Why you should visit Český Krumlov, the ‘Prague-in-miniature’ where locals are fighting overtourism

“The name ‘Vltava’ comes from the old Germanic for ‘wild water’,” says tour guide Michal Pavlík, as he punts us along a languid meander in the river that carves through the Czech town of Český Krumlov, around 110 miles south of Prague.

“As you can see, it’s very wild,” he adds, nodding towards a family of ducks gliding past. It’s then I realise I’m not only sitting alongside a skilled timber rafter but also an aficionado of another prized national pastime: deadpan joke delivery. I settle in for the ride.

As school parties and couples wobble about in canoes, I’m glad to be perched on a little bench atop a sturdy wooden craft, with time to survey the Gothic steeples and Renaissance facades that jostle above the craggy riverbanks. Not that timber rafting has always been the easy option.

From the 11th century up until the arrival of the railways, the Vltava was the main route for transporting timber from the deep Bohemian forests to booming Prague. People spent the winter felling and then stripping towering trees by hand. Come spring, these mighty columns were hauled to the river before being bound together with twigs and withe (flexible branches used for tying and binding) while currents bobbed and cajoled.

“The boats were a maximum of six metres wide because they had to fit through the narrowest rapids,” says Michal. “But they could be 200 metres long.”

It took teams of rafters nearly a week to complete the treacherous, sometimes deadly journey in these trailing vessels; on many stretches, the Vltava earned its ancient name. Selling the timber was well paid, although Michal points out the transaction’s downside: “It was a long walk home.”

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To fully induct me into the cultural heritage of this recently Unesco-listed mode of transport, we pitch up next to a pistachio-green pub, where a server passes down glasses of frothy Budvar beer produced in the nearby national brewery in České Budějovice.

Then we’re off. Michal deftly pilots us down a stone weir, ending with a mini log-flume-style splash. I’ve also shown some sailing prowess: not a drop of beer lost.

I ask Michal if the Unesco listing has been good for the rafting business. “Of course,” he says, though he knows such recognition comes with risks too. He…