Threatening clouds are quickly growing above my head, so I start picking up the pace as fast as I can. I have been walking for almost two hours and I still have not seen a shelter around my. To make matters worse, I can hear the thunder in the distance. After having passed what I hope might be the last hill before the village, I come across a sign that says 3 kilometres to go. I start to be quite worried about the bad weather, but at the same time, I look forward to glimpse the first typical dwellings. At the end of the hike, I will discover that in the 13 kilometres walk, which links the village of Umoljani (where the paved road ends) to Lukomir, there is not one tree. Luckily, it will start raining only 5 minutes before the arrival. I am hiking in the mountain heart of Bosnia Herzegovina to come at the highest and most remote village of the country and, perhaps, of the whole Balkan Peninsula: Lukomir. Even the Bosnian war of Nineties was not able to break out here. Too far from populated places, Lukomir became one of the only two villages saved from the bombings in the whole region. Built at 1.425 metres above sea level, the village is only 70 kilometres far from Sarajevo, the Capital, and 20 from Bjelasnica Mountain, one of the most popular sky resorts of the area. Before being a UN base during the war, Bjelašnica was one of the site of the Winter Olympic games of 1984. Despite what could be perceived as short distances, this rugged road is making me feel the real weight of each metre I trod. Only off-road vehicles or local cars can afford the only two dirty paths that get to the village. That’s probably why walking down the roads of Lukomir is like coming over into a time warp. Getting closer to the village, the green pastures marked with stone and wood fences increase in order to protect the herd by wolves. On the left two shepherds are shearing the sheep manually, round shouldered on the animals. The typical stone-and-wood houses announce me that I finally came over: welcome to Lukomir. The town counts more than 80 buildings, even if only 30 are inhabited. The little gaffs are very small, the roofs sharpened in order to contrast the strong wind and the heavy snowfalls. Winter is harsh on these mountains, and the village remains completely inaccessible for up to 4/5 months. Nowadays only 10 people live here all throughout the year. Even if it might appear quite abandoned, Lukomir is teeming with life: all the elders are walking on the streets, women are knitting and men pick up hay. The rhythm of village life is gentle and relaxed; it calms me down after the run to escape the storm. A little niche of mountain tourists and hikers are slowly discovering this place, and the few villagers are learning how to taking advantage of it. Merja, an old lady who lived all its life in Lukomir, shows us its little house making a typical Bosnian coffee. On the walls, two beautiful pictures catches my attention: one is a photo of La Mecca’s Ka’ba during the Hajj pilgrimage, the other one is a black and white print of her sons in military uniforms. Got used to the proverbial Balkan hospitality, I feel quite upset when she asks me some money for the coffee, but I could consider it like a reward for an entire life lived in this inhospitable and wonderful place. I reach the top of the hill, from where I have an incredible view on the Rakitnica Canyon, 800 metres below, and on the whole village. The only different building is the little mosque, in fact here we are in the traditionally Muslim part of Bosnia. Lukomir is slowly becoming uninhabited due to the hard living conditions and during winter people who rest in the village is always less. On the other hand, its remoteness is probably the only recipe to carry through the authenticity of this piece of heaven, stopped in time.
Tourism might be a resource or a sentence for Lukomir. It will be all up to what a paved and fast road would bring to its equilibrium.
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Ferroviaggi - Fotografie Marco Carlone