Monday, 23 June 2025

Slovenia (1): On and Around Lake Bled

A Lake, an Island and a Cream Cake

Slovenia?

Not Slovakia!


Slovenia
This post is the first of several about our visit to Slovenia. Some people - I'm sure you're not one of them – confuse Slovenia and Slovakia, so for their benefit: Slovakia was the eastern end of Czechoslovakia (there's a clue in the name) until Czechia and Slovakia decided on an amicable divorce, the decree becoming absolute on the 1st of January 1993…

…while Slovenia was the northernmost, wealthiest and second smallest of the constituent republics of Yugoslavia. In July 1991 Slovenia became the first Yugoslav republic to declare independence.

The Army was dispatched to deal with the breakaway but withdrew after 9 days, what the Slovenes did was less important to them than the imminent fighting between Serbs and Croats and the horror that Bosnia would become (see Sarajevo: The Siege, posted 2012). As most of the disintegrating Yugoslavia became locked in internecine warfare, Slovenia quietly got on with being a new, small independent Republic, joining the UN in 1992, the EU in 2004 and adopting the euro in 2007.

Slovenia (Bled and Ljubljana underlined) with position in Europe in inset

Slovenia is prosperous, but small, a tad (4%) smaller than Wales, the epitome of a small country, with only 68% as many people – and their sheep population is not worth comparing.

22-June-2025

Getting There

Flights from Gatwick to Ljubljana, the Slovenian capital, are scheduled for just over two hours. That is an hour less than going to Portugal which I had always thought of as a near neighbour, while Slovenia is far away in eastern Europe.

Our late afternoon departure was delayed, and waiting for an air traffic control slot wasted more time. A change of time zone and the inevitable formalities at Ljubljana meant darkness was falling when we met with Boris who would drive us north to Bled. We arrived in time to check in and go to bed.

23-June-2025

Bled Lake


Bled
After an excellent breakfast we ventured out for our first look at Slovenia.

Bled is a small town (pop: 5,000) nestling in the foothills of the Alps, 50km north of Ljubljana and 10km south of the Austrian border. It has two hotel rooms for every citizen, suggesting it has become a tourist hot spot.

Bled, its lake and out hotel

The reason for that is Lake Bled, but where was it? Our hotel boasted it was ‘a few steps from the lake’ so we walked down hill, rounded a curve and proved the hotel right.

Lake Bled and Bled Island

In 18th century England, as the need for castles and strongholds diminished, aristocrats and those with sufficient funds built themselves opulent country houses. The Renaissance had introduced an appreciation of beauty in nature and wealthy house-owners wanted perfect views from their windows and terraces. Nature was not always up to the job, providing an opportunity for professional landscapers, foremost among them Lancelot “Capability” Brown, who would move a woodland here, insert a lake there and create (at great expense) landscapes more perfectly natural the one nature provided. Lake Bled would be Capability Brown's despair, there is nothing he could do to improve this view.

Bled's shield (above) shows blue water, an island and a castle on a rocky bluff. The first photo showed blue water and the island; a slight change of direction brings the castle into view.

Lake Bled and Bled Castle

You may view Lake Bled as a tear dropped from God’s eye, but at a more prosaic level it is 2.1Km long, up to 1.4km wide, has a surface area of 1.45km² and a maximum depth of 30m.

Round the Lake

There is a clause in the Slovenian constitution which states that all able-bodied visitors to Bled must, at the first available opportunity, walk around the lake. There is not actually true but most visitors behave as though it is, and we were no different. We set off in a clockwise direction on a warm morning that could only get hotter.

The footpath is 6km of largely level pavement, woodland track, gravel path and boardwalk. We tried, not entirely successfully, to avoid the temptation to repeatedly photograph ourselves in front of the castle…

Me spoiling the view of the castle

… or the island just because it was a different angle.

Lynne and the island, Lake Bled

Shaded, woody sections of the path attracted anglers who set up their rods, reclined comfortably in their chairs, and dozed as they waited for the rods to catch them a fish.

There was birdsong, so I asked Merlin what it was. It quickly spotted blackbird, robin, jackdaw, chiffchaff and great tit - some of the commonest birds from our garden at home - plus the slightly less common but still not rare blackcap, song thrush and nuthatch. Amidst this was a marsh tit, a 'lifer' for me. Globally its population is healthy, but in the UK it has dropped 50% since 1970.

A couple of hundred metres of boardwalk at the lake’s western extremity...

Lynne on the boardwalk

...allowed us to peer into the limpid waters (well, they're as limpid as lakes get) and spot the angler’s quarry. The lake contains giant catfish, pike, carp, three species of trout (though we saw none on local menus) perch and more.

Is that a trout in there?

The boardwalk has an angle allowing both the island and castle to be in one photograph…

The island and the castle in a single photo!

… and while we were there the clocktower chimed 10.25, which seemed eccentric.

Bled Cream Cake

Around 10.45 it was getting hotter and we started looking for a coffee stop. We found one at Velika Zaka, roughly the halfway spot. To accompany our coffee, we ordered a blejska kremna rezina (Bled Cream Cake) because cream cake is an integral part of visiting Bled, like walking round the lake.

Bled Cream Cake

A huge traditional pastry (I am glad we ordered one between two) it was ‘perfected’ in 1953 by Ištvan Lukačević, pastry chef at Hotel Park. They are now all made to his recipe. Apart from being difficult to eat with two soft layers between two crisp layers, and supplying a complete week’s sugar requirement in one go, it is not very interesting – there is more to a perfect pastry than buxom good looks (see the Portuguese Pastel de Nata in Eating the Algarve). Oh dear, now I can never go back!

Completing the Walk

A couple of hundred metres beyond our coffee stop, as the clock chimed 11.07, we detoured from the lakeshore around Bled Rowing Club, Olympic Centre and marina. The rowing club has a 6-lane lane 2000 metre course marked out diagonally across the lake. The World Championships have been held here four times, most recently in 2011.

We never quite returned to the lake shore, but as the day grew hotter and the chiming of the clock more erratic, the number of walkers grew steadily. We plodded on and were surprised to look back and discover the island was now well behind us and the castle looming above.

Still plodding on

Re-entering the built-up area at the head of the lake, our walk passed parkland, playgrounds and swimming areas. I had considered swimming but decided the lake would be too cold. I have seen a photo of a former student of mine (now grown up, so she should know better) swimming in Lake Bled in winter when the water temperature was 4°. That put me off, though I have read that by the end of summer it reaches an acceptable 25. But June, I thought, might be a little bit cool for a dedicated wuss and heated indoor pool swimmer like me, and I was less than entirely comfortable with the thought of 2m long catfish – you don’t see those in Stone Leisure Centre.

Lunch (With a Side Order of Rant)

The circumambulation completed, we checked out the boats for an afternoon ride to the island and then found the nearest bar to have a bite, rest our feet and administer a very necessary cold beer.

A life saving cold beer, Bled

It was the nearest bar because we were tired, we did not reject the next one up the road for any reason other than proximity, and certainly not because of this review which you can find on Google: -

Location is bad, along a busy road (it is the road we are sitting beside in the photo) and the drink menu is very simple. Only 4 beers on the menu... (the owner claims, 8 and the drinks menu might look less simple if you include the many drinks the writer has never heard of and probably wont try) … [the] lady at the bar speaks only her own language… I stopped reading there, ‘her own language?’ as though she was making it up as she went along. She was, I presume, a Slovenian, speaking Slovenian in Slovenia, that is less ‘her own language,’ than the language of this town and this country. You, Mr Reviewer, were the one speaking ‘his own language’ rather than the majority tongue. Many (most) of those working in tourist facing positions do learn/pick up some English, it has become the lingua franca of the tourist trade; it makes us anglophones (me included) lazy, but it should not make us feel entitled. We, the army of travellers/tourists/holidaymakers, may be legion, but we are guests not occupiers and should behave that way.

With that in mind, we thanked the young lady who had brought us our beer and paninis, left a modest tip, as is the local custom and returned to the lakeside.

Bled Island

Getting There

A landing stage for Lake Bled’s traditional flat-bottomed boats was near the start/finish of our walk. The pletna (from High German Plätten 'flat-bottomed boat') has been used in Lake Bled since at least 1590 (some claim 1150). In 1740 Marie Theresa, Empress of Austria granted 22 families exclusive rights to ferry pilgrims across to worship on Bled Island. No motorboats of any type are permitted on Lake Bled, and even today only Pletnas may carry paying passengers to and from the island. Many modern rowers are still members of the original 22 families.

The Pletna sets off

They row standing on the stern using two oars. The boats’ construction owes something to Venetian gondolas (Venice is only 170km away) but the propulsion is different, and passengers sit beneath brightly coloured awnings.

Heading out across the lake

The heavy boat moved at speed, demonstrating expertly applied brute force. As we approached the landing stage, apparently far too fast, the rower stood up straight, gave a deft flick with one oar, the boat turned 180° and glided gently up to its mooring.

Pletnas on Blead Island

The Island and the Church of the Assumption

There is no obvious reason for Bled Island being a place of pilgrimage but it has been a sacred site since before Christianity arrived. The Church of the church of the Assumption of Mary was built here in the 15th century, and even today on the appropriate feast day (July the 15th) crowds come here to worship.

We were not pilgrims, and as we left the boat the oarsman said ‘return in 40 minutes.’ We struggled up the stone steps to the front of the old church with its prominent ‘no entry sign.’ ...

Stone steps, Bled Island

... and round the back where there is the clocktower, a café and the inevitable gift shop. After a good look at that we still had 30 minutes to fill.

Bell tower, Bled Island

The church was open on this side, but we needed a ticket. On approaching the adjacent kiosk, we learned that entry was €12.50 each. That is €25 (£22, US$30) for two which is a lot of money for a short visit to a small, largely disused church. ‘Is there a special price for seniors,’ I asked, playing the old git card. ‘I can give you a child’s ticket’ he said ‘€5.’ And so he did, though I still thought it was on the high side - though Lynne disagrees.

Inside is a baroque altarpiece with almost enough gold to satisfy an American president….

Gold altarpiece, Church of the Assumption, Bled Island

…and a baroque pulpit, …

Baroque pulpit, Church of the Assumption, Bled Island

…but the church is older than that as the remains of a Gothic fresco demonstrate.

Gothic fresco, Church of the Assumption, Bled Island

A bell rope hangs in front of the altar rail and punters are invited to give it a tug. There is a technique to it, but if you follow the instructions no great strength is required to get the bell ringing at the third pull. After that you can go on indefinitely, but good manners demand otherwise.

Ringing the bell, Church of the Assumption, Bled Island

Only when I heard the bell did I realise why the bell we had heard this morning (and wrongly assumed to be in the clock tower) had been chiming at such eccentric intervals.

A Tall Tale

Long ago, in Bled Castle a nobleman was killed by robbers. His grieving widow, Poliksena had a beautiful bell cast in his mory for the church on Bled Island. Sadly, a terrible storm blew up while the bell was being transported to the island. The boat capsized, and the bell sank into the depths never to be seen again.

Distraught, Poliksena went to Rome, entered a convent and lived out a life of quiet devotion. When the Pope heard her story, he commissioned a new bell and sent it to the island church.

That was the bell we rang, if you make a wish with a pure heart, the Virgin Mary will hear it and grant it. Whether that is true or not, we do not know as neither of us made a wish.

Of course, like all sunken bells wherever they may be, when the mist is on the lake, the sound of a bell etc, etc, etc.

Back to Bled

Like most pf the others, we arrived a little early for the return journey. The round trip, which commits the oarsman to 10-15 minutes rowing each way and a wait of 30 minutes, costs €20 a head. A pletna has 20 seats giving a total of €400 for the trip, do that five times a day, six days a week produces around €50,000 a month. Doubtless there are overheads, maintaining the boat. membership of the organisation which keeps the rowing fraternity a small elite group, and maybe landing fees and mooring costs, but it is, on the face of it, a nice little earner. But not every boat is full, and it is a seasonal occupation. Opening up the market might reduce prices, but tradition would be lost, the atmosphere would change, people might even notice there is nothing to do on Bled Island and that would have to be remedied. I think I prefer it as it is, low key, peaceful but maybe a little more expensive than it should be.

So, the story of our first day in Slovenia comes to an end. We went out for dinner later, and that will, one day, be part of another post called Slovenia: Eating and Drinking.

Wednesday, 18 June 2025

Nagarhole - Yet Another Attempt to see a Tiger: Kerala and More Part 4

This is a new post, though it covers the events of the 1st and 2nd of March 2024
It will bee moved to its appropriate chronological position soon

Yet Another Attempt to See a Tiger

01-Mar-2024

So Where Exactly are We Going?


India
Kerala
We had enjoyed our day in the port city of Kozhikode (formerly Calicut), even though the combination of heat and high humidity made it hard work. Next day, we headed inland, driving up the Western Ghats, the long, if intermittent range of hills (and sometimes mountains) that follows the line of the coast for 1,600 km. The temperature changed little, but the humidity was lower and there was even an occasional cooling breeze.

Our destination was the Kabini Jungle Lodge in the Nagarhole National Park, a journey of 140 km that was expected to take 4 hours. Indian roads do not make for speedy travelling.

Southern India

Kozhikode to Kabini

Breakfast at Kozhikode

Before leaving we had an early breakfast at Harivihar, our vegan retreat in bustling Kozhikode. I am not ready to commit to being a full-time vegan (or even a vegetarian), but I would eat a meal like our dinners and breakfasts here any day (just not, perhaps, every day). Breakfast was multi-faceted, but here is a picture of a fried puri with spiced vegetables.

Puri and spiced vegetables, Harivihar

You know you are in Kerala when frying is in coconut oil, mustard seeds dot the vegetables and fried curry leaves are abundant – though they are as invisible in this picture as the coconut oil.

On the Road

The journey through small towns and up into the hills was interesting. The road was not as steep and the bends as tight as some we have seen, but they claim there are nine hairpins.

A modest hairpin on the way up from Kozhikode

Once on the plateau we were in the Wayanad district of Kerala, and Wayanad is tea (and coffee) country. The Chellotte Estate on the edge of Chundale is typical, tea bushes fitting together like crazy paving and windbreaks of silver oak.

Chellottoe Tea Estate, Chundale

Chundale (at least half of its name must have been inherited from the British Raj) was halfway through our journey in distance, but more than that in time. We stopped at a clean, smart café where we were charged all of 20 rupees (20p) for a small but excellent coffee.

Some 30 minutes later we reached Panamaram. Built in 2013, Panamaram’s church of St Jude with its exuberant modern style and abundant straight lines is typical of the area.

St Jude's Panamaram (and telephone cables)

Kerala has more Christians (6 million, almost 20% of the population) than any other Indian state. According to tradition, Kerala was evangelised by the apostle St Thomas and an ancient but thriving group of churches influenced by Syriac (Aramaic) language and theology are known collectively as the Syriac Christians. This umbrella covers several denominations, some Eastern Orthodox, some owing allegiance to the Roman Catholic Church and others independent.

St Jude’s, Panamaram is as Syro-Malabar Church, a denomination in full communion with the Roman Catholic Church.

Into Karnataka


Karnataka
20 Km beyond Panamaram we crossed from Kerala into the state of Karnataka. Indian states are comparable in size to US states; Kerala is relatively small - a little larger than Maryland but has a similar population to California. Karnataka and Tamil Nadu, the other southern states we will visit on this journey, are between 3 and 4 times bigger than Kerala and have populations of 70 and 82 million respectively.

India has an abundance of people (1.4bn, having suprassed China as the world's most populous nation in April 2023) and an abundance of languages. Each of the three southern states has its own language, Malayalam in Kerala, Kannada in Karnataka and Tamil in Tamil Nadu, and each language has its own alphabet. These are Dravidian languages, unrelated to the languages of northern India, like Hindi and Gujarati, which are of the Indo-European family.

Across the Park

Indian national parks do not usually have public roads across them, but Nagarhole is an exception. We were stopped at the park entrance to be given instructions – basically no stopping, no littering,

It takes 20 mins to cross this neck of the park, mostly through Kakanakote Forest, though some areas are more wooded than others.

Kakanakote Forest, Nagarhole National Park

There were forest dwellers here long before the National Park was created in 1988. Most were from a tribal group known as the Jenu Kuruba - Jenu meaning ‘honey’ and Kuruba ‘forest dweller.’ They lived by small scale agriculture, fishing, hunting, and gathering roots, tubers, berries and, most importantly, honey.

Jenu Karuba dwellings, Nagarhole National Park

There are today 37,000 Jenu Kuruba speaking their own language which may or may not be a dialect of Kannada (authorities differ.) They have been ‘encouraged’ to leave the park and most now live in poverty in 80 or so villages around the perimeter, eking out a living as agricultural day labourers. 2-3,000 still live their traditional lives within the park. The politics around this issue is hotly debated, and I would not be so foolish as to venture an opinion.

To the Kabini Jungle Lodge

Beyond the park it was a short drive to the Kabini Jungle Lodge. The ground was more open here and the nearby Lake Kabini encouraged the presence of wading birds.

Pond Heron, near Kabini

There were also agricultural villages….

Agricultural village near Kabini

…and domesticated cattle.

Cow, Kabini

In overwhelmingly Hindu Karnataka, cow slaughter is illegal. Cows can, though, provide dairy products while oxen are used as draft animals. Painting the horns is an easy way to mark ownership when herds graze together.

Arrivial at Kabini Jungle Lodge

We stayed in Kabini in 2016. It seemed to have grown since and lost some of its personal touch, but they showed us to a new, clean, spacious ‘Maharaja Bungalow.’ A real Maharaja might have found something to complain about, but we liked it. A buffet lunch was available for all residents and as Nagarhole has a largely Indian clientele the food was much better than at lodges catering for perceived European tastes (see Ranthambhore). In 2016 they had a full bar, sadly that appeared to have disappeared.

Safari (1)

We presented ourselves for complimentary coffee and biscuits at 3.00 and then made our way to the long line of jeeps and buses. There are several places to stay locally but all land and boat safaris depart from Kabini, so the crowd was large and apparently chaotic. Fortunately, we have been here before and know that somewhere there is The Man with the Clipboard who knows everything. We found him, and were soon in our designated jeep and ready to go.

At Nagarhole and ready to go

Our first attempt to see a Tiger was here in 2010, just months before I started blogging. We enjoyed a pre-dusk safari on the lake, and a post-dawn safari in the woods. Our second attempt in 2016 was also here and followed the same pattern (see Kabini & the Nagarhole National Park). We saw elephants, monkeys, squirrels, mongoose, deer, a variety of interesting birds, and a fearsome crocodile or two, but all we saw of tigers was a paw print in the dust. In 2018 we visited Ranthambhore (link above) in Rajasthan, a reserve renowned for its high tiger-spotting success rate. In two trips, our highlight was a distant view of a leopard, while everyone else back in the hotel swapped stories of tigers and sloth bears (and I am not sure what they are!). Now we were back at Nagarhole for two more attempts.

We looked cheerful enough in the photo, but I was unconvinced that tigers are afternoon people. We set out around 3.30 and were scheduled back just before the sunset three hours later – there is little seasonal variation in sunset times this far south. The warmth of the day lingers and tigers, I think, prefer the cool of the morning.

We saw spotted deer - they are always abundant. The larger sambar deer, tigers' main prey, seemed to have taken the day off.

Spotted deer, Nagarhole Tiger Reserve

Gaur were grazing down by the lake – they became the world's largest bovid when the aurochs went extinct in 1627. Though locally plentiful they are considered vulnerable, with a little over 20,000 adult individuals, mostly in India.

Gaur, Nagarhole Tiger Reserve

Elephants like to come down to the lake as well.

Elephants, Nagarhole Tiger Reserve
The photo shows two adults and a juvenile not an eight-legged elephant

We saw no mongoose this time, but there was a wild pig (though no photograph.)

Back in the woods we spotted a Malabar giant squirrel…

Malabar giant squirrel, Nagarhole tiger reserve

….and there are always black faced langurs.

Black-faced langur, Nagarhole Tiger Reserve

The langurs are important for finding tigers. They are vulnerable on the ground as a tiger snack, but there is always a look-out up a tree to give a warning bark. The urgency and frequency of repetition are a guide to the tiger’s proximity and whether it is hunting, walking or sleeping. We heard no langur alarm calls the whole time we were out.

Overall, it was a disappointing afternoon and as tomorrow morning’s safari would be on the lake with little chance of glimpsing a tiger, I was glad we had booked two more attempts at nearby Bandipur.

Arranging Tomorrow and Re-Arranging Tonight

The Man with the Clipboard met us off the jeep. ‘What do you want to do tomorrow?’ he asked. I hesitated briefly, not realising we had a choice. ‘I hear you have had bad luck with tigers,’ he continued, ‘if you really want to see one, a jeep would be best.’ Somebody must have spoken to him on our behalf, which was pleasing, though we had not asked for special treatment. We had enjoyed previous ‘boat safaris,’ but tigers took precedence, so we thanked him and said ‘Jeep.’

Before dinner, we placed our valuables, phones and camera in the room safe. I punched in our usual code and watched my finger make a mistake. I decided to open it immediately and start again, only I failed to open it – with all three permitted attempts.

We went for dinner; at lunch we had drunk water from copper cups tasting strongly of…well…copper and expected the same now, but a French couple on a nearby table had beer. Had they bought it here or had the foresight to bring it in from outside? I inquired in my fluent stumbling French. They directed me to the man who had provided their beer, and I requested two bottles. Drinking is forbidden for Muslims and discouraged among Hindus; whichever he was, he gave me the look of a man who would never put a thief in his mouth to steal his brains, before nodding reluctantly.

After longish wait a different man arrived with a single bottle. I reminded him I had ordered two. ‘One bottle per person’ he replied tersely. I might have moaned about silly rules, but my mind was too busy boggling at his inability to see two people at our table, though Lynne often complains of feeling invisible in India. Indian ladies, of course, do not drink, and if they do, never in public, but louche westerners…. He reluctantly fetched a second bottle - shame they were both Budweiser.

Our brains remained unstolen and one of them suddenly realised we were going out at dawn tomorrow so the safe must be unlocked tonight, or we could not photograph our tiger – if, miraculously, we saw one.

After dinner I went to reception, explained the problem and the receptionist promised to send someone to solve it. A little later a man arrived at our bungalow carrying a broom, suggesting the receptionist and I had communicated less well than I had believed.

Faced with the safe and my inability to open it, Broom Man grasped the problem. He could not solve it, but he knew a man who could and phoned him immediately. His colleague was reluctant to reveal the secret, but even more reluctant to come out and solve it himself. Eventually he agreed to talk me through the process, and, to my relief, the safe sprang open. I promised him I would immediately forget his instructions and was as good as my word.

02-Mar-2024

Safari (2)

We were up and out at dawn and driving round the forest before the sun had got its act together.

Spotted deer at dawn, Nagarhole tiger reserve

I will spare you yet more photos of the usual suspects, but little else happened for the next hour or so…

Tiger?

Around 7.45 our driver had a radio message from one of his colleagues and suddenly our wanderings became more purposeful. After a short, swift (by National Park Standards) drive we parked up behind several other jeeps and a thirty-seater bus. Somewhere to our right a langur was barking a warning, and all eyes were fixed on the treeline.

We stared at the stationary trees and bushes, trying in vain to turn them into the moving stripes of a tiger.

Nothing to see here

I do not know how long we did this. It was not a new experience, in the past we have often given up after 20 minutes as the tiger, if it had ever been there, must have walked off in the wrong direction.

There was still no tiger, but there was, this time, a feeling of optimism I had not experienced before. It probably emanated from the drive and was shared, I imagine, by the other people in our jeep. Very likely the people in the bus and in other jeeps felt it, too.

Tiger!

And then there was a sound, an 'aah' and a murmur; something was happening, but I still could not see anything but trees, and then suddenly I could, already closer than I had expected…

Tiger, Nagarhole Tiger Reserve

…an adult female tiger was walking, with leisurely grace and latent power, not quite towards us, but certainly in our general direction.



She crossed the road in front of the bus, and strolled away on the other side, pausing once to turn and roll her eyes at all the humans sitting there in their noisy, smelly vehicles. Maybe she did not really roll her eyes, maybe I made that up.

Tiger is going now, Nagarhole Tiger Reserve

After a tiger, there is only anticlimax. Even termites lose their shine.

Termite accommodation, Nagarhole tiger reserve

We continued safari-ing until after 9.30, because that was the deal, but there was little to see, and I was beginning to want my breakfast.

And in due course that was what I got, a combination of spice, protein, carbohydrate and more spice. My favourites.

Breakfast at Nagarhole

And Finally...

At the fifth attempt, seventh if you include the lake safaris, we had seen our tiger. I was prepared for a beast that would be graceful and powerful, but I had never expected her to be so big - and males are even bigger. Job done, and I am glad we did it properly

Tiger

We then left Nagarhole and headed north into the next post….