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A Farewell to Kriski podi?

By Mike Newbury

“In the north-west of Slovenia, this plateau of naked fissured limestone, ringed by mountains, stands at the hub of the north Julians at around 2,000 - 2,300m. It is scooped into from the north by the deep craggy bay formed by the head of the Krnica Valley; and from the south-west rim, great crags fall to the Zadnjica Trenta Valley.”

For many years the traverse of the Kriski Podi plateau has been my favourite expedition. It takes 8-10 hours and involves 1300m of ascent and 1750m descent. At my tender age of seventy-two and three quarters I had to ask, would this repeat of the traverse be my final farewell?

In July 2005, our holiday was nearly finished. Risk of thunder was the forecast at the Tourist Office in Kranjska Gora - potentially lethal in the Julian Alps - but Dusan Polajnar, my good friend and climbing guide, phoned the Met. Station at the Kredarica Hut high on Triglav, and told me that it would be a good day for the traverse. In fact, it was wall-to-wall sunshine, with a stiff breeze to mitigate the heat.

My daughter Laura and I took the early bus out of the village on the road over Vrsic, getting off near the foot of the pass, to shorten the ‘long walk in’ up the Krnica Valley. Three quarters of an hour on paths that I know well took us through the silent forest to the Krnica Hut. We continued up the valley to the zone of scrub pine and larch among moraines and stony washouts, where it is hard to find the path, then up by zig-zags on to open slopes of stones and flowers, with the soaring side walls of the valley closing in, pink and grey in the early sunshine; and so into the remote cwm of scree and huge blocks of stone, half circled by the unbroken headwall of Kriska stena, the Rock Wall of Kriz.

We paused before the final steep scree by a rock like the Shelter Stone, to put on helmet and climbing belt, each with two slings and karabiners for clipping to fixed pegs and cables; then we toiled up to the prominent marker at the foot of the 300m crag, on a route extolled in the guidebook as “always to me a magical adventure”. But it seemed that more loose stones had accumulated, lying on slabby rocks, terraces and ledges, and at first the complex route seemed indeterminate except for the occasional red and white paint marks.

The drop increased: a false step could be the last, and positive security was dubious, with any jutting handhold liable to break off. Moving with careful foot placements,

I was also watchful for Laura, who does not aspire to be a climber, but she remained confident. As the crag steepened the rock became cleaner, the fixed pegs and cables took over and we ended joyfully swinging up a series of ragged ribs and chimneys, the rock rough and white and pastel pink and grey, and the crevices hung with alpine flowers.

Then, out on to the rock rim split by fissures and chasms. Here Laura sent a text message, “Magical adventure my foot! Saw family ibex on top”; which one of her twin boys unfortunately misread to my wife as "Magical adventure. My foot sore ...." We continued to the signpost on the summit, where we met the first party of the day, which was just as well: sounds of people above can precede the whistle of stones!

The sun shone, the breeze blew, and jagged limestone peaks surrounded us. Way below on the brink of the Trenta Valley, the Pogacnikov Hut beckoned. We scrambled down two rock steps, which were followed by a pleasant ledge path, and then the route twisted over scree beside craters, and we stepped over rock fissures, the marks on the smooth bedrock proving the way. I have followed this route using the markers three times alone in mist, and lost it twice on a clear day in full sight of the Hut, on one occasion with our Club expert on navigation (but Scotland is different!)

Once at the hut, we took a drink, enjoying the view over Trenta. Then followed a 1400m descent of the spectacular First World War mule path twisting wildly down the crags, first through alpine gardens of flowers, then into the merciful shade of larch trees, followed by forests of spruce and beech, and still on descending ledges above a ravine dropping to the deep Trenta valley. In the pleasant bar among the scattered houses of Trenta, we awaited Janez Mertelj, jovial taxi man and mountain leader. We could have caught the bus but the leisure was therapeutic. That night I finished on a high, but spent the night dreaming of fighting through the thickets of an impenetrable forest.

‘A Guide to Walks and Scrambles in the Julian Alps, based on Kranjska Gora’ by Mike Newbury. Available via the MCofS Office. Price £10.99 inc p&p (payable to ‘Mike Newbury’). ISBN 9-780954-522704.