Granola Trails

Author: Miha Grasic

  • Kranjska Gora Trail Run Loop

    Kranjska Gora Trail Run Loop

    Kranjska Gora Trail Run Loop

    • Gorenjska, Slovenija

    Kranjska Gora Trail Running Loop

    • Kranjska Gora – Jezero Jasna – Gozd Martuljek – Srednji Vrh – Podkoren – Kranjska Gora

    Length

    About 24 kilometers. Depends on how much views you are taking in 🙂

    Elevation

    850m of elevation gain

    Dificulty Level

    Easy but mostly unmarked path.

    Trail Head

    Center of Kranjska Gora

    • Original Route

    You start from the main parking area in Kranjska Gora, just beside the police station — an easy, accessible starting point that quietly marks the beginning of something much better than a car park.

    The trail eases you in gently, leading through the town and along the river, where the noise fades and the rhythm of running starts to settle. Soon enough, you arrive at Lake Jasna — calm, clear, and almost too perfect. A short loop around the lake gives you a moment to slow down, take it in, and then it’s time to head upward.

    From there, the path turns into a forest road, gradually pulling you deeper into the woods and towards the Martuljek waterfalls. The climb is steady, never aggressive, just enough to make you feel like you’re earning what’s coming.

    As you reach Gozd Martuljek, the route opens up and begins to climb toward Srednji Vrh — a small village that feels like it exists purely for the view. And what a view it is. Wide, quiet, and the kind that makes you stop without thinking twice.

    From here, you continue along the ridge, moving above the valley with open sights in every direction. It’s one of those sections where running almost becomes secondary — you’re just there, moving through it.

    The descent brings you back down toward Kranjska Gora, legs waking up again as the trail flows downhill. Before finishing, you extend the journey out toward Podkoren — a final stretch where the views return one more time, just to make sure you don’t forget them.

     

    Then it’s a gentle run back to where you started — full circle, but not quite the same as before.

    • Watch our video from the route:
    • Recommended Gear

    Summer

    • Ordinary trail running or hiking gear

    Winter

    • Crampons optional (a few steeper descents)
    • GPX & Starting Point

    Click to download gpx file:

    • Related Images

    *Own Source

    View before descending to Kranjska Gora
    View running towards Podkoren
    Trail by the river towards jezero Jasna
    one of the waterfall areas - usually dry
    View before descending to Kranjska Gora
    Bridge crossing in Gorz Martuljek
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  • Naj Naj 21

    Naj Naj 21

    Naj Naj 21

    • Gorenjska, Slovenija

    Hardest and Most Beautiful Half Marathon | Naj Naj 21

    • Sv. Andrej – Sv. Ožbolt – Tošč – Gontarska planina – Osolnik – Sv. Andrej

    Length

    Original route: 21,6km

    Elevation

    Original route: 1280m

    Dificulty Level

    Mostly marked easy route

    Trail Head

    Sv. Andrej above Škofja Loka

    • About the Route

    The Naj Naj 21 route is one of those loops that stays with you.

    Known as the “hardest and most beautiful half marathon”, it’s not just a race course—it’s a proper mountain experience. The route climbs relentlessly, rewards you with wide open views, and then keeps you honest all the way back down.

    It’s popular among trail runners for a reason: the terrain is varied, the climbs are demanding, and the descents require focus. But at the same time, it’s just as rewarding as a long hiking day if you take it slower and soak it in.

    For runners, the loop typically takes anywhere from 2 to 5 hours, depending on pace and conditions. Hikers should plan for a full day out—7 to 10 hours—especially if you’re stopping for views (and you will).

    In winter, the route transforms completely. Snow adds a new layer of beauty—and a fair bit of seriousness. Days are short, temperatures drop quickly, and sections can become technical, so a headlamp and proper gear are a must.

    It’s not an easy route. But that’s kind of the point.

    • Watch our video from the Naj Naj 21 Trail Race in 2026:
    • Recommended Gear

    Summer

    • Ordinary trail running or hiking gear

    Winter

    • Crampons if there is snow, headlamp
    • GPX & Starting Point

    Click to download Naj Naj 21 GPX file:

    • Related Images

    *Own Source

    Naj-naj-21-winter-hiking (1)
    Naj-naj-21-winter-hiking (2)
    Naj-naj-21-winter-hiking (3)
    Naj-naj-21-winter-hiking (4)
    Naj-naj-21-winter-hiking (5)
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  • Isle of Skye

    Isle of Skye

    Miha Grasic

    31/03/2026

    Isle of Skye

    The Wind Took My Hat and Other Things Skye Kept

    Where the road turns wild, the rain feels honest, and life slows down just enough to taste it.

    The Isle of Skye has a reputation for rain.

    What nobody tells you is that the rain is the point — that there’s something about wet shoes and grey skies and a hot bowl of smoked fish soup that strips everything back to what actually matters. We went looking for wild landscapes. We found those. But we also found something slower and harder to name, the particular feeling of being somewhere that doesn’t care whether you’re having a good time, and somehow that making it perfect.

    This is how it went.

    Edinburgh, Sausage Rolls, and an Accidental Holiday

    We landed in Edinburgh at the end of April, late enough that the city was already going to sleep. Hotel, snacks, bed — the unglamorous start to most good trips.

    Morning was better. Greggs. If you’ve never had a Greggs sausage roll fresh from the bag on a Scottish morning with a coffee in the other hand, I’m not sure what to tell you except that you should fix that. Zala had one. I had two. I’m still thinking about them.

    We had hours to kill before our campervan pickup, so we sat in a café the way you do when you’re somewhere between two things — phones out, coffee cooling, not quite present anywhere. That’s when Zala looked up from her screen and said: what if we go to Kyrgyzstan this summer?

    Twenty minutes later we had flights booked. That’s the kind of decision a Greggs sausage roll puts you in the mood for apparently.

    (The Kyrgyzstan story has its own post. You should read it. We almost got struck by lightning.)

    Coffee and sausage roll at Gregs

    The Van Life Reality Check

    At 2:30 p.m., we picked up our van from Indie Campers.
    Now, here’s the honest truth: the van was fine, but the experience? Mixed. The “kitchen pack” we paid extra for included a couple of mugs, one pot, and a plastic plate. No cutlery, no knives — we ended up buying our own.
    The two stacked beds couldn’t “be removed” (until we later realized you literally just lift one off). Pillows were barely more than folded napkins. And the water heater only worked when the cabin heat was on — which we learned after three days of cold showers.

    Still, the van ran smoothly, didn’t complain, and got us where we needed to go. We left with a 5-star smile they gently “encouraged” us to give, grabbed supplies from Tesco (beer, snacks, and too much bread), and pointed the van north toward the Highlands.

    Glencoe at Dusk, Scotland Beginning to Show Off

    There’s a moment driving through the Highlands where the landscape stops being background and becomes the whole thing. For us it happened somewhere around Glencoe, the light dropping, the mountains going dark at the edges, the road narrowing between them.

    We pulled over just short of the Skye Bridge. Tesco curry warmed on the van’s small stove. A beer each, watched through the windscreen as the loch turned silver and then black. It wasn’t a fancy evening. It was better than that.

    Full granola spirit hitting us soon.

    The Quiraing, and the Hat I’m Still Mourning

    Skye in late April, twenty degrees, blue skies. We knew immediately that we were getting away with something.

    The Quiraing loop starts gently and then reveals itself slowly — ridges, drops, rock formations that look like they were designed by someone with a flair for the dramatic and unlimited time. The grass is that specific saturated green that only exists in places where it rains constantly, which Skye does, just not on this particular morning.

    We walked together mostly in silence, which is the best kind of company on a trail.

    Then the wind found us on the ridge.

    It had been building for a while — that particular Skye wind that doesn’t gust so much as commit — and then in one moment it reached up and lifted my hat clean off my head. My Jura hat. The one Zala brought back from her trip to Islay and Jura, the one that had been on my head through enough adventures to have earned its place there.

    I watched it go for about half a second before the trail runner in me took over. I bombed the downhill — proper downhill running form, the kind that makes hikers nervous — scanning every patch of grass and heather. The wind had already made its decision. The hat was gone.

    I walked back up the ridge, hatless.

    The Quiraing loop views
    The Quiraing ridge

    We finished the loop, ate square sausage rolls in the van — which became the unofficial meal of the trip, cheap and perfect and somehow always exactly right — and drove down to Uig to visit the Isle of Skye Brewery. Local beers, a proper tasting, the satisfaction of buying something made exactly where you’re standing.

     

    And Zala, quietly, found me a new hat. Almost identical to the one I’d lost that morning. She handed it over without making a big thing of it, the way she does things, and I put it on and it fit exactly right. Balance restored.

    Later that day, we wandered around the Fairy Glen — soft hills, stone circles, sheep, and a strange stillness. It’s a bit touristy, sure, but sitting there on the grass with a beer in hand, it felt like time slowed down. 

    That evening we parked by the sea — no campsite, no neighbours, just the van and the wind and the water going dark. We ate outside, drank the brewery beers, watched the sun find the horizon.

     

    Nobody else in sight. The world very quiet. That’s the whole thing, right there.

    Watching the sun sink into the ocean.
    Just the wind, the sea and us enjoying life.

    Neist Point, and the Meal I Keep Talking About

    Neist Point is Skye at its most dramatic — a narrow headland pushing out into the Atlantic, cliffs dropping away on both sides, a lighthouse at the tip that looks like it was placed there specifically to make you feel small. Sheep everywhere, entirely unbothered by the wind that was doing its best to push us sideways.

    We walked to the lighthouse and back, said nothing particularly meaningful, felt it anyway.

    View over the Neist Point. Dramatic and calm at the same time.

    After that, it was time for lunch — and oh boy, what a lunch.

    I want to talk about The Oyster Shed properly, because it deserves it.

    It’s a shed. Literally. In Carbost, on the loch, small enough that you might miss it if you weren’t looking. Inside, they open oysters right in front of you — fresh, cold, with nothing more than a squeeze of lemon if you want it. We had smoked fish soup that tasted like the sea had been condensed into a bowl. Lobster. Crab patties. And then the oysters.

    We finished the plate, looked at each other, and ordered another without speaking. That’s the measure of a meal.

    Talisker Distillery was right nearby — we walked past, noted it for later, kept moving. More hiking ahead. The whisky was coming, just not yet.

    The second plate of oysters at the oyster shed.

    Rain, Rainbows, and the Fairy Pools

    The Fairy Pools are where Skye gets mythological.

    A series of cascading pools and small waterfalls cutting down a valley from the Cuillin mountains, the water impossibly clear and blue-green in the right light. Most people walk the lower section and turn back. We kept going, up and around the valley, which is how we found ourselves climbing in the rain while the sun was still out somewhere behind us.

    The rainbow appeared over the pools below — a full arc, one of those ones that looks slightly unreal, like the landscape is performing. Zala stopped walking and we just stood there for a moment, wet, slightly out of breath, watching it.

    There was a plan to climb higher into the Cuillins the next day. The weather made that plan obsolete overnight — cloud, wind, the kind of conditions that punish ambition. We let it go, found a quiet spot to sleep near Portree, and reorganised around what was actually possible.

    Knowing when to change the plan is its own skill.

    Magical Fairy pools, just before we got wet. Again.

    The Old Man of Storr, The Storr and Descending By Waterfall

    Portree in the morning: a small café, coffee, Zala working for an hour on her laptop while I studied maps. The weather was moody but not impossible. We decided on the Old Man of Storr.

    The tourist path takes you to the famous rock formation and back — a fine walk, worth doing. We did that, then continued above it to the actual summit of The Storr. The wind up there was serious. The trail narrowed, the visibility dropped, and it became one of those hikes where you’re making small decisions constantly and trusting that they add up correctly.

    The views were worth it. They always are, when you earn them.

    Coming down the other side, the path simply disappeared. Not dramatically — it just faded into bog and grass and slope. We picked our way down alongside a waterfall, half-scrambling, shoes taking on water for the third time that week, laughing at something that could have been annoying if we’d let it be.

    The famous Old Man of Storr.

    Back at the van, wet socks, good mood.

    That night: Sligachan campsite, a warm shower that felt like it resolved something, and Seumas’ Bar — hearty food, dark wood, locals who’d clearly been coming here for years, and drams of Skye and Raasay whisky that tasted like the week had earned them.

    Some evenings everything just lands right. That was one.

    The “nothing special night” that I will remember forever. That warm pub feeling, live music, good beer, even better whisky, hearty food. This one was a full recharge for the soul.

    The Last Day and One More Bowl of Cullen Skink

    Square sausage bun for the last time. There’s a particular small sadness to the final version of a trip’s recurring meal.

    Elgol beach was beautiful and calm — the kind of place that probably rewards you more if you go out on the water, but we were happy enough just standing at the edge of it, looking out at the Cuillins from the south. Torabhaig Distillery for coffee and cake and a look around — whisky for another time, or maybe another life. Broadford for souvenirs, the kind of unhurried shopping you only do when you know you’re leaving.

    And then Cullen Skink. One last bowl at a small place in Broadford — smoked haddock, cream, potato, the kind of soup that feels like it was made specifically for cold wet places and people who’ve been walking in them. I finished it and immediately wished there was more.

    Then the long drive south.

    Loch Ness slid past the windows, appropriately grey and vast and keeping its secrets. Edinburgh opened up ahead of us — the castle on its rock, Princes Street, the particular energy of a city after a week of emptiness.

    We found a pub. Ordered pints. Sat across from each other in the way you do at the end of something good, not quite ready to call it finished.

    What Skye Actually Is

    I’ve been trying to figure out what to say here, and I think the honest answer is: Skye doesn’t give you a holiday. It gives you something slightly harder and much better.

    The wet shoes. The hat lost to the wind. The cold showers we didn’t need to have but had anyway. The plans abandoned to weather. The waterfall descent that wasn’t on any map. These weren’t the obstacles to the trip — they were the trip.

    There’s a version of travel that’s about comfort and curation and seeing the things you’re supposed to see. And then there’s the other kind. The kind where you park by the sea alone and eat dinner in the wind and it’s perfect for no reason you can fully explain.

    Skye is the second kind. It doesn’t perform for you. It just exists — old, indifferent, spectacular — and you either meet it on its terms or you miss the point entirely.

    We’re already talking about going back.

    Written somewhere between a coffee and a whisky, on a week that felt longer than it was — in the best possible way.

    Short videos from our adventures on the Isle of Skye

    @mihagrasic Hikes, Sunsets, Trails, Beers, Whisky, Oysters… The Isle of Skye gave us everything we came for… and something we didn't know we needed. w/ lovely @Zala Rauter 🥰 #isleofskye #scotland #hiking #trails #travel ♬ original sound – Miha | Granola Trails
    @mihagrasic Hey, take a moment. Step into silence. Join us for a peaceful hike through the Quiraing. w @Zala Rauter #scotland #hiking #isleofskye #quiraing #peaceful #calm Music from #Uppbeat ♬ original sound – Miha | Granola Trails
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  • The Fairy Pools Loop

    The Fairy Pools Loop

    The Fairy Pools

    • Isle of Skye, Scotland

    The Fairy Pools Loop

    • Isle of Skye, Scotland

    Length

    8,00km

    Elevation

    300m

    Dificulty Level

    Marked & unmarked easy trail with some boggy terrain

    Trail Head

    Isle of Skye, Scotland

    • Route Description

    A series of cascading pools and small waterfalls cutting down a valley from the Cuillin mountains, the water impossibly clear and blue-green in the right light. Most people walk the lower section and turn back. We kept going, up and around the valley, which is how we found ourselves climbing in the rain while the sun was still out somewhere behind us.

    The rainbow appeared over the pools below — a full arc, one of those ones that looks slightly unreal, like the landscape is performing. Zala stopped walking and we just stood there for a moment, wet, slightly out of breath, watching it.

    • Recommended Gear

    Summer

    • Ordinary trail running or hiking gear

    Winter

    • Not sure – Please check reliable sources.
    • GPX & Starting Point

    Click to download gpx file:

    • Related Images

    *Own Source

    Share This :
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    Feel free to ask, we will gladly give you advice! 🙂

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  • The Storr Summit Trail (Isle of Skye)

    The Storr Summit Trail (Isle of Skye)

    Old Man of Storr & The Storr

    • Isle of Skye, Scotland

    Old Man of Storr & The Storr (Loop)

    • Isle of Skye, Scotland

    Length

    7,60 km

    Elevation

    630m

    Dificulty Level

    First section – Obvious easy rout Second section – descend by waterfall route

    Trail Head

    Old Man if Storr Parking Lot, Isle of Skye, Scotland

    • Original Route

    The tourist path takes you to the famous rock formation and back — a fine walk, worth doing. We did that, then continued above it to the actual summit of The Storr. The wind up there was serious. The trail narrowed, the visibility dropped, and it became one of those hikes where you’re making small decisions constantly and trusting that they add up correctly.

    The views were worth it. They always are, when you earn them.

    Coming down the other side, the path simply disappeared. Not dramatically — it just faded into bog and grass and slope. We picked our way down alongside a waterfall, half-scrambling, shoes taking on water for the third time that week, laughing at something that could have been annoying if we’d let it be.

    • Recommended Gear

    Summer

    • Ordinary trail running or hiking gear

    Winter

    • Don’t know – please check reliable sources 🙂
    • GPX & Starting Point

    Click to download gpx file:

    • Related Images

    *Own Source

    Share This :
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    Do you have any questions about the route?

    Feel free to ask, we will gladly give you advice! 🙂

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  • The Quiraing Ridge Loop (Isle of Skye)

    The Quiraing Ridge Loop (Isle of Skye)

    The Quiraing Loop

    • Isle of Skye, Scotland

    The Quiraing Loop

    • The Quiraing, Isle of Skye, Scotland

    Length

    Aproximately 8.5km

    Elevation

    Aproximately 600m

    Dificulty Level

    Easy singletrack with a few “steep” sections and possibly boggy grass sections

    Trail Head

    The Quiraing, Isle of Skye, Scotland

    • Original Route

    The Quiraing loop starts gently and then reveals itself slowly — ridges, drops, rock formations that look like they were designed by someone with a flair for the dramatic and unlimited time. The grass is that specific saturated green that only exists in places where it rains constantly, which Skye does, just not on this particular morning that we went to hike it. 

    • Watch our video from the route:
    @mihagrasic Hey, take a moment. Step into silence. Join us for a peaceful hike through the Quiraing. w @Zala Rauter #scotland #hiking #isleofskye #quiraing #peaceful #calm Music from #Uppbeat ♬ original sound – Miha | Granola Trails
    • Recommended Gear

    Summer

    • Ordinary trail running or hiking gear

    Winter

    • Honestly – Don’t know, better check a winter reliable source 🙂
    • GPX & Starting Point

    Click to download gpx file:

    • Related Images

    *Own Source

    Share This :
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  • Brezniške Peči

    Brezniške Peči

    Brezniške Peči

    • Gorenjska, Slovenija

    Brezniške Peči (Smokuški Vrh > Lake Završnica)

    • Radovljica – Begunje – Završnica – Žirovnica – Radovljica

    Length

    Original route: 25km
    Full Ridge Variation:
    24km

    Elevation

    Original route: 760m
    Summit Variation:
    760m

    Dificulty Level

    Marked easy route with moderate section (scree and steel wire section)

    Trail Head

    Radovljica (or Begunje for Ridge only)

    • Original Route

    From Radovljica to Begunje, Then summit Smokuški Vrh. Following the ridge down to lake završnica, then back to radovljica.

    • Full Ridge route:

    Bypassing lake završnica, following the entire ridge from top to bottom.

    • Watch our video from the route:
    • Recommended Gear

    Summer

    • Ordinary trail running or hiking gear

    Winter

    • Winter Climbing gear (ice axe, crampons)
    • GPX & Starting Point
    • Radovljica or Begunje

    Click to download gpx file:

    • Related Images

    *Own Source

    IMG-20260318-WA0022
    IMG-20260318-WA0024
    IMG-20260318-WA0023
    Share This :
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  • From Mountains to the Sea

    From Mountains to the Sea

    Miha Grasic

    30/03/2026

    From Mountains to the Sea

    Alpe Adria Trail - Cycling Biking

    Day 1 — Into the Storm

    It started quietly, on a Friday afternoon in September.
    The kind of day where the air already smells like autumn, but summer still lingers on your skin.
    I left work early, stuffed three days of life into a single 30-liter bag, checked the tire pressure one last time, and rolled out of Radovljica with Zala.

    No big send-off. No plan beyond “we’ll reach the sea.” Just two bikes, one road, and that slow pull of curiosity that makes you move.

    We pedaled through Jesenice and into the valley that leads toward Kranjska Gora — a cyclist’s dream: smooth tarmac, steady rhythm, mountains watching from every side. The cycling path there really feels like a highway, but for cyclists. 

    The forecast promised rain that evening, but the sky held, atleast at the begining. We stopped in Kranjska Gora to fill our bottles, stretched our legs, and laughed at the fact that this was actually happening — our first real bikepacking trip. This time we were actually doing it. Multi day trip with nothing but one backpack. A mixed feeling of freedom, nervousness, and excitement at the same time. 

    Then, somewhere past the border with italy, the light began to fade. It wasn’t late yet, the sun was yet to set. But the clouds gathered like an audience waiting for the first crack of thunder.
    We kept moving anyway, legs spinning faster, the smell of wet pine growing stronger.

    Via Alpe Adria Trevisio

    We passed Tarvisio, caporoso and beautiful village of Valbruna. there was not many kilmeters left to Pontebba, where we would stay our first night. We though “maybe the weather will hold on?”

    So we continued further. getting closer and closer to Pontebba.. until right at about 5-6kilometers to go, it really started turning. Not much at first — just a few polite warnings — until the heavens decided to empty everything at once.
    Within minutes, we were drenched. Wind howled through the valley, and lightning cracked in the distance.

    We pushed harder, half-laughing, half-panicking, until luckly a tunnel appeared ahead — dark, echoing, but perfect hiding spot at a perfect timing. .
    We rolled inside, hearts pounding, dripping from helmets to shoes.

    Flashbacks from Kyrgyzstan. Hiding from the storm in an old railway tunnel.

    And there we were. Two cyclists hiding in an old railway tunnel, eating gummy bears while thunder roared outside.

    Zala swore it felt like Kyrgyzstan all over again — that same wild electricity in the air.

    But we waited there and laughed it off. Ate some more gummy bears and waited some more. But now, it was starting to get dark.

    As soon as the rain softened a little, we climbed back on and rode the last stretch to Pontebba.
    The town was quiet, washed clean by the storm.


    Our guesthouse turned out to be a small pizzeria — warm, yellow light spilling onto the street. The kind of comforting place you see in the movies. 

    We carried our bikes into the garage, peeled off soaked layers, and headed inside where they warmly welcomed us. 

    We were showed to our tiny but cozy room for tonight. split beds didnt bother us that much – we were just passing by, and our standard has dropped since Kyrgyzstan trip, so it was more than perfect. 

    We showered with steaming hot water, and wandered downstairs where the smell of wood-fired pizza and smell of fresh pasta wrapped around us like a blanket.
    Beer for me, Beer for her. Aperol for me, Aperol for her.
    Hot food. Warmth. Laughter.
    Eighty-five kilometers done, and one of those nights you never forget.

    Day 2 — Downhill and Beyond

    Next morning surprised us with breakfast — unexpected, simple, and perfect.
    Coffee, bread, marmalade, that quiet hum of Italian small talk in the background.
    We ate slowly, thankful for small gestures that make the road feel kind again.

    And when we headed outside, blue skies and warm sunshine on our faces. The storm has passed, and the forcast promised some more late summer days.

    We packed up everything in our one bag, and climbed on our bikes.

    The next stretch was pure joy. From Pontebba down through the valleys, the Via Alpe Adria route flowed gently — thirty kilometers of effortless descent. That’s how a joy-ride looks like if i’ve ever seen one. 
    Mountains, valleys, rivers, and us. 

    The air turned warmer, the scent of the forests slowly giving way to vineyards and sun-soaked stone.
    The rhythm of pedaling became meditative: breathe, push, coast, repeat.

    Villages changed character as we went — alpine roofs flattening, shutters turning pastel, olive trees appearing here and there.

    We stopped in Venzone, a postcard town rebuilt stone by stone after an earthquake, and lingered over a short espresso.

    From there, the land stretched out flat toward Udine.
    The heat rose, shimmering above the fields.
    We left the official route now and then, taking detours through gravel paths and quiet country roads that felt like shortcuts but probably weren’t.
    Sometimes the GPS led us astray, sometimes it was our stubborn curiosity.
    Either way, it didn’t matter.

    In Buja we paused for a cola and a coffee — the best kind of combination when your legs start to argue with your mind, and you need that gentle hit of caffeine and sugar at once.

    By mid-afternoon, the sun was high, and we were running on sandwiches, water, and stubbornness. But we were slowly started to close in to our accomodation for the night.

    We reached Brazzano near sunset.
    Our “cheap overnight stop” turned out to be a villa — old stone walls, high ceilings, a room that smelled faintly of history and lavender. And paintings. So many paintings. I could swear you could barely see the walls as pictures were hanging literally everywhere. 

    We showered, stretched out on the bed, and stared at the ceiling for a long minute, smiling at the absurd comfort of it all.

    Dinner was a short ride away, at a place called Waiting for Gandalf.
    Ofcourse we picked it because of the name. 
    There, we ordered two burgers and one portion of fries, thinking we were being sensible. After all, we were cycling all day, for over 100 kilometers. One could guess we were hungry. 


    The fries came first. but they were served in a bucket. I could swear there was a whole kilo of fries alone. And the burgers were the size of a watermelon.
    I tried my best. The burger won.
    If I had to choose between finishing a burger, and cycling another 100k… I probably would have…hmm…

    That night, with full bellies and tired legs, we fell asleep before finishing a single sentence.
    The kind of sleep you only earn on the road.

    Day 3 — To the Sea

    By Sunday morning, the rhythm was set.
    Wake up. Coffee. Small Breakfast. Check tires. Ride.
    The final day — one hundred kilometers left between us and our finish line by the Adriatic.

    We left the Via Alpe Adria behind and followed quiet roads through vineyards and sleepy villages.
    The landscape shifted again — vines climbing sun-baked hills, cypress trees on the horizon, the faint scent of salt in the air.
    For a while, everything was still.

    Then came the coast.
    The stretch from Sistiana to Trieste was stunning, but busy. If only I could pay more attention to the views.
    Cars, tunnels, narrow shoulders — the kind of riding that keeps you alert but steals the peace.
    We moved carefully, grateful for every small pause where the sea flashed between guardrails.

    Trieste itself felt chaotic — loud, uneven, impatient.
    We thought we would stop for a coffee, but didn’t. Just rode through, dodging potholes and city noise, eager to find some peace and quiet again.

    Past Muggia, the world calmed back down. The road curved gently above the sea, cliffs falling away to turquoise water. Crossing back into Slovenia at Debeli Rtič felt like exhaling.

    The final kilometers rolled by in silence.
    No music, no talking — just the soft hum of chains, the sea growing closer with every turn of the pedals.
    And then, there it was.

    Plaža Žusterna in Koper – Our finish line. 
    Waves, laughter, sunlight.
    We dropped our bikes, shoes off, feet in the sea. Well… we dipped ourselves whole into sea. 
    It wasn’t heroic or grand — just quiet, human, and deeply good.

    Three days. Two bikes. One bag.
    From mountains to sea.
    From cold rain to warm saltwater.
    From the first nervous pedal stroke to that still moment where it all makes sense.

    Author’s Note

    Written from memory, on a quiet autumn evening —
    the kind where the house is still, tea is warm,
    and the legs remember just enough of the road
    to make you wish you were back out there again.

    Memories from via Alpe Adria Trail in short video:

    @mihagrasic Cant wait for more bike trips!! Here are some memories from our last years 3 day weekend bike trip – second half of alpe adria route. With lovely @Zala Rauter ♬ Life is a Highway – Rascal Flatts
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  • Valley of the 7 Lakes (Lower section)

    Valley of the 7 Lakes (Lower section)

    Valley of the 7 lakes

    • Julian Alps, Slovenija

    Valley of the 7 Lakes (Lower section)

    • Savica – Komna – Bogatin – Koča pri Triglavskih jezerih – Črno Jezero – Savica

    Length

    29 kilometers, with option to cut it short if chosing more exposed and technical route

    Elevation

    1700m, not steep, but long.

    Dificulty Level

    Mostly marked easy route, with some technical trails

    Trail Head

    Koča pri Savici (653 m)

    • Original Route

    Starting at Planinski dom Savica, the trail immediately sets the tone for the day. A long, steady climb begins through the forest, following a well-known path of endless switchbacks — the kind where you stop counting somewhere halfway up, even if you’ve heard there are 49 of them.

    The ascent is never brutally steep, but it just keeps going. As you gain elevation, the forest slowly opens and gives you those first quiet views back toward Lake Bohinj — a reminder of how far you’ve already come.

    Reaching the Komna plateau feels like stepping into a different world. At Dom na Komni, the terrain softens, the views widen, and the trail becomes calmer, almost deceptive. It’s easy to think the hard part is behind you.

    From there, the route flows gently across open alpine terrain toward Koča pod Bogatinom — a perfect place to pause, refuel, and take a breath before committing to the deeper part of the valley.

    Beyond this point, things change.

    The trail toward Dvojno jezero is often described as “easy,” but that label doesn’t tell the full story. It’s not steep, and the path is always clear — but it’s slow. Rocky, uneven, and technical enough to demand your attention with every step. Progress here isn’t about speed, it’s about patience.

    When the lakes finally appear, the effort makes sense. The landscape opens into something raw and quiet — water, stone, and silence. It’s hard to put into words, but it feels like you’ve stepped deeper into the mountains than usual. On our day, the hut was already closed, and we didn’t stay long. There was still a long way to go.

    Continuing toward Črno jezero, the terrain eases slightly, allowing for a more natural rhythm again. Along the way, a water source offers a much-needed refill — something you’ll likely be grateful for at this stage of the day.

    Črno jezero appears almost unexpectedly, tucked between rocks and forest, quiet and dark as its name suggests. By the time we reached it, the light was already fading, adding a completely different mood to the place.

    From here, you’re faced with a choice:
    either descend via Komarča — a more demanding and exposed route — or return the way of Komna.

    We chose Komna.

    The trail back allows for faster movement again, and the long descent down the switchbacks becomes a mix of hiking and light jogging. By now, fatigue is fully present — the kind that comes from being on your feet all day.

    We reached the parking just minutes before darkness took over.

    Next time, a headlamp is coming with us.

    • Recommended Gear

    Summer

    • Ordinary trail running or hiking gear

    Winter

    • Winter (snow shoes and full winter gear)
    • GPX & Starting Point

    Click to download gpx file:

    • Related Images

    *Own Source

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    triglavska-jezera-triglav-lakes-hike-komna-granola-trails-path
    granola-trails-koca-pod-bogatinom-komna-triglavski-narodni-park-julian-alps-path
    granola-trails-koca-pod-bogatinom-komna-triglavski-narodni-park-julian-alps-view
    granola-trails-koca-pod-bogatinom-komna-triglavski-narodni-park-julian-alps
    granola-trails-zala-julian-alps-hike
    triglavska-jezera-hike-granola-trails-gpx-path-trail
    triglavska-jezera-hike-granola-trails-gpx-path-trail-lake-triglav
    koca-pri-triglavskih-jezerih-triglav-lake-hut-hike-granola-trails-gpx
    koca-pri-triglavskih-jezerih-triglav-lake-hut-hike-granola-trails-gpx-view
    granola-trails-couple-miha-zala-hike-run-trail
    koca-pri-triglavskih-jezerih-triglav-lake-hut-hike-granola-trails-gpx-view-triglav-lakes-valley
    Triglav-lakes-valley-double-lake-hut-triglavska-jezera
    double-lake-triglavska-jezera-koca-view-granola-trails
    Triglav-lakes-hike-granola-trails
    triglavska-jezera-crno-jezero-triglav-lakes-black-lake-granola-trails-hike
    view-over-lake-bohinj-triglav-lakes-hike
    last-of-the-switch-backs-komna-hike-triglavska-jezera
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    Do you have any questions about the route?

    Feel free to ask, we will gladly give you advice! 🙂

    • +386 Comming soon
    • info@granola-trails.com

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