The Bača River Valley

Save time while traveling back in time...

by sam moffett, september 2007

It strikes me that the good life in Slovenia comes in many different forms; a good meal of fresh organic ingredients, a reasonably priced beer, a walk in stunning pastures. Combine convenience with these other factors and a really good feeling sets in. This is how I felt when I took the car train from the beautiful lakeside town of Bohinj in the north to Most na Soči, near to my home town of Tolmin.

It's a simple idea, which works really well. No shortage of those round here, but what sets the car train apart is the convenience factor. Drive your car onto a train, sit back, and let the countryside go by, and what countryside! The Bača river valley is extremely beautiful, but one of the most dangerous roads I have ever driven, and I've driven at night in the Himalayas. The train takes you past all of this, in your car, but you don't have to operate the steering wheel.

The Bača valley railway is a paragon of efficient operation and punctuality. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a trainspotter, but having been subject to the disaster that is the rail system in my native UK, I can't help but admire the simplicity and cost effectiveness of this railway, unaffected (so far) by the ravages of privatisation. Some elements of the rolling stock are over 60 years old, and the signals and level crossing gates are still operated by hand. Not only do the trains turn up on time, they are clean, and there is usually a seat to sit on. Propose this to your average weary London commuter and they will tell you that you have found nirvana!

I picked up my girlfriend in Bohinj, and a short drive to the station deposited us near the platform, giving us time to grab a coffee and get out of the rain. Some of the staff came in themselves, and after a chat, shooed us out of the bar to load my old transit van onto the train. We drove onto the flatbed truck, put on the handbrake and were promptly charged 15 euros. It sounds expensive for a 50 minute train journey (in mainland Europe), but of course the offset is the saving in fuel, and at least an hour extra driving.

We sat back, put the stereo on, and giggled like tourists at the sensation as the train pulled out. About 1 km down the track, we were plunged into the darkness of the 6 kilometre tunnel straight through the mountain between Bohinj and Podbrdo. Spooky stuff, pitch dark, and an opportunity to act brave with my girlfriend. At the other end of the tunnel we emerged blinking into Podbrdo railway station, and after that it was plain sailing. On all sides, tributaries fed the Bača river, the small waterfalls making us crick our necks as we looked about us. The Bača snaked next to us, underneath us, and to the left and right. A civil engineer's nightmare of cuttings, tunnels and viaducts wound the train precariously down the valley. Having only driven down the road in this valley before, I had not had time to appreciate this place, as the drivers' full attention is needed for the road. This time, I could look around me and really appreciate the 'good life' feeling. We entered a meditative state for a while, our eyes open, our mouths shut, broken presently by the sight of a kozorog (deer) running beside us on a narrow section. 

At our destination, the lovely little town of Most Na Soči, the station struck us as being more traditional than the ones we had seen previously at Bohinj and Podbrdo. I decided to have a snoop at the ticket master's office, and discovered operating equipment from a bygone age. Big old iron levers to operate the points, bakelite switches, and a great 70s-era telephone system made up a jumble of kit that kept these trains running like clockwork. The station master posed for a few photos, and then walked down the track to operate a signal for the next train. Fantastic!

And there was more to come. A majestic old steam engine and period rolling stock carriages came puffing into the station. It turned out that a production company was filming dramatised scenes for a film about a group of partisan soldiers in World War 1. The actors were fully kitted out with period rifles, uniforms, and a commanding officer with a suitably huge beard. We watched fascinated as a woman dressed in peasant costume kissed her sweetheart goodbye as he boarded the 100-year-old carriage. He joined his comrades singing old Yugoslavian hymns on the train, and the delightful engine rolled out of the station, then promptly rolled back again to re-film. We whiled away a happy hour gawping at the scenes and reminiscing about the days of steam. They may not make 'em like they used to, but if you take a trip on this railway, you will certainly get a sense of the good old days.