SLOVENIA
CRUISING IN THE SLO LANE STRIKING A BALANCE BETWEEN E N J O Y I N G A H O L I D AY W I T H H I S Y O U N G FA M I LY A N D TA R G E T I N G MARBLES, GERALD PENKLER E X P E R I E N C E S S L O V E N I A AT A D I F F E R E N T PA C E . Photos. Gerald and Suzanne Penkler
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rack. I froze as the solid chunk of limestone in my left hand budged under the weight of the dad bod. Having circumnavigated most of the gorge pool, my luck had run out. The wading boots scrabbled about, refusing to stick onto the faint seams. A panicked glance towards the water a few metres below. Blue, clear, deep. Cold. There was but one way out. Jump.
Splashing and sloshing onto shore, I chuckled. Ah, the enjoyment of adrenalin and adventure. It was one of our last days in Slovenia, and a solo fly fishing day for me. A chance to get out of the slow, relaxed lane of the previous weeks. A rough and tough fishing mission. Two weeks prior we had headed into the unknown. Instagram makes Slovenia look like a fly fishing fairyland. It’s not only the mystical marble trout finning in crystal clear rivers. It is also the forested mountains, tall mountain peaks and glaciers in the distance. There is fairly good information about Slovenia, things to do and about the fishing. The real unknown for us was how we would manage exploring and fishing in this fairyland with a three-month-old baby and a three-year-old toddler in tow. The first hurdle was a 1 200km drive from the Netherlands. “Keep your eyes on the road!” Winding along a mountain pass in Italy my focus strayed at the first glimpse of water. Water so clear that you cannot quite estimate the depth, where fish appear to float, and stealth is critical. An hour later, after crossing the Slovenian border, stopping on a
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bridge we got our first sight of the Soča River. The blue water snaked up the valley of forests and mountains. The Soča needs no introduction as one of the crown jewels of Slovenia. However, there are scores of other rivers and tributaries too. From the Soča bridge viewpoint, I spotted one trout feeding hard in the middle of the river. As my eyes adjusted, another pale shadow took shape, and then another. Before long I could clearly make out at least seven pale fish, all feeding on the sand. At the back of the pool, from under a rocky undercut, a huge head appeared. Fleetingly it paused, and then drifted back out of sight. I had no doubt. This was a marble. A big one. Tired from the long trip, but excited and energised, we hopped back into the car for the final leg of our journey.
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