Swimming in waterfalls at Krka National Park

It’s time to head away from the coast and into rural Croatia. To the waterfalls of Krka National Park, where we can swim in ice cold waterfall waters. And to a rustic farmstay, in the middle of nowhere. Welcome to the next instalment of our Croatia travel diaries.

Want to read more about our stay in Zadar? Then click here!

Leaving Zadar behind

After a few breezy days, we finally wake up to glorious weather in Zadar.  Our trusty weather app suggests that the weather will be marvellous for the rest of our trip, with temperatures rising throughout the week. We eat our breakfast of purloined bread from last night’s meal and pack our cases. Tonight we’re staying in a little guesthouse in deepest darkest rural Croatia but first..waterfalls.

Plitvice was on and off our itinerary, but Krka National Park was always a definite. Barely out of the way of our coastal trip, stunningly beautiful in photos, and you can swim in the lake at the bottom of the falls. A trip here was never in doubt.

Getting to Krka National Park

The drive from Zadar to Krka is about an hour via the E65. Croatian roads are a pleasure to drive on (according to Mr Fletche) and the freeway is a breeze.

Unlike Plitvice (where I winged it a little) I had done some research with regards to routes, entrances and the best places to park. I direct Mr Fletche towards Skradin. There is official Krka parking at Skradin. However, we blindly follow the woman waving her arms at us and guiding us into her €5 campsite car park.  Oh well, support local enterprise and hope our car doesn’t get towed away.  Other people have parked there too so we pass over our money and unload the car. 

I fear we’ve parked quite a distance from the falls, but our fears are unfounded as it’s a short and pleasant stroll through the lovely town of Skradin. We wouldn’t have seen this if we’d parked in the official car park. Out stroll is a little too leisurely. By the time we reach the waterfront we have just missed the boat.  The next one is in an hour according to the schedule posted at the Information Centre and ticket kiosk.

All aboard the boat to the waterfalls

We settle down for a coffee in the shade but before we can order “dvije kave“ the next boat has arrived. They’ve decided to put more boats on so we gather our things together and join the queue. We’re not entirely sure if this is the boat we need, but we join the queue anyway. We’re English. That’s what we do. It is indeed the correct boat, and we settle downstairs in the shade for the 25 minute journey. Our seat companions keep us amused by dressing their baby in a cool selection of hats and sunglasses. 

You can buy Krka tickets once you get to the entrance, but we purchased ours at the Information Centre so we’re straight through. Unlike Plitvice, they don’t make you wait for ages for a waterfall view. A five minute walk and there is the postcard scene, Skradinski Buk cascading into a pool below. There are people swimming in this pool. We will later learn that “swimming“ is a loose term for the activity.  It’s more fumbling around in freezing cold water, trying to get a foothold on slippy rocks and then trying not to be swept away by what is a surprisingly strong current. But more about that later. 

Exploring Krka

We take the wooden walkway to the right of the falls, and take an anti-clockwise route through the lower falls. It gets more beautiful with every turn. Clear blue waters, rushing falls, shady tree canopies. There are a few steps and slopes to handle, but nothing like the snaking steep route we took at Plitvice. For a beautiful, sunny Saturday in June, there are surprisingly few people around. It takes us about an hour to circumnavigate the trail, taking into account multiple stoppages for impromptu photo shoots. 

Taking the plunge

After an hour’s hot and sweaty walk, I can’t wait to plunge into those crystal clear waters. As we’re travelling on from here to our next destination, we have all our valuables with us – passports, money, car keys, multiple cameras and phones – so we decide to go in one at a time.

Literally “testing the waters“ Mr Fletche goes first. I watch as he tentatively navigates the rocky descent into the waters. It looks cold. Mr Fletche may or may not be turning blue. I’m enjoying the sunshine up on the rocks, but I’ll regret not taking the plunge myself. I greet Mr Fletche with a rather grubby dust-covered beach towel and prepare for my turn.

 “Is it cold?“ I ask

“Yes”

“Is it slippy?“

“Yes“

“Will I cry?“

“Probably“

Mr Fletche is the master of the understatement.  It is so cold that I literally cannot breathe. Nothing on this earth would force me to plunge into these Arctic waters. Apart from getting my foot stuck between two rocks, losing my balance and plunging headfirst into those Arctic waters. I do not cry, but its a close thing. 

I soon acclimatise. By which I mean that the rest of my body is now as cold as my feet and I’m slowly turning into a 5’3“ icicle. I set about making my way further into the lake. The base of the lake is rocky and very slippy so I make my way very slowly until the water is deep enough to swim and I’m away from those pesky rocks. 

The moment my feet leave the floor though, I am swept along by a surprisingly strong current. I’m soon back at those pesky rocks again, and my naked tummy is grazing the rocky surface below me. I may have lost a layer of skin during this dip. I finally come to a stop, and Mr Fletche is on the shore, proffering that same rather grubby dust-covered beach towel.

To get to Mr Fletche, I have to haul myself onto the rocks, bringing my short stubby legs up to waist height before I can get a foothold. I use all my feeble upper body arm strength to pull myself out of the water. At that point I notice the blood pouring down my leg.  My tummy surprisingly escaped unscathed, but I cannot say the same for my knee. I’ll live. No medical assistance is required as I clean myself up with bottled water and a tissue. 

Drying off and warming up

Only ice cream will help stem the bleeding. Eating it, not applying it to the wound. I lay our grubby dust-covered beach towel on the grass to dry off in the sunshine. Mr Fletche is all for a second walk around the trail, but I just can’t make myself move from this spot. Mr Fletche leaves me, ice cream in one hand, Kindle in the other. We each spend an hour doing what we like doing best: Mr Fletche is back to nature with his camera, I am snoozing in the sunshine. Bliss.

Eventually Mr Fletche returns and it’s time to pack up that grubby dust-covered beach towel and head back to the boat. We retrace our steps through Skradin and we’re happy to see that our car is still there in its unoffical car park spot and still in one piece.

An amazing farmstay at Agrotourism Kalpic

Our GPS appears to have lost any recollection of the route to our guesthouse so we’re winging it, blindly driving around rural Croatia. Luckily once we’re in the right area, Agrotourism Kalpic itself is signposted. Otherwise we’d still be driving around rural Croatia now. 

We’re greeted at the gates by cats, dogs and chickens. Oh, and a very lovely lady who shows us to our room, makes sure we’re comfortable and explains that a traditional home-cooked meal is available for €20 each. This little farm-stay may be in the middle of nowhere, but we immediately regret not planning to spend more than one night here. Especially when we discover the small swimming pool and hammocks. This would be the perfect place to stay longer and unwind. 

But we’re here for just one night, so we freshen up and make our way down for dinner. The food is amazing; a bruschetta starter, grilled meats and potatoes cooked under a traditional Croatian bell over, and a white chocolate and cherry dessert. The wine is also locally made, and there’s homemade schnapps to complete the meal. Lovely food and drink, beautiful setting, and cute cats and dogs that want lots of fuss. We while away the hours drinking wine and recalling retro children’s TV programmes until the fresh air (and wine) take its toll and it’s time to say goodnight…