.

Discovering Albania

Day 1: Igoumenitsa - Butrint - Ksamil - Sarandë 86 km "Won't you get shot there?" "Are there any roads out there?" "Albania, isn't that in Africa?'" The reactions on my plan to cycle in Albania with my friends Willem Hoffmans, Marco Duiker and Marc Dirkx, make clear that there are a lot of prejudices about Albania. And that a lot is still unknown about the country. There is no Lonely Planet Albania. Albania is largely ignored by tourists, businessmen and statesmen. Nobody knows if the prejudices do just to the country. Nobody seems to know what all those years of Ottoman and Italian regimes and the complete isolation under Maoist communist Enver Hoxha have done to the country. The mysterious cloud that is still hanging over the mountain state, is reason enough to take a look. Yesterday we landed on Corfu. Because of bad weather we were delayed four hours so we were lucky that we were able to reach the boat to Igoumenitsa on time so that we can begin the Albania trip today. First we take a breakfast with frappë in the city of Igoumenitsa. We see life passing by; there are a lot of old men with faces full of character. Marc Dirkx takes pictures of all of them, which is in fact also a deed of character. We buy enough food (we are not yet sure whether we will find food easily in Albania) and buy some fuel for our stove in a petrol station. Then we can definitely go on our way to the land of the Eagle. The mountains are shrouded in clouds. A combination of thin clouds, dark cumulus clouds and a sparsely blue gap in the cloud cover creates a ghostly play of light and shadow. In fact there is more shadow than light. We have a strong wind in the back; we are blown forth over a smoothly paved road. Sometimes we cyclealong the coast, sometimes we cycle a few kilometres inland. Ultimately the road turns iup the mountains, wehere we have a small ascent to the Albanian border pass. Two police vans fully packed with Albanian refugees. The policemen look serious. We pass the Greek border. Soon we are able to continue and we reach the Albanian border. The refugees are standing together quietly. Fifteen to twenty men are hanging, waiting. It is not clear what is waited for. It seems part of the cat and mouse play between the Greek police, the Albanian police and the refugees. We also have to wait. A border crossing is an important event in this region. The formalities are taken seriously and the wheels of administration are set in motion. In the meantime the refugees try to talk to us, which causes a state of acute panic with the Albanian police officers. There is a lot of yelling and shouting. Even while the refugees are standing together quietly with bored faces, an officer keeps shouting her lungs out, accompanied by hectic and overstressed gestures. The refugees are not impressed and are in a collective state of boredom. Oh well, then we will not have a talk with the foreigners. Not only the refugees but also the border officials are curious about what we are going to do in Albania. The administration work is important but it is also interesting to know what the foreigners are doing. The official stops his work for questions and does some joking. After an hour we may enter tghe mysterious country of Albania. From the border we could see a reddish mud track leading up a small pass, now we are cycling up there. After a minute we are on top and have a great view over the valley and mountains that stretch out before us. Manoeuvring between pools and potholes we are bouncing down. We pass cactuses and the unavoidable one person concrete bunkers that Enver Hoxha has built as preparation for a possible (nuclear) war. A misinvestment of the highest order for such a poor country; communist states have never been famed for their skills on financial management. The landscape is a pleasant mess. There are three types of houses: houses under construction, houses in a (serious) state of deterioration and an amorphous transition group of houses that have never reached a finalized state but which are deteriorated in the course of years so that the finalized state will never be reached. This third group is quite overrepresented in the border zone. In the villages are a lot of old men with characteristic faces and lots of old women full of character as well. Marc does not miss a single character person and manages to get all of them on a picture. Right before Butrint we get a gigantic rain shower. We take shelter in the entry house of the archeological complex. The Butrint complex is UNESCO world heritage. The ols Greek stones are held together by cement and other modern materials. "I am always finished pretty soon with old stone rubble like this", Marco admits. Within five minutes Marco has reached a spiritual state of complete boredom. A few minutes later Marco again tries to make clear that he is not really touched by the magic and mystery of long gone civilizations: "There is not too much left from all those old buildings, is there?". A few minutes later Marco reaches a state of desperation: "Shall we please go back?". After fifteen minutes we are outside the complex and are back on the saddle. The sun is peeping through the cloud cover. It is warm immediately. We are climbing to Ksamil, where a group of Dutch tourists has just been dropped by the bus chauffeur. There is a nice atmosphere in the tour group. The people ask us thousands of questions. Not much later an Albanian television crew hurries towards us. I have the honour to be picked out. A microphone is being put before me and a beautiful young woman is aking questions that are being translated by a man. "How have you reached Albania?" "Yesterday we have landede on Corfu by aeroplane and today we have rode from Igoumenitsa and are under way to Sarandë." "What is special about cycling?" "You see, hear, feel, smell, taste the country and the people in the most direct way possible. It is the ideal way to travel known as well as unknown places." "Do you love Albania?" Easy question. "Yes!" "What do you like most?" "The people". "Do you want to leave a message for the Albanian people?" "Albania, here we come!" Wow! Adrenaline rushes through my veins. Sunday I will make my television debut on the Albanian Top Channel! After my splashing television appearance we go on to Sarandë. After a few minutes Marcs crank is breaking of. The last few kilometres to Sarandë Marc has to hold my bag and I have to cycle for two. In Sarandë we have to repair the crank in a work station. With the few repair tools, they manage to get a crank on the bicycle. We can go on now, hopefully for the rest of the journey. We go searching for the camping. On the map a camping is shown. For an hour we look around on the dirt tracks around the city. We find lots of concrete buildings under construction but there is of course no camping. We stop the useless quest and find a hotel. Then we do like the Albanians, we are parading on the boulevard. Day 2: Sarandë - Delvinë - Campsite in Gjerë Mountain Range 45 km We lay hands on heavenly good Byreki breads and leave for Giroksastër. We climb to the small pass where we entered Sarandë yesterday. As we reach the pass, we see that we are mistaken. We should have taken another road out of the city. We descend back and climb another small pass. We look over a wide valley with a steep, surprisingly high mountain range behind. After some climbing we reach Delvinë, a pleasant village with lots of cafes on the central plaza. We get extraordinary good frappés. This encourages us to decide to take the high road to Girokastër across the sharp mountain range that is looming up before us. The road goes up with brutal steepness. In a way I am happy with that because we have to ascend at least thousand meter over this dirt track. That is according to one map, on the other maps the road is not represented. Because the Bradt travel guide writes about this road as 'a good option for mountainbikers', there is no reason for doubt over the quality and sustainability of the road, even as the road is deteriorating badly after the passage of Leferohor, the only village on the way. Although we say to each other that there is no reason for doubt (every few minutes someone makes a statement with additional proof of the reliability of the road), we ask some workers on the road to be sure. "Can we reach Girokastër over this road?" "Yes, you have to descend to Delvinë and turn left for Girokastër." "Yes, we know, we come from Delvinë but is it possible to reach Girokastër on this way?" "No." "No?" "No." "What we want to say in fact is: this road is of course not the standard road, but is it possible to reach Girokastër this way, maybe with some walking with the bicycle?" "It is possible, but I would not recommend it." "But it is possible?" "It is possible." We carry on, at ease with the answers. It would be a shame if we had to return after a few hundred meters of climbing over such a bad road. We see the road winding and turning upward, the road is climbing hundreds of meters higher. The road is sometimes twenty % steep. We cycle through mud passages and stone passages where are wheels tend to sink and slip away. Walking with the bicycles in our hands is the only option, a very tiring and very s l o w option with our fully loaded bicycles. We push and plough and slip and slide up the mountain. It takes hours and hours and huge amounts of energy but finally we reach the pass at five o'clock. To our surprise we see the road still ascending after the pass. I am afraid that the road is only leading to the television mast on the mountain top. That cannot be true? After a few kilometre we are right under the masts. The road winds back to the top with the masts. That can never lead to Girokastër. What now? Willem is scanning the mountains before us and points us a promising option. A small overgrown path is leading in that direction. With a little imagination this could be a very old road. The road has not been used for at leat 50 years. In fact we are riding right through the meadows. After half an hour we reach the line in the landscape that was supposed to be the long promised road. The expectations were obviously a bit to high, as there is no improvement at all. We see another 'promising option' in the distance. We are riding through the meadows again and reach a 'road' on a steep slope which is covered by a lot of big stones that have fallen from the rocks above in the course of years. About half an hour we drag our bikes over the stone rubbish and reach a little pass. On first sight we do not even see any promising options but after a few minutes we see left and right different goat paths which are called 'promising', in the absence of a true way out. After a steep descent we reach a drinking place for cattle. The cattle has gone but the drinking place is still there. There is a tremendous noise of frogs around the place. It is getting dark so that we have to pitch our tents. For the first time I have to use my water filter and an hour later we have dinner, knowing that we have to return tomorrow over the same difficult road. Day 3: Campsite in Gjerë Mountain Range - Delvinë - Girokastër 66 km After a good sleep in the ultra remote mountainside of Albania it is good to get up. It is raining softly but not too bad. We do not have any food so without breakfast we begin the long way back. We push our bikes against the steep slope. Then follows the long passageway on the rock slope. The field riding through the meadows is a little more difficult than yesterday because the plants and stones are wet now. We reach the television masts and an hour later we are on the pass. After the pass the road goes down steeply over loose scree. My wheel are sinking and sliding in the loose rocks and I have difficulty to gain control over my bicycle. After we have breakfast it goes better and the fun returns. "Laufen lassen!", let go, that is the way to descend. Marco and Marc get some flat tyres but that must not spoli the fun. At half past one we finally reach Delvinë. Delvinë. Twenty four hours ago we drank frappë in the same cafe. A long blond woman comes to usand begins to talk in Dutch to us. What a surprise. She says she has heard that there are four Dutch cyclists in town. She is a missionary. With her sister she has come to Albania five and a half years ago. We talk further in the apartment of the sisters. An Albanese young man joins us. There is food on the table and an interesting discussion is being developed. The Albanian man has a crystal clear view about Europe: "We do not even want to belong to the European Union, they do not want us so why bother?", but also anout Great Albania (northern Greece, Kosovo, West Macedonia plus current Albania): "The negotiations are proceeding. There are some bureaucratic obstacles to be taken but it is only a question of time; I think it will take one and a half years at the most". Should Greece and Macedonia freely hand territory over to Albania? It seems highly unlikely; we will see... The missionaries explain that even after all these years it is sometimes difficult to understand how the Albanian people react in certain circumstances. The people seem to always find ways to react in unexpected ways. There are mosks everywhere around the country but most of the people take it as it comes. The Turks has brought the Islam but they are gone now. After alle these centuries of Ottoman, Italian and Communist regimes, many people take a suspicious, fatalist attitude to politics, religion, progress. It will not be easy for the ladies to convince people within those conditions for their conviction. As a woman there are some practical complications in this country which makes things even harder. Women rarely walk outside without male escorte. Still the ladies have lots of projects and the telephone is ringing all the time. As we leave, one of the sisters prays for us. She speaks loudly, so that we van hear, a very intense experience. In Albania, a man always has the last word. The Albanian man does a farewell speech. It is cloudy and sultry as we are on the way to the double pass that divides us from Girokastër. We climb over a paved road through forests, pastures and farmer settlements. After the last pass we have a spectacular descent with great views over the wide Drinos Valley and the steep Hunxhërisë mountain range. In the Drinos Valley we have the wind in our backs and with thirty kilometre per hour we are steaming up to Girokastër. A flat tyre for Marc causes some delay but just before it will get really dark, we ride into the city. The city lies steep against the mountains. The houses are made of dark gray stones and so are the roofs. An impressive citadel towers above our heads to the left and to the right is a steep hill full of dark stone houses. The houses seem to grow organically out of the mountain. What a great atmosphere. As we reach the winding roads between the stone houses everybody is shouting at us. Restaurant owners and hotel owners alike are fighting for every single traveller or tourist. There are not too many of them. One man is running a kilometre behind us, shouting his lung out. We completely ignore the man and choose a different hotel with beautiful wooden carvings on the ceiling. After a long and inspiring day a sublime meal in one of the restaurants makes up for a worthy finale. The local feta and Tzaziki variations are superb. Day 4: Girokastër - Këlcyrëre - Campsite 69 km In the morning we take a closer look at the city of Girokastër. We visit the citadel and stroll along the old houses. Marc and I have a conversation with an old man with cool sunglasses (see the picture page) and has big stories. He has big stories but it is not exactly clear what he is trying to explain. His sons are studying in Tiranë, that is for sure. We say goodbye, the man embraces us warmly, a ceremony that is repeated four times. After a long, interesting visit of the old town, tyres are being repaired and we go on our way again. A steep descent brings us in the modern part of the town, which is bustling and every bit as interesting as the old part. It is market town and everything is movement and energy. Marc needs a new tyre. He starts talking to some randomly chosen people and within three minutes he has got the tyre he was looking for. After this unexpected success we go on our way but Marc has a new flat tyre. After a new start Marco is unlucky as the cable of his brake is damaged;. Again we need to repair. We continue and find out that also the road needs to be repaired. The next twenty kilometre the road is being repaired and more than an hour we ride over bumpy roads through immense dust clouds, a choking experience. After an hour dust biting I feel like a hoover but we can leave the road for a quiet backroad that is leading to Këlcyeë. Finally we can indulge in the quietness of the countryside, untill four dogs are chasing us, loudly barking, and utterly agressive. Chasing dogs are quite normal and usually we are able to keep them at a distance by either progressing slowly or otherwise by making throwing gestures. The road leads us through a narrow valley to Këlcyeë. Këlcyeë is an atmospheric hotchpotch of downgraded wooden barns, old stone houses and communist concrete buildings. In an outdoor cafe we see the lush life slowly passing by. A man with milk cans is passing on a donkey. Some people are being transported by horses with carriage. Old men and old women are shuffling on the street. The grey weather emphasizes the timeless melancholy that lingers on. The many children bring a happy cheerfulness on the streets. All in all it is good being right here right now, especially if we manage to lay hands on the last byrekis from the local bakery. We carry on northward and are heading for the city of Berat. After ten kilometres the road is unpaved and climbs out of the valley, up to a 900 meter high pass. A liitle further we decide to camp. We find a great campsite along a lake where we swim between the frogs. Day 5: Campsite 'Lake View' - Buz - Berat 56 km From the Bradt Guide Albania: "If you are touring on mountain-bikes, there are several interesting ways you could approach or leave Berat. One option is the 'road' which is signposted from Këlcyrë on the Vjosa River. This is a dirt track for most of the way. - about 80 kilometre - and it is hard going even in a 4 x 4, but it would certainly be worth considering by well-equipped cyclists... You should certainly take enough food and drinking water for several days." Maybe it would have been wiser if we had read the guide before we began cycling. The road is made out of big stones that lie mostly in right angles with the road, which maximizes the 'bumping impact factor'. You need a strong stomach on some parts of this road. Steadily we climb over the poor road. The hard labour is being rewarded. We have great views in all directions, as the road lead over the ridge, alternating many times between the western and the eastern side of the ridge. At the eastern side we have views over the 2.400 meter high Çuka Partiçan. There is still snow on the top of the mountain. It is the beginning of May; probably the snow will soon be melted away. We reach the settlement of Buz, where we are welcomed heartily by the villagers. Willem plays a snooker game with the oldest son and Marc hands out funny little flutes to the children. Everybody must pose before the camera, we promise to send the pictures. One and a half hour later our bags are filled with bags of chips, cookies and biscuits and bottles of soda drinks. Our visit will cause the annual balance sheets to show spectacular results. After we leave, the village comes to rest and the ordinary pace of life returns. We bump and bounce over the road. Up and down we go along the ridge of the hill range. We are forcing ourselves a way to the city of Berat. Marc has a flat tyre. We bounce further. After a relatively long ascent we have the first view over Berat, far below. The road does not go down however but keeps following the ridge. Finally the road begins the long way down. The road is horrible. I am being shaked and punched. I have the sensation of being inside a centrifuge. I am getting tired. One time I even slide down on the ground. Finally we reach Berat, the civilized world! The city is full of life and has got a citadel and a district of beautiful old white houses on a steep slope. the new center is hustle and bustle with lively cafes. We drink to having survived the Berat road while the most beautiful women pass by. And lots of old Mercedes cars. More than 80 % of the cars is a Mercedes. Like the Albanese say: A Mercedes may get sick, but will never die. Day 6: Berat - Kuçove - Gostimë - Gramsh - Kodovjat 84 km Over a wide paved road we cycle into the lowlands of Albania. Not for long, as we decide to take the secondary road from Kuçove to Gostimë. Over gentle hills we climb and descend to the Devollit Valley. Over an unpaved road we reach Gostimë. Again we gain all the attention of the kids. Along an abandoned barrage we cycle over new pavement to Gramsh. The city looks ugly from the distance. As we reach Gramsh fifteen minutes later, the city does not look any better. For the first time we are confronted with the grey atmosphere of a concrete town that I tend to associate communist countries with. Although we had decided to cycle no further than Gramsh, nobody feels like staying here. We cycle further in the direction of Korçë. After a few kilometres the road is unpaved again. A few kilometres further Marco acutely suffers from intense hay fever. His face is red around the eyes which are swollen and look watery. The progress is ever more difficult and some time later we sit along the road, staring into nothingness and contemplating which steps to take next. What to do now? Cycle back to Gramsh? Taking the risk to continue? We do not have food, nor do we know if we are able to obtain water and food in the villages. After a thought and a second though and third thought the balance still swings in an indecisive equilibrium state. All the options seem inadequate. It is very clear however that the worst option of all is to wait for a miracle so we decide to cycle further. In the first village Marc and I explore the village for possibilities to buy food and water and maybe find a place to sleep. The village lies fifty meter above the road. A few steep footpaths are leading to the village. If we reach the place, we enter a world of poverty. Chickens and pigs run over the streets. A donkey is grazing in the porch of a declined concrete building. A bunch of youngsters is telling us that we will not be able to find any shops untill we reach Korçë. A girl goes home and some time later she brings us two bottles of water. They do not want any money from us. The hospitality and generosity of the people is heartwarming. The information is very inadequate though. After two kilometre we ride into the village of Kodovjat, a much bigger village with little shops, where we are able to buy the things we need. We find a quiet place outside the village along the river, where we make camp. Day 7: Kodovjat - Nikollare - Maliq - Korçë 92 km As we wake up and fill our cycling bags, the children are already standing before our tents. I am finished with packing so I decide to entertain the boys so that Marc, Willem and Marco are able to finish their business undisturbed. "Now I want to see the hands in tha air and say Ooh - Hooh...". The kids are ecstatic; there is wild enthusiasm and adrenaline rushing. If we are ready to leave, the guys are pretty experienced and if we cycle away we hear the echoes in the distance "Ooh - Hooh, OOh - Hooh". We order espresso in the village and buy food and water. Marc is taking pictures of the big character old men; there are lots of them and when they have all posed for Marcs camera we are ready to leave for the long way to Korçë. We climb over the unpaved road along terraces with pastures of grains. Infected by Marc I ma taking pictures of two characteristic old men. The early morning light is great value. The play of light and shadow is beautiful and the temperature is rising pleasantly. After a few kilometres we reach spectacular gorges with red rocks. The mountain slopes are heavily forested. Marc has a flat tyre on a descent. I am riding like a desperado to catch up with Marco who has a spare tyre that Marc needs. Only after one and a half kilometre I reach Marco and cycle all the way back up to Marc. We repair the tyre and cycle back to Willem and Marco, who have waited for us. A few kilometre further, when I pass a military terrain, I am being attacked by a dog. This happens more frequently in this country but this dog is agressiven and is not chased away easily. I stop to take some stones. I see that the dog belongs to a soldier with agun in his hand. The soldier does nothing and just seems to be amused to see how the drama will develop. I dare not to throw stone sto the dog, I trust the soldier even less than his dog. In the end I win the cat and mouse play and the dog runs back to the soldier. Relieved I step on my bike and pick up the tempo. As I am well on my way, I seem to hear a shuffling sound. I look behind and see the dog sprinting like hell towards me. He has already nearly caught me, the beast is only two meters away. I roar as loud and impressive as I can and I show the dog a very nasty, ugly face. He screeches back, which gives me time to stop the bike and take new stones. As I have the stones in my hand, the dog stops a second attack and the cat and mouse play of throwing gestures and pseudo attacks begins again. In the meantime Marc and Willem reach the dog passage. In the end we all pass the dog without damage. In one of the few settlements we drink frappë once again. A few kilometres further we take the wrong way, that proves to be the case when we ask in the first settlement. We have to cycle four hard gained kilometres back over the worst stretch of road so far. Twenty five sweaty kilometres further we are back on the right track. Then I see that I have lost Marco's tent. The schlinges must have come loose because of the shaking on the dirt track, maybe on the wrong way we have just left. I decide to cycle back, although it is getting late and we have a lot of riding to go to reach Korçë. I do not find the tent however. Maybe it has rolled down the steep slope into the river. Or possibly I have lost the tent much earlier. I just do not know. There is not too much that I can do. I feel ashamed because it is not my own tent. But there are other responsibilities as well. We need to go on if we want to reach Korçë. The importance of reaching the city is much bigger with only one tent, where we cannot sleep with four people. It is four o'clock and we are only halfway. Back on the right track we feel how good the dirttrack is (and how bad the wrong way was). Unbelievable that we took the wrong way... After one and a half hour the road is paved again, earlier than we expected. We are flying now. Before the town of Maliq the gorges. There is a desolate industrial complex that must have been left for decennia. There are neither people, nor animals here. It looks like a nuclear disaster have taken place. After Maliq the landscape changes dramatically and through a wide valley we cycle to Korçë. Ever more old Mercedes Benz cars are rushing by left and right, which proves the fact that we are on the right way to the center. A few minutes later we stand on the central square indeed. We spend the night in the unpleasant, communist atmosphere, Turist Hotel. In the hotel room a Balkan version MTV style programme is on the television. The Balkan girls on the clips are indulging in all the cliches that they have learnt from their American counterparts and expose a similar brutal vanity. A pointless beat bores itself through the 'songs' and in every song a rapper is needed to pump up the ugly atmosphere a bit further. The songs have a watery Balkan sauce but, that does not make the prefab dish any more tasty. Day 8: Korçë - Ersekë - Leskovik 94 km The first hours after sunrise we stroll around in downtown Korçë. The Turkish Bazar is pleasantly busy but at the moment we leave the city I am happy to be in the nature again. Though a wide valley between two big mountain ranges we are heading south. It is a beautiful cloudless day. After a few kilometres Marco has got a flat tyre. After repairing the tyre we climb to a pass, where we have great views a chain of snowcapped peaks. We descend to a wide valley along the snow mountains. It is magnificent cycling here, this time over high quality pavement. Marco has got a new flat tyre again. We can just rush on to the next village with a cafë. If Marco is finished with his tyre, we can go on. At least we thought we could. Marc's tyre has gone dead flat in the meantime and we have to repair yet another tube. After repairing the tube, we ride away, just to find out that the tyre is still not fixed. We repair another tube and now we can finally leave. Marc finds out now that his crank is loose. In Ersekë we should have a look in a garage whether it is possible to fix it. Through yet another wide valley filled with grasslands we cycle to Ersekë. To the east lies the beautiful chain with snowcapped peaks, which is the natural border with Greece. In Ersekë it is possible to repair Marc's crank. Beyond Ersekë the landscape remains beautiful. The road climbs over one mountain range after the other. It is already late as we have cycled the 27 kilometre from Ersekë to Leskovik. There is no city at all here. Splendid, desolate, wild nature; only the road suggests that there are other human beings on this planet. After a few kilometre we see some people, though. We ask how far it is to leskovik. Our Albanese is not too brilliant however, we think they say thirty kilometre but we cannot believe that, we decide to count on three kilometre. Past three kilometre there is still no human presence at all visible in the valleys below. Up and down we go through the silence of the mountains as the sun moves slowly but irreversible beyond the horizon. On a small pass we have again good views over the surroundings. More snowcapped ranges stretch out before us. In between a deep valley far below is heading towards Greece. It looks like the Himalayas here and now. Like an eagle nest we see the city of Leskovik on a nearby mountain ridge, high above the valley and virtually cut off from the rest of the world. As we approach the city we hear kids playing, what a difference with my home country where you would hear driving cars. It is twilight time as we ride into the city. Immediately we are looking for a hotel. We ask the people on the streets but there is no hotel. A man offers help. We can spend the night in his home. We thankfully accept the help of the friendly man. The interior of the house shows us the people do not have only a tiny bit of luxury. Our bedrooms have nothing more than our beds. The dinner of the man and his wife is very basic. The woman has just warmed white beans, That is all for this evening. We go back to the center, where there is a restaurant. An excellent restaurant, in fact. After the high quality meal we head back to our host family to enjoy a good nights sleep. Day 9: Leskovik - Ioannina 96 km We thank the family heartily and leave all the food of our bags for them. We leave Leskovik and within a moment time we are in the middle of a spectacular mountain landscape again. A long, grand descent brings us in a river valley which forms the border with Greece. Along the river we cycle to the border. To my surprise the formalities do not take much time and so ends our Albanian adventure sooner than expected. What a country. Impressions flew by in a rush; every city and every village was a world apart; ever new problems to conquer and ever new positive surprises; never could I imagine what would lie beyond the horizon in this rugged and unknown country. That is all behind us now. Here and now we live and here and now we have to handle. If we want to fly back home the day after tomorrow, we must reach Ioannina today. The first obstacle is a long ascent in the afternoon heat. For the first time it is really warm. It is 33 degrees. Marco and I do not dislike the heat of the sun but Marc has an unhappy time. The fun is over now. Apart from the temperature Greece is abit of a disappointment after our adventures in Albania. This part of Greece shouls have been a periphery region of Greece but all the villages have splendid new houses, unfortunately without atmosphere. The last thirty kilometre to Ioannina we have to ride over a big trunk route and the fun is definitely over. I am glad as we arrive in the camping of Ioannina, where we jump from our bicycles and inside the cool lake. Day 10: Ioannina - Keramitsa - Igoumenitsa - Corfu 101 km The last day. We have to do some 100 kilometres to Corfu. It will be a mountainous day ride. Unpaved roads are not to be expected. This part of Greece is a bit unsatisfactory. If we leave the busy road for small backroads, the landscape is in itself very nice but the magic moments of Albania are absent. Today we are not traveling, we are just cycling. Every ascent turns into competition, which is great fun. Even on flat stretches we race and sprint. All in all it is a nice day albeit without true highlights. After the boat trip to Corfu we have maybe the most ugly kilometres I have cycled as we go north to find a camping. The camping is desolate and not too welcoming. Luckily there is a legendary good family run restaurant, where we celebrate the end of the holidays. Map of the route Statistics Fast Facts # Days # Cycling days Distance on bicycle Distance / Days Longest distance on a day Highest altitude difference on a day: climbing Highest altitude difference on a day: descending Highest point on bicycle % bad roads in Albania % friendly people on the road 10 10 793 km 79 km 101 km 1.600 m 1.650 m 1.500 m 60 % 100 % Highlights of the Journey Albania Girokastër Këlcyrë - Berat Devollit Valley SE Albania Everywhere in Albania there are friendly and open hearted people on the road Deep Balkan. Atmospheric city with its dark stone houses, clinging to the mountain Road in the heart of Albania, virtually cut off from the rest of the World Impressive gorges and mountain sceneries, colourful rock formations and ramshackled villages Beautiful mountain scenery