In the Kingdom of Goldhorn

It’s a love story of sorts. One set among the shadows of Triglav, deep in the steep-sided glacial valleys of the Julian Alps and along the raging, luminous waters of the River Soča. Its protagonists are brave, beautiful, flawed. A daughter of an innkeeper, a courageous hunter, and a wealthy merchant. There are nymphs and magic herbs, treasure and death. Like all great love stories, the tale of Zlatorog, or Goldhorn, also examines our motivations, greed, the human condition, and our relationship with nature. It’s beautiful; it’s tragic.

Goldhorn was an Alpine ibex, as white as fresh winter snow with horns of shimmering gold, and the leader of a flock of white goats tended to by the White Women – nymphs who helped the people of the Alps. The White Women aided women in giving birth and taught the shepherds the medicinal value of herbs. They protected Goldhorn, who, in turn, protected the nymphs. If a hunter shot Goldhorn, the White Women gave him a leaf from the Triglav flower, and his wound was immediately better. In turn, Goldhorn and his flock would cause avalanches over anyone who threatened the White Women. But Goldhorn was a target. Not only were his horns solid gold, but they were also the key to great treasure in the mountain. Quite the responsibility. 

Our journey begins at Lake Jasna with a life-size bronze statue of Goldhorn by sculptor Stojan Batič, the end of its horns shiny from the touch of thousands of visitors. The stark sunlight shines through the surface of the lower lake and into its clear waters. Brown trout meander through the water by our toes dipped into the lake. On a map, we trace our fingers across the Triglav National Park. At Lake Jasna, we will join the Slovenia sections of the Alpe Adria Trail, a long-distance route – some 750km – that weaves among the Alps from the foot of Großglockner, the highest mountain in Austria, through Carinthia, into the Julian Alps of Slovenia and Italy, terminating on the Mediterranean at Muggia, near Trieste.

The Alpe Adria Trail itself is a love story, one dedicated to the landscapes of the Alps. It winds mainly through the valleys and along the rivers, leaving scaling the great mountains primarily to side trips. It also means there are plenty of options in each stage to eat, grab a coffee, and find somewhere to sleep. It’s been designed to include one ‘magic place’ in each stage. These are the jewels of the landscape. But, frankly, this isn’t tricky in this part of Europe. Over the next few days, we’d discover mountain passes, criss-cross the extraordinarily blue waters of the River Soča, and pass huge, really, really huge, waterfalls. We’d meet shepherds high in remote valleys, stop for coffee and strudel (obviously claimed to be better than an Austrian one!) in cosy mountain huts, meet cheesemakers and their cattle, and then spend time exploring the Brda wine growing region in western Slovenia. We’d learn about the history of the area – some of it beautiful, some of it tragic – we’d meet the people who made their home in the mountains, and we’d learn about the folk tales that still persist, as timeless as the glaciers surrounding us.

The innkeeper’s daughter was a beautiful girl, but it was a young hunter from the Trenta Valley – our destination the next day – who eventually wooed her, regularly bringing her rare flowers from the mountain peaks. But one Sunday morning, a wealthy merchant from Venice (not that one) who had heard the fame of her beauty came to her tavern with gifts. He put a pearl necklace around her neck and gold rings on her fingers. He paid musicians so that he could dance with her. Persuaded by a friend, the Green Hunter, the young man decided to kill Goldhorn, take his horns and unlock the mountain’s treasure. This was the way to her heart, he thought.

After a coffee and a paddle in Lake Jasna just below Kranjska Gora, we begin our walk in earnest. Like most sections, it’s around 20km to the final destination – in this case Trenta (home of the young hunter). And it’s one of the highlights of the entire Alpe Adria Trail, full of interest and intrigue, including a high mountain pass, the remarkable Russian Chapel, the source of the River Soča, and a statue of a great conservation pioneer and mountaineer, Dr Julius Kugy.

From the Lake Jasna, we head south along the banks of the River Pišnica into Triglav National Park and high up towards the Vršič mountain pass at 1,611m. Around halfway up is the Russian Chapel, built in 1916 by Russian prisoners of war to commemorate more than 100 soldiers who died – many in a single avalanche – during the construction of the road we crossed to reach it. The Vršič pass was strategically important when Italy declared war on Austria in World War I. Built in the Russian style from wood, the building still belongs to the Russian Orthodox church. It’s a modest, quietly ornate reminder of the turbulent wars that raged among these Alps. Further up, we pass the Prisank Mountain Window, a famous natural eye 80m high and 40m wide. At a particular time of year – February and November, photographers flock here to shoot the sun shining through, while mountaineers follow the Hanza or Jubilee route up its steep face to reach the window. Also on the walls of Prisank is Ajdovska deklica, a maiden frozen in the rockface. Even from our trail, the image is clear. This maiden prophesied the story of Goldhorn and, by doing so, angered the other maidens, who punished her by turning her into rock. We contemplate her fate over a coffee and strudel at the Erjavčeva Mountain Hut. On the door, a sign reads: ‘Try to enjoy our terrace view that one guest on booking.com rated with 1 out of 10’.

At the pass, we continue following the Alpe Adria Trail signs at Vršič, where the vast expanse of the Trenta valley opens up before us. Rays of light shine through the bobbled layer of cloud. From here, we begin the long descent, following the lines carved by geological aeons. The glaciers and rivers have cut deep, steep valleys into this part of the Alps. We follow the bright blue line of the River Soča, and what a blue it is: an iridescent turquoise, fracturing into white where it smashes against the many rocks being slowly broken up by the river. The noise in the parts is immense, and we must shout to continue our conversations. And then, when the river widens, the volume turns down to a relaxing burble. We make a coffee on the bank before walking into Bovec for pizzas and beers.

Early one morning, the two hunters set forth to seek the white ibex. They spotted Goldhorn and, hiding behind a rock, our young hunter from Trenta trained his sights on the beast. Shots rang out around the valley. Two bullets pierced the thick fur of Goldhorn. Blood spurted from his chest. The dying animal unsteadily climbed to a rocky ledge high above the abyss of the valley. As the blood dropped, the splashes turned into incredible flowers, with pink petals dotted with deep red marks – the Triglav flowers. The evil Green Hunter knew that if Goldhorn ate the flowers spawned from his blood, he would be instantly healed. But, with tall, strong horns shining in the morning sun, Goldhorn charged at his assailants. Scared, our lovelorn Trenta hunter staggered, lost his footing, and fell into the steep valley, landing in the River Soča.

Joining the River Soča again, we continue south and down. Drežnica and Kobarid are the day’s destinations, but with two brief minor detours to some of the most spectacular places in Slovenia. In our research, we’d seen photos of Virje Waterfall. They usually showed two gentle falls of water into a calm, green pool. It was a tranquil, meditative spot. Not today. We hear the thunder from far away and see the spray rising above the trees. To reach the foot of the falls, we descend forested switchbacks, followed by inquisitive sheep, to the turbulent falls in full spate. None of our party have seen the cascades quite like this. As the water hits the pools, it explodes and is carried by winds strong enough to knock us sideways, soaking us in the process. The power of nature is thrilling. We continue on our way, the morning mist painting the disappearing mountains monochrome.

We then arrive at the Boka Waterfall. We can’t get close to the falls but follow the well-trodden path. This is, rightly, a tourist attraction, and we join hikers at the viewpoint. The water tumbles in two stages. The first is a 106m drop, 18m wide. Even from a distance, it seems vast. It then falls again, 33m into an untidy jumble of rocks to join the now-green River Soča.

The innkeeper’s daughter was waiting on the riverbank, but only when the spring snow melted did it carry the corpse of the hunter to her, still clutching flowers. She always regretted how she treated him, and his actions were not without more significant consequences. The White Women of the valley left with Goldhorn, angered by his treatment; and the magical Triglav flowers, once abundant, carpeting the valleys, are now impossibly rare and devoid of their magical powers. The treasure is still locked up, somewhere, among the complex valleys around Triglav.

From the valley floor, we rise again out of Drežnica, but there is a palpable sense of remoteness this time. Gone are the jagged peaks of the Julian Alps, replaced by the lumbering hulks of the Krn Massif above us. Alpine pastures on these high but gentle slopes feed cattle and sheep, as they have for thousands of years. Deposits from glacial moraines dot the landscape. Marmots, unseen by us, also make their home among the mountains. We later learn that marmot fat was particularly valued for rubbing into overworked muscles and joints. It was also once used for cosmetics, a fact we don’t really want to linger on. Whether the hunter-gatherers who populated the Kuhinja Pasture during the Mesolithic, some 11,000 years ago, used the marmot for such purposes, we don’t know.

On the pasture is the Kuhinja mountain hut that sells cheese made a little further up the valley. We hear the bells of the cattle before we see them, but then the large, grey beasts lumber into view, ready for milking. We meet Luka, a young cheesemaker on a break from university. He shows us the process, pleasingly low-tech, and we try some cheese, nutty and delicious. Many of the homesteads in the valley own two or three of the cows. The milk is consolidated and the cheese split between the community. It’s part of an ancient tradition of cheesemaking in this region that is renowned around the Alps.

We shelter from the rain in the little area where they welcome the occasional visitors before continuing our journey to the picturesque town of Tolmin, with its ancient old town and castle ruins. From high points in the town, we can look back to the mountains from where we’ve come. Further south, the geology of Slovenia changes. The southern rim of the Julian Alps gives way to gentle slopes, characterised by vineyards that eventually fall into the Mediterranean. Our hike finishes at Tolmin, and at the mountains’ end, but we spend the next couple of days exploring the region south.

The Alpe Adria Trail begins criss-crossing the Italian border. We pick up part of the trail that stretches between Prosecco (yes, that one) and Lipica back in Slovenia, home of the famous white horses. The trail passes directly through the stud farm, close enough to stroke the heads of some of the world’s most famous horses. We explore the vineyards and visit villages in the stunning Brda Hills. The Alpe Adria Trail finishes in Muggia in Italy, near Trieste. But as the day closes, we stay on the Slovenian side of the border and visit the beach a little further on. The sun sets on the day and our adventure.

We spent our days among the mountains, along the great River Soča and its tributaries. Dr Julius Kugy, whose statue we passed earlier on the trail, was a pioneering climber who came in search of a specific flower. He didn’t find the Scabiosa Trenta but instead found the Julian Alps, a region he dedicated his life to, writing of them in eulogical ways. His most memorable quote resonated throughout our walk: ‘Triglav is not a mountain, Triglav is a realm.’ And for a few days we felt like its kings. We found no treasure, but instead the kindness and hospitality of the people who make these mountains their home.