The first five days of my cycling adventure in Albania, the UNESCO Tour

I have been telling friends forever that, no, you don't need to go on a months-long vacation to make it the trip of a lifetime. As a matter of fact, my theory is that the first week of any time away from home is the one that will yield the most impressions and memories. Go for two, or three weeks, and time starts to accelerate. Be on the road for five months, and in hindsight it will all be a blur.

Today (September 1, when I started this blog post) was my fifth day of actually riding as part of my intended tour, having started on August 29 after a van transfer out of Tirana to the west shore of Lake Ohrid. One hundred and forty-three bike miles later, I have to say that my brain is completely saturated with new experiences, views, and impressions that are difficult to digest. (This total does not include today's fifth day of riding to Permët, which will be covered in the next blog update.)

The first day, after being rather unceremoniously let out of the Cycle Albania shuttle van next to what looked like a bus stop in the middle of nowhere, I and an older Welsh couple found ourselves at the start of our respective tours. The two of them are doing a solo e-Bike tour while I, of course, have opted to bring my own bike. It took the driver a short while to set up the Brits and their steeds, and so I took off, turning north instead of south to visit the tiny fishing village of Lin and extend the day's riding by a few miles. Hey, I had all day to cover 17 miles of flat terrain as prescribed by Cycle Albania!

I spent an hour or so with a light lunch in a lakeside restaurant and then I was off on the impeccably smooth highway toward Podragec. Remember those bunkers I had mentioned in my last post? Well, I saw several of them, right there on the beach.

From Podragec it was just another three miles or so along the southern end of Lake Ohrid to Tushemisht, barely two miles from the border with North Macedonia. For the next two nights I was going to stay in the Hotel Millennium in a comfortable, clean room with a partial view of the lake. Whatever was left of the afternoon I spent in the hotel's restaurant, right on the lakefront, enjoying the beautiful view and sipping cold, white wine. Restaurants charge between $2 to $3 for a glass (25 ml) of house wine, and so far I haven't encountered a stinker yet. For dinner it was lamb cutlets, and the red wine didn't disappoint either.

I had built in the additional day in Tushemisht to use the extra time to ride north along the lakeshore to the town of Ohrid, in North Macedonia. Right after crossing the tiny, sleepy border post the road starts climbing away from the coast to the turn-off that would take one across the mountains to yet another large body of water, Lake Prespa. Once again, the road was smoothly asphalted, and eventually the climbing was done and I enjoyed the downhill toward Ohrid. (Of course, I knew that on the way back I would have to climb back up.) The views of the lake were spectacular, and once the road started to hug the shore once again it was all easy going.

Ohrid is one of fewer than 30 UNESCO World Heritage Sites that are acknowledged for both their cultural and natural significance. While there were quite a few tourists it wasn't teeming with them; maybe the high season is already over. I visited the Church of Santa Sophia, one of what used to be a total of 365 Christian places of worship in this small town, one for each day of the year. This part of the world escaped the methodical destruction by the Soviets of anything religious, so there are still churches galore. I decided against a visit of the castle, which towers over the old town as I didn't want to climb yet another big hill. 

The streets of the Old Town area are narrow and cobbled, off-limits for cars and difficult to ride or even walk because of the massive stones. Restaurants and souvenir shops selling local trinkets are housed in the medieval buildings, and the whole place is a bit like a living museum. There's an ancient theater that dates back to 200 BC and that appears to be still in use for performances.

After an hour or two I headed back toward Albania, with a lunch stop in the last town before the road started to climb again. What a great excursion, and I got a bonus in the form of the monastery of Saint Naum, just a few miles away from the border crossing. The roundtrip excursion was 46 miles long, and I climbed 1,800 feet. At the end of the day I could tell that this had not been an easy day. 

For dinner I ate what Lake Ohrid is famous for, a type of lake trout called koran. I happened to find the perfect restaurant, a small place whose owner is also a fisherman and who goes out every day to fish. The young server, Enea, whose English was very good, told me about all this as he joins the proprietor on most days to catch the fish. Most of the koran that are served in the local restaurants are farmed fish, of a lower quality but bringing in more profit. I was told that this fisherman doesn't catch more than 5 kilo of fish a day and that it is becoming harder to find them because they recede to lower depths to find cooler water—once again global climate change has local repercussions.

The next morning it was time to say good-bye to Lake Ohrid, and I rode south with the day's goal being Korçë, a city that is often called the Paris of Albania. Before I got there, I had to first climb up onto a plateau that was speckled with small fields of tomatoes and onions and also featured large pastures and grain lands. In a small village I stopped for an espresso, and the proprietor, an older man who spoke no English, made clear that he wanted to know where I was from. America. Texas. He approvingly smiled and vanished while I sat down with my coffee in this sleepy village. Two minutes later he reappeared, accompanied by a little boy in a soccer jersey. "Hello, how are you?" he chirped. And so we started a very basic conversation about his school and his favorite soccer team, Skenderbeu, based out of nearby Korçë. Excitedly, the 10-year-old urchin told me that his team was going to play at 8:00 pm that evening, and he kept emphasizing with the most sincere facial expression that it would cost me only five euro to go watch them. All the while his grandfather proudly looked on. What a nice encounter!

When I had left the Hotel Millennium I had deposited my luggage in the hotel lobby. An Austrian e-Bike tour group had arrived the evening before to embark on the same itinerary as I (without the extra day in Tushemisht), and for the remainder of my trip we are staying in the same hotels. They are accompanied by a Cycle Albania van driver, Nico. Since this is a "guided" tour, they are being led on the bikes by Quarri (pronounced like Charlie without an l) who gives daily briefings to the 13 e-Bikers. In addition, Katha (who, I have not decided yet, looks better in blue or pink) brings up the rear end of the gaggle. As an independent traveler ("self-guided tour") my bed and breakfast is covered as is my luggage transport; all I need to do is drop off my stuff by the pre-arranged time (or a bit later, since Nico stays behind the tour group with van and trailer), and once I get to the destination hotel my stuff has already arrived. I have some interactions with the guided-tour folks but mostly stay apart. They seem to be all nice people, but it's just not my way of traveling. I'd go insane with somebody telling me how, when, and where to ride—I can choose to take a side road and detour and see stuff the others may not encounter, such as that donkey, that gravel road, those tomatoes). Of course, I don't benefit from Quarri's ruminations or Katha's compliments....

Most of the day I enjoyed a healthy tailwind, and once in Korçë and having moved into my room in the Hotel Bocca I did the daily laundry and then went out for a long walk. No kidding, this is a pretty city, maybe not quite Paris but somewhat Paris-like, with shaded boulevards and many parks. For my (late) lunch I ended up at the city's oldest brewery, Birra Korça (spelled slightly differently than the city itself). A big mug of fresh, cold beer costs a paltry 80 cents, and for another two bucks I scored three tasty kӧfte meatballs, all in a quiet beer garden setting. What a wonderful way to while away part of a Saturday afternoon.

Korçë has an old, cobbled city center that is home to numerous shops, called the Old Bazaar. But most of them were closed for the weekend, and only the many bars and restaurants around the main square were attracting locals and tourists alike. Legs tired and the late afternoon light being especially soft and inviting I sat down and enjoyed a glass of cold white wine. As I said earlier, they're all affordable and delicious. For dinner it was grilled bass, not far from my hotel, and then it was time to finally turn in.

For Sunday, the route profile looked rather challenging and I have to admit that I was a bit concerned about the climbs. I am using the same gear ratios that I had used in Australia (front 36, rear 42 for the granny gear), and I found myself in that combo for long stretches of the four major climbs that seemed to go on forever. At the end of this 43-mile ride I had climbed a grand total of 3,876 feet, and I felt it. But the landscape was just so beautiful! It was a long, gradual climb out of Korçë, out of the wide, fertile valley that I had entered the day before. For a 15-mile stretch the road surface went from being a perfect 10 to a rough patchwork of potholes and asphalt of a thousand colors and textures. So, I couldn't even enjoy the downhill stretches as I really had to keep the speed down. Thankfully, that all ended in the town of Ersekë, where I stopped for a pathetic lunch of French fries. No pic of those!

Breaking the chronological order a bit, about a third into the ride, before Ersekë, I had passed by a small restaurant where the e-Bike group had stopped for a coffee as well as a 15-minute seminar on the local crops and way of living. Like a World Tour Pro, I had a double espresso and took a few obligatory pics of the wild-apple vinegar mash as well as the making of what I am sure was to become delicious bread. It was a cultural capsule that I almost missed because I was "self-guided." Authentic? Well, up to a point, I am sure... I took off earlier than the Austrian group, but it didn't take them long to pass me. 

From Ersekë it was only about another 17 miles until the day's goal, Farma Sotira—but there were two major climbs with the hardest of the day being the last, with the steepest grades (well exceeding 10%, which seems to be the only percentage in the sign-arsenal of the Albanian Department of Transportation 😂). About half-way up the first climb I noticed deep below me in the valley the e-Bikers regrouping as they seem prone to be. Ten minutes later they motored by me as if I were standing still. No heavy breathing, just a few friendly atta-boys from some of them, and then they had disappeared around the next turn. BTW, according to Nico, those motors generate 500 watts ...

Farma Sotira is a small, privately run restaurant that also has wooden cabins and allows camping. The area is extremely isolated. There is a babbling brook, chickens are running around freely, and the beer is cold, the raki is strong, and the dinner was fish for the third day in a row. I had a chance to get involved in an interesting conversation with Nico (right below) and Qarri, about their jobs as tour guides and their interesting lives, one as an Albanian and the other one originally hailing from Kosovo but always emphasizing the Albanian background. During the communal dinner (which at Farma Sotira I really couldn't avoid) I talked to a nice couple from Tirol who at home ride their e-Bikes and who are enjoying their trip tremendously. Later, in front of the cabin that Qarri, Nico, and I were sharing (they had a double room while I had a single private room, and I was somewhat nervous about the 13 batteries charging overnight, hoping that they were not Chinese made) we were joined by a young British couple who are on a cycling vacation by themselves, and they were lots of fun to talk to. Nico had brought along a fancy bottle of raki, the generic word for any distilled liquor, and we sat out there until fairly late. Maybe this wasn't the best way to prepare for the next day on the road, but it was Sunday and we were truly in the middle of nowhere. So, WTF, right?

Sunday marked just my fifth full day in Albania, and my fourth day of riding my bike. As I mentioned in the opening paragraph, time stretches at the beginning of any vacation, and that's so true for this one as well. I feel as if I've been here for weeks! So far it has been a fabulous experience, and I am truly grateful that I decided to come here. The pictures should emphasize how much there is to see in this tiny nation. My average speed for my daily rides is pathetically anemic (below 10 mph), not only because I am so dreadfully slow going uphill (and also use every bit of caution on the downhills), but also because I stop time and again to take pictures which means slowing down and starting back up dozens and dozens of times. But this is not about speed; this is about seeing an amazing place from atop a bicycle. It doesn't get much better. Stay tuned for the next update in a few days, if I can squeeze in the time between riding, eating, and enjoying life!

Jürgen