Sunday 6th October 2024

Hum to Buzet

Woke up to get in early to wish Grandson happy 20th birthday, which he was celebrating in Bali. It seems every holiday we are now away for his birthday.

A sumptuous breakfast was served up in the gourmet restaurant, which was a bit of a waste on me with my hunger level still down. Good news is I haven’t lost my thirst.

It was a perfect day to be different  so we decided to do our walk in reverse which meant a 20km drive into the hills to start at the worlds smallest walled town Hum- small by size small by letters.

Arrived just as Mass for most of the 25 population finished and entered the town through two ornate brass doors. Popped into the church, which was as pretty as any visited in country Croatia. Lit a candle for two wonderful young people who are battling health issues and hoped the Big Fellow might lend a hand in their recovery.

Soon we were doing a tour of the town. It was essentially B and B’s, a souvenir shop and a rickety building for sale, with an interesting sign attached to a ‘needs work’ veranda.

The girl running the souvenir shop had the most eclectic selection of products ever,  ranging from the obligatory truffle related items ( a must in a region who produces the most white truffles in Europe)  right through to slinky ladies underwear. There again for sale was the oddly named beets, this time trying to be a little less offensive.

She must have been trained at McDonald’s with best upselling pitch we have experienced in Croatia. Went in with no intention to buy and came out with chocolates and biscuits we really didn’t need.

Finished the town visit pretty quickly with only one disappointment the bloody grafitti hooligans, I refuse to call them artists,  had ‘marked’ some wonderful old buildings. 

We decided that reading the track notes backwards might be difficult so we placed our faith in Maps.me, despite yesterday’s dilemma. 

We were soon on a stony downhill track headed for the town of Kotli, which looked very interesting having been totally abandoned in the 40’s.

The track was not used regularly by walkers, given the often thick undergrowth, and making a decision to go with a T-Shirt wasn’t the smartest. Guessing the people on bikes who had used it earlier were in leathers.

In a trip back to the road we came across a monument paying homage to St Cyril who developed the Cyrillic script which was the basis for many languages. The Russians still use it, with its numerous letters and accents over letters to give different meanings.

Back onto a wider track strewn with red and white tape and numbers. We presumed it was for cross country bike races  which are popular. Some of the spots they traverse are amazing. In a couple of spots our track had tapes blocking access, but we realised they were crossing points. No noise so race  may already have concluded. 

The only two noises were baying hounds and pops in the distant hills – probably hunting- and water rushing down the river. Whilst no obvious hunting nearby we did come across a stand with a very rickety ladder which hopefully the hunters  scaled with rifles uncocked.

Soon back out on a tarmac road and reached Kotli. A bridge crossing had us in a town where there was only a closed restaurant and a myriad of well restored building, most being used as B and B’s. 

It was an old mill town up until 40’s, abandoned and now rediscovering itself right in a pristine forest area surrounded by waterfalls, walking tracks and rock slabs suitable for climbing.

Wandered around town before proceeding down the track and popping into a couple of water falls, both with pools suitable for a dip. I was considering taking the plunge but upon seeing a German guy go in before me I decided one shrunken pecker show was enough.

The river had calmed down considerably since recent floods, but debris well above the waterline and clogged on bridges showed the extent of flooding. It’s amazing considering the Amiens does run dry at times.

The trip continued following what was now a meandering river and there were 3 or 4 boot dipping crossings on roughly strewn rocks posing as stepping stones. We both got across them unscathed. 

The track levelled out and dropped to the floor of the gorge where both sides had climbers scaling or getting prepared to scale cliffs of varying difficulty. There were guys up about 200 meters just hanging there making no progress. They were dangling like the proverbial Xmas decoration, which bought a smile to the decoration Queen.

The cliffs had click on points scattered in all directions to cater for the different classes of climbers. They are wonderfully athletic  and you are willing them on to make the top and sharing their disappointment when they lose grip and bounce back to their latest connection.

Out of the valley on flat ground alongside the river with one destination in sight- the craft brewery. Like a pair of pit ponies the speed quickened, as did our resolve only to be disappointed by a sign – Opening Hours 4-8. At 230 we weren’t waiting around and at a much slower clip we trod the road to the top of the hill a kilometer away. 

No brewery, but two beers and a country platter later we were happy. 

I am now officially King of The Trails

After a leisurely hour or so it was off to dinner in the restaurant to not only dine but to confirm whether that in the first week of November an omelette comprising 2000 eggs and 10kg of truffles was baked in the town to celebrate St Mary. 

Twas no urban myth, they even invited us back to the carpark in the middle of town to join the festivities on the day. 

Just one more mountain walking day before hitting the coast. Will miss the country hospitality and magnificent scenery, if not the mud.