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** CROATIA 2008 - Weeks 7~8 ** |
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 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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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 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
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.
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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. 
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 
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.
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.
along the 40 mile
journey. For a full appreciation of Croatia's rail service visit the
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).
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. 
