Lake Bled and Vintgar Gorge with a Dog

And so, full of enthusiasm, we set off for Slovenia with our dog. Where else could our tour begin, if not at Lake Bled, “THE” symbol of this small country?

It was, to say the least, an unusual trip for us: for the first time in ten years we were without the children. From the boot of the car, though, poked Atena’s long nose, her big languid eyes seeming to ask us, a little worried, where on earth we were taking her.

Our first trip to Slovenia with the dog!

What lay ahead? Would anyone give us trouble? Would Atena stay as calm and obedient as always? Would we have to give up any visits?

A great many question marks, then, and a great desire to set off.

This account is the second episode of Slovenia with a dog: the 5-day itinerary.

Driving on Slovenian motorways: the vignette

The first thing waiting for us was the infamous vignette. When we first went to Slovenia, in 2017, it was still a sticker to fix to the windscreen: a moment to put it on, an hour to peel it off. That sticker no longer exists.

Lake Bled. With a dog.

Lake Bled is quite literally a picture-postcard place. Some find it too perfect, yet the castle rising proudly from the rocks and the bright little church of St Martin mirrored in the water are captivating, to say the least.

The lake takes its name from the town on its eastern shore. Since a large part of the town is pedestrianised (a joy!), we parked on the outer edge of the village.

There are several car parks, all paid. The closer you are to the lake, of course, the higher the rates. Parking, back in 2017, was cheap: we paid 2.50 euros for about four hours. That price no longer means much today, because rates, time limits and hours vary from one car park to another, so before you arrive it is worth checking the official Lake Bled parking map and tariffs.

But back to Bled.

I had the feeling of having landed in some indefinite era. I can well believe it was one of the destinations most sought after by the European nobility of centuries past.

We made our way into the town, past the Town Hall, and all at once I started taking photos like mad.

We were in the centre, yet the air held nothing but a calm serenity. No jarring noise, no hurry, only the mild air brushing your skin while you filled your eyes with the green of the water and the white of the buildings.

Dogs are welcome at Lake Bled. Atena refreshed herself on the grass in the shade of the trees. There are drinking fountains where both people and dogs can quench their thirst, and several cafés and restaurants keep water bowls out; in summer, Kavarna Park even serves an ice cream made for dogs. With a dog you can walk the loop around the lake, reach the island and the outdoor areas of Bled Castle; the castle’s interior is off limits to dogs. You can board the traditional pletna, the wooden rowing boats, only if the other passengers agree, so it is worth asking the boatman before you climb aboard.

St Martin’s Church in Bled

Since the dog could not enter the halls of Bled Castle, we decided not to climb all the way to the top. We stopped earlier, at St Martin’s Church.

All around it lies a lovely garden, where Atena stayed with Andrea and me while we took turns visiting the church.

Perhaps because I expected nothing special, perhaps because I had never seen frescoes so vivid and real, St Martin’s Church struck me deeply.

At first it was the gold and the light that dazzled me. Nothing like the dark Romanesque and Baroque churches we are so often used to: everything shone.

Then I let the frescoes carry me away. They were alive, true, powerful. Real scenes that seemed to break through stone and time.

From the walls, men and women of our own day spoke of hard work in the fields, of struggle, of death and of hope.

My first impression was of reading a comic strip. The whole Way of the Cross was painted so vividly that it seemed impossible the hammer would not fall, at any moment, on the nail of the cross.

I later found out a little more about the painter. Slavko Pengov, from Ljubljana, was one of the most prolific fresco artists in twentieth-century Slovenia, and he made these between 1932 and 1937. In front of the church stands a wayside shrine designed by Jože Plečnik, the greatest Slovenian architect, while some stretches of the walls date back to the fifteenth century, to the age of the Turkish raids. If you pass through Bled, do not miss going inside.

There’s a dog on the pletna!

Well yes, we were in Bled, so could we really skip the ride on the pletna out to the little island in the middle of the lake?

Of course not! Dogs can come aboard, and Atena greatly enjoyed the trip on the traditional rowing boat.

Do bear in mind that taking a dog aboard depends on the consent of the other passengers on the pletna, so it is not guaranteed on every crossing.

After settling in, she stretched out on the bottom of the boat, lulled by the water and unbothered by other people’s feet, almost a miracle given how shy she is.

The ride to the island takes about ten minutes, and the boatman gave us forty to visit it. It really is small, and that is more than enough time.

Whether to draw the tourists, or because the setting is so romantic, this place has any number of legends. All of them, of course, about love.

I tried to talk Andrea into carrying me up the ninety-nine steps to the island, as the groom is supposed to do for good luck, but, for some reason, he preferred to carry the dog up instead. Oh well!

All those steps left me hungry. Why not try the kremšnita?

I had been looking forward to it ever since we decided to come to Slovenia, and it stood as an essential stop on the whole trip. That sweet slab of pastry, custard and whipped cream simply had to be mine.

So we went to the place where it is said to have been invented: Kavarna Park (which, by the way, has a wonderful terrace over the lake).

And there it finally was, in front of me.

I grab the fork, mouth watering, but the pastry is soggy and will not cut cleanly. What a shame! When at last, with infinite slowness and enormous eagerness, I manage to taste it, nothing! I feel nothing!

Let us try again: I sink the fork in and lift the mouthful to my lips. Only a doughy taste of bland custard. I was expecting a riot of sweetness, and instead, after a few bites, the cream arrives too and makes it heavier still. A disappointment! Andrea, on the other hand, enjoyed it.

Vintgar Gorge

It is not a place out of The Lord of the Rings, although the setting (and the name) really could not be more fitting.

It is a long gorge carved by the Radovna river, just 4 km from Bled. To reach it we drove along a road through houses and countryside to a rather isolated, tucked-away car park.

It was here that we had our first special encounter. Behind the question “Are you Italian?” appeared a young man from Siena, who had left home a few days earlier with a single certainty: on 6 September he was due to catch his return flight from Prague.

How to get there and where to sleep were mere details. A roughly two-week adventure by hitchhiking, a guest on other people’s sofas. No fear at all: up to that point he had met only kind, welcoming people.

As we parted he warned us: “If I’m gone by the time you come out, it’s probably because I’ve headed off to Ljubljana with a Polish lorry driver.” By the exit, he was gone.

Visiting Vintgar Gorge has changed a great deal since our 2017 trip. Cars no longer reach the entrance: you leave the car at the Central VINTGAR LIP Parking (P1) and carry on by free electric shuttle to the Visitor Centre. Entry is timed, and it is best to book your ticket online in advance, because tickets are not sold at the Visitor Centre. The route through the gorge is one way, about 1.6 kilometres long, and takes around 45 minutes; for the full experience, including one of the return trails, allow roughly 2.5 to 3 hours. A helmet is compulsory for everyone and is handed out at the Visitor Centre.

Dogs are admitted once you buy their own pass: keep your dog on a leash and walking behind you, and on the electric shuttle a muzzle is compulsory. For visitors with animals, the official site recommends coming in the morning or in the afternoon after 3 pm. The rates published in August 2026 are: All-in-One pass 15 euros for adults, 5 euros for children up to 15, and 3 euros for a dog, with parking and shuttle included. These figures change from season to season, so check the official price list before you travel.

The water has the crystal clarity of glass, turning deep green in its deepest stretches. Rapids, sudden leaps, rock and greenery accompany you until, near the end, you come upon an old stone bridge, eerie and magnificent: the viaduct of the Transalpina railway, built in 1906, spanning the gorge. At the far end, the path opens out in front of the Šum waterfall, thirteen metres high.

How to round off the evening? With a plate of ćevapčići, the small cylinders of spiced minced meat cooked on the grill. I am not quite sure how I managed to order them, since the young waitress did not understand my English and I could not make out hers. Somehow, we got there.

The next day Ljubljana was waiting for us, the capital of Slovenia and one of the most moving moments of the whole holiday.