Krupa na Vrbasu // Berriew in Bosnia
Just about as quaint as BiH gets, really // © DMZ001 // Shutterstock.com
Fewer than 1,300 people live in Krupa na Vrbasu. For the record, that makes this a very small place indeed, five times smaller than Welshpool. To continue with a homeland context, Krupa na Vrbasu has a similar population to Berriew.
I might as well carry on the theme. Berriew is known as a beacon of agricultural excellence on the outskirts of Welshpool, although most people will know it as being the most beautiful of all the villages near my hometown. Okay, you might also know the deli, but the village is built around the River Rhiw and it is stunning. For the record, the deli is also pretty good, although on that subject I defer to friends and family.
What I’m trying to say, in a rather convoluted manner, is that Krupa na Vrbasu is like Berriew on steroids. I’m not saying that anyone is on steroids here, absolutely not. What I’m saying is that the village has a tiny population that is only a slightly bigger number than the number of things to see here. I’ll bury the lede if you don’t mind, but it is worth it.
Not a monastery, obviously. // © DMZ001 // Shutterstock.com
There is the 13th-century Monastery of St Ilija, supposedly an endowment of the Serbian King Milutin (1282-1321), one of Serbia’s most powerful rulers of the Middle Ages and one of the stars of Dante’s The Divine Comedy. The monastery is forever linked to the ruins of nearby Greben, but all that remains of that old fortress is a decaying watchtower and the flutters of imagination. The monastery was built on the site of an older place of worship, itself dating to the 6th or 7th century, although don’t be surprised to find out that most places of worship tend to be erected on already sacred ground.
There is a darling wooden church from the 16th or 17th (or 18th?) century, supposedly built as a shelter for monks when the Ottomans decided to obliterate the monastery. There is a nearby cave called Uncle’s Cave, which has nothing to do with me. The town also hosts sculpture festivals, art colonies, a state of the art football pitch and a stone bridge cultivated by the whims of the winds, the power of mother nature and little else.
As the name suggests, the top table of sights here is reserved for all things Krupa. A common name for a river in these parts, this particular iteration of the Krupa lasts for all of 4km before being devoured by the Vrbas and heading on its merry way, but it certainly crams a lot into that 4 km. And finally, we make it to the main event.
Krupa na Vrbasu // © Tamara Culum // Shutterstock.com
Krupa na Vrbasu is home to beautiful waterfalls that showcase the power of water in its most natural form. These aren’t waterfalls of the towering variety, quite the opposite, but the incredible power that the river manages to generate in such a short amount of time is awe-inspiring. During rainy times, the cascades can become quite intimidating, obviously capable of obliterating anything and everything in their path.
But instead of destruction, the falls gave existence. Several mills remain around the waters, with many lost to the annals of the time, and a small number of hardy folks still make their living from those mills, cultivating flour, wheat, rye, barley, buckwheat, and lord knows what else. Most of this is sold on, with a small amount used at home, the polar opposite of the original function of the mills. They were built to help families have something to eat, while now they function to create products to sell so that those same families can head to the supermarket.
Buying something from these independent producers is an absolute must when in these parts, but don’t be surprised if you get lost in staring at the cascades. There is something about water that mesmerises, especially when it is hurtling down at what looks like a bazillion miles per hour. The Krupa descends from the forests to the monastery to the mills, defining this little village that is beautifully magnified by its parts. A little bit like Berriew, you could say.
