Wrapping up the UNESCO cycling tour in Albania

As I said in my last blog entry, the first few days of every trip I have ever taken seemed to last for months! And it hasn't been any different here in Albania, where I started to add thoughts and memories to the blog just one day after I finishing the last entry. If my timeline sometime sounds weird and a bit off, well, it probably is. Exactly a week after starting this entry I will land back home in Lubbock, and who knows when this update will be published.

The Austrian e-Bikers gather at Farma Sotira for their group ride to Permët

At the end of my last entry, I mentioned the good times at Farma Sotira that were raki-fueled. Thankfully, the first climb after our rustic overnight stay was not too hard or too long, and after a couple of miles of climbing through deciduous forest the world opened up into a large valley with a lake, while in the south a barren, majestic range was looming, the Pindus. What a wonderful spot! Just another mile or so of gentle climbing took me to the high point of the day, and after a quick brake check I was off on a 10-mile downhill ride! I bypassed the unattractive town of Leskovik and carefully carved my turns down into the valley, close to 700 meters below. Mind you, my carving is rather tentative because the last thing I need is a crash. Even with asphalt smooth as butter, some of the turns have some rockfall debris and others are off camber. The speed limit for cars is usually 20 kmh or 30 kmh, and there's no reason to play the hero. I used to be young, but I no longer am. 

A few more of the hundreds of thousands of bunkers built during the Soviet regime

Finally down in the valley, just a stone's throw away from the border to Greece, I started to roll alongside the beautiful, wild river Vjosa. What a spectacular view, with the imposing Pindus range on the Greek side and unnamed mountains forming the gorge on the Albanian side. I was reminded of the Sierra del Carmen in northern Mexico, ranges I had traveled through in Ecuador, and mountain gorges in central France. Gees, it doesn't get much better.

Even the fact that I started to realize that my somewhat low tire in the morning was truly an infinitesimally slow leak that needed to be fixed didn't really bother me too much. I used a rusty bridge across the river as a welcome repair station. The culprit had been one of those tiny wires from a disintegrated car tire that sometimes litter the road. If that's the extent of my mechanical problems of this trip, well, bravo! (As it would turn out, I did not have nay other issues during the 380 miles I ended up riding in Albania, or 612 kilometers.)

I continued in a mainly downhill-ish manner, along the river, just enjoying the view, the lack of cars, and the stupendous pavement. Seriously, if there is one reason to go to Albania it is the asphalt! I have never experienced anything like this in all of my travels, never, mile after mile. A few times the valley started to narrow into a gorge, and the road had to climb numerous times away from the water; of course, this provided magnificent views of the silty water below but also tested my stamina as it started to get hotter and hotter. With maybe seven miles to go I came across a spring by the side of the road with the coldest water ever! Oh man, I sat there for a good 20 minutes, just pouring water over my head and trying to cool off.

Europe, where the Speedo is alive and well

The day ended a mile or so off the established road near the village of Permët, at a small hotel-cum-restaurant where the tiniest room of the trip was waiting for me. Just around that time the e-Bike group also appeared as we continued to travel on the same itinerary. I doubt that they realized that despite the magnificent 10-mile downhill we still climbed more than 2,100 feet. Not to be outdone by the relentless Austrians, I got on my acoustic bike (after a good clean-up and the day's laundry chores) and rode another three miles up the valley to the very disappointing thermal baths of Ura e Kadiut (too many people, too much trash, too icky). Let's be honest: They were just as disappointing as the "baby goat chops" that the restaurant later dished up at a price twice of what one would pay in Tirana for a meal ten times better. Considering accommodation and food, this was by far the least enjoyable overnight place of the entire trip.

It's never too early for a smoke, a coffee, and a glass or two of raki

Ingenious water spigot system at the spring

The next morning, Day 6 already, continued (generally downhill) along the Vjosa river until the road turned to the south and now gently led upstream, along the Drinos. I finally got my chance to do some serious skinny dipping when I found the perfect spot away from the highway, out of sight, with a way to access the river. Oh man, talk about bliss! Just for that purpose I had hauled along a small pannier with some river flip flops, running shorts (in case I needed to stay decent), and a tiny pack-towel. I used only the flip-flops.

Once I entered the lower 'burbs of Gjirokastër (the city is built on a hill above the current through-road),  a taxi pulled by with somebody yelling my name and passengers clapping hands. It was part of the e-Bike group who had opted for a transfer from the lunch spot to have more time in this beautiful town. Honestly, I am so glad that I am traveling the way I am. Those of you who know me know what I mean.

Gjirokastër would have been great had it not been for a late-afternoon thunderstorm that moved in shortly after we all had settled into our very nice hotel. I got out in time for a late lunch (badly needed) and then explored the castle complex, which turned out to be just another pile of rubble, old howitzers, and other historical mementos of bad times. Sorry to sound so dismissive, but these places become old and are really not all that attractive when barely taken care of by the museum authorities. It's a bit like caves: See one and you've seen them all. I know I'll burn in hell for this heretical talk ....

Thanks to the thunderstorm, which gave the city an ethereal mood, I didn't get to see much of old town, but that's OK. Before the rain started in earnest, Gjirokastër seemed overrun with tourists—even in the low season—and the shops offered the equivalent of glass pearls for the (tourist) natives. But I found a rather enjoyable restaurant with an awning and was able to finish my last blog entry, eating my all-time favorite stuffed grape leaves, called in Greece dolma but in Albania sarma. As the photo shows, there were also shish kebabs; go with the chicken as it's always more moist than the pork. Oh man, I simply go nuts over all the food and wish I could learn how to make this stuff at home.

After a comfortable night (despite being occasionally disturbed by street dogs that decided to bark for 10 minutes and then finally shut up again) and breakfast on the hotel terrace with a view of the lifting overnight fog that had engulfed the city, we all piled into the van and several taxis to shuttle everyone up to the top of Muzinës Pass. I took the shuttle to get up this seven-kilometer climb as it was included in my self-guided tour. Back in the days, I would have scoffed at taking such an easy cop-out to deal with a near vertical climb, but I no longer have qualms about violating the ethics of cyclo-tourism.

Qarri and Nico double checking that the bikes are safe for the descent

Regardless of the actual gradient, if it's 10% or more, the sign will say 10%

Qarri leading the Austrians

After having toiled up so many serpentine roads over the past week I really appreciated the easiness and comfort of being shuttled up to the pass! The e-Bikers probably don't really think about all this—they've already ridden steeper and longer climbs in the past few days. So, I'm really not so sure why Cycle Albania makes this motorized transfer part of the UNESCO tour. It's not as if those guys and gals were going to run out of battery watts!

It's easy to look at a 45-mile day that starts with an eight-mile downhill run and think of it as easy. Check the route again: Strava recorded 1,734 feet of climbing, and I wish it were all in the 3% to 5% range. And it was hot, stinking hot. It was Texas hot. The route included a detour south to the ancient town of Butrint (the antique rocks of which are yet another UNESCO World Heritage site), and even this small road through the coastal lowlands was well-paved and fairly devoid of traffic. It was beautiful cycling, just rolling along at 15 or even 18 mph before another nasty half-mile climb would force me into the granny.

My lunch stop in the tiny hamlet of Xarë was so-so and excellent: On the one hand, it showed me the lack of proper communication between the tour guides and me (am I part or not part at certain times of the guided tour?), but it also gave me a chance to enjoy wonderfully prepared marinated octopus. After the interminable wait for the group for what had been touted as a communal lunch I decided to not even listen to this stuff any longer. I'm thankful for the hotel reservations and the luggage transfer, and now I know to fend for myself for anything else, despite what is being "communicated."

From Xarë it was barely five miles to a 150-meter isthmus that requires the use of an ancient cable ferry that gets you to the other side, to continue north. How cool, and how old-time! I bypassed Butrint as I have seen enough ancient rocks in my life and simply replayed the cable mechanism of the ferry in my head for my cultural capsule, which seemed much more interesting.

Mussel farming

The final push into Sarandë was slow yet so beautiful. I have learned to really pace myself, drink, remove my sunglasses in the climbs, and continually relieve by helmet of accumulated sweat by pressing it against my forehead and having a quarter ounce of sweat dripping down. I know to gear down, to hell with how slow I am going. The bike is not really heavy, but in my rack pack I keep essentials such as two tubes, a spare tire, an extra bottle of water (24 oz), my travel documents, a spare phone, a couple of Allen wrenches, and a few other tiny things that add up to another half a pound. The right-side pannier has the afore-mentioned super-light flip flops, a pair of running shorts, and a pack towel for the occasional skinny dip. A top tube Bento-box-like bag has a battery power pack and my wallet. And then there's the cell phone attached to the bars for easy access to take photos. So, it's not like a heavy load, but I suppose my fat gut adds all the poundage to distinguish me from the Pros. Go ahead and chuckle. That's fine, and then go out and do this yourself.

Our hotel, the white one on the left, had private sea access

It was a delightful evening in Sarandë, one of many Albanian Riviera tourist towns that were sleeping fishing villages just 30 years ago. Hotels are everywhere, the locals have found their way to feed off the tourists (from Germany and Austria, Malta and Italy, the UK and the US). It's the same thing that I remember from years back in Croatia, when it was still an existential part of Yugoslavia, and northern Europe had just discovered it. Hordes (our family included) would head south for a cheap three-week vacation, in pensions, in hotels, it didn't matter. The restaurants seem to still play the same music, and the quality of the typical tourist hasn't changed much, either.

Dinner and blogging above the sea

I made sure to stay away from the e-Bike group, hung out at the hotel beach and even took a swim in the lovely Mediterranean, and then went off in search of food and a place to continue writing the blog. Call me gauche, but for dinner I decided on a tremendous seafood pizza, quite likely the best I have ever had. And there I sat, above the coastline, listening to the waves that generally gentle here, writing, getting my fill of local wine, and enjoying life and trying to forget about the final two days of the tour, which—according to the map profile—were going to really bite.

And bite they did, the first time on Thursday on my 35-miler to Hiramë. The tour description had used words such as "rollercoaster ride" and "cols into bays and around headlands." Well, let me tell you: That was an accurate description. The rollercoaster offered a whopping 3,500 feet of elevation gain over the course of 35 miles, and all of that under a relentless, brutal sun. Before the day's ride I had asked Nico about possibilities to fill up my waterbottles, and he had given me a description of the few wayside water holes—be it small markets that sell bottled water or the more rustic public springs. Dude, I kept drinking and drinking and was not going to get parched out of my mind.

I had lunch a bit off the path, right after the descent into Borsh. In a seaside restaurant I had a generous helping of mussels in one of the tastiest wine sauces I have ever enjoyed. It was hard to tear myself away and start the final ten miles of the day. When I think where the ten-mile point on my daily ride in Lubbock is (Valley Irrigation on the Clovis highway, right after the John Deere place), then ten miles really doesn't sound like much. But I struggled in those final climbs, up and down, up and down. The vistas were spectacular, the blossoming century plants were stunning, and the few sail- and motorboats on the water gave it all the impression of a carefree paradise to be enjoyed by the rich and famous. But, to be honest, even though I took all of this in I was damn glad when I finally arrived in Hiramë after this day at the fair, to stay with the rollercoaster theme.

Our hotel was right on the small beach promenade, and after doing the daily chores I spent a bit of time on the beach in a lounger, letting this old body rest. On my mind was the next day, which would represent the ninth and final official cycling day of the UNESCO Tour, the most brutal of them all. But before letting myself sink into major despair I set out in search of the perfect place to work on the blog, which I found in a small restaurant where I heard the gently lapping Ionic sea just a few feet away, and for dinner it was cuttlefish from the grill. What a lovely place Albania is!

And then came the big day, and it started with a major blow to my ego: After just three-and-a-half miles I realized that there was no way in hell that I could finish this stage. I had already climbed almost 1,000 feet, at gradients in excess of 15%, and I even had to get off the bike and walk at one point. Three-and-a-half miles into a 40+miler! It was so brutally steep. Fortunately, at just about that time Nico came by with the van and the trailer, struggling in his lowest gear. I decided it was time to throw the towel. With another mile of this initial climb ahead and then a downhill back to sea-level—only to then ascend a straight 3,000+ mountain!—it was clear that I simply couldn't ride this. Sometimes reason has to prevail, and this was the moment.

A few minutes after we had stowed the bike on the empty trailer, we had to pick up one of the e-Bikers who, despite using full power, couldn't do it; she is 73, and she was simply maxed out. We slowly drove on to the coffee spot where the whole group was assembled and where batteries were being recharged or swapped. I am sure, few of those riders had used the less powerful assistance settings.

I talked to Nico as I really wanted to see this segment of the tour from a bike and not from inside of a van, and he checked with the main office who okayed my using an e-Bike for the rest of the day. There was one spare bike (it had a few mechanical issues, but nothing related to safety), and it had a full battery. We swapped pedals, adjusted the saddle height, and I gave it a quick test spin to get used to the five assist settings and the six-speed manual Shimano transmission in the back (two skipping gears). I was all set.

The e-Bikers slowly coming up

Riding this e-Bike up the Llogara Pass was a revelation for me: I realized how much work I had done in the past week, climbing all those hills and mountains on my own power. I was using the second and third assist settings (of five) and was flying up this thing at nine to eleven miles per hour! Insane! Pros don't go that fast. The tour group kept stopping to take breaks, and I was just zipping up this thing. I have to say, it was absolutely great to ride up this spectacular road, reminding me of the 21 much shorter serpentine sections of l'Alpe d'Huez, without huffing and puffing and suffering under the relentless sun, worrying when I would run out of water. It was actually enjoyable! But this was not cycling as we know it. I have very mixed feelings about the whole thing but realize that Llogara got the better of me and that I had to use a 500-watt motor to get me up there.

Shortly before topping out I waited at an overlook (from which paragliders hurl themselves into the abyss) for the group to catch up. Nico and Qarri checked batteries, ready to swap a fresh one if needed. I had lots of time to take photos of the developing housing and hotel projects along the coast. Albania is definitely getting ready to become a major player on the tourism scene. Additionally, there's also a new road that has been built (apparently with Chinese money) that completely bypasses Llogara and uses a tunnel to get to the other side, into the Dukat Valley, in a matter of minutes. Soon, only e-Bikers and motorcycles will ride this incredible road over the pass.

We had a relaxed lunch at the Sofo restaurant, about five miles after cresting. I had decided not to switch bikes since from here it was all going to be downhill to our hotel and swapping pedals again would have been just another thing to mess with. I was amazed by the speed with which some of the group members descended on what is a hybrid touring bike, very upright, with a minimal bumper suspension fork. Gees, maybe I really am getting old, but I don't take risks. One of the Austrians encountered some really bad chain slap and we all stopped to repair the jammed chain. Thanks, but I don't need to fly down the mountain when I can fly up!

Speaking of the guided tour: As I have said on numerous occasions, the participants all are really likeable folk, all from Austria, and typical e-Bike cyclo-tourist. Because of the nature of their trip, they take all meals together while I just happen to be around for breakfast (provided by the hotels) and sometimes join when there's decent communication ahead of time. They all eat a fixed menu, sit at one big table, hang out with one another the entire time. Some are couples, others are on this trip as solo travelers. That's not me. I can't handle that. I am far too independent for this, and as long as I can make decisions for myself, I will continue to make them. Nico and Qarri are good guides, but Qarri wields a strong hand to keep everyone on their toes. Breakfast at 7:30. We leave at 8:30. Stop now. Dinner in this and that place. This is what is probably needed, but I would go insane. So, note to self: Keep doing your own shit as long as you can!

We got to our hotel a few miles from Vlorë by mid-afternoon. My room was not in the same building as the guided tour members' but just across the street, with a beautiful sea view, a balcony, and away from everybody else. Dinner (grilled octopus, yum) was in a restaurant down the street; after-dinner conversation was with Nik, an Albanian who got stripped of his citizenship when he permanently moved to Germany. We talked for a good hour from balcony to balcony about life in Albania, life in Germany, life in the United States.

So, this is how the official portion of my self-guided UNESCO Tour (remember the world heritage sites that I either visited or ignored?) came to an end. But like any good performance, it always deserves an encore, so today, on this Saturday, September 7, I went for an easy, flat spin from the hotel to the city of Vlorë and a bit beyond. There's an old monastery on the water, there are monuments in town, and there are beaches galore. I took it all in, enjoying those final 32 miles of relaxed riding.

I know that this blog entry is more of an account of my route and the food, and the hard climbs and the group dynamics than what you may have come to find here: more insights on what is Albania is and who the Albanians are? Well, since I have the car transfer back to Tirana tomorrow and then another night in the capital, let's stop here and hope that I may be able to gather my thoughts to at least partially try to answer these questions.

Jürgen