon was during the Balkan Wars in the 1990s, a not-so-distant reminder of the tragic history of this place. But life continues here, much as it always has. And judging by the crowds of tourists, more and more people are taking notice of the beauty and the magic that is Croatia.