We left Slovenia with some regrets. What a country…
The first thing that had impressed us was the welcome, not just from the people but, after Austria, the price of everything came down to a scale that felt much more comfortable. It is an inherently wealthy country but, as yet, doesn’t seem to see tourism as a milk cow. Here we could afford to go into a restaurant! Patrick even made a pilgramage to a major vintner and bout four bottles of wine of known provinence…
Even the climate seemed familiar. We didn’t have the best of weather but, in October it felt like an English Summer. The Julian Alps provide shelter from the cold Northerlies until you get down to the Adriatic Coast.
Farming here is all very much smaller scale with most fields un-bordered but used in 1 acre strips of differing crops. The villages are well kept, even smart around the capital but they retain the feel of communities rather than dormitories.
A walk in the mountains
A village high street
Ready for adoption?
Hay drying
Strip farming in the valleys
All this prompted Patrick into writing a little
Ode to Slovenia
Wooded peaks to verdant valleys green
Boundaried plains and craggy mountain streams
Winding roads and well tramped tracks
No farming sprawl nor cattle ranch
More garden field and backyard stacks
Yet set with wanton care for view
Great cubes of living cheek by jowl
And Alpine huts with wooded walls
Then onward to the city draws the eye
With generous width and ruler line
Great avenues in mild chaos lie
Cars, busses, trucks pedestrians and bikes
All rushing headlong from light to light
Until the ancient centre reached
Where elegant and gracious buildings hold
A permanent history for the soul to dream
Yet here as well the bustling crowd
Now on foot or cycles ride
All intent on missions yet unknown
Or sit to eat and drink at leisure
And watch the urgent world pass by
But leave this town with all its charms
Follow the river to the countryside
And there amongst the glacial vales
The road becomes a another track
And then a path between the scattered farms
Well kept houses, pastures tended too
Lead us on to quietened forest ways
Where only water runs at all
And peaceful trees keep time with age
Trieste – by mistake
Our journey was intended to be a quick run to Venice having decided that we really wanted to be there – now!
In reality, an attempt to take a break for something to eat and some dubious map reading forced us into Trieste. A lovely sunny Saturday and everyone was out and about. Not a good time for being lost in a 39ft rig!
But the views over the water at Trieste with more sailing boats than either of us had ever seen in one place before, even during Cowes Week, more than made up for the hour’s detour…
Yachting at Trieste
And so to Venice. Well, of course you can’t camp in the city but we found a very nice, if expensive, campsite at Fusina. There is a frequent ferry service from just by the campsite to the city.
A place to stay by the Lagoon
The site was on the entrance canal to Mestre docks.
Where the ships pass by
And the view from the van is of the city
Venice from the window
Our intention was to use our folding boat to go to the city but, sadly, the outboard had ceased up after Wittering so we contented ourselves with a little rowing around dodging the ships before catching the ferry across the lagoon…
