#travel ideas
Deep in the heart of North Albania, nestled in the foothills of the Albanian Alps, lies a curious little town named Pukë (pronounced Puka).
An intriguing blend of old stone houses and Alpine-inspired architecture with a tall, white mosque tower rising proudly out of the centre, the town of Pukë is one of the highest in the country. Surrounded on all sides by sprawling pine forest, with the snow-lined peaks of the Accursed Mountains looming imposingly in the distance, it was the perfect place for us to spend a week getting a taste of rural Albanian life.
As we walked in search of our morning coffee and byrek the streets were alive with activity; women walking around with armfuls of fresh bread, crowds of men chatting and smoking in the local billiard halls, children crowding at the school gates to buy snacks from a vendor and people stocking up their cars with supplies from the mini market, to take to some faraway village no doubt.
Over the course of the next few days we would begin to recognise the same faces; likewise the bakers and shopkeepers we visited had begun to recognise us. The same police car patrolled slowly up and down the main street, its two officers smoking cigarettes and stopping to chat or move on the occasional badly parked car.
It had a wonderfully small town feel to it that reminded us so much of Cornwall and made us feel instantly safe and welcome. This was only day one of our time here and already we had so much to look forward to…
If you’re ever in the North of Albania make sure you hit up our friends at @discover_puka for a truly authentic experience of Albanian life and a tour of this beautiful area of the world.
The sunshine on our skin was a feeling we’d long since forgotten, a sensation buried in the backs of our minds. Yet here it was, an unusually warm, dare I say hot day in the hinterlands of rural Albania.
After many months of winter, of snow in Kosovo, freezing fog in Macedonia and countless icy mornings it was a welcome relief and a boost to our morale.
We’d been craving a cool body of water to plunge into and wash away the driving sweat, but we settled for a bag shower on a dirt track nestled amongst the shrubs and canyons with the scent of wild thyme rising hot and citrussy in the air.
I washed our clothes in the sink and hung them out to dry, and we watched the sun climb out of the sky and brush over the mountaintops turning them hazy purple and red. Sunsets could be a thousand shades of gold and orange, pale pink and even the occasional streak of green, but they were always purple here in Albania. The kind of purple that stained the mountain faces and electrified the lake waters; the kind that demanded you stop and watch.
Late at night two men in a van came and dumped ten neat white bags on the ground in front of our van. We assumed they were fly-tippers, but come morning we awoke to the sound of saddles scraping past our van as two men loaded up their mules with the supplies they’d need to take to their village, a sight that always filled us with wonder and curiosity. ? ?
We said good morning to them, folded up the washing and continued on our journey towards a curious little town named Pukë…
Alone in the wild.⠀
⠀
We can never truly be alone, no matter how remote we go in our van. Because if we can drive it, someone else can too.⠀
But still we like to find these hidden crevices, areas of land with no purpose and no reason to visit them. We like to tuck ourselves so far out of the way we might not see another person for days, for reasons we can’t explain.⠀
It’s difficult to put into words, my desire to meet people and hear their stories in every corner of the world we go, and the yearning to conceal ourselves away like some childish game of hide and seek, except no one’s going to come looking.⠀
I can’t explain it, but I find solace in knowing I’m not the only one.⠀
In a particular chapter of a very well-known book Jon Krakauer finds himself climbing to the top of an Alaskan mountain so remote it hasn’t seen a visitor in years, risking his life in the snow, all in the name of solitude. The lengths he would go to to escape humankind, and the loneliness that struck him once he was back amongst them- that story sticks in my mind, always.⠀
Some may find unabounded silence and space unnerving, the knowledge that if something goes wrong you’re stuck out here. But we relish in it, the what if’s outweighed by the bliss of isolation. The possibility that maybe, just maybe, not one person has ever camped in this spot before and we might be the first.⠀
The solitude quells our minds as much as it unnerves them, but still the excitement of adventure keeps us pushing onwards into evermore distant corners of the earth.⠀
P.S. Can anyone name the book?
On a particularly frosty Monday morning we rose earlier than the sun did, cameras in hand and blankets around our shoulders to capture the sunrise and encapsulate it in our memories.
The watercolour sky was awash with pale pinks and dusky orange, the jagged mountain peaks shrouding the horizon beyond. Below our camp spot sat the most pristine lake of emerald water, clear as glass, and a thick stream of cloud scooting across its surface before being sucked down into the valley below.
We stood patiently, cameras poised, as the fiery sunlight licked the tops of the mountains and slowly made its way down to their base. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the golden rays filtered through the peaks and burst through the chill in the air. The snaking dirt track beneath us was all of a sudden bathed in gold, the fog clouds set ablaze in the sky, and the warmth of a late winter’s day kissed our cheeks and unfroze our hands.
It felt like an achievement for us, a rare gift of total aloneness after several chaotic days amongst the city folk of Tirana, long before the first commuter minibuses would rumble their way down this track. We retreated to the van to reward ourselves with coffee, watching the sun scatter the orderly clouds into a haze of fog that enveloped the landscape and licked at our van.
An early start and a little less sleep had been a fair trade to enjoy this moment all to ourselves. We cradled our coffee cups and pored over maps, planning the day’s adventure ahead before the rest of the world had even pulled back the covers and risen out of bed.
Standing on the edge of the world with you.
We’re missing camp spots like this one in Albania as we self-isolate back in Cornwall after a nightmare drive getting back, but we still have many weeks worth of photos and travel stories to share with you all that will hopefully brighten your days.
Tell us what you’re up to if you’re self-isolating- we’re working on our huge backlog of travelogues for YouTube, repairing the many problems with our van and drinking countless cups of Yorkshire tea! ☕️
