The Albanian Riviera

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Leaving Gjirocaster, the Ottoman style old town, the huge castle and the stupendous views across to the mountains over the valley, we re-traced our steps south for a few kms and then headed west, into low mountains. The road was not particularly steep but it was narrow and this accentuates the gradient. It's a route that plenty of vehicles take, motorhomes included of course; they just take their time.

The road goes to a large town called Sarande and this is an Albanian holiday destination, that is clear. The place was very busy, with lots of people on the beach. We managed to find a parking space on the road above the beach and dived into a modern cafe to grab a coffee. As we were beginning to find, surprisingly due to our (incorrect )preconceptions, there was a good internet connection here. This has been the case throughout Albania.

Sarande is the day-trip target for holidaymakers to Corfu. It's only a few minutes by fast ferry from there. Indeed Corfu is very close to the Alabanian Coast and it can be seen for many kms along the coast. In 1982 we stood on Corfu and looking across at Albania, which at that time was a completely closed country, having cut off ties to Russia and subsequently China, we wondered what it must be like to live there. I remember that there was no evidence of lights at night and you couldn't see any movement. It's not the case now!

Swinging north along the coast, this is the southern end of the Riviera. It's a little like the Mani in the Peloponnese in that the mountains come right to the sea. If anything, They are more dramatic as they are steeper.

Archie's Camping in the TomTom, directed us here:

This is the view from the beach to the campsite

This is Camping Kranea, at Livadh, Himarë. The website is www.camping-kranea.com (not viewed it though). It's run by Dennis! Yes I know. Dennis! I pleaded with him to tell me his Albanian name, but Dennis it is - although it's pronounced differently of course.

It's one of three small sites along a 1km stretch of shingle beach and there's probably room for twenty motorhomes. We decided to sleep in the Landy as we didn't intend to stay more than two nights but in fact we extended to three as it was so nice. We had fitted homemade flyscreens to the two rear passenger doors, when in Stoupa. This was using flyscreen net bought off-the-roll at Katarina's supermarket, and copious amounts of duct tape ( yes!!!). We can now sleep with the windows open but still use the silver foil blackout sheets too.

This site was fairly full, with a collection of German families with pre-school kids, Austrians, Swiss and a Dutch couple, Ben and Ilsa, who are on their way to Greece, but holding-out here for definitive news on the financial situation. They are hardened Greek travellers; this year is number forty nine (49!).

There are one or two more hardened vehicles, including a Mercedees truck with a 5.8l engine and a high Iveco van.

The route most have taken to southern Albania is again a ferry, not Patra this time but Igoumenitsa. We also met James a cyclist from London. He has escaped his job and a girlfriend who wanted to settle down and he is cycling to Istanbul. This is the first phase of a journey that will then see him hop over to Hanoi and then cycle all the way back to the UK with another young women who is lined-up for the trip.

James was very matter-of-fact about what he was doing. He was about forty six days out from London and already in Albania; it seemed pretty impressive to me.

By now we had realised that there's no point shopping for food to cook in Albanian. It's cheap enough to eat and drink at the restaurants, so it was fish every night and Tirana beer or local wine. Yum!

Albania contrasts

I'm going to try to explain what it's like to visit and drive around Albania. Every country has its contrasts and in some they will be more marked than in others. We haven't specifically searched for the modern Albania, however any thoughts that it is somehow stuck in the past are wiped when you see the quality of the campsites, the industriousness of the people and the number of Audis and Mercedees on the road. However, for every Audi A7 or Land Rover Range Rover, there are two donkeys or mules pulling carts. For every car repair establishment, there's someone walking a cow along the road. 

One thing will come as a surprise. They have more car washes than you have ever seen. It might have been opportunistic Poles who setup hand-wash stations for cars, all over the UK, but here there are Lavazh everywhere. I mean every few hundred metres there is a sign and a guy ready to jet wash and vacuum your car. The Albanians might have taken over the car wash system from the Poles in some parts of the UK, but don't be fooled into thinking that this is some kind of opportunistic scam. It's a deep routed feature of the Albanian society that we have seen. The Albanians love clean cars! 

In Greece one came to expect to see herds of goats with a goatherd walking close by. They were almost always guarded by a dog, following the herd through the scrub. Here in Albania it's more often than not a flock of sheep, or a few cows by the side of the road.

The cows may or may not be tethered ; the sheep may or may not be hobbled (a front leg connected to a hind leg by a rope to prevent running away), there are still goats, donkeys and there are also pigs, usually walking free. Goodness knows what happens to the rose gardens.

There's a lot happening. Everyone seems busy. The sides of the road are teeming with 'industry'. My particular interest is the plethora of car parts for sale, usually next to a breakers yard. Dozens of wheels with tyres are neatly lined up for inspection prior to purchase. In other establishments there are rows of bumpers, bonnets and doors. All secondhand and ready for buyers.

The land that is cultivated seems to be divided into small strips, presumably attached to the houses next to them. There's not a lot of mechanisation, particularly when it comes to haymaking. We have seen mowing machines driven by tractors, but when it comes to turning the hay or "rowing-up', this is all done by hand. Over the past few days we have seen many young people helping in the fields. There are hay ricks and in some parts they have used a normal rectangular baler, only for the bales to be carted on a trailer pulled by a donkey, mule or even a pony.

There are no recognisable brands in the shops, and the few shops we have seen, tend to be small, presumably serving a local market. There's plenty of fresh food, whatever is currently being harvested.

We stopped to buy from a roadside stall and a boy of about seven called his father. We weighed and paid for tomatoes and a melon. Once we had done so, the father then took the bags back and doubled the quantities. He didn't seem to mind that I had parked on a large quantity of apricots laid out at the side of the road. I think they had gone to waste. Most of them were consumed by the tread of my BFGoodrich AT tyres and are now dried and stuck firmly to my mudflaps.

Everyone looks curiously at you, whether that's because they look at everyone or it's because of the steering wheel on the right handsome, I don't know. It can't be the Land Rover as they are reasonably common. We've seen at least one per day, mainly Defender TD5s but also a 200 or 300 TDi. Several have been painted white and I wonder if they have been in Kosovo.

We have stayed on three campsites in Albania and they are easily as good as the best anywhere, in terms of cleanliness and facilities. The quality of the installation of the toilet blocks is as good as you would expect in say Germany or the UK. The electrical hookups, for example have their own MCBs and where we are at the moment, they have waterproof socket outlets. In Greece and many other countries, you are lucky if the door fits.

Driving standards are generally poor. Dawn says that in the early 1990s there were only a couple of cars in the entire country. Now there are plenty, but the driving leaves a bit to be desired. One difficulty is knowing the right of way at junctions. That old French "priority a droite" rule is sometimes followed, but you never know when! On twisty mountain roads the Albanians love to cut the corners even when they can't see around them. The only way we can drive is to assume there's a "corner cutter" coming!

When the road is narrow, with real rough stuff off the edge, they continue at normal speed as they pass you and let the wheels drop onto the gravel and stones. This probably explains the market for secondhand wheels and tyres.

The police have stopped us twice. They are everywhere; very smart with peaked caps. Working in pairs they use lollipops (as on our railways) and request cars and lorries to pull in at random. We approached our first pair from a very small road where it joined the main road. They turned around, motioned for us to stop and leaning in through the window, Number 1 said "Leisure?" and Number 2 offered his hand for a handshake.

The second stop was on a main road, the lollipop was raised, we pulled in. This time #1 reached in to the front and although I shook his hand, as I presumed is usually the case, this time he wiggled an indicator stalk and I realised that I should have switched my headlamps on. Most cars are driving with daytime lights. Then he said "holiday?" and shook my hand!

First impressions of Albania

It's worth saying that few if any people we have met so far have expressed any enthusiasm for Albania. Certainly the Greeks were very surprised that we would be travelling there, just as they also expressed disapproval of Macedonia, in fact I was corrected in a friendly way for referring to FYROM as Macedonia when it "should be Skopyj". Macedonia is the area near Thessalonika.

However a plan is a plan and we weren't to be deterred. Internet searches show that there are tourists, it isn't third world and it's also very beautiful. So off we went, pushing north towards more high mountains.

The startling aspect of the first sight of the country was a sudden change in the landscape as the mountains changed at a stroke from forest and bush to completely open slopes. I can only assume that a considerable amount of de-forestation has occurred.

We reached the Greek border and had to mingle in the short queue with foot travellers. Here's Dawn getting to know a Brazilian who is on a long trip and an older man living in southern Albania where Greek is still the native tongue.

It's worth noting here that the Brasilian guy cropped up two more times this week, completely coincidentally, at tourist spots admittedly, but nevertheless, to bump into him again and again was quite funny.

Just a point of interest, his wife didn't want to travel, so he's on his own. He's using public transport and has come from Rio to this area of Europe, is then travelling to Prague and on to Moscow and St Petersburg.

The Greek border was a mix of foot and car people, the other border post officer might have been a victim of austerity or he/she might just have been at lunch. So we took our turn in the short queue and then it was a short nervous drive across no-mans-land to the Albanian border.

At the window were two border officials and the young lady behind the glass had quite intense makeup with deep eye lashes. However she had not been to charm school and hadn't learnt the English for "please" and "thank you". The eyes were not for me; there was no eye contact as she scanned each passport in turn, looking for whatever one looks for on the screen, when a new person requests permission to enter a country. Whatever the checks were, they were both positive and with a flourish of an ink stamp she closed both books, slid them under the glass and said "Go"!

So we did.

I was immediately in "nervous mode" as we drove towards our first stop, Gjirokaster, a world heritage town only 30-40 minutes from the border. As we entered the town I was slowed by a Mercedees in front, with a sign in the rear window - SHITET. I didn't know what to do, eventually building up courage I overtook, only to regret it immediately as I glanced down to see the plain clothes guy reach for his phone and make a call, presumably to a colleague further down the road.

I lost him a little further on as our satnav took us accuarately through the Old Town to our treat, a night in the Kotoni B&B, in an old Gjirokaster house of typical Ottoman style. (€25 for two, including breakfast). I couldn't wait to check with Haji the owner, just what I had done wrong in overtaking a vehicle showing SHITET. He looked at me for a moment then smiled and said, "It means for sale"! Gulp.

We stayed it the house in the foreground and you can see the Landy parked outside. To get there meant driving up steep cobbles of incredibly smooth white stone (limestone?). The streets are narrow!

This is the view from old town, over new town, to the mountains across the valley.

The castle is stupendous, dominating the top of the town and it's full of WW2 guns, both German and Italian. It has surved as a prison during the communist era and once in there you are free to roam.

We had a guided tour of one of the best preserved/restored houses, by the daughter of the owner. Now in use as a museum, it gave a fascinating insight into the way of the Ottoman households, especially the way in which they treated guests, newly weds and women.

We are beginning to see a slightly more intrepid traveller now that we are in Albania. Sharing the BnB were a couple from Santiago de Compostela in north west Spain, who have driven here on a Ducati. Later we saw a couple from Poland, who more sensibly have come on two bikes.

Walking the old town during the early evening, we passed a man sitting outside a shop. He stopped us, asking where we are from. Mentioning England is great, as just as in Greece, he was all handshakes and broke into English, telling us that he had been a teacher of Russian at the town's Gymnasium, until such time as Russian was no longer the second language to be taught and spoken. 

The tour guide at the old house told us that the house and land had all been taken by the government. I believe that this was when Enver Hoxha (pronounced Hoja), changed his allegiance from Russia to China and was consumed by the Maoist cultural revolution.  When this came to an end, firstly following Mao's death and latterly Hoxha's own death in 1985, only the houses were eventually returned to the previous owners, not necessarily the land that was originally with them. Gjirokaster was his birth place and to a certain extent it was protected from his excesses.

Our first twenty four hours in Albania certainly gave us a good impression of the country and the people, in spite of "Go" at the border. So we moved on to the southern coast, the Albanian Riviera, north of Sarande.

The end of Greece

"How better to complete our tour of Greece than by a couple of nights at a city that we've never heard of? We journeyed west from Meteora to Ioannina, which is a university city in the west of the mainland. 

We approached it through high mountains, managing to avoid the new motorway with its many tunnels and instead we followed the old road, twisting and turning. The reward was marvellous views of 2,000m+ mountains, with the only issue being the debris on the road consisting of anything from small stones to large rocks. So you need to be constantly on the look out for obstacles.

Ioannina is on the western side of a large lake and we arrived from the northern side, looking for the one and only campsite that the map showed to be on the southern side. It meant driving through the middle of a bustling old town, only to discover that there was no campsite there.

It was only then that I remembered a feature of my satnav that I had discovered just before leaving home. Points of Interest, such as ferries, fuel stations and so on, can be selectively displayed on the map. The feature I had discovered is that user-generated files of specific points of interest, can also be created and downloaded into the satnav. I had found a massive database of campsites, maintained by a guy in Holland and displayed as POIs as 'Archie's campsites'. I had forgotten that I had already loaded his POI file before we left the UK and all I had to do was enable it to be displayed on my map.

Lo and behold, the campsite that we were looking for was shown, on the north side of the city. So we made our way back across the small centre and turned onto the dock used by a very active rowing club, alongside which there is a very informal site.

On registering, I found that they would be charging €23 per night for two adults, tent and car (with electric hook up included). This is by far the most expensive that we have come across in Greece and I explained this to a helpful lady who promptly dropped it to €20. Normally we have paid around €16-18.

On Saturday 20th June therefore, we found ourselves eating a lovely evening meal out and walking around the city, taking in the sights, as were many others.

There was the small matter of the Ioannina International Folk Festival which just happened to be in full swing so after dinner, we stopped to watch. This is the team from Bulgaria.

Dawn wasn't very impressed, complaining that as far as she could see, they didn't appear to be moving at all.

This continued until I realised that it's because she's quite short at 5'2". She not the 5'4" that she's claimed to be ever, since she scraped through the medical for her military service. She simply couldn't see their feet and the dancing was "all feet". So this was sorted by a swift change in position and she was then able to more fully appreciate the contribution from Bulgaria.

Overnight on Saturday, the lakeside bar just a couple of hundred metres from our campsite, had live music. The volume increased hour by hour and with the decreasing temperature, the sound in our tent became louder and louder. By 3:30am we resorted to ear plugs. It's a pity that in our fit-full sleep we hadn't tried them earlier.

On Sunday we drove up into the mountains north of Ioannina and specifically to the villages close to the edge of the Vikos Gorge.

In a small cafe we started talking to the owner about bees. He produced a bowl of pollen, straight from the hive and suggested that we eat a teaspoonful. We did and he says that two per day "would give you all the vitamins you need". I can't verify this but it tasted slightly better than cod liver oil and a lot worse than rose-hip syrup. (Keep-up old timers).

It was here at this café that I learnt yet again to keep my voice down low, as I suggested to Dawn that we move tables as "we're getting a full whiff from that old Greek boy's pipe".  The old Greek boy happened to be ex-Hartford College, at Oxford University and whilst he is an old Greek, he also understands loud English.

A few days later I was again overheard on a beach, suggesting that a screaming toddler be taken down to the sea and held underwater for a moment or two until the crying stopped. A German guy turned around laughing, so I think he realised that it was only a joke, Ja!

Back to the Vikos Gorge. This is in the Guiness Book of Records as the deepest profile gorge in the world. It's about 900m deep and very narrow - just how narrow I'm not sure, but it is spectacular.

From the path it is an immediate vertical drop-off in places- very dodgy for people not taking care.

That donkey was a bit suspicious too, always turning up in the most unlikely of places.

I have done a little bit of climbing but I have never looked straight down so far. It really is quite unnerving to be able to see hundreds of metres directly below your feet.

Returning from Vikos, we stopped at a huge bronze monument, positioned on an outcrop looking down the main valley south towards Ioannina. This fine lady has a bag on her shoulders and is carrying a purse and is striding out intently. I've tried to translate the plaque below it, using a funky new Google translate app which will scan a photograph of words, recognise the text and then go on to translate it. The inscription is a tribute paid by the woman's descendants to the people of the Zagori area, who gave her shelter during the night of 28th October 1940 as she escaped from the hands of Eisvolea Ekopazoume. It's signed "The Panoraveniotes".

Our last night in Greece was far more peaceful than the previous. We had a nice bbq, watched the sunset and all was tranquil. The following morning we drove north west for an hour or so to the border with Albania and our tour of Greece and this phase of the trip, was sadly over.

The monasteries of Meteora

What can I say? I have never seen anything like it. In the mountainous middle of Greece, close to Kalambaka, there are the biggest rock outcrops you can imagine. They are a collection of individual stone pillars; narrow and tall. Perched on top of several, are beautiful monasteries.

This is the view from the campsite, Camping Kastraki:

The monasteries are perched on several of these pillars, just a few minutes drive from Kastraki. They are insanely situated, with walls that are pushed right out to the limit of the width available. So most walls continue sheer down the rockface.

Amanda asked in a comment about the climbing here. All I can say is that it was a little hard to imagine any climbing (and there was no sign of climbers during our visit). This is because of the lack of obvious belays at the top. The pillars appear to be smooth and rounded. Maybe this is climbing with bolts, because as I followed possible routes up some of the faces, there appeared to be little natural protection...but then that's often the case when a 'one-time climber' looks at a real challenge that he'll never be in a position to attempt!

We spent a useful few hours driving slowly around the roads that connect the various monasteries. Some are open to visitors but we honestly thought that the view of the exteriors was better than looking inside.

There are many cars and a good few coaches. The roads are designed to allow stops and views and the turning points are good. Several motorhomes were also up there, however the Land Rover was a lovely choice.

On the campsite we saw, for the first time in several weeks, some other travellers in interesting vehicles. This one is a tray back Mitsubishi:

In the evening we enjoyed a dry bbq, and this time our veg were steamed.This is a first for us and it proved to be very quick and tasty.

First, cut the veg into pieces and make a double layer parcel of foil.

Place on Smokey Joe once the meat has been 'sealed' and is half way to fully cooked.

As usual, use the lid and close the bbq so that the volume above the grid is hot.

Open the next beer, sit back and after twenty minutes, open and check but don't forget about the super-heated steam that will emerge, if the temperature has been correctly achieved.

When all is 'done', serve with your favourite side dish - in this case couscous, which has to be the most camper-friendly dish you could wish for.