Hey, it’s Jack Mitchell again—SEO writer by day, trail-dusted dad by life. If you read my first post about Novcizpimkunot (a.k.a. “Novci”), you already know I’m head-over-hiking-boots in love with this place. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized a short listicle didn’t do it justice. So grab a coffee (or a shot of rakija), because here’s the extended cut—the one where I spill every ridiculous detail.
How We Actually Ended Up There
Picture this: me, my wife Laura, and our two kids (ages 9 and 12) crammed into a rented Opel, somewhere south of Plitvice, arguing over Spotify rights. The GPS lady had given up on us entirely. We took a “shortcut” that turned into a one-lane mountain track with more sheep than asphalt. I was two seconds from turning around when the road suddenly hairpinned downward and the entire valley opened up like someone pulled back a green curtain.
We all went silent. Even the kids. That never happens.
Where Exactly Is This Place?
Novcizpimkunot is technically a collection of six tiny hamlets in the Livno Polje karst field, right where Croatia, Bosnia & Herzegovina, and the idea of “tourism” all give up and go home. The nearest “big” town is Livno (population ~30,000 and proud of it), about 45 minutes away. Sarajevo is 2.5 hours east, Split 2.5 hours west. But once you’re in the valley, it feels like the edge of the map.
The Waterfalls Situation Is Absurd
There are officially 27 named waterfalls inside a 10-kilometer radius. Unofficially? Way more. The biggest is Kocusa (70 m), but my favorite is the one the locals just call “Mala Nevista” (Little Bride) because the water falls in a perfect veil. We swam there alone for two straight hours. My son found a cave behind the cascade and declared himself King Triton. I didn’t argue.
A Love Story with Baka Maria
Every traveler has that one meal that rewires their soul. Mine was at the home of Marija Sentić—77 years old, zero English, zero chill when it comes to feeding people. We knocked on her door looking for directions and left four hours later drunk on homemade travarica, stuffed with lamb peka, and carrying a jar of wildflower honey she refused to let us pay for.
She kissed each of my kids on both cheeks and told them (through Google Translate and a lot of gesturing) that they have “good mountain hearts.” I still get emotional thinking about it.
Where We Stayed: Etno Selo Novcizpimkunot
If you go—and you should—book one of the stone cottages at Etno Selo (translation: Ethnic Village). They restored a cluster of 150–200-year-old houses, kept the massive fireplaces and wooden beams, then added modern bathrooms and infinity pools that look straight down the valley. We paid €110/night for a two-bedroom cottage with breakfast. In Santorini that wouldn’t get you a parking space.
The Hiking Menu (Because One Trail Is Never Enough)
- Sunrise loop: Veliko Jezero (Big Lake) – 3 hours, moderate, ends with coffee at a shepherd’s hut.
- Family classic: Vodopad Kocusa + hidden river swim – 4 hours round trip, easy enough for kids who complain but secretly love it.
- “I’m never doing that again” ridge traverse: Čvrsnica peak (2,228 m) – 9 hours, brutal climb, 360° views into three countries and the Adriatic on a clear day. I did it solo at 5 a.m. and cried at the summit like an idiot. Worth it.
The Coffee Is Weirdly Good
For a region where Turkish coffee and rakija dominate, I was shocked to find third-wave-level espresso in the middle of nowhere. A guy named Marko (former Sarajevo barista champ) opened “Kavana Novci” in a converted stable. He pulls shots on a La Marzocco and roasts beans from a micro-lot in Nicaragua. I asked him why. He shrugged and said, “Because sheep don’t drink coffee, someone has to.”
What the Kids Still Talk About
- Sleeping in a 200-year-old house with a fireplace the size of a Smart car.
- Catching (and releasing) trout with their bare hands in an ice-cold river.
- The night the village lost power and everyone came outside with guitars and rakija while the Milky Way put on a private show.
Practical Stuff (Because Someone Has to Be the Adult)
Best time to go: Late May–June or September–early October. July/August is beautiful but hotter and the locals work the fields from dawn to dusk.
How to get there: Fly into Split or Sarajevo, rent a car (you’ll want one), and embrace questionable GPS.
Language: Everyone under 40 speaks decent English. Everyone over 60 speaks universal grandma sign language and force-feeds you.
Money: Bosnia uses Convertible Marks (KM), Croatia uses Euro. Bring cash—ATMs are mythical creatures here.
Internet: Surprisingly solid 4G most places. But do yourself a favor and turn on airplane mode for a few days.
The Part That Keeps Me Up at Night
I’m genuinely torn. Part of me wants to gatekeep Novcizpimkunot forever. The other part—the part that remembers how it felt to round that bend and see paradise with my family—wants you to experience it too.
So here’s the deal: if you go, travel like it’s 1995. Talk to people. Eat what’s put in front of you. Learn how to say “hvala” (thank you) and use it often. Buy the handmade wool socks even if you live in Texas and will never need wool socks. Tip like you mean it.
And when you come home and your friends ask where you went, just smile and say, “Some valley in the Balkans. You wouldn’t know it.”
Safe travels, friends.
See you on the gravel road.
—Jack Mitchell
Still mispronouncing it, still not sorry
Austin, Texas → Novcizpimkunot (every chance I get)
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