#visit albania
Pushing out into the milky blue waters, letting the warm liquid take my weight and making those first few strokes across the pool toward those snowy mountains in the distance; that was how this morning began.
Few things are more refreshing than an early morning swim, a chance to wake up and stretch, enjoy an hour of open headspace before the rest of the world rises. Not that there were many people around; the waters weren’t exceptionally hot but neither was the weather, and this was enough to put most off. The main appeal for us was that this pool was just the right size and depth for swimming in.
The steam swirled upwards in the thin winter sunshine, a herd of goats crossed the old Ottoman bridge with a tinkling of bells, and we swam. Back and forth, round and round, algae tickling our feet and the constant crashing of water falling from the pool into the river, staining it too that surreal milky blue as it filtered down through the valley.
The nights were cold and filled with starlit skies, alive with the croaking of bullfrogs and the rushing of river water. The days were peaceful and cool, broken up only by short visits into the nearby town of Permët.
We had a blissful feeling of completeness here, a sense of comforting familiarity we could seldom find on the road. This was the area we’d stayed in when we first came to Albania, and we loved it so much then we spent a whole week here. Little had changed in two years, apart from the damage caused by country-wide flooding had been repaired and the family of stray cats we’d fed were long gone, to be replaced by a timid yet local black dog who crept out of the shadows at night in search of food.
Sadly we didn’t have the luxury of time on our side this time, and after three short days we were onto our next destination in a bid to get our battered old van repaired before she could let us down again…
But we would always miss the milky blue waters of Benjë, tucked away in this furtive little valley, and we would remember this corner of Albania fondly.
Not every day on the road can be an adventure. We need rest days, van repair days, life admin days.
Days where we just chill, where we sleep in late and sip coffee gazing out of the back doors. Days where we clean the van from top to bottom or catch up on our work. Rainy days spent cosied up under blankets trying to catch the various leaks in our roof.
Contrary to our little highlight reel on here it’s not all epic roadtrips and new discoveries; for every day of exploring there’s a down day closely following behind (or two, or three…). Constant motion is exhausting; travel sometimes overstimulating. We need time to process and digest just as much as we crave new experiences and changing scenery.
As with everything in life it’s all about balance, and the days spent sipping coffee in bed are just as important as the days we’re out scaling mountains.
The SH75 was a road we’d been warned about.
Snaking its way through the endless mountainous landscape in the South East corner of Albania, this road was as long as it was arduous. Many of the roads here had not been paved since the time of communism, instead being left to the devices of nature and only those who were prepared to take the challenge of a day’s drive to their destination.
We left the beautiful Ottoman city of Korçë behind us and began to wind our way South close to the border with Greece. The road started off well, threading through fields and beautiful scenery, but by hour two it had descended into no more than a patchwork of half-assed repairs. By hour five the novelty had worn off and we were growing tired, our van battered and bruised from the relentless bumps.
We pulled over by the side of the gravel track when a clunking noise underneath our van grew loud enough for concern. There, by the roadside, we reattached a piece of our steering column as well as a shock absorber that had rattled so loose it was about to fall off, all the while minibuses went hammering past us, honking and waving in solidarity or offering help.
Our van patched up, we descended the final few kilometres which took hours due to the state of the road. Night fell and we were still meandering down this hellish road, dodging potholes and herds of cattle until finally we made it into the safe clutches of Permët, the first town we’d ever visited in Albania, and the sense of relief and familiarity overwhelmed us.
Driving down these lonesome dirt track roads, icy waters below us, empty mountains all around.
Miles and miles and nothing but silence, nameless peaks stretching toward the sky dusted with patches of white. Those sunset clouds splashed unusual shades of deep purple and dusty rose pink casting a colour haze across the landscape that’s hard to describe, the fleeting kind that comes only after rain and lasts just a few minutes before it’s gone again.
Our tyres ploughed through deep, sticky mud to reach the small ridge that would become home for the night. We wrapped our faces in scarves against the cold and scrambled down the bank to skim stones across the lake’s frozen surface; they bounced and echoed with a bullet ricochet sound that reverberated around the valley and clattered through our ears.
These were the only noises we would hear all night; no birds, no cars, no wind or rain, just us above this frozen lake as the colours slowly melted and the stars came into view.
So much of Albania was just wild land, beautiful places that would not appear on any hiking trail or in any guide book, free to explore, yours to enjoy. With no fences or barriers to hold us back we could pitch up and call anyplace home for the night, and that was just the kind of freedom we craved.
Oh how good it was to be back in this land again.
There’s something about a dirt track road which never fails to excite us. It holds within it the promise of adventure, a challenge, and no guarantee of if we’ll make it to the end.
Driving around Albania is very much a game of chance; sometimes you’ll find yourself on the smoothest paved road, other times that road will unexpectedly run out and you find yourself bumping down miles of relentless gravel and rock. Sometimes we’re up for the challenge; sometimes it proves too much for our old van and we are forced to backtrack.
We alternate here between the desperate need to escape from civilisation and the sweet relief that tarmac provides.
But the Balkans offer everything we lack back in England; unpaved roads, a slackening of regulations, the freedom to roam. There are rules but nobody pays attention to them. There’s a general lack of fucks given. Nobody’s all up in your business telling you where you can and can’t be or what you can and can’t do. For some the craziness may be overwhelming; to us it’s a breath of fresh air.
We find peace amongst the chaos, freedom weaving through rough dirt roads, and adventure waiting for us around every turn. And that’s just the way we like it.
Our first few days in Albania were spent at this spot, enjoying a rare moment of winter sunshine, waking up to the soft tinkling of goat bells and the distant braying of donkeys.
The glassy lake waters reflected the steely grey mountains and smoke stacks which rose upwards in the still air.
Sure the water was cold, and the nights were even colder, but that didn’t stop us from taking a refreshing dip in the mornings with little fish swimming around our ankles. The warm air tingled against our cold skin as we emerged, revitalised, and headed back to the van to brew up coffee.
It’s simple mornings like these that give us time to recharge our batteries, to bask in our surroundings and plan the next leg of our adventure. This is the simple life we so crave, detached from civilisation, and our van which affords us this moments as we drive into the depths of beyond in search of a wild place to just be for a little while.
We invite you to come along with us on a virtual journey as we join two mountain shepherds on their daily duties to a remote family hut in the Accursed Mountains of North Albania. Also known as the Albanian Alps, these wild mountains are home to the fierce Kelmendi tribe and their descendants.
In this episode we drive one of Albania’s most incredible roads to reach the once-inaccessible villages that lie beyond.
We visit the historic ruins of the Kelmend region’s oldest church and learn how the tribe fought off the Ottomans and the communists, holding onto their Catholic beliefs and traditional values for centuries.
We follow to shepherds for a day, battling with heavy rain and unforgiving wind. We venture through the mountains to a remote shepherd’s hut. Here we find our guide’s family tending to their livestock and seeking shelter from the elements. We are invited in for rakia and Turkish coffee and even get to sample some yogurt from their herd of goats.
Join us on this unique journey as we discover more of the fascinating Albanian Alps, on YouTube NOW! Click the link in our bio or swipe up in our Stories!
If you enjoyed the video please don’t forget to Share, Like and Subscribe, or consider joining us on Patreon to help us keep on creating content
This film is a behind-the-scenes look at a photographic project we are working on in the North of Albania; you can view our other work from this project over on @lbjournals.
Join us as we embark on a journey to reach one of Albania’s most remote villages, nestled within the mysterious Accursed Mountains.
In this episode we explore the mountainous wilds of Northern Albania. Setting off at sunrise, we struggle with the hostile terrain over four hours of intense hiking, accompanied by our guide, before reaching the small village of Mregu. Cut off from the rest of the country, this village is home to only a handful of residents, lying around 3 hours from the nearest city with no road access.
Here we meet one of the village’s last remaining residents, who welcomes us into her home and shows us her way of life. We learn about the challenges of remote mountain living, how to live entirely self-sufficiently, and about the depopulation of this incredible area as Albania speeds into the 21st century.
We conclude this episode with a stay by the incredible Komani Lake, an intense lightning storm and some crazy driving through the city of Shkodër as we make plans for our final days in Albania.
Join us in this mini documentary as we discover a unique way of life hidden within the Albanian Alps, on YouTube NOW!
If you enjoyed the video please don’t forget to Share, Like and Subscribe, or consider joining us on Patreon to help us keep on creating content
Big thank you to @undyingheads for the music, make sure you check them out!
Photo essay available to view over on our lbjournals website
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Our boots crunched over loose, rocky scree and a vertical incline that threatened to topple us over at any minute. The track we were following was unlike anything we’d hiked before; less a path and more a trail carved out by the resilient villagers who lived at the top of this mountain.
We had journeyed to the Northernmost corner of Albania until the road could take us no further; here we left the van and met our guide who would take us to meet the villagers living in some of Albania’s most remote regions, places only accessible on foot or by mule.
At this altitude in the Albanian Alps there was no vegetation, nothing to suggest this area would support life; the closest thing to trees were the makeshift poles supporting a thin electricity wire than ran from the bottom of the valley to the peak above us. We followed the path arduously, gasping for breath and legs screaming in protest while our guide, who’d been traversing these mountains since he learned to walk, sailed ahead of us.
Men twice our age passed us with ease, taking their mules to the top to fetch hay, and we doubted whether we’d ever make it to the end of this 2km near-vertical climb.
But then, mercifully, the ground began to level out, and a luscious green pasture spread out before us, covering the plateau. This was the last place on earth we’d expected to see people living, yet unbelievably a dozen or so houses were spread out across the vast fields where horses and sheep grazed.
It took another hour or so to reach a homestead which looked like it might be inhabited; many of the rest were crumbling ruins, long abandoned as their owners headed for the city. A middle-aged woman greeted us at the door, wearing a white head scarf and modest clothing; she was clearly surprised and excited to have visitors. She immediately invited us inside for coffee, and set about pouring glasses of rakia from a bottle shaped like a crucifix.
We were in awe of her home, which was furnished with beautiful polished wood items and an ornate wood burner in the center. We inquired how she had managed to get it up here, and she recalled hauling it up the same track we had taken, carrying it on sticks along with her husband on their shoulders. The same would’ve been true for every item of furniture in their house, making this otherwise ordinary house suddenly look quite impossible.
After drinks, Age (Aga) happily showed us around her property; she had vegetables and dried mountain herbs in her larder, dried cuts of meat in her barn. She kept sheep for their milk, churned this by hand to make butter, and knitted clothes and rugs from their wool. Her water came from a spring and her income came from raising cattle. Every part of her life was fascinating to us; our minds boggled at the length and difficulty of the journey we had taken, hours from the nearest city with amenities, right up to this woman’s house that would be ordinary if not for its exceptional location atop a mountain.
It was still incomprehensible, even though we’d completed the journey ourselves, and we imagined her and her husband making their monthly trip to Shkodër then hiking back up the vertical path with their supplies; it was a world away from simply visiting the supermarket. From this vantage point we could see dozens more houses scattered across the mountains in even more unlikely places, and we were curious whether anyone still lived in them and what their stories were.
We said goodbye to Age, who still had much work to do before the sunset, and began our painstaking journey down the other side of the mountain left in complete and total awe.
This is an excerpt from an ongoing documentary project about the residents of the Albanian Alps, one of the most inaccessible regions of Europe. The video of this adventure will be out on YouTube on Sunday, and the full photo essay will be available to view on @lbjournalssoon.
When you’re heading into the mountains, preparation is key. And in mountains as remote as the Albanian Alps it’s downright essential.
Unpredictable, wild, vast and unforgiving- these mountains command their presence and dare you explore their impenetrable façade.
We stocked up in the city of Shkodër pre-trip, the nearest amenities to our destination for several hours around. A week’s food, a tank of fuel; everything else we could need was already in our van. The residents of Malesi e Madhe, Albania’s Northernmost corner, grow their own food and slaughter their own meat, with monthly visits to the city for supplies; we would have to follow their lead in stocking up at our last opportunity.
The two hour drive from the city was nothing short of incredible; roads that wound tightly and sharp inclines enough to slow us right down to a walker’s pace. A handful of switchback turns thrown in for good measure on the Leqet e Hotit Pass. All the while overlooked by those imposing, jagged limestone peaks as we wound through the valleys at their mercy.
We stopped for a rest at a point where water gushed from a hole in the rock at a furious speed and trickled down through wooden channels out into the road. Here we made our final preparation, filling our tanks with the freshest spring water and loading them back into the van.
We continued our journey to the small village of Selcë, a place that just a few years ago would’ve been virtually inaccessible to us in our van, now paved with the smoothest tarmac road cutting the residents’ travel time to the city down by half a day. We would spend the night here among terraced mountainsides and sparsely populated houses in preparation for tomorrow’s expedition to begin at sunrise…
The distant sounds of the Call To Prayer rang out across the steely waters of Lake Skadar, crackling out through distorted speakers atop the minarets of several mosques, clashing and vying for dominance like the howling of street dogs. The sky was reflected in the glassy lake surface as it turned slowly from blue to purple to an electrifying red which set the clouds ablaze. And we were making our preparations to head deep into the mountains.
We’d been parked up amongst the waterlogged trees and lake reeds for several days, a furtive little spot accessible by driving through a shallow river that had swollen to twice its size following the rainfall on the day we arrived. But now the blissful sunset colours cast down onto the distant mountains of Montenegro and all was calm in the far North of Albania again.
Of all the lakes we’d camped by in recent months, Lake Skadar was easily the largest and most impressive.⠀
While we’d stuck religiously to our inland route around the Balkan Peninsula these lakes gave us some comfort and a gentle reminder of the ocean’s edge we’d left behind in search of provincial adventures. Although we’d grown up a stone’s throw from the sea and these country’s coastlines provided an easily navigable and scenic route, we’d been drawn to see more of Europe’s hinterlands, a world away from glitzy seaside resorts and tourist attractions. In the heartlands of Albania we’d discovered spectacular mountainscapes, empty lands, impassable roads and an authenticity, warmth and unrivalled hospitality from its people. The same was true of the Balkans’ whole interior, and in fact we’d only briefly touched the sea in Thessaloniki since our departure from Calais many months prior.
These lesser-visited areas are what we live for; places you won’t find in any guidebook, unblemished of tourist attractions. Just raw and honest countryside, nothing more.⠀
We finished packing up our backpacks just as the last of the light was fading, ready for our journey tomorrow into the most remote corner of this country. ⠀
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Join us as we explore Albania’s lesser-known alpine town in the foothills of the famous Accursed Mountains- otherwise known as the Albanian Alps.
In this episode we explore what the town of Puka (Pukë) is all about. One of the highest towns in Albania, there is plenty of breathtaking scenery to absorb, with the Albanian Alps serving as a perfect backdrop to the newly renovated town centre.
Despite its small population, there’s tons to see and do as we highlight by meeting two local guides and budding hoteliers. We explore the stunning surrounding area before meeting with international charity 1 More Tree. Here we learn the importance of sustainable tree planting in areas such as these as well as learning of the devastating effects of an invasive caterpillar species that is plighting Albania.
From here we meet up with Marie Shkjau, owner of Devin Agrotourism farm in the village of Qerret I Madh. Here we discover how traditional living and rural life can be combined with tourism to create a very special experience for anyone lucky enough to venture to this corner of Albania. We sample some local organic cuisine and preserves, and of course some rakia!
If exploring the North of Albania excites you as much as it does us then check out our friends’ page @northexperience_al.
Join us as we discover the most beautiful area of Albania you’ve probably never heard of, on YouTube NOW!
If you enjoyed the video please don’t forget to Share, Like and Subscribe, or consider joining us on Patreon to help us keep on creating content
When it rains in the mountains, it really rains. Not a fine mizzle or the odd shower like we get in England, but a biblical, all-engrossing rain that pelts down from the sky and sends rivers running down the mountainsides in great waterfalls that flood the roads and make planning any sort of activity quite impossible.
Such is the unpredictability of the Accursed Mountains, a corner of Albania whose curious histories and unique way of life woven amongst its limestone peaks will forever keep us coming back for more.
This fascinating mountain range was so named for its wildly inhospitable conditions, and is one of the rare mountain ranges in Europe that is yet to be fully explored. But mountaineers with their compasses and maps will never truly conquer these mountains, for the only way to truly navigate them is with a lifetime of muscle memory, ingrained into mountain men from the age they learn to walk. There are few roads, no signposted trails, and no forgiveness; if you get lost and the weather doesn’t get you then the wolves surely will.
But while the mountains may ward you off with their inhospitality the people will surely not, as they are perhaps some of the warmest and most welcoming in all the Balkans. With no fear of strangers and no reason to lock their doors some three hours away from the nearest town, they will happily invite you into their home for a coffee and a rakia before you continue on your journey.
The Albanian Alps possess a deep sense of mystery that fascinates us and seems almost tangible as we pull off the craggy SH25 alongside the Drin river, unwilling to drive any further in the torrential downpour. The thunderstorm would not pass until tomorrow evening when we would be rewarded with another spectacular Albanian sunset, but before that we would endure a night of lightning strikes powerful enough to knock out the area’s only phone mast, and thunder that shook us violently inside our van; if you’ve never heard thunder in the mountains before, imagine someone dropping about thirty dustbins off the side of a cliff at once. It booms.
It felt all at once overwhelmingly exciting and familiar to be back in the North of Albania once again, parked up so close to an area we’d become so affiliated with that had played home to one of our favourite travel stories. But now we were about to make more, as we were set to be heading off the road and into the furthest reaches of these mountains on foot, a place where vehicles could only dream to go and mules were the primary mode of transport.
Soon we were going back into the heart of the Accursed Mountains.
Join us as we experience Albania’s famous Osum Canyon and sample some of the delicious local wine, produced in a quaint village just outside of the ancient city of Berat.
In this episode, we arrive in Berat to catch up with an old friend @isufbraho. He kindly lets us stay in his beautifully renovated hotel, located in the picturesque historic centre of the city.
We then head to @alpeta_winery in Roshnik, nestled away in the mountainous outskirts of Berat. Here we discover local flavours and sample organic wine and rakia as well as indulging in the food that is grown here. We marvel at the sustainable business and learn about the special wine produced from grapes that only grow in this particular region from our host @arditfiska.
After the winery, we venture into Osumi canyon, famous across Albania for being its largest and most impressive canyon.
Join us as we discover some of Albania’s most beautiful natural landscapes, on YouTube NOW!
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Good morning, everyone! We hope you’ll join us on this adventure as we experience one of the craziest roads we’ve ever attempted to drive.
In this episode, we end up on the notorious SH74 road in an attempt to find a scenic route to the historic city of Berat. We’d heard many warnings about this road but wanted to experience it for ourselves, and it turned out to be just as bad as we’d imagined. We’ve only ever had to turn around less than a handful of times, as this was one of them.
How far will we make it before we say enough is enough?
Join us as we put our LDV Convoy through it’s paces and push it to the max. Let us know if you’d drive this road in the comments!
Join us over on YouTube NOW! If you enjoyed the video please don’t forget to Share, Like and Subscribe, or consider joining us on Patreon to help us keep on creating content
As always big thank you to @undyingheads for creating the perfect soundtrack to our travelogues- make sure you check them out!
It’s all too easy to simply pass through somewhere, admiring the scenery from a distance through dusty window panes like the hollow eyes of a TV screen.⠀
It’s much more complex and infinitely more rewarding to engage with life in other countries, to meet people and experience small snippets of culture through them, to learn what it means to be a local in even the most mundane sense, to really a country in a richer, more wholesome way.⠀
When you’ve assimilated into the local way of life, when you’ve learned things that could never be written in any guidebook, that is when one graduates from a tourist into a traveller.⠀
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The people are their country; a country is its people. And to pass through a place blissfully unaware of the locals and their customs is in our eyes to waste an opportunity.⠀
Without those chance encounters, without delving into new cuisines, without saying yes and throwing ourselves into whatever comes out way, how could we ever truly say we’ve seen the world?⠀
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When you travel you open yourself up to a wealth of experiences the world has to offer, both good and bad. But through these experiences you realise that the world isn’t such a dark, scary place as we’re led to believe. Most people we’ve met on our way have been good and kind, hospitable and welcoming. And the bad experiences are just lessons learned for the future.⠀
After all, we wholeheartedly believe that what you put out into the world, is what you receive back.⠀
Be good, be honest, be curious and be kind. And just see where the winds will take you.⠀
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P.S. This might just be my favourite photo from this trip, taken in one of my favourite corners of the world ⠀
Quite often we feel as though we’re travelling through some faraway distant land when we come across scenes like this, and in many ways I suppose we are. But looking at a map of the world, seeing how small and insignificant the miles we’ve covered across Europe are, Albania feels like it’s on our doorstep compared to the journeys we will make one day.
Albania has a unique culture unlike that of any other Balkan country, born of the decades of isolation they faced during the years of communism inflicted on them. They had no contact with the outside world, religion was forbidden and freedom seemed unimaginable.
After the death of dictator Enver Hoxha and the fall of communism, the Albanian people started to recover; they were free to pursue their own lines of work, farm their own animals, and practice religion once more. Now a great majority of the country are Muslim, and the rolling mountain valleys are punctuated by beautifully ornate mosques such as this one in the tiny rural village of Qerret i Madhe.
We spent the afternoon in this village, after a morning of windy tree-planting with @vulnetkuci and @discover_puka, at @agroturizem_devin, sampling the various and delicious homemade products they produced or foraged. We ate pieces of dried persimmon, homemade flija (a traditional dish of layered pancakes and sour cream) and tiramisu made with Turkish coffee washed down with sweet berry juice.
It was fascinating to see how much food could be grown or foraged locally, how one woman and her daughters could live self-sufficiently and thrive.
We thanked them for their time and headed back into Pukë for one final night before we were to travel into the far North.
Join us as we experience Albania’s natural wonders and ancient past.
In this episode, we visit the Lixhat e Bënjës, a naturally occurring hot spring that’s been moulded into a perfect secluded swimming spot. We explore caves carved by mountaineers and military forces and enjoy bathing in the warm thermal waters on offer.
After, we visit the city of Gjirokastër and discover the best preserved example of Ottoman history in the Balkans and the birthplace of Albania’s former dictator Enver Hoxha. Here we explore the narrow, winding streets, old Bazaar and attempt to find a non-dodgy garage to get our van repaired.
Join us over on YouTube NOW! If you enjoyed the video please don’t forget to Share, Like and Subscribe, or consider joining us on Patreon to help us keep on creating content
As always big thank you to @undyingheads for creating the perfect soundtrack to our travelogues- make sure you check them out!
In the nights like this sometimes you just have to enjoy the views
@run_mendim_run - Valbona Valley, Albania
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