Una National Park // I Am The Wedding Cake
NOPE // © Jasmin Mesic // Shutterstock.com
“Are there bears in the park?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
Shit.
I have long been convinced that my demise will come at the hands of a bear. I’ve written about this before, but if bands can churn out the same four chords and you dorks lap it up, allow me to reprise my fear of bears again. Besides, what greater death is there? Ron Swanson understood this. I’ve never seen a bear in the wild (if you meet a bear in the wild, don’t meet a bear in the wild), but I can’t shake the feeling that there is one out there with my name on it. Well, not my name, but my death.
My guide mentioned the many animals living in the gorgeous scenery that makes up Una National Park. Lynx (lynxes?), foxes, wolves, chamois (chamoises?), wild boars, a mass of birds, and a healthy shoal of fish, but I couldn’t look past the bear. Death is a terrible thing to face. There is nothing to see here, and nothing gazes back at me.
Martin Brod // © Alberto Loyo // Shutterstock.com
I was safe, for now, and the genial nature of my guide made the whole thing a lot easier to forget. Una National Park is the biggest of Bosnia and Herzegovina’s national parks, and it is arguably the most beautiful. I use the word ‘arguably’ only as a disclaimer because it is clearly the most beautiful. After all, it blossoms around the country’s most beautiful river.
And what an apt name for such a beautiful river. The story goes that the Romans were tired from all the fighting they did, but they decided to stop when they got to what is now the Una. These swarthy warriors loved it so much that they called it ‘Una’, essentially ‘the only one’. There is another story about a lost warrior in the canyon falling in love with a woman and a baby being born, but I have neither the energy nor the knowledge to write about such a thing.
Besides, I was too busy gawping at Štrbački Buk, a 40-metre-wide and 25-metre-high waterfall, the biggest in the park and possibly the most photogenic in the country. Bosnia and Herzegovina has no shortage of waterfalls, but Štrbački Buk might be the most ‘waterfall’ of them all. Do bears come here to admire the falls from time to time? Do they take photos and upload them to some kind of bear-friendly social media app?
No, because bears are awesome. Bears are too busy being the ultimate killing machine to waste time on social media. Bears are too busy perfecting whatever bears do. They don't need to worry about likes and shares. Bears are too busy concocting a plan to get me.
© dotshock // Shutterstock.com
As mentioned, Una is the largest national park in Bosnia and Herzegovina. It covers 76 square miles, snaking down the border with Croatia, wowing visitors with its beauty and keeping adrenaline seekers busy with rafting, cycling and more. There is plenty for hikers too, and this region’s love of fishing is alive and well. I don’t partake in any of those activities, but the beauty of Una National Park was putting forward an argument that might convince me to change. New year, new me.
And then we went to Martin Brod. I found the name amusing at first, convincing myself that it was named after a guy called Martin, but that wasn’t the case. Martin Brod is named after a girl called Marta, and yes, she fell in love with someone. Yes, her family didn’t approve. Why is that always the case? Are there any positive love stories out there?
Anyway, Marta. Her beau lived on the other side of the river, and the two couldn’t do much more than have illicit meetings at night. Marta went on one such voyage, but the slippy rocks weren’t about to play ball. Marta slipped and fell into the river, never to be seen again. Thus, the village got its name; Martin Brod. Marta’s Ford. Nothing to do with Martin.
© John Bills
The story is sad, but there is much joy to be found in Martin Brod today. Of course, by ‘joy’, I actually mean ‘waterfalls’, and this so-called ‘settlement of natural magic’ abounds with cascades. The waters create a phenomenon called bučnica, a natural washing machine that allowed people to wash clothes without the need for soap, harnessing the power of water for that squeaky clean finish. We stopped at many of the falls, I made wishy-washy comments about the beauty of the world, and we headed back into the belly of the park. Somewhere, a bear was lurking.
Do bears lurk? They don’t strike me as lurkers. If a bear wants you, the bear will get you. Despite my fears, I know I won't be much of a meal to a hungry bruin. I would be the cherry on top of the cake. I am the wedding cake. Big boy guitars. Reverb, all day long.
Una National Park looks how beautiful music sounds. No, John, that doesn’t make sense, and it isn’t even poetic enough to save itself. What I’m trying to say, in a mumble of words that should remove whatever credibility I have left, is that Una National Park might be the most beautiful stretch of land in this beautiful country. Our day ended, and my guide drove me back to Bihać, but beauty like that doesn’t fade fast. It doesn’t fade at all.
