In the heart of the Julian Alps, on the plateau of Planina v Lazu, a handful of cows continue to ring the bells of a pastoralism on the verge of extinction. Where once the bells of dozens of herds resonated, only one inhabited cabin remains: that of Lucija Gartner, a cowherd and dairywoman. Between morning milking and making mountain cheeses, she perpetuates age-old practices, supported by a few young volunteers. Her fight: to ensure that the alpine pastures do not completely empty.
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A cowherd facing the disappearance of alpine pastures
Katarina Oblak - 22-med - September 10, 2025 - Slovenia, Julian Alps, Planina v Lazu, Bohinj, Lucija Gartner
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In the heart of the Julian Alps, Lucija Gartner, the last shepherdess of the plateau of Planina v Lazu, perpetuates a way of life that is on the verge of extinction.
Each gesture is a way to show that this profession still has meaning.
The story of Lucija illustrates the fragile balance between living traditions and the gradual disappearance of a way of life that has shaped the alpine landscape and identity.
At 1,560 meters above sea level, the day begins long before the sun lights up the peaks. In the enclosure, the cows wait, accustomed to the hum of the milking machines. “We get up with the sun. In June, that means around five-thirty; later in the summer, we can sleep a little longer,” smiles Lucija Gartner, coffee in hand. Her daily routine is rooted in simple gestures: milking, leading the cows to pasture, transforming the milk. A routine that, in the past, brought together several families of shepherds.
At 33, Lucija is the only shepherdess still residing on this plateau that has always hosted animals and their guardians from June to September. The cabins, the stan, are mostly empty. In the past, the communal dairy received milk from many herds, which a cheesemaker would transform. Now, Lucija is also the last majerica, responsible for cheese-making, on this pasture of Bohinj. Her life as a herd guardian began early. Her father started going to the summer pastures in the 2000s, when Lucija was still a child. At first, she would only join him on weekends, but she quickly spent the entire summer helping him. She grew up up there, amidst the pastures.
The transmission through gesture
Today, 12-year-old Aleksandra spends part of her vacation by her side and has been helping her for over a month. Gesture by gesture, Lucija passes on her know-how to this generation that may, perhaps, take up the torch. “Every gesture I teach is a way to show that this profession still has meaning,” she explains. “It’s a concrete way to resist erasure: to introduce young people to a profession that promises neither wealth nor comfort, but carries a collective memory and an identity.” During the summer, like Aleksandra, other children have come to share a few days with Lucija. Their parents have heard about her and asked if their children could come. They then help her with daily tasks and live simply in a small cabin, sharing her daily life.
The patient art of cheese
Every two days, the magic happens. The milk heated in the large copper cauldron gradually transforms into a golden thirty-kilogram wheel. The rennet breaks down the proteins, the mass coagulates, the curds are cut, stirred, and then heated. “We let it rest for a moment, then we take the cheese out of the cauldron with a cloth and place it in a press,” the shepherdess specifies. Finally, the cheese is left to rest, while the whey is used to produce a protein-rich cottage cheese. Behind this technical process, a culture is expressed: a taste, a smell, a shape that tells the story of the mountain.
A heritage in jeopardy
The ringing of the bells still resonates, but for how long? Alpine pastoralism is declining everywhere in Slovenia. Rural exodus, the difficulty of work, and low profitability undermine transmission. The mountain meadows, shaped by centuries of grazing, risk being reclaimed by forests. Preserving this way of life also means maintaining a landscape and biodiversity linked to human activity.
Human-scale solutions
Lucija does not have the means to change the fate of the alpine pastures alone. But she provides an answer on her scale: continuing to milk, to make, to teach. Every wheel of cheese sold is proof that this tradition still has a future. Every young person welcomed into her cabin is a hope for transmission. If public policies struggle to reverse the trend, the commitment of these solitary shepherds keeps a threatened culture alive. Planina v Lazu has become a symbol: that of a pasture where only one voice remains, but which resonates louder than the silence of deserted cabins. As long as Lucija and her apprentices ring the bells and boil the milk, Slovenian pastoralism will not be a relic, but a living resistance.
Cover photo: on the plateau of Planina v Lazu, the stan are mostly empty © Katarina Oblak