topics: Skocjan Caves, Koper, Karst region, Lipizzaner stallions, Lipic(z)a, history; jump to dispatch

BikeAbout Log

Rider Notes: April 26-27, 1998

Food of the Day: a "typical" Koper lunch = franks and beans (?)

When Ethan, Padraic and Anthony arrived in Koper, they were starving. A quick consultation of the appropriate pages in their Lonely Planet guide nudged them in the direction of a quaint little restaurant (one of the few that was open) with only two tables. It was late so there was no one else there. Not wanting to waste time trying to understand the menu full of Slovenian dishes (written in Slovenian), they just asked the waitress for something big, filling and typical. She smiled and offered up three heaping portions of Slovenian style franks and beans. A big sausage, more like a kielbasa, came drowned in a tasty sauce of big white beans. Delicious. Perfect. And we have no idea what it was called.

Person of the Day: Borut, our guide at the S(h)koc(z)janske caves

Borut

was our patient and excellent guide at the Skocjan Caves (see the Place of the Day). Having selected us out of a mass of visitors

milling about the entrance to the cave, he took us under his wing and translated everything for us during the tour. We joined him with the Slovenian group

(another guide took those who spoke Italian or German), so we had to wait in every room for him to speak to his Slovenian listeners first. At first we though this might be annoying, but in the end it meant that we had him to ourselves quite a bit and could enjoy the calm of a room or cavern without the coughing of shuffling of the masses.

Borut

was informative and entertaining and helped bring the cave alive for us, giving us information about the rocks, the animals that live in the cave (including 5 different types of bats!), the history of its exploration, and many, many other things.

Place of the Day: S(h)koc(z)janske jame (caves)

The Skocjan Caves (pronounced 's(h)koc(z)yan' and known in Slovenian as the S(h)koc(z)janske jame) are described in the local literature as "the most eminent" of the "thousands of caves in the world." "Forever [their] beauty will be impressed in the memory and will again attract man to this mysterious underground world."

Well, we were attracted... and we were very, very impressed. The trip down into this natural wonder that certainly deserves its recognition as a UNESCO World Heritage site

was a mind-blowing experience that will not soon be forgotten. Nothing could have felt - and looked - more like the movie Ethan vividly remembers about a Journey to the Center of the Earth

(probably inspired by Jules Verne's classic of a similar name). Nothing could have been more inspiring. And no cave (at least no cave we have seen) can compare.

The 5-km (3-mi) long and 250-meter (273-yd) deep cave was (and is still being) formed by the Reka River. Having slipped into a gorge and then underground through a now-enlarged fissure in the limestone rock (see the Tech Fact of the Day), the Reka has carved out cavern after cavern until it "disappears" into inaccessible areas still underground. When it returns to the sun-drenched surface once again, it is 40 km (25 mi) to the northwest, in Duino, Italy, and ready to spill into the Gulf of Trieste.

The caves have been used since prehistoric times, although mostly the areas around the entrances (where the water passes underground). It was not until the mid-19th century that concerted speleological study and careful exploration commenced. Although visits were allowed soon after, electric lights were not available until 1959 and a safe walkway even later. The first tourists had to teeter along sometimes precipitous drops, stepping gingerly from "step" to "step" (no more than a small hollow dug out of the rock wall) and grasping a secure cable.

Tours today are much safer, which allows lots of time for marveling at the jaw-dropping surroundings. The 2-km (1.2 mi) hike through a part of the caves commences at a manmade entrance dug in 1933. It permits access to an older and no-longer-river-effected part of the cave. Ethan, Anthony and Padraic, having arrived by bike on a warm, sunny day had nevertheless taken precautions and were wearing tights over their bike shorts and warm jerseys over their uncovered arms. Wise they were, for as soon as plunged into the man-hewn tunnel, the temperature began to drop. And remained at chilly levels until they exited almost two hours later.

The first part of the tour through the real cave passes through the Tiha jama, or Silent Cave

, a room called Paradise, and the Velika Dvorana, or Great Hall. All three rooms are indeed silent since the water that once dug them is now far below and elsewhere, but the reminders of a wet, wet history remain. Particularly in Paradise and the magnificent (120 m/131 yd wide), high-ceilinged (30 m/33 yd!) Great Hall, there are countless and sometimes enormous

stalactites

(sticking "tight" to the ceiling), stalagmites

(that only "might" form on the floor

), and flowstones

(from water flowing over the stones) everywhere. (The formations result from water droplets carrying tiny amounts of calcium bicarbonate; when the water drips from the ceiling or evaporates from the floor, it leaves the calcium bicarbonate behind which hardens and adds to "growing" shape.) They were of a surprising variety of colors, not just the classic and more common white. Borut, our guide (see the Person of the Day), informed us that the predominant brown color Ethan thought was due to the effect of human hands (the acids of which permanently discolor cave formations), was in fact due to heavy clay deposits carried by water as it seeps through the earth and rock to the caverns below.

Then the ambience in the cave began to change. Instead of the steady somewhat moist quality of the air, the temperature felt like is began to drop, the moisture began to increase, and there was a slight breeze. Even more obvious was the end of the silence. Easily audible was the sound of a steady rush of something - water? air? stampeding buffalo? The mild descent became quite steep - Anthony, Padraic and Ethan were entering the Müller Hall.

100 meters (328 ft) from ceiling to riverbed, this magnificent hall is almost too much to take in in a lifetime of glances. Far, far below, you can see the white rush and cataracts of the Reka River continuing along its rocky, underground way until it reemerges as the Timavo River 40 km (25 mi) later in Italy. Far, far above, the ceiling of the Hall is almost barely discernable, obscured by the visible, heavy humidity. Or is it just the mist rising in suspension high above the water? As we descended the staircase down into depths, we could see the level at which the moisture in the air could no longer climb (too heavy? too cold?).

So down we went, down into the darkness, the chill, the slight wind, and the moisture. We tried to imagine what it must have been like to enter this cavernous space for the first time... when there were no electric lights to give a sense of its enormity, when there was no path to allow for carefree examination of the surroundings. It must have been magical.

About halfway down from the heights, the path turned and crossed the Hanke Canal Bridge, a narrow passage over a sheer drop of 45 m (148 ft) to the river below. Vertiginous it was... to say the least.

Then for another kilometer/mile or so we moved along the Hall high above the river enjoying the uniqueness and otherworldliness of the surroundings. We stayed toward the rear with the guide who pointed out unusual rock formations, or the vestiges of earlier trails used by more intrepid tourists of past decades. He even pointed to high water marks of the past when flooding had occurred and filled more than half of the cavern! He assured us that such occurrences were very rare and should not worry us.

With only a few rooms left, we began to ascend from the edge of the river toward Schmidl Hall which opens out onto a lush valley. Walking through the hall, passed some unusual "pan" formations

toward the classic arched portal back to the world of green and light was almost too cinematic.

Once back in the light (and the heat of the day), we climbed along the bottom of a sheer cliff

, through a short series of more shallow openings in the rock

, and passed magnificent views of the Reka River

before it slips underground

, and eventually arrived at a funicular

that carried us back up the visitor's center.

Tech Fact of the Day: the Karst region

The (Classic) Karst region - that covers this area all the way to the Italian coast at the Gulf of Trieste and includes the world famous Skocjan Caves - is a high plateau composed of porous and highly soluble (dissolvable in water) limestone rock. It is a well known geological formation that is found in other parts of the world as well, all of which are also known as karst regions (with a lower-case 'k') after this area which was the first of its kind to be thoroughly studied.

A karst is formed as a result of limestone deposits left when the seas of the world receded. In other words, over the millennia, as the land was pushed up and the levels of the seas dropped, areas that had once been underwater dried up. As they dried, the land cracked and deep fissures formed. It is into these fissures that surface water disappears - through sinkholes and funnels in the rock - resulting after millions of years in wider valleys or, more uniquely, long underground caverns that follow or followed the course of a river. This is how the S(h)koc(z)janske caves were formed. This is also the reason why many lakes and rivers in the region "disappear." That is, at certain seasons, when there is not enough water to keep levels above ground, these "disappearing" (also known more scientifically as intermittent, or seasonal) waterways vanish into the earth where they sit (as in lakes) or flow (as in rivers) underground. Lake C(z)erknic(z)a, which we were not able to visit, is one of the most famous examples of this.

Another feature common to karsts are areas of exposed rock (where the thin layer of soil does not have a good grip on the rock) blanched by the sun. These appear on flat surfaces as well as in places where the roof of an underground cavern has collapsed (carved out by water that has passed underground through the above mentioned fissures, sinkholes and funnels). The steep-walled depressions formed by the collapsed roof of an underground cavern are called 'dolines,' or 'polje' in Slovenian. They are the fertile areas of a karst because soil collects in them and they are very moist.

Group Dispatch, April 26-27
photograph of Ethan

Today began with a climb back up the hill we sped down last night. No one was looking forward to it, but we had no choice. For Padraic, Anthony and Ethan, the road up over the hill was the beginning of a long day that would take us out of Croatia and into Slovenia (the last of the former Yugoslav republics - now independent states - that we would visit). For Corinne, the climb would drop her off at a train that would carry her straight to Ljubljana. Her knees having taken a beating over the past days of tough long-distance cycling, she decided it was best just to go straight to Ljubljana, rest her knees, get some work done, and, of course, enjoy some time alone with andrEa whom she had not seen since the difficult departure from Istanbul.

So, up they all went. And, after figuring out the train situation and pausing for a snack, Corinne went off to her fate, while the boys went off to theirs.

The bike ride for Ethan, Anthony and Padraic was through the last little piece of Croatia. It took them through wonderful verdant countryside and up a steady but gentle climb. We would later learn that we were climbing up to the top of a world-famous stretch of land called the Karst region (see the Tech Fact of the Day). A limestone plateau that millions of years ago was under an ocean, the Karst is today particularly well known for its lush dolines (areas where a cavern's roof collapsed leaving a large fertile depression) and extensive caves. The afternoon's destination was the Skocjan Caves (pronounced 's(h)koc(z)yan' and known in Slovenian as the S(h)koc(z)janske jame), one of Europe's most famous caves, a UNESCO World Heritage site

, and our Place of the Day.

The border between Croatia and Slovenia was a momentary pause (and a pleasure after the many difficult borders we have crossed or tried to cross). And Slovenia offered a lovely stretch of more gently rolling green fields

and quaint towns.

Finally, after a tough climb up a surprisingly steep hill, we came to the town of Divac(h)a. We had been told by andrEa, who had labored for quite some time to prepare the Slovenian leg of the BikeAbout journey, that there was a hotel (one of only a few in the area) in Divac(h)a that could take us for the night. Normally they would be closed, but she and someone from Ljubljana had talked to them and they would open their doors to us. Well, whoever had been spoken to wasn't there and we were promptly told that the hotel was closed without exception. So we had to move on.

And it was relatively early, we decided to go straight to the Skocjan Caves to talk to someone there who might be able to help us and, perhaps, to get a tour of the caves today instead of tomorrow as we had planned. Only a quick 5 km (3 mi) away, we were there in no time.

After a moment of consultation with the gentleman we knew we had to contact (and who knew about both BikeAbout and its working relationship with the World Heritage Center), we realized we would have to go to a town 15 km (9 mi) away for an affordable hotel. Given that, we figured we might as well tour the caves right away.

To follow us on our tour (and see pictures) of this truly astounding and remarkable natural wonder, please do go to the Place of the Day.

Once back outside, we realized how late it was and tired we were. So, having called ahead to a few hotels and found the cheapest of the options, we sprinted the remaining 15 km (9 mi) to the unremarkable but pleasant town of Sez(h)ana for dinner, ice cream, and well deserved sleep.

The following morning we strategized. Our only commitment was to be in Ljubljana by bedtime. What we did with our time during the daylight hours was entirely up to us. andrEa had suggested a number of possibilities, which we gave serious consideration. However, in the end we opted for something different. Since our exciting inland excursion to Ljubljana (see much more about this in tomorrow's dispatch) is happening at the expense of a cycle up the Slovenian coast, we decided to... well, to hit the coast and do as much of it as possible. And after a quick glance at a map of Slovenia showed that the Slovenian coast is not very long - only about 45 km (28 mi) - we decided that we should do the whole thing!

So, off we went.

Already in the high Karst region (see the Tech Fact of the Day), we, rolled along quiet country roads that dipped in and out of some of the older and more overgrown dolmens, or collapsed sinkholes formed as a result of water eroding caverns out of the cracked limestone rock typical of the area. The Skojcan Caves we visited yesterday are enormous uncollapsed examples of the erosive power of the water.

A few kilometers/miles from Sez(h)ana we took a short detour to the town of Lipic(z)a.

Horse lovers will immediately recognize the name as that given to the famous white Lipizzaner stallions.

And sure enough, this is the town where a cross between Spanish Andalusian horses and the local Karst breed resulted in the fast, strong, and elegant horses long used for both parade and military purposes by the Austrian Imperial court and famous for their skill in dressage (a horse event involving delicate and controlled maneuvers).

Lipizzaners are currently used at the renowned Spanish Riding School in Vienna.

The stud farm that still exists today was originally founded in 1580 by Ferdinand I, son of the Austrian Archduke Charles. Located in a remarkably lush and green area of the usually more barren Karst, Lipica enjoys perfect conditions for horse breeding. It was a hotly contested area in the 20th century, smack in the middle of territory that changed hands many times between the Austrians and the Italians (see a little about Trieste for more information). And the stud farm and horses were certainly one of the prizes for which people fought. They were also protected: during World War II, Austria moved horses to Hungary; and the Germans moved horses to the Czech Sudetenland; in 1945, American forces moved horses to Italy. But each time the herds suffered.

Although Lipic(z)a recommenced its work in 1947, "real" Lippizaner horses are also being bred in Austria, Hungary, Italy, Slovakia, and the United States. Still, Lipic(z)a is active, welcoming guests for tours, dressage training, horseback riding, and a host of other tourist activities. For more information, please visit their Web site at www.k-lipica.si.

From Lipic(z)a, we returned to the road and across the border into Italy. (Once again, the crossing was refreshingly uncomplicated.) And then we reaped the benefit of the climb we had made yesterday out of Opatija. We zoomed down off the Karst plateau and onto the Italian coast. We were not there yet to make the official visit; we were just passing through since the most direct road from where we had been in Slovenia (Lipic[z]a) to where we wanted to be in Slovenia (Koper) was through Italy. As mentioned earlier, there is a complicated history to explain this quirk, but we didn't mind. As long as the borders were open and we were free to get across them, we didn't care to whom the land officially belonged.

We were pretty much waved through the next border crossing and, back in Slovenia, we headed toward Koper and the rest of the Slovenian coast.

The "major" cities along the Slovenian coast (only two of which we visited) are Koper, Izola, Piran, and Portoroz(h). And all four of them suffered the same early fate of much of the Balkan coast: successive waves of invasions and takeovers. Basically, the Greeks were here; the Romans (both early and later [from Aquileia]) were here; in between the Roman occupations came the early Slavs, the Byzantines, and the Franks too; the Venetians were here, and later the Austrians, the Italians, and then the Yugoslavs. However, each foreign occupier was conscientious about protecting the charm of cities like Koper and Piran that have remained great examples of Venetian Gothic urban design and architecture.

Koper has been known by many names: Aegida (Greeks), Capris (early Romans), Justinopolis (Byzantines), Caput Histri� (Aquileian Greeks), Koper (Slovenes), and Capodostria. Koper was at its greatest during the 15th and 16th centuries when it was a major capital for trade. This all changed permanently in the 18th and 19th centuries when Trieste become the major port facility, thus eclipsing Koper.

The old city of Koper is a maze of 14th century windy narrow streets mostly off limits to cars.

We were there on a national holiday so almost nothing was open and the streets were all but abandoned.

Perhaps this was the best way to see the buildings. But it would have been nice to see some people as well. We were able to appreciate the town's central square, Titov trg, surrounded by its 15th century Venetian Gothic loggia, its mixed Venetian Gothic and Renaissance Praetorian Palace

(covered with emblems and coats of arms and even a small hole - called the lion's mouth - through which anonymous accusations used to be made

), the Cathedral of St. Nazarius

, and the City Tower.

As mentioned before, it was a national holiday, so everything was shut up tighter than a drum, but the exteriors were lovely.

Piran's history was quite similar to Koper's, although it was a less pliant community under Venetian rule.

So, still in Koper, Ethan, Anthony, and Padraic planned what needed to be planned and then moved out. They ate, figured out train times for that evening, checked our bags for the afternoon, and then biked (unencumbered) all the way out to Piran.

There we sat around for a while absorbing first the city scene from Tartinijev Trg (the town's main square)

and from nearby narrow-alleyed old city streets

. They then climbed up to dominating Renaissance and Baroque Church of St. George to take in the view over town.

As evening approached, we turned around and headed back to Koper, made our way to the train station, collected our belongings, and hopped aboard the direct train to Ljubljana where Corinne, andrEa and many new friends awaited.

It was late when we arrived in Ljubljana.

We were tired and starving. Corinne, andrEa and another friend named Janez all met us (on bikes) at the train station and led us the short distance to Metelkova Mesto, and the Sestava (a former prison) where we would be living the next few days. We showered, found a late-night McDonalds (one of the few things open) for dinner, and were soon fast asleep in our private prison cells. Really. Whatever discomfort or thrill we might have felt was dulled by the creeping fatigue of a long day. All we could think about (while we were still conscious) was... sleep.

Questions? Ask Ethan !

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