In the 15 years since I last visited Plitvice Lakes national park, much has changed in this mountainous region of Lika, near Croatia’s border with Bosnia-Herzegovina. Hotels, apartments, B&Bs and campsites have popped up at a rapid rate, their owners catering for visitors to these glorious, Unesco-listed lakes: 16 of them, tumbling down countless waterfalls in every shade of blue and green, from jade to turquoise and deep ocean blue.

As only three hotels are allowed in the national park, this other accommodation has appeared across the region. The latest, Hotel Lyra Plitvice, which opened in May, is in an unlikely spot, only 2½ miles from the border. When I reached Ličko Petrovo Selo, I was prepared for the sight of ruined houses in this predominantly ethnic Serbian village, because I knew it had suffered in 1995, at the end of the Croatian war. From a population of 2,000 before the conflict, it has dropped to around 120.

Instead, I found signs of regeneration, helped by the Lyra’s opening. Built on the site of the derelict village school, the 58-room hotel has gone against the local grain of faux-rustic and has a sleek, modern style: the steeply sloped roof sits against a towering wall of pine trees and the decor is low-key and contemporary, with original artworks and a sophisticated glass-walled lounge bar.

The Lyra uses some of its income to help rebuild the village, one property at a time. It’s early days, though it has already started restoring a small community centre used by the Tara Citizens’ Association, a collective of mostly older women created in 2004 by villager Sonja Leka, who spent seven years as a refugee in Belgrade. Their small-scale production of handicrafts is giving them a much-needed financial and psychological boost, and the plan is to sell them in the hotel.

About 90% of the food served in the hotel comes from local producers, including delectable grilled trout in the evening and fat kobasica sausages at breakfast. And in a spirit of reconciliation – in the region where some of the first shots were fired in the conflict – the Slovenian tour agency that owns the hotel, Happy Tours, is hiring equal numbers of Croats, Serbs and Bosnians. The average guest may be oblivious to this but as someone whose parents were born in the area, I found it immensely heartening.

I soon discovered that what looked like an out-of-the-way location worked in the hotel’s favour, especially with Bosnia being so close. It was a scenic 15-minute drive through woods to Plitvice Lakes national park, where I reacquainted myself with the heart-stoppingly beautiful landscape. Starting in the lower lakes, we followed trails and wooden walkways that wind through beech woods and past lakes of such vivid turquoise they cooled the eyes on a day that hit 32C. One has my family name on it – Novakovića Brod – but I lost sight of it in a sea of selfie-sticks (despite the whopping £30 summer adult entrance fee to the park).

It was quieter when we reached the jetty, where an electric boat took us across Kozjak lake, but there was another scrum on to the same narrow walkway to the upper lakes (get there when the park opens at 7am to avoid the crowds).

It’s not hard to leave the hordes behind though. We drove 19 miles north from the park’s main entrance to where the River Korana (which flows into Plitvice Lakes) passes through the village of Rastoke. A riverside beach has been set up in this village of watermills and waterfalls, and schools of tiny fish swirled around my legs in the warm water.

In Croatia’s mountainous hinterland – hours from the Adriatic coast – rivers and waterfalls rule. Over the next few days, we hunted for sylvan spots where we could laze by a river and soak up all that green and blue loveliness. They weren’t hard to find.

The medieval tower in Drežnik Stari Grad was the starting point for a walk down a rocky path to where the Korana flows through a little canyon. I plunged into the clear water, revelling in its freshness in the shade of pine-covered cliffs. Further downriver, the Korana forms part of the Adrenalin Park Plitvice, where the canyon widens into a wide grassy section where families were picnicking and swimming. Occasionally a child on a zipline whooshed over us.

Back at Hotel Lyra, a few of the Bosnian staff urged me to visit the Una national park across the border (entrance £3.20). I’d driven past it many times over the years but had only stopped for plates of ćevapi (minced meat) stuffed into lepinja (flatbread) at Mlin restaurant by the Una river.

I was drawn again to Mlin, this time by spit-roasted lamb, but also discovered the charming riverside Natura Art – part-restaurant, part-hotel, part-boating centre – and a relaxing place to sit and gaze at the Una’s rapids. In front of me was a comically huge veal shank – obviously meant for two – that had been cooked slowly in a peka, a bell-shaped iron pot that sits under hot embers for hours. The Una national park’s star turn is the Štrbački Buk waterfall. I’d seen it before but only from the less-accessible Croatian side. In Bosnia, a network of wooden walkways takes you right up to the thundering waters. Intrepid leaders of a rafting group threw their empty rafts down the 25-metre waterfall before jumping in after them. The waiting rafters on the banks cheered as they prepared to resume their wild ride.

The Una and the quieter corners of the Korana are much-needed antidotes to busy Plitvice. There are times when you don’t want to follow the crowds.

• The trip was provided by Happy Tours and Hotel Lyra Plitvice (doubles from €95 B&B)

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