I got into bad habits when my knee was injured, and in truth, I got lazy and fatter. So, I've slowed down quite a bit. Liz, on the other hand, has not slowed down. She gets restless if she isn't involved in a half dozen projects with fierce deadlines to battle. But eventually, she wants a day to play. So she reached that point last Wednesday afternoon and told me she wanted to go see the Karst region of Slovenia. I said, "Mmphf," so she booked a gausthaus near the caves in Karst for Thursday night., and we left bright and early.
[Start of Science.]
About 2-300 years ago, the word reached the World scientific community that there were amazing caves in Slovenia, and the scientists flocked to see. At that time, there were only a few scientists in the scientific community, and they were busy naming things. So when the Slovenes told them an area of eroded limestone, sink-holes and collapsed caves is called a Karst, that became the scientific name for it, and I learned that name in freshman geology class at BYU. And a valley created by a major cave collapse became a doline, because that's what the Slovenes called it, and so on. They did NOT adopt the Slovene word for cave, because it is "jam" (plural is "jama") and that was already taken.
The Karst region of Slovenia is on the rainy side of the slopes of the Julian Alps, and the limestone is seriously eroded. There is a place where a pirate King lived for many years in a big castle built into the mouth of a huge cave. He was invincible in battle, but died when one of his servants stabbed him with a spear while he was sitting on the john. The castle is probably the biggest tourist attraction of the Karst region, but it and almost all the caves are currently closed due to COVID. The only cave still open is at the village of Škocjan.
Škocjan, a tiny village on the edge.
There is a river that flows down from the mountain to the left, but it sinks into the ground and disappears. Immediately behind the village, there is a several-mile-long valley with nearly vertical walls. The river flows out of the sheer cliff at the far end of that valley and then disappears into a cave in a sheer cliff just on the other side of the village. The river flows through the cave directly under this village, proved by a sinkhole down to the river next to the house where the vicar lives. In all the photos I took, I don't have one as good as the face of the brochure they gave us, so . . . .
At the top of this brochure photo is the village in my photo. Under it and a little to the right, at the base of the cliff, is a black hole which is the cave where the river flows out from under the village and into this next doline (collapsed cave that creates a valley). The river flows through this doline, under the two foot-bridges visible in the photo, and disappears back into the cave at the cliff on whose top I was standing when I took the photo above - the same spot where the brochure photographer stood when he took his. [End of Science.]
Škocjan is on the far side of Slovenia and we arrived by 10:30, which shows how small Slovenia is. We went into the visitor center to enquire if there was a cave accessible to poor, old, decrepit, kermudgeons who need a cane to get up and down stairs. The guy at the counter just said we were welcome to go on any of the trails and into the cave, and the shortest cave hike has 800 steps. NOT FOR ME!
Shortly after, another lady came out and pointed out a walk around the smaller doline and through the town. She said it is much easier. I keep forgetting that Slovenes walk everywhere and their estimate of easy is different than mine. But we headed out and walked up a moderate incline on a gravel path until we got to the overlook where I took my photo above.
The cave where the river flows out from under the village.
The river flowing under the natural bridge at the bottom of the doline.
The river was really roaring out of there with the spring rains. If you look closely you can see several little caves where water is also pouring out above the main flow of water going under the foot bridge. I would love to have gone down there.
It started to rain about this time and I put my good camera away to protect it. But I used my iphone to take a video clip of this river on Marco Polo. Sadly, neither of us realized that we had zero cell coverage and the Marco Polo videos we took here are gone, gone, gone.
This is the observation point, looking back at the visitor's center where we started. By this time, my knees were already aching and most of the stairs were still ahead of us. The heavens opened up and it rained hard for a while, so I didn't photograph them, but we climbed more from here and then took an endless (seemed like) set of stairs that went down to the lower level of the village. After that I wished I had two canes and I was in pain.
I did stop to take a photo of this olde beehouse. Most of them are wood nowdays, but the really old ones were built of stone. This one is the museum version of that - with modern mortar between flattened stones, and the hive fronts are decorated with large child-like graffiti. But, there are 24 beehives there.
The bee house.
This little house was pointed out as having the old style of roof. It is made of pieces of slate. The walls were made of round-ish river stones, and the sign points that out, but it has been recently plastered over. This little area of the village is on a lower level from the main village where there was a less-serious cave collapse. I had to wonder if the people who live here worry about any more collapses. None have occurred in history, but every year the caves are eroded more and more.
When we got up to the main village there was a sign by a little grate in the rock wall along the road.
This is pointing out that there is a sink hole that goes all the way down to the river in the cave below (after a bit of a dog-leg.) The smaller drawing is showing how the river flows through cave, doline, cave, doline, and finally into a cave that flows into the sea. I tried to get a decent photo of the sinkhole behind this sign.
The sink-hole. It is about 20 yards across, sheer walls, and a 90 meter drop straight down. 90 meters is about 300 feet! The vicar's little garden yard has a hole in its rock wall that drains straight into this hole. The rock wall that holds this grate is at the very edge of the main road into town, which is barely wide enough for one car. I bet they are very careful here, because you would NOT want to run over this wall!!!
It was still raining, I was very, very sore by this point, and the trail became uncertain. We followed a road down the hill a bit and found the administration office for the park. They let us sit on a covered bench outside to wait for the storm to pass. We sat for about a half hour watching rain, hail, slush, and lightening. After that rest it felt much better to complete our expedition. We found our night's lodging where Liz had thoughtfully booked a room with a hot-tub. I soaked until dinner was ready,
I was very hungry and I nearly forgot to take a photo of the first course.
Ravioli filled with local soft cheese, and cooked in a butter sauce with crisp prosciutto, leeks and herbs from the gasthaus grounds.
The main course was pork loin, cooked slow, with rosemary from the grounds. With new potatoes from a local farmer. It was fantastic, but after eating all those luscious ravioli we weren't able to do justice to it.
Dessert was a little cake with molten chocolate inside, in vanilla sauce. The cook is the owner of this gasthaus - a retired chef who just loves to cook. We were served by her daughter who is also retired.
After that, we retired to our room and the hot tub where we nearly decided to spend the night. Sadly, it cooled off and we gladly went to bed. We were very happy to be warm, cozy, and well-fed, after a wonder-filled day.
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This BLOG has gone on quite a while, so I think I'll save the white horses for a separate post. Sorry.
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