It hammered it down in the night leaving a lot of moisture to float back up to the heavens during the morning.  

 We decided to stay another day anyway. We needed to reach the source of the Soca, the hole in the mountains from which the life/ energy force and healing waters emerge. 

So we packed up and tatted down and dissolved into the white clouds in the white Tranny.  

 

We were driving alongside the river, climbing all the while with suitably spacey music to accompany the wispy wonderland appearing through the windscreen.  

 

The last village up the valley was Trenta, a major gateway to the high Alps for walkers and climbers, and home to the national parks biggest info centre. We visited the museum and soaked up geographical, geological and biological knowledge and then vegged out watching a couple of mesmerising movies/artworks on the sacred Soca and the forest forces.    

       We also learnt how to handle meeting a bear.  

 There was a host of other exhibits including fantastically detailed nature illustrations  

 and a charming recreation of a simple vernacular house.  

   

The only knowledge missing was botany so we motored on a few km to the Juliana Alpine Garden created in the 20’s on a little patch of limestone.  

  The man who made it really loved the area.  

 Here are some of the insects and plants that we liked.  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

 Even the little ticket office was a miniature delight.  

 

So, finally to the end of the road and a short walk to the source of the Soca.  

 

Short in distance but long in thrills or some adrenaline sport kind of jargon. We had taken the dogs but before long the cables started  

 the track narrowed and a women advised us the dogs weren’t going to be able for it. It was become clear that Sally wasn’t either so she stayed with dogs , gave me a bottle to collect water from the source in, and I carried on up an ever narrowing ledge, occasionally having to get real up close and personal with people trying to squeeze around on the return journey.  

 No way could this exist in Ireland. Heath and safety nightmare. 

Supply a steel cable, cut a few niches on the rock, bang in a few  metal pegs on the vertical bits and let ’em off.  

 I clung on with one hand as I took pictures of the deep cleft into the mountain.  

 A few more metal pegs and I was down at the suddenly tranquil pool where the Soca erupted.  

 

So we now have a bottle of liquid power healing from the Slovenian Julian Alps to join our collection of Irish Holy well waters. 

We wanted to park up for the night down the Lepena valley that we had been looking at from the camp and so drove up to the end under a ring of peaks.  

 Next to the river, with the doors open we could hear the waters gurgling all night while a big moon shone on the white Rock. Driving on in the morning alongside the steaming Soca

 we headed to the start of a trail up the side of Bavski Grintavec mountain. 

Led by a down to earth local goat women through her yard to the track we headed up into yetmore beech forest.  

   

We were going up to have a look at the deserted hamlet of Lemovje high above the valley. It was a beautiful place but a little melancholy with its lovely houses crumbling away.  

         One of the houses was being renovated and another looked like someone was resident with solar panel and mown grass so maybe it will be revived. 

Fantastic views but i guess that doesn’t make your life easier.  

 

After the climb we were relived to be back down to the river which we hiked for a few km passing azure pools that became irresistible.  

   You can see from Sally’s expression the temperature. 

We passed some great gardens and houses along the riverbank 

         

We had passed some sheep on a little beach and discovered further on a farm that made sheep cheese. We also managed to get a fleece that Sally has been yearning for and some real sausage from a real man.  

 

Further and further up the valley leading to the pass to Italy, stoping for more refreshing dips.  

   

Passed Kluze fortress, invaded by Napoleon, and adjoining the super deep chasm.  

   

Until finally to the wonderfully named Log Pod Mangarton at the head of the valley.  

   Beautiful but the home of tragedy in2000 when a mudslide took out half the village. And of course WW1.  

 

We’re staying tonight, our last on Slovenia, under these powerful peaks. 

It’s been a great love affair.