Bosnia

packrafting bosnia

written by: Forrest McCarthy Photos by: Moe Witschard

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Within the river corridor I feel safer. The seasonal high water mark is several meters above and any land mines would have detonated during spring floods. The river, however, runs wall to wall through a narrow limestone gorge.

Blind corners lead to steep drops, undercut limestone ledges, and the occasional log strainer. The alternative is a desperately steep climb followed by bushwhacking through the surrounding forest, above the protection of the high water mark. Boldly running swift water through the narrow tunnel of limestone appears safer. And, if not safer, it’s certainly a lot more fun.

Along with Moe Witschard, photographer and fellow packrafter, I’m on a 10-day whitewater tour of Bosnia. Our trip starts on the banks of the Vrbas River at the Kanjon Rafting Center. The Vrbas River is a stunning Class III limestone gorge, and the main attraction for the paddlers who visit the Kanjon Rafting Center. The Rafting Center is also a popular gathering place that includes a riverside café and bar known locally as “The Beach.” Covered wooden decks extend over the river edge where a spirited waitstaff serves espresso and beer.

At the Center’s helm is Aleksander Pastir, or Alex, a commanding 6’4’’ river advocate. In addition to offering whitewater rafting tours in Bosnia, Alex has traveled the world to paddle big rivers, including the Grand Canyon of the Colorado and the Brahmaputra River in India.

Never idle, Alex is president of the Kayak, Canoe and Rafting Federation of Bosnia and a judge for the World Rafting Federation.

We arrive at the Rafting Center on a national holiday, and The Beach is packed.

Thumping American music electrifies a festive mob. Scantly clad in the latest European fashion, young and vivacious partiers drink, celebrate and dance.

Alex, Moe, and I sip espresso and pour over local maps. A maze of rivers, roads, and political boundaries cover the table as Alex explains Bosnia: “It’s a complicated place.” The

On the Ugar River Bosnia’s prominent river advocate and whitewater rafting guide, Aleksander Pastir, is quick to adapt to packrafting. On his second day in the one-man raft, Alex descends Class 3 whitewater through a narrow limestone gorge.

After descending the Verbas River Forrest McCarthy navigate the streets of Banja Luka. The city is the unofficial capital of the Republika Srpska, one of two political entities that form the country of Bosnia-Herzegovina.

map illustrates a colossal karst landscape of steep limestone mountains and canyons — with rivers that twist, curl and even sometimes disappear. No waterway follows a linear path.

The rugged Dolaric Alps divide the land into three major watersheds. The Sava River defines the border with Croatia and the Drina River defines the border with Serbia. Both the Sava and the Dina flow east into the Black Sea. A third river, the Neretva, flows east into the Adriatic Sea. To add to the complexity, another significant watershed follows a subterranean route through the limestone bedrock on its way to the Adriatic Sea. Entire creeks disappear into limestone sinks.

Equally confusing is the cultural landscape that consists of three major ethnic groups: Serbian Orthodox, Muslim Bosniaks, and Catholic Croates. The outlines of both minarets and crosses form the skylines of even the smallest villages. Graveyards often contain both Islamic and Christian tombstones, even within the same family plot.

The morning after we arrive, Moe and I amuse local farmers by piloting our packrafts down a steep creek that powers a 15th century stone mill, still used to grind wheat, barley and maize. The boats’ fire-red vinylcoated nylon contrasts sharply with the farmers’ faded woolen attire. Compact yet rugged, our 6-pound packrafts, which are equipped with thigh straps and whitewater spray decks, readily navigate the rocky cascade.

Later in the day, Moe, Alex and I negotiate big Class 3 waves and whirlpools through a deep limestone canyon. Partway through our paddle down the Vrbas River, we stop at The Beach for coffee. Strong espresso with a splash of creamy milk is served in small ceramic cups. I resist my hurried American urge to gulp and instead patiently sip the bitter-

sweet contents. Regardless, I’m still the first with an empty cup.

That afternoon, The Vrbas relaxes as it exits the mountains, and it carries us into the center of Banja Luka. We silently paddle past the Tvrdava Castle, an olden stone fortress dating back to the Roman Empire. The Ottomans later added broad domes, walls and arches to guard its empire against Hungarian and Austrian forces. The castle’s monumental Turkish architecture remains mostly intact adding an ancient oriental flavor to the European city.

The following day we are driven back into the high country to explore the Ugar River, a major tributary of the Vrbas. The Ugar wanders through a canyon 3,000 feet deep and far from any road. Emerald green water fills the slot canyon wall to wall. Spanning his arms, Moe simultaneously touches each side.

Above lush green vegetation frames a long strip of cloudless blue sky.

Our run of the Ugar finishes at the flooded confluence with the Vrbas Rivers. During the socialist era many dams were constructed to power Yugoslavia’s manufacturing and mining industries. Since the fall of Yugoslavia and socialism most of these industries have ceased to exist. However, the dams still stand.

Today 40 percent of Bosnia’s hydroelectricity is exported. Regardless, outside investors have indentified many of Bosnia’s rivers as ripe for additional hydroelectric projects.

The vast majority of Bonsia’s undeveloped landscapes, clear water and pristine forests have no official protection. There is a small system of national parks and nature reserves, but this equates to just 0.6 percent of Bosnia’s landmass. Prior to the war, wild boars, deer, goats, bears, and wolves were common across much of country. However,

wartime desperation coupled with a surfeit of firearms and violence decimated much of the country’s wildlife.

Our next stop is Bosnia’s newest conservation area — the 50,000-acre Una River National Park. At the entrance an army green Ladas jeep greets us. A large blue Czechoslovakian made paddle raft is strapped on top.

It appears to be nearly twice the size of the small Russian vehicle. The raft and jeep belong to Park Director Armarildo Mulic, whose smile and enthusiasm eclipse his uniform and side arm. After introductions and handshakes, Mulic curiously inspects my 6-pound packraft.

He shakes his head with skepticism.

We pile in the Russian jeep and descend a steep dirt track into Una Canyon. Štrbački Buk, a massive waterfall, marks our put-in.

Tiered travertine deposits have created a series of magnificent falls, the first of which is nearly 80 feet and a mandatory portage. The next drop, a 15-foot vertical cascade, is followed by two shorter drops with recirculating hydraulics. Mulic, Alex, and Moe successfully pilot the paddle raft over the vertical drop and assuredly punch through the hydraulics as I portage. Below, the character of the rapids changes from steep travertine to limestone pool and drop.

Without stopping to scout, I faithfully follow the blue paddle raft. After a long winter of skiing, not paddling, I shake off the cobwebs and regain confidence. I navigate over big waves, powerful eddies, and the occasion hole. Mulic’s attitude changes from skepticism to intrigue. At the take out, our crew celebrates with handshakes, local fermented peach schnapps and, of course, coffee.

That night in Mostar we stay in the musky basement of a statuary baroque structure – the home to the Kajaski Kayaki Club. During

Originally built by the Ottoman Empire in the 16th century, the “Old Bridge” of Mostar was rebuilt after being destroyed during the Bosnian War. Paddling the Neretva under the iconic bridge offers a unique perspective of Islamic architecture.

the socialist era regional outdoor clubs provided the equipment, training, and opportunity to raft, kayak and explore local rivers. Today these clubs continue to play an important role in outdoor recreation. The Kajaski Kayaki Club’s president and veteran explorer, Esad Humo, explains the club is expanding to include additional adventure sports, such as scuba diving, climbing and skiing.

An impressive arsenal of gear is stacked inside the clubhouse. Scuba tanks and weight lifting equipment mix with large topographic maps of the Dolaric Alps. In one-corner club members manufacture holds for an artificial climbing wall. Storage rooms contain a selection of mountaineering and skiing equipment.

Outside, next to crumbling grey masonry, is an assortment of brightly colored whitewater and downriver kayaks.

The clubhouse is located on the banks of the Neretva River, just upstream of a 16th century bridge known as “Stari Most.” Designated world heritage site, Stari Most translates as Old Bridge and in 1993, during the Bosnian War, Catholic Croates destroyed the Stari Most.

While the conflict between Orthodox Serbians and Islamic Bosniaks often dominated the news, the Catholic minority, or Bosnian Croates, also fought with both of these ethnic groups.

The Old Bridge has since been reconstructed and is the focal point of a growing tourism industry. Bussed from the Adriatic Coast, foreign tourists spend afternoons photographing the medieval city and boosting the local economy.

We launch for a paddle though the historic city of Mostar at the bridge. During the Ottoman Empire (1300 AD to 1800 AD), Mostar was the administrative center of the ruling Turks. The ancient Ottoman architecture, Turkish coffee, and women partially veiled in silk hijabs provides a flavor of Islam. The clear and tranquil waters of the Neretva River mute the city’s hustle. Moe and I gaze at the lush green hillsides and limestone escarpments that surround antiquated stone masonry.

Halfway through our tour of Bosnia we stop in Sarajevo. Lorenc Konaj Lori, a local eco travel guide and naturalist, provides us a tour of the city. With steel blue kind eyes, Lorenc explains how his Catholic parents survived the 4-year

Having cut a 3,000-foot deep limestone chasm through the Dinaric Alps, the Tara River is a world-class whitewater run through rare European wilderness. Numerous subterranean rivers surge from the canyon’s walls.

siege on Sarajevo when Serbian militants surrounded the city and a rain of lead and mortar demolished the city’s architecture and spirit.

Within a block of the city center stands a Catholic church, an Orthodox church, a Muslim mosque, and Jewish synagogue. Waves of foreign occupation, including both the Eastern and Western Roman Empires, the Ottoman Empire, and the Austrian-Hungary regime created a complex mosaic of religion, architecture and beliefs. Lorenc explains how the majority of the city’s residents intermingles, and even intermarries. During the war, and continuing today, most residents within Sarajevo share solidarity, no matter their ethnicity or religion.

At a café we sip thick Turkish coffee while Lorenc and Alex discuss collaborative efforts to promote tourism and adventure travel. To succeed and prosper Serbs, Creotes and Bosnics need to cooperate. If nothing else, business partnerships and the desire for prosperity might be the catalyst of peace for Bosnia and Herzegovina.

Near the confluence of the Tara, Sujeska, Lino, and the Drina rivers we settle in at a river camp – a collection of log bungalows with a communal eating area. Several adventurous days are spent exploring the nearby Sutjeska National Park. Scrambling along a high limestone ridge, we view Bonsia’s highest mountain, the 7,400-foot Mount Mejetic.

Melting snow plunges 200 feet over the Skakava Waterfall, and then through one of the last native forests in Europe. We walk under a canopy of lofty beach trees and black spruce that have never felt the bite of chainsaw or axe. The few open glades are carpeted in wild garlic, a spring snack and laxative for bears emerging from hibernation. The primeval forest is refuge for bears, wolves and wild goats.

Below the high peaks of Volujak Mountains, the Sakestic River forms a fantastic non-stop 12-mile run of Class 3 rapids. We take the plunge. Alex, who until a week ago had never seen a packraft, expertly negotiates steep rocky drops in the barrowed boat.

Hoots of joy are audible over the rumble of

whitewater.

Bosnia and Montenegro share Europe’s wildest river — the Tara. With headwaters in Montenegro, the Tara flows along the border of the two countries before entering Bosnia and joining the Dina River. For most of its length the Tara travels though rare European wilderness and one of the deepest canyons in the world. The Tara is a world-class river that attracts paddlers of all nationalities. Each summer more than 50,000 visitors sign up for a tour of its exciting whitewater.

Our host is local river guide Mima Rudinac who has run the river hundreds, if not thousands, of times. In slow English a universal river rat’s sense of humor seeps through a

thin frame and contagious grin.

“Forrest” Mima commands, “Paddle forward.”

Three thousand feet deep, the Tara River Gorge delves into an ancient and primitive Europe. For fifty miles no structures or roads interrupt its wildness. Native cuckoo birds and woodpeckers populate the soundscape.

Lush primeval forests blanket steep canyon walls. Walls of grey limestone impede an exit.

Massive springs of cold clear water gush from the walls.

At the base of a moss-covered waterfall, Mima instructs Moe and I to prepare to carry our packrafts. We scramble up four hundred feet of slick limestone and wet moss to its

source. A large dark grotto forms the entrance to a curious subterranean lake. Headlamps uncover long white stalactite as our boats and paddles slice through inky water.

Deep inside, turbulent cascades echo through the dark and forbidding chamber.

Eight miles above the confluence with the Sakestic River the whitewater begins. The smaller creeks and rivers we previously ran were, at times, challenging, yet they lacked power and force. The Tara in May is a different story. The big Class 3+ rapids are immense and pushy.

At the crux Class 4 rapid I swim. The main current makes an S turn between to massive boulders. Large cresting waves form in the

Packrafts excel in low volume technical creeks.

Forrest McCarthy appreciates the craft’s agility while descending the Ugar River.

When ruled by the Ottoman Empire, Mostar was the capital of the Herzegovina region. The Neretva River runs through its center and offers a packrafter an extraordinary view of the ancient city.

Left: Seasoned from hundreds of descents of the Tara River, expert rafting guide Mima Rudinac calmly negotiates the untamed canyon.

Right: During a placid stretch, Aleksander Pastir and Forrest McCarthy relax and admire the Tara’s surreal beauty.

Bottom: Frequent signs warning of landmines remind visitors of Bosnia’s turbulent past.

middle. On previous rapids I had avoided the biggest waves by picking lines off center.

However, my attempt to “sneak” this rapid ends in failure. As indifferent as a windshield is to a bug, the Tara tosses my little red packraft upside-down.

After I execute a wet reentry, I am surprised to find my confidence grows. For the remaining whitewater I successfully point my packraft down the center of each rapid. I proudly punch through cresting waves and turbulent eddy lines.

Our final day of river running begins at a café in the small mountain town of Konjic.

I’m introduced to Samir Krivić, an international certified river guide. An adventurous couple from Ireland accompanies the heavy and proud Serbian. These three, along with Alex, will pilot a paddle raft while Moe and I descend the Class 4 Neretva Canyon in our packrafts.

During our shuttle to the trailhead I inquire why the couple chose Bosnia. Other than our time at the Old Bridge in Mostar we have encountered few foreigners. Having traveled to both Croatia and Montenegro, the jovial couple has become dissuaded by the development and increasing commercialism in those countries. In addition to Bosnia being significantly less expensive, they appreciate the lack of a sophisticated tourism industry.

We share experiences of feeling exceptionally safe and welcome in Bosnia.

The Neretva River drains the rugged Bjelasnica and Visocia mountains through a formerly glaciated and fertile valley. Like all the mountain rivers of Bosnia and the Dinaric Alps, the river has carved a deep narrow canyon though the soluble limestone bedrock. In a few stretches the river is restricted to narrow passageways less than twenty feet wide. One of these restrictions is filled with large boulders creating a steep gradient and exciting whitewater. Samir, our guide, warns us of strong currents and undercut limestone ledges. He advises us not to swim. We don’t.

Traveling and boating in Bosnia is not without risk. Hidden and unknown dangers lurk. Some hazards are material like the land mines that loiter on the fringes of towns and rivers. Others hazards are less tangible, yet equally perilous. Emotional and cultural wounds are slow to heal and the scars remain sensitive and the pain acute. As a foreigner our chose of words, topics

of conversation, even music can generate unexpected and uncomfortable responses.

To avoid the risk of stepping on a land mine, actual or figuratively, it is advisable to avoid the world’s war torn regions. But this is a lot less fun. Similar to the joy and knowledge found by navigating complex and turbulent whitewater, negotiating multifarious cultural landscapes can be equally rewarding.

Too often in history water bodies have been used as political boundaries that divide nations and people. Yet, in nature, watersheds support and define entire ecosystems, and in turn bioregions. Bosnia is gifted with an abundance of freshwater lakes, streams and springs. Its very name likely derived from the word bosana, an old Indo-European word meaning water.

It is possible in Bosnia, like in nature, plentiful waterways may contain the power to heal, nourish, and connect the troubled landscapes they travel through.

Forrest McCarthy descends the Verbas River.

Symbolic of the regions history, calm, unknowing waters flow towards an uncertain future.