Lake Bled

The small resort town of Bled sits at one end of the small Lake Bled, which is essentially surrounded by low and densely-wooded mountains. Arriving in mid January, the town and the surrounding land were covered in snow and ice, the sky predominantly hidden behind a thick blanket of dark, stormy clouds. In summer it teems with tourists from all over Europe — all manner of water sports and lots of good hiking are available — while in winter Bled is mostly a ski resort. Although it did have the feel of a resort town, Bled is intimately small and not over-developed, so it was quite a pleasant place to spend a few days.

Bled trivia #1: At the centre of Lake Bled is an island, home to the small and beautiful Assumption of Mary Pilgrimage Church that stands on the grounds of an ancient temple consecrated to Živa, the Slavic goddess of love and fertility. There are 99 steps here, and a local wedding tradition is that the husband must carry his bride up these steps while she remains completely silent. I’m not sure what this implies about married life in Slovenia.

Travelling from Český Krumlov to Lake Bled involves crossing Austria, so Justin and I had many hours to sit back and enjoy the view from our train window — as the train wove its way through the Alps we were able to admire the narrow valleys and craggy mountains, many of the smaller peaks home to tiny castles and churches. Arriving in Bled late in the afternoon, we checked in at a hostel and went to a nearby pub for a traditional Slovenian dinner. The food was excellent and cheap (as was the local beer) and it was an easy decision to adopt the pub as our “local” for the duration of our stay. Coming from the Czech Republic, the quality of service was also a revelation; the waiter was very helpful and eager to recommend traditional dishes for us, he even gave us complementary shots of some truly excellent home-made blueberry schnapps.

Having started our stay in Bled on a good note, we also had the good fortune to share a room with Lucy, a British journalist who had come from Budapest (where she had met Sally, one of the Australians from Cesky Krumlov, once again proving just how small this world is). Around 6am the next morning, Lucy had the unenviable task of kicking a drunk Irishman out of our room: we must have left the door unlocked that night and this man mistakenly thought it was his room, climbing into the only vacant bed and beginning to snore very loudly. Stirred from my slumber, I blearily watched Lucy wake him up, drag him out of bed, let forth a verbal barrage and send him on his way. Thank goodness for Lucy!

A combination of this nocturnal disturbance and a layover of the relaxed environment of Český Krumlov conspired to keep us in the hostel until 1pm, cooking a slow and lazy breakfast. The three of us finally set forth to walk around Lake Bled, unperturbed by the thick mist and dark clouds. To our disappointment we saw that the lake was not entirely frozen; my plan to skate to the tiny island at the lake’s centre was immediately dashed. Having seen several people walk on a frozen section of the lake, however, we later set foot on the same region of ice and carefully shuffled out about twenty metres from the shore. All of a sudden an alarming, cracking noise shattered the misty silence and a Canadian voice could be heard: “that’s the sort of sound you don’t want to hear!” In stark contrast to our tentative foray outwards, we bolted back to the safety of the shore and leapt onto reassuringly solid ground. So much for skating on Lake Bled.

Bled trivia #2: The lake is hosted the world rowing championships in 1966, 1979 and 1989, and will host them again in 2011. One small grandstand on the lakeside is testament to this history.

Continuing our way around the lake, the remainder of the walk thankfully proved less exciting. A severe concrete building could be seen jutting out from the mountainside above the lake, and we were able to reach it on foot, navigating through the grounds of a seemingly-abandoned hotel. The building turned out to be a cafe, its excellent location giving beautiful views of the lake and the surrounding mountains. Supported by 30m pillars as the land fell away to the shore, somebody was brave enough to edge out onto a narrow ledge that stood out high above the lake. It was not me. We then completed the circuit of the lake and arrived in town, sodden due to the passing traffic that hurtled through several deep puddles on the road.

Our destination was a local cafe, where we would try a traditional pastry for which Bled is famous. This vanilla-and-cream pastry is locally known as “kremšnita” or “kremna rezina”, deriving from the German “cremeschnitte” that literally means “cream slice”. The pastry was, by all appearances, a custard slice with an additional layer of cream that was just as thick as the custard layer. It was a fantastic (if heart-stopping) dish, and the posh restaurant decor and fancy attire of the waiters did not deter Justin or I from licking our plates clean. Once again, the evening hours were spent sampling more traditional Slovenian food and enjoying the local dark beer at our favourite haunt.

Bled trivia #3: the efforts of Swiss naturopath Arnold Rikli led to Bled becoming a popular European health resort in the 19th century, where the clean air and good weather could reputedly heal people and cure sickness. It strikes me as odd that this health-resort town is also home to a pastry that is surely an homage to calorific suicide.

The weather improved slightly the following day, when Justin, Lucy and I visited the ancient castle that looks down at the lake at the town of Bled from a rocky outcrop. Bled castle (Blejski grad) is the second-most visited attraction in Slovenia (behind Postojna cave) and it’s not hard to see why this is so. From the castle there are excellent views of the lake and the central island, and the occasional glimmer of sunlight hints at the beauty that would be apparent on a warm summer day. The castle museum contained an interesting view of the history of the region, but we were disappointed to find that the wine cellar and the curiously named herb gallery were closed.

After a few hours we were driven back to the hostel in search of warmth as the weather worsened throughout the course of the day, and the afternoon hours were spent lounging in from the television. Later in the evening we set out for the local ice rink, determined to skate on the indoor rink since the lake itself was not sufficiently frozen. However, we arrived to discover that the public sessions run only on the weekends.

Disappointed, we visited the adjacent hockey store and talked to the owner, who told us that his son plays for the Slovenian national team and was drafted into the NHL by Buffalo. Although he played in some preseason games, due to injury he never played an NHL game and he now plays in France. After further conversation about Slovenian hockey and the town of Bled, we once again returned to our favourite Slovenian pub for a final round of beer. Sitting for the first time in the front bar, we noticed that the roof was covered in license plates from all over the world, amazingly including every state of Australia (only the territories ACT and NT were not represented).

The next morning Justin and I boarded yet another train, this time headed for Vienna. Possibly due to heavy snowfall on the tracks, we arrived late to Villach and missed our connecting train. At the advice of a conductor I boarded another train, but the door closed before Justin could join me and the train began to pull out of the station. My anger and frustration at such an untimely parting was only momentary, as the train reversed to a different platform and was hitched to a second train, giving Justin a chance to board.

However, the advice of the conductor proved rather poor, as we could have saved time by waiting at the train station for a much more direct train to Vienna. I was also charged an additional €5 for the pleasure of spending several extra hours train-bound. We finally arrived in Vienna two hours later than planned and at a different train station, which would not have been of any concern except that Justin had arranged for some Austrian friends to meet us. Thankfully they were still good-natured after a two hour wait, and soon enough they pulled up outside the station. Here Justin and I went our separate ways after two weeks of travelling together, yet another unwelcome parting on this long journey. And so began my time in Vienna…