Walking in Croatia (2nd edition, Cicerone Press 2010)

Plitvicka jezera (Plitvice Lakes) national park, Croatia (Nikon D300, AF-S Nikkor 12-24mm f/4G ED-IF DX)



272 pages; published June 2010; 2nd edition; ISBN 9781852846145

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Text from introduction to Walking in Croatia (Cicerone Press, 2010). Click here to read more on this title on the Cicerone website.


My love affair with Croatia began more than a dozen years ago, with my first visit to a snow-bound Velebit in the middle of winter. Within a year I had moved to Zagreb where I lived and worked as an English teacher for two years, making frequent trips into the mountains and seeing in the new millennium in a bitterly cold tent, once again on Velebit. I have been returning to Croatia ever since.

Long popular as a summer destination with German and Italian visitors, but largely overlooked by the vast majority of western travellers since its independence from the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, the past few years have seen the Croatian coast literally flooded with western, and in particular English and French, visitors. This is not to say that the Croatian coastline is busier than any other attractive and sunny part of Europe during the summer months – indeed, it remains less crowded than most places, and much less spoilt. And while most visitors head straight for the coast – the lovely Dalmatian towns and villages and the glittering isles of the Croatian archipelago – the rest of the country remains largely untouched.

Visitors cannot fail to notice the rugged mountains, which rise up suddenly, often spectacularly, beyond the narrow ribbon of coastal cities and rocky beaches. It is these mountains – the limestone massifs of Velebit, Gorski kotar, Mosor and Biokovo, extending in furrowed ranges from Slovenia in the north to Montenegro in the south – which so dramatically divide the Adriatic from the continental interior, contributing as much to the particular character of the country as the more celebrated coastline. More significantly, from the point of view of this guide they provide a superb, and as yet remarkably unspoilt, arena for the mountain walker or alpinist.

Often only a few hours from the coast by way of steep and rocky trails, these mountains have much to commend them as a walking destination. Ranging from gently sloping, forested hills to rugged tops and limestone crags, they form a landscape of outstanding beauty; at their most spectacular they are a karst labyrinth of domed peaks and cavernous sinkholes, sun-bleached ridges and rocky dells. They are not a wilderness experience in the traditional sense (then again, little in Europe is): trails are for the most part well established and clearly marked; mountain huts are plentiful; local walkers abound. But the scenery is as lovely as it is varied, the terrain rewarding, and the views often breathtaking. And despite their modest elevation – Velebit rises to less than 1800m – there is still plenty to be found that is challenging. Furthermore, in contrast to many of the mountain areas in neighbouring Slovenia, Velebit and Gorski kotar remain well within the capabilities of the moderately well-equipped walker during the winter months, despite heavy snowfall.

Finally, the very proximity of these areas to the coastal scenery and islands, and to historic cities such as Dubrovnik, Split and Korcula, is a considerable attraction in itself. These cities boast some quite stunning Roman and medieval architecture – Dubrovnik often being touted, with considerable justification, as the best-preserved medieval city on the Mediterranean.

To complement these better-known features of the country, the walks in this guide provide a more intimate view of Croatia and its people, and a counterbalance to the bustle of its coastline during the summer months (after which the coast largely reverts to its sleepy Dalmatian self). While the walls of Dubrovnik throng with sightseers, and the rocky beaches steadily swell with the returning tide of western tourism, the walker will be able to sit comfortably on a high pass below Zavižan, perhaps with a fine selection of dried meats and cheeses and other local delicacies spread on a convenient rock, flask in hand, and survey the splendour of a dazzling sunset across the Croatian archipelago.


Rozanski kukovi, Northern Velebit (Nikon D200, AF-S Nikkor 12-24mm f/4G ED-IF DX)

Geography and Geology

Croatia, my Croatian friends told me long before I first visited their country, is like a bird in flight. Look at a map and you’ll see this quite clearly: the great wings spread back across Slavonia, poised between beats; the head hanging low in Istria, and protruding out into the Adriatic; the body and tail stretching down through Lika and Dalmatia; the belly splintering into the myriad isles of the Croatian archipelago. It is an attractive image, and one which has stuck (certainly it is more poetic than the comparison between Croatia’s rather peculiar shape and a boomerang).

From a walking or a mountaineering point of view, the most interesting areas are the successive ranges of mountains running parallel to the Adriatic coast – the belly and tail of the bird, to take the analogy further. Collectively known as the Dinaric Alps, and including the massifs of Gorski kotar, Velebit, Mosor and Biokovo, these rise steeply from the narrow band of settlements and cultivation along the coast, frequently to 1500m and in some cases to over 1700m, forming a formidable natural barrier between the rocky coastline and the continental interior.

The dominant characteristic of these mountains is their stunning karst formations (the term ‘karst’ is actually derived from the limestone Kras region near Trieste, and was first coined in the 19th century following a study of the area.) These include saucer-shaped or cone-shaped dells and depressions (dolina and uvala), known locally as vrtaca, or in the case of larger examples as dabar or duliba; bare tops and crags, known locally as either stijene or kukovi; rivers which disappear underground only to re-emerge as karst springs, either in the foothills of the mountains or as submarine springs, vrulja; and numerous caves and sinkholes, špilja and jama respectively, which in many cases reach astonishing depths (Lukina jama on Velebit is among the 10 deepest sinkholes in the world). These features are at their most impressive on Velebit and Biokovo.

Karst is formed by the negative action of rainwater upon limestone, and by the enlargement of surface drainage holes and of the various horizontal and vertical cracks and fissures in the rock as the water percolates downwards. As a consequence all rainwater rapidly disappears underground, and the landscape is characterised by a dearth of surface streams matched only by the abundance of sub-surface streams, caverns and sinkholes.

Though in many places now denuded and bare, and typified by poor vegetation, the Dinaric Alps were once heavily forested. Progressive deforestation (both by foreign powers and the local population) and overgrazing since well before the Middle Ages led to extensive soil erosion, exposing the underlying rock to chemical and mechanical weathering. The Republic of Venice, in particular, is frequently singled out for its role in the process, drawing much of the timber for its fleet from Dalmatian forests. Local restrictions on the sale of timber to foreign powers (in the case of the Republic of Dubrovnik, as early as the 13th century) failed to check the process, and archives from the town of Zadar, dating from 1803, state that the forests of the surrounding mountains were by then so devastated that not even a piece of firewood could be found.

The Croatian archipelago encompasses a quite mind-boggling number of islands of various shapes and sizes, ranging from the tiny Jabuka (meaning ‘apple’) to Marco Polo’s Korcula. In total they number some 1185, bringing the actual length of the already very indented coastline to well over 5500km. Generally elongated, they follow the northwest–southeast orientation of the coastal ranges, and represent all that remains above sea level of a low, outlying range of hills once part of the Dinaric Alps. Beaches are typically rocky or of fine shingle, while Lopar has the distinction of being one of Croatia’s few truly sandy beaches.

Slavonia, by contrast, is an extensive plain, and is extremely fertile. (It was the fertility of the land which, in the aftermath of the Second World War, encouraged many people from Dalmatia to move to Slavonia.) Its eastern border meets Serbia on the Danube, and its northern and southern borders are defined by the Drava and the Sava respectively. Low, wooded hills dot various areas such as that north of Poæega, while the landscape becomes progressively flatter towards the eastern border with the Danube and to the northeast, where it stretches off into the Hungarian plains.

Though its geographical position places it on the fringe of that rather ill-defined territory known in the West as the Balkans, most Croatians find the term unappealing when attached to their country – and may politely inform you that the Balkans begin somewhere southeast of the River Sava.


Grey Heron (Ardea cinerea), Kopacki rit national park, Croatia (Nikon D300, AF-S Nikkor 70-200mm f/2.8G ED-IF VR plus TC-14E)

Climate

Croatia experiences two contrasting climatic types: continental inland and in the mountains, and Mediterranean along the coast and on the islands.

The Adriatic coast experiences hot, dry summers and relatively mild, though frequently rainy winters, being protected from the harsher inland climate by the mountain barrier of the coastal ranges. Forest fires pose a major threat both on the lower mountain slopes and on the islands – a fact confirmed by the great blackened tracts of land on Mosor and Hvar. Slavonia is somewhat more humid in the summer months, and considerably colder during the winter, seeing heavy snowfalls. Zagreb generally lies under a few inches of snow over the winter months, but during the summer can become a stifling oven, when most residents escape to the coast.

Summers can be extremely hot on Mosor and Biokovo, when water shortages pose something of a concern for the walker. The best times to visit are therefore spring and autumn. On Velebit daytime temperatures during the summer usually hover around 20–25°C; at night they can drop to almost freezing. On balance summer remains the most pleasant time to visit both Velebit and Gorski kotar, although nouthern Velebit tends to be rather hot. Nevertheless, the position of the Dinaric Alps so close to the coast ensures that they receive considerable precipitation throughout the year (although all water rapidly disappears underground), and heavy rain and storms can unleash themselves upon the unsuspecting walker at any time. The author has been lost in the clouds on Vaganski vrh in August and lashed by hailstorms on Rožanski kukovi in July. The Dinaric Alps experience bitterly cold winters, when they are inundated with snow and frequently swept by blizzards. Gorski kotar and Velebit in particular receive abundant snowfall during the winter months, when they become largely snowbound, though they are extremely beautiful at this time of year and remain far more accessible to the winter walker than the mountains in neighbouring Slovenia. Snow usually lies on Velebit for about 132 days per year, and winters with well over 2m of snow are not unheard of. While this snow generally provides an acceptable base for walking, it is not that unusual to suddenly disappear up to your waist in submerged juniper thicket.

Microclimates occur in the deep karst dells of the Dinaric Alps in the form of temperature inversions, which are reflected in local vegetation patterns.

A number of winds buffet Croatia from different directions – all of them bearing their own names, and all of them well known and discussed by locals. The most important of these from a mountaineering point of view is the bura. A cold northeasterly, the bura is the result of cold air accumulating behind Velebit in the Lika basin, where it is effectively trapped until it escapes through the cols and high passes of Velebit to descend in terrible gusts upon the Adriatic. These gusts frequently reach gale force, and the Venetian traveller Alberto Abbé Fortis, writing in the 18th century, even claimed that on occasions the bura would pick up young children and dash them against the walls of houses, and throw down horses loaded with salt. There is a saying in Croatia that the bura is born in Lika, lives on Velebit and dies on the sea; and a frequently heard observation in the villages beyond the Velebit Channel is puše bura (‘the bura is blowing’). The jugo, as its name implies (jug meaning ‘south’), is a moderate southerly which typically brings cloud and rain to the coastal mountains, and is traditionally associated with bad temper and ill health. (Under the Republic of Dubrovnik, crimes committed when the jugo was blowing generally earned a more lenient sentence for their perpetrator, following the belief that the wind had, at least partially, driven them to commit the crime or induced their fit of rage.) There is also the maestral, a brisk sea breeze which tends to blow from the morning to the early afternoon, and the široko, a warm, dry southeasterly from north Africa, roughly equivalent to the sirocco in other parts of the Mediterranean.


View from Risnjak (1528m) in winter, Gorski kotar, Croatia (Nikkormat FT2)

Text and photographs copyright Rudolf Abraham 2010


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