Berat, Albania: A New Country, One Week In

We wasted no time in the morning that we crossed the border from Greece to Albania at Kakavia. We were there by noon, in line with the semi-trucks.  Our passports were stamped on the Greek side without fanfare, and the Greek customs didn't seem to have any interest in inspecting our pannier contents.  I would have gladly shared my dirty laundry.  It was not more than half a kilometer of no-man's land, where we passed the duty-free store and the duty-free gas station, topping our bottles off with what was both duty- and cost-free water.

Goodbye, Greece...hello, Albania!

There were two very young men in the Albania station, and they were cheerful and friendly, and informed us that our passport required no stamp to enter the country.  We were unsure of what to expect from Albania.  We heard only good things from a fellow cyclist we met a few days earlier, and the only warnings we had were from people who never visited the country.  But the Greek truck driver ahead of us in line indicated by winks and nods to be careful, watch our stuff.  We just shrugged...at this point we had already jumped off the diving board into the pool.

We had a five kilometer killer climb to get over a mountain range of tilted beds with little vegetation. It was not so much the steepness but the afternoon heat.  Lots of cars passed us with honks of support. One guy coming from the other direction slowed down long enough to hand John an ice cold bottle of water, which we promptly emptied in big gulps.

Once on the other side we descended steep switchbacks.  From here you can see the difference in the geologic strata -- the top obviously less hospitable to vegetation, the lower half lush.

We ended up at Blue Eye Spring, a designated natural area with a spring of icy, clear water bubbling from the limestone.  An amazing place, off a 2 kilometer dirt road with a restaurant and cabins at the end.  It did not keep the tour buses out, though.  We found a hidden place to camp overlooking the lake formed by the spring, and we heard buses straining along the road until 7 at night.

One more cycling day and we were camped at the world's best campground in Ksamil, south of Sarande.  We arrived hot and sweaty and were immediately escorted to a deeply shaded campsite with a table topped with a vase of flowers.  And just a short walk away was the crystal-clear water of the Ionian Sea, in which the aforementioned hot and sweaty body was cleansed.

Our reason for being here was to visit the archeological site of Butrint, a site occupied since prehistoric times.  This tablet dates from the Classical Greek period of the 5th century BC.

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The Romans came later and built a theater.

After the Romans came the Byzantines, the Venetians, and the Ottomans.

Here is the gate to the spring, constructed of marble...

...and bearing the marks of thousands of hoists of buckets on ropes.

There are remnants of a Byzantine cathedral.

Many mosaic floors were found throughout the site.  But they are covered in sand to protect them, and uncovered only a couple times a year for viewing.  In the church there is just enough exposed to offer a tease of what is underneath.

We left Ksamil just after dawn, to beat both the heat and the traffic.  We were heading north, trying to get to the base of a 1,700-meter pass that we would need to climb the next day. 

But to get there was a long day of steep climbs out of river valleys to high points overlooking what is called the Albanian Riviera.  Albania is still a young democracy and one of the poorest in Europe.  But tourism is a great hope for the future of the country, and this region with its white sand beaches is one of the targets. 

In the late afternoon the mountains we had to cross the next day came into view.

Here is an example of the heartbreaking view we often encountered...we see the town (this is Borsh), and the road steeply climbing up outside of town.  The worst was outside of Himare, where there were several pitches of 10 percent (so the signs said), but were so steep we could not ride, but had to push the bikes up.  At one point a fully-loaded cement truck was coming down the other direction, creeping in its lowest gear at a rate not much faster than we were going up, preserving the brakes.

We found a lovely campsite in a very old terrace olive grove to rest for the next day, which would be equally challenging.  Believe it or not, we got strong 4G cell coverage from here.

Our approach to Llogara Pass was a bit intimidating.  Six major switchbacks, over 10 kilometers, 3000 feet up, and no shade.  We found a spring just before heading up where we both soaked our shirts, which kept us cool over the two hours it took to get to the top.

An abandoned structure on switchback three.  Maybe someday there will be a Starbucks here.

Making good progress!

Near the top our new friend from Switzerland, Suzanne, that we met in the campground in Ksamil, caught up with us.  It was a hot and sweaty reunion!

And as dry as it was on the switchback side, the other side was lush mountain forest.  We crossed the pass on May 1, which is a national holiday in Albania.  And it seemed like all 2.8 residents of the country were on the road trying to get a piece of the mountain air.  It was noon when we reached the top, and by then it was a constant stream of poorly tuned diesel cars and trucks laboring up, loaded with families headed for restaurants along the route.

We reached the flats on the coast, and holiday revelers were out enjoying the day there, too.

Thankfully, the next day the ride between Vlore and Berat was flat through largely agricultural and industrial area.  A typical scene throughout the country -- goats, sheep, and half-finished or abandoned buildings. But it was crazy busy with cars, buses, motorbikes, and cars that passed us at high speeds on blind curves.  I did my best to take a Zen approach and not let it get to me, but we were both frazzled by the end of the day.

A typical farm vehicle, where the horse has been replaced with an engine.

Our refuge from the chaos was the campground near Berat, operated by the sister of the proprietor of the campground in Ksamil.  Wonderfully friendly and generous, we were served an ice-cold frappe upon arrival.  We took a rest day and visited the fortress town of old Berat, on top of a knob of a hill.  People still live within the fortress town walls, and walking in the alleyways was like going back hundreds of years in time.

And from the top were excellent views in all directions.

The Osum River flows through Berat, and from the castle we looked directly down on the houses and church built on the river banks.