No matter how many times I’m in this position, I always feel like I’m in my favourite scene from my favourite movie. For the record, that’ll be the cable car scene from the classic wartime drama Where Eagles Dare.
Ok, fair enough, I wasn’t going to heroically storm a Nazi stronghold from the top of a cable car. I wasn’t even in Bavaria. But as I looked out on the pristine Alpine surroundings and down to the ever-smaller valley below, it did remarkably resemble that memorable scene.
In the real world though, I was in north-west Slovenia, on a cable car heading up into the Julian Alps deep in the Triglav National Park, where I was to climb up to almost 7,000 feet in a day.
At the heart of the National Park is Bohinj. Not an actual individual town, Bohinj is the name given to the entire valley.
Legend has it that when God was making the world, he realised he’d forgotten about a bunch of folks who were quiet and hadn’t wanted to disturb them.
So in gratitude, because of their modesty and patience, God gave them the most beautiful land of all. The people named it Bohinj, for in Slovenian, Boh means God.
The jewel in the valley is undoubtedly Lake Bohinj which provides a sturdy 6.5mile walk, starting and ending at the iconic humpback bridge with quaint white church behind, a scene so idyllic that if you saw it on a postcard you’d think it had been digitally enhanced.
This is why I find it so hard to accept that Bohinj was once part of the troubled Yugoslavia. The only prominent reminder was in a quiet restaurant, in which a giant portrait of dictator Marshall Tito hung.
This was countryside Heidi herself would feel at home in, I thought, as I mountain biked along quiet paths, where cows grazed on lush pastures that gave way to forests then up to the Alps.
I wouldn’t say I stayed in a village, a hamlet seems more precise, about 500 metres from the lake. I had a room in a big wooden house run by two elderly women who served me breakfast which kept me going all day.
I have enjoyed Bohinj’s charms in all seasons but it is winter that holds a special place in my heart, when it gets so cold that the lake can freeze with half-a-metre thick ice.
What to do? Walk on water of course. I did and it was exhilarating, if not a little scary, knowing if the ice broke I’d plunge into freezing water up to 147ft deep.
On my last evening, I made my way to my favourite place in Bohinj. I sat down and took in the view, lake directly in front of me, water gently lapping at my feet, and a horseshoe of mountains standing majestically around.
I carefully empty my daysack of its contents bottle of red, chunk of fresh bread, a piece of local smoked cheese and bag of tealight candles. This was all the company I needed. No mobile, no internet, no electronic noise.
As I sipped my wine and ate, an hour passed as I sat in perfect isolation. I took out my diary and started to jot down my thoughts. I lit a candle and decided to write as long as the light allowed me. Night was ascending and there was not a breath of wind. The lake was now a shadow, mist started to roll in, hugging the peaks and the valley, protecting it and all who were lucky enough to be in it, from fear and the outside world.
I swear I could almost feel and sense a Brigadoon appearing.
NEXT WEEK: Breakfast in Europe, lunch in Africa and dinner on British soil, all in one day and without taking a flight anywhere