Lake Bohinj, Slovenia

By now I had come to realise that the purchase of my €257 inter-rail ticket had been utterly pointless. My ‘flexi ticket’ allows ten days of use within twenty-two, and initially I had thought that utilising all of these wouldn’t be a problem. However, up until this point I had used the damned thing only once in five days due to exceedingly low face-value fares and the fact that travel into Slovenia had only been possible by bus. Due to my stubborn nature, I was determined to get my money’s worth by only using the ticket on days of travel which would ordinarily cost more than €25. This possibility, however, was beginning to look increasingly unlikely as I belatedly scoured the web for the regular fares of each journey I had planned to make. Only three of them exceeded more than €25. Mug.

I begrudgingly made the trip to Lake Bohinj, another of Slovenia’s reputed marvels, by bus. My disgruntlement, however, was soon appeased when the winding road eventually led us into a vast and beautiful valley, adorned with acres of dense green forest and sparkling streams with quaint farmhouses dotted about the place. The views were stunning.

The lake itself is apparently less popular with tourists, though it is considered by many to be even more spectacular than Lake Bled. When I arrived, it wasn’t hard to see why. What the lake lacks in castles and rope swings, it easily makes up for in its effortless serenity. It is huge and scopes more than 4.35 km. The water is crystal clear and completely still, so much so that the tiny fishes paddling in its shallows appear as though they are hovering rather than swimming. A prolonged period of clacking ensued, before I decided to head to the local tour operator and hire a bike for the afternoon.

I intended to cycle around the lake to cut my journey time down and be back in time for the five o’clock return bus. This plan started accordingly, as I set off along a pleasantly flat trail to the right of the lake, which offered a great deal more clack-worthy views. It wasn’t until about twenty minutes in that I realised there might be trouble afoot. The terrain was becoming increasingly difficult to manoeuvre myself through due to jagged rocks and robust tree-roots impeding every direction my front wheel would turn. I perspired, panted and powered through, fancying myself as a bit of a biker-boy at battle with whatever mother nature could throw at me. I felt I was winning for a brief period. My inferiority soon became palpable however, after my guiding wheel took a glancing blow from a callous-looking rock and sent me tumbling down the banking into a ditch. Nature had countered.

Not to be stifled, I hurriedly climbed back aboard the saddle and yanked the bike back onto the path. Cursing my calamity, I pushed down on the peddle and resumed my sweaty skirmish. I turned a corner and came upon a sign which explicitly indicated that the use of bicycles was forbidden in the area. This sign was clearly far more sensible than I, but it was too late to turn back now. I was going to see this through.

On I pushed and off I fell. Again. This time I picked up a little too much speed on a downward slope and bounced off a tree-trunk sized root blocking my path. I was flung sideways from the bike and this time landed with an almighty thud onto my chin, sinking my teeth into my tongue in the process. This one hurt. I moaned and swore until a couple who had been approaching stopped to help me up. I spat out a glob of blood and decided that I might have been a little too zealous in my endeavours as a hard-boiled mountain-biker. I spat and swore for a few more minutes before scornfully dragging the bike along the death-track until the ground levelled out about half an hour later.

I jumped back on the bike and continued my plight. Seconds later, however, I noticed a small clearing beside the lake ahead and duly stopped for a much needed sojourn. After a sore-soothing dip I braced myself for the second agonising half of the journey. To my delight, however, the path soon turned into smooth, flat, lovely tarmac. It's so underrated, tarmac. Never had I been so appreciative and gratuitous towards it. Better still, the road was at a slight downward incline, allowing me to breeze through the rest of the ride with the wind gently blowing in my ears. At last, I could enjoy the lake's paradisical scenery, with not so much as a pebble to disrupt my journey. Bliss.