Roadtrip26: In Una National Park

On our journey north to Una National Park, we cross the Livno karst field. Measuring 65 by up to ten kilometres, it is the world’s largest periodically flooded karst basin. The landscape is strongly reminiscent of the central plains of New Zealand’s South Island: endlessly flat, vast and, now in summer, dry. Only the ancient Lada jeep that comes towards you every quarter of an hour reminds you that you are somewhere else.

It was right here that the fiercely contested front line ran during the Bosnian War from 1991 to 1995. The Livno Basin is scarcely inhabited. For every four houses destroyed in the war or simply abandoned, there is perhaps one that is still inhabited. The Serbs were almost entirely driven out during the war.

In the southern part of the Livno Basin, without exception, all the Cyrillic names on the place-name signs have been spray-painted over by nationalist Bosnian Croats. A Croatian flag hangs from almost every house. The war is not over here. But we’re heading to Una. Una means ‘one’ in Spanish.

Nationalism and respect for the law seem to be a dream team. Without exception, every village south of the Livno Basin has fixed speed cameras. This is unique, as is the fact that nobody is speeding anymore. It is only in the deserted Livno Basin that we put our foot down again.

We wind our way up and down a few small passes until we reach a peculiar road that runs straight through the forest for a good 30 km without a single house in sight. At the end, a few hairpin bends lead into the Una Valley. It’s small, green and sparsely populated. The Aqualand campsite has just five pitches and a nice little restaurant. Our campsite, for just €15, lies in the shade of the trees right on the banks of the ice-cold, fish-teeming green-blue Una. The opposite bank is already in Croatia.

To round off our long, gruelling road trip, we really let our hair down. The canoe is crying out for freedom. On two river trips, we paddle through stunning natural scenery: one kilometre upstream to the next natural weir and three kilometres downstream to the Buk waterfalls. The Una flows almost completely still. Ducks, croaking frogs, herons and blue dragonflies. Songbirds galore. A raccoon leaps into the water right in front of Steffi.

The air is sweltering at just under 40°C. The Una’s 13°C water is a welcome relief. No sooner are you in the river than you keep brushing against the fish with your hands. We swim over to Croatia a few times. Fly fishermen further up the river are landing some proper whoppers. At night we hear an eagle. There are even brown bears and wolves here still.

The main attraction is the Una National Park with its waterfalls at Buk, just under 25 m high, at the northern end of the valley. The eight-euro entrance fee is affordable, mind you, compared to the 40-euro ‘robber baron’s toll’ at the nearby Plitvice Lakes. But I still wonder what right any person has to deny others access to the world’s natural beauty. I’m happy to pay for the upkeep of footpaths. But not for something that should belong to everyone.

From the Buk waterfall, we climb a little along a trail on the riverbank heading north. There’s not much to see. The path runs constantly steeply uphill and downhill through the forest. I turn into a waterfall myself. On the way back, we spot quite a few rafts right at the edge of the great waterfall. The guides throw the rafts down. At the end, they themselves jump headfirst nearly 25 metres into the depths. Forget the bridge jumpers in Mostar! The real tough blokes jump here – and without a tip!

For the first time on this big road trip, I manage to write a report straight away. At 4.50 in the morning. How did I manage that back then on my round-the-world trip? Almost every day, after travelling and working, I’d write a fresh report…