UNA – The one and only
One of the legends about the origin of the name Una tells the story of ancient Roman warriors, who, due to constant warfare and conquering grew somehow rough and lost the ability to perceive beauty of the world. After reaching the river banks of the Una river they were profoundly moved by the scenery they had never seen before. They were bedazzled by the emerald-green water, fairytale waterfalls, vivacious and unsullied river banks, its incomparable natural surroundings.
One of those Roman warriors, fascinated by the scene, exclaimed “Una!” (Latin word for “One”, “the only one”). And there you are, a toughen Roma warrior described all the beauties of the river in one simple word. Una – the One among all the rivers, the incomparable, the unique emerald. And thus ever since the ancient Romans the unique river retained its unique name – UNA.
Another legend tells a bit different story...
Una, Una, Una!!!
After a bloody battle which ended without a true victor, a weary warrior who roamed across the unknown land, came to the edge of a deep canyon. Down below the rocky edges of the canyon there he saw a breathtaking river. Slowly he went down the steep slopes of the canyon to the bank of the emerald river. There he washed his wounds and took a short rest. After coming to his senses, a warrior saw wood log upon the river which led from the river shore to numerous sinter islands scattered all along the river course. He hid behind a huge rock and waited for the sun to set behind the edges of the canyon. With last rays of light and first dusk a beautiful fairy-like maiden appeared. She entered one of the river stilt houses with a fagot of firewood.
The hunger and cold of the river, but foremost the beauty of the girl made him enter the stilt house. Nobody knew anything about him, nobody saw him ... only the girl occasionally came in and brought some food and firewood. Smoke from the stilt house was there through rainy autumn days, winter snows and high waters. Spring brought the fist sunny days and voices and cries of a new-born baby. With the first rays of spring sunrise on the door of the stilt house appeared a warrior in his armour. In his hand, wrapped in roe hide, gently he held a small baby girl. As he saw the baby girl’s mother at the entrance to the water mill he looked in baby’s emerald-turquoise eyes and shouted from the top of his voice: “Una, Una, Una!”
The warrior’s voice long echoed through the river canyon, and it still can be heard today.