Croatia's reputation as a summer playground is growing, with Dubrovnik and the stunning islands of the Adriatic becoming increasingly popular. But it is also a fine destination out of season, when you can visit its wonderful attractions in splendid isolation.

Wandering around the sleepy hilltop towns of Istria or the fascinating Diocletian's Palace in Split can be much more rewarding away from the push and shove of the tourist crowds, while Rovinj is always a joy.

Dubrovnik in November is warm and pleasantly sunny, and peaceful too. No jostling for position on the city walls, no waiting for a table outside the cafes in the old town.

So the days may be shorter and you'd be well advised to take a coat for the chilly evenings but you'll have time to soak up the views of the Adriatic and space to admire the simple uniform charm of the Venetian architecture.

The highlight of an out-of-season trip to Croatia has to be Plitvicka jezera, the Plitvice National Park, about an hour and a half north west of Split. Unless you're the patient kind, happy to wait by the roadside for the irregular bus service, you'll need a car to get there, but the roads, which rise through ever more beautiful scenery to the forests around the lakes, are good and the parking is ample.

Accommodation was easy to find, if a little harder to arrange. This far away from the coast, fewer people speak English and when we pitched up at a small B&B to request a room the negotiations were conducted in a language akin to schoolboy German. Or at least my side of the discussion was.

Not entirely (perhaps that should say remotely) sure of what I'd booked, I was happy to be shown to a clean and comfortable en-suite room, costing around £12 for two people, including a typical Croatian breakfast of bread and jam, cheese and ham. I established that the water was either hot or not (not as it transpired - we had to wait an hour or two) and there was some talk of towels.

Easier to understand was the menu in the adjacent cafe. Away from the steak and seafood restaurants in the coastal towns, pizza is the staple diet of the visitor to Croatia. We ordered the biggest pizza on the menu to share, and it practically filled the table top.

The next morning we set off for the lakes. Advised by our guidebook to arrive early to beat the crowds, we arrived moderately late to find a scattering of cars in the car park, but not a soul in sight.

Entering the park by the northern gate, we were immediately hit by the sheer natural beauty of our surroundings. Sixteen inter-connecting lakes of strikingly turquoise water cascade down from the mountains at the south of the park to the point above which we were now standing. Sadly, three weeks of unseasonably dry weather meant Veliki Slap (Big Waterfall) displayed little of the majesty we had been led to expect, reduced as it was to an apologetic trickle.

Onwards and upwards through the park, wooden walkways guide you over and around the lakes, past waterfalls of differing shapes and sizes, to the cafe and rest area on the shores of the park's biggest lake. It was here we encountered the only other visitors we would see, a couple and a dog who shared the boat which took us across the lake, connecting us to the southern entrance. From here, there are a dozen more lakes to explore at your leisure.

Fast forward eight months to July and our return to Plitvice with friends. Coachloads of tourists from far and wide gather at the northern entrance. Cars from Poland, France, Italy and Slovakia spill out of the overflow parking.

For five minutes we wait beneath Veliki Slap until the crowds have sufficiently cleared for us to pose for a photograph and we somehow capture our group without a stray tourist arm or hat rim encroaching on the frame. At the rest area, all the picnic tables are taken, dogs and children bark and yelp, wail and squeal, sent into a frenzy by the promise of ice cream or sausages, oblivious to the energy-sapping heat.

We wait at the back of a burgeoning queue for out boat across the lake. Two come and go before we squeeze onto the third. On the far shore, we stand motionless in a human bottleneck attempting to reach the southern lakes. When we finally get through we find the terrain even more densely populated than before, as crowds wait in line to take a snap of a particularly eye-catching pool or waterfall before shuffling along the path, nose to tail.

The beauty of this scenery in the full glare of the summer sun, the way it picks out deeper and richer shades of blue in the water in contrast to the lush green all around is undeniable. But give me the solitude of a cool autumn day every time.