Na bučnem, s soncem obsijenem koncertu At a loud sunlit concert

V naši deželici me vedno znova prevzame to, da je glede na njeno stvarno majhnost v njej toliko znamenitosti, lepot in bogate zgodovine, pa kljub vsemu vedno znova odkrivam še nove in nove, od takih, ob katerih rečem ja, pa je res lepo, takih, ob katerih zavzdihnem in sem preprosto očarana in mi je kar malce nerodno, da tega nisem poznala, in vsake toliko tudi take, ob katerih preprosto ostanem brez besed.
 
Imam se za dokaj razgledano, a za slap Kozjak pač še nisem slišala, ni kaj, preveč je vsega in še dobro, da je tako, da me potem lahko vsako novo odkritje tako zelo razveseli.
 
Velja za naš najslikovitejši slap in res, ne vem, morda je le to, da smo bili tam ob najprimernejšem času, takrat ko je sonce obsijalo tega 15 metrskega lepotca in skozi razpoko na vrhu te jajčaste jame, tiste najbolj prvinske oblike, kjer se rojeva lepota, je padalo že kar jesensko obarvano listje, ki se je vrtinčilo in lesketalo. Pravljica!
 
Ah, od vsega lepega prevzeta sem začela tam, kjer je najlepše, na koncu, pot pa se začne že veliko prej in če malo skreneš z nje, navzgor, na gozdno stezico, te le-ta popelje mimo vojaških ostalin iz prve svetovne vojne (slika 3), raznih italijanskih bunkerjev, kavern in opazovalnice.
 
Pot nato vodi čez kamniti most iz leta 1895, kjer je 8 metrski Mali Kozjak (sliki 4 in 5). Od tam naprej pot vodi ob strugi potoka, medtem prečimo par luštnih kamnitih in lesenih mostičkov, vsenaokrog je polno krasnih detajlov, voda pa je tako bistra, da jo z malo nepazljivosti mimogrede spregledaš in stopiš vanjo.
 
Ob vsem tem, ob stenah, ki se vedno bolj ožijo in dvigajo, ter nekje na sredi poti od malega slapa proti velikemu, ko v nekem koraku kar naenkrat prestopiš mejo med že kar malo nadležnim toplim in nato prijetno osvežilnim hladnih zrakom, se pričakovanje stopnjuje.
 
Ko po lepo speljanem lesenem pomolu (prva in slike na koncu), ki se dviga vedno višje nad potokom, ob steni zadnjega ovinka tistega s-ja oprijemajoč se jeklene pletenice zagledaš v ogromni temni votlini veličasten bučen in peneč, s soncem obsijan steber, in tolmun zeleno-modre barve, se ti zazdi, kot da stojiš na galeriji v koncertni dvorani. Samo gledaš, poslušaš in dihaš.
 
Ah ja, na takšnih krajih, po katerih smo se potikali prejšnji teden, ki so bodisi delo narave, kot tale slap in Tolminska korita, bodisi delo človeka, kot Javorca, z lahkoto postaneš pesnik. :)

What fascinates me in my country is that regardless of its physical smallness there is so many attractions, beauties and rich history, but nevertheless I’m discovering some new all over again. For some I say yes, it really is beautiful, at others I sigh and I’m simply impressed and a little embarrassed for not knowing it, and there are some now and then when I stay speechless.
 
I consider myself quite knowledgeable, but I’ve never heard of the Kozjak Waterfall before, but there’s nothing you can do about it, it’s just too much of everything and it is good that it is so, so each new discovery makes me very happy.
 
The waterfall is said to be the most picturesque in the country and how true it is, I don’t know, maybe it has something to do with our timing. We visited it when the sun had lit up this beauty of 15 metres and already autumn coloured leaves, swirling and glittering, had been falling through the crack at the top of this egg shaped cave, that of the most primal form of which the beauty is born. A fairytale!
 
Ah, all impressed I started at the most beautiful place, at the end, but the trail begins much earlier and if you turn off of it a bit, up to the hill to the forest path, it takes you through some military remains of the First World War (picture 3), various Italian bunkers, caverns and an observation point.
 
The trail later leads to a stony bridge from 1895, where 8 metres Mali Kozjak [=Little Kozjak] (pictures 4 and 5) is and from there on along the stream, passing few cute stony and wooden little bridges. There are many wonderful details all around and the water is so clear that with a little carelessness you can easily overlook it and step into.
 
As the walls becoming higher and higher and closer to each other and when somewhere in the middle of the way from the little to the big waterfall suddenly, in just one step, you cross the line between already annoyingly warm and then pleasantly refreshing air, at all that the expectation is increasing.
 
When you reach a carefully designed wooden boardwalk (the first and pictures at the end) along the wall of the last curve of that S rising higher above the stream, holding a wire rope and you finally see in that huge dark cave with the magnificent loud, foamy and sunlit pillar and green blue pool, you feel like you’re in a gallery in a concert hall. You just watch, listen and breathe.
 
Ah yes, at such places as we visited last week, weather being the art of nature like this waterfall or Tolminska korita or the art of a man like Javorca, one easily becomes a poet. :)