Popeye
Registered user
...... actually it was the roads in Albania that did it !
The age old problem – how do you get a proper chilled out summer holiday and get to go adventure biking all over Eastern Europe.
This year we were very lucky and did both.
Five weeks, five thousand miles, two holidays, 13 countries and a load of stickers.
My wife is an absolute star when it comes to riding pillion but hates the motorway drag through Europe. So I rode to Venice, she flew. Me 15 hours her 2½ hours. She has a point.
Anyway we met up at Marco Polo Airport all smiles and ready for the off.
First stop Venice where we had to have a go on one of these.
Then it was down the Italian coast to the ferry port at Ancona to have a go on something a bit bigger. We queued in the heat and the diesel fumes from the large trucks. Bikes were last on. The three Italian lads on their ‘peds that queued with us were eager to get to Greece and the girls.
The overnight sailing was a doddle. Comfortable cabin with a very large porthole.
7:00am and the sun rises over the Albanian coastline.
Igoumenista on mainland Greece, 8:30am and already nicely hot. Our destination for the day, Volos, another ferry port and then onto the island of Skopelos.
It was a hot ride through Greece, great roads but tough for the pillion. It was strange going passed so many of the landmarks we’d passed on the Turkey Trot earlier in the year.
We’d rented a villa and pool on the island of Skopelos.
Right on the edge of Skopelos old town.
Great views of the bay
Nice bit of shade beneath the olive trees for the bike
plenty of time for plenty of this!!
and this!
Managed to get out and explore some of the interior of the island.
Met some of the locals
Went Monastery spotting, as you do on holiday
Stunning seascapes from the highest point on the island.
Just a wonderfully lazy two weeks. Even the local cops had very little to do.
One of the beauties of eating ‘al fresco’ is that you can use the dining room table for laying the maps out. And plan.
Then all too soon it was time to pack the bike
And leave the island for the big adventure – Albania, Bosnia, Croatia and the Adriatic Highway. Nothing booked, just going to make it up as we go.
About the only bit of shade back on mainland Greece in which to put all the bike gear back on. It felt very odd after two weeks in shorts and flip flops.
We overnighted at Edessa in northern Greece, about 30 miles shy of the Macedonian border.
Up early to beat some of the heat. We crossed into Macedonia wondering what these strange Eastern European countries would be like. Proper border crossings with proper guards, proper guns and proper surly attitudes are proper good.
Heading for Bitola, the GPS said chuck a right, so we did. The road predictably deteriorated into little more than a dirt track. Grown men stopped and stared as we rode our mighty GS bike through their town, barely a car in sight. Then it struck me that they were all leaning on shovels. At the end of the street we had to negotiate a barrier and then a 6" step back on to tarmac. Mrs P’s voice on the intercom – "erm, I think that road was actually closed to traffic whilst they resurfaced it". Oops.
We rode through little villages and towns. We got chased up some dodgy side streets by some guy on a moped who was simply trying to catch us up and tell us we were going the wrong way. He led us out of town and put us on the right road. Nice guy.
Then in what seemed like in no time at all the border crossing for Albania came into view.
We tagged onto the end of a large queue of traffic to leave Macedonia for stage one of the border crossing.
Then you sit in no-mans-land in between Macedonia and Albania. And wait, a little anxiously, hoping all the paperwork amassed at home was going to be ok.
Ruthy decided to 'phone home and tell her Mum where she was!
Then a strange thing happened. We’d been followed through the last few miles of Macedonia by a very serious looking black BMW with blacked out windows and blazing headlights. It was now stopped right behind us in the queue. Ruth got off the bike to stretch her legs. A darkened window powered down and a gloved hand beckoned her over. I watched in the bikes mirror, ready to kick the side stand down in an instant and save her from the clutches of the Albanian Mafia. Turned out the guy just wanted to tell us that bikes didn’t have to queue – just go straight to the front!
Then Ruthy had to go and attend to the admin.
Then we were in Albania - FANTASTIC!!!!!
It was very strange riding past these relics of such a recent conflict. They were to become familiar objects over the coming days.
We stopped at a fish restaurant on the shore of Lake Ohrid and ate Koran, very similar to Trout, and unique to the lake.
The restaurant owner’s kids seemed to enjoy life by the lake.
Then it was back on the road, heading for Korce.
I’ll use the term "road" loosely.
Two up, fully loaded on hot, dusty loose gravel surfaces with lorries being overtaken by buses and they in turn being overtaken by old Renaults, calls for a certain amount of concentration.
We eventually arrived in Korce after a thrilling ride!
We consulted the faithful guide book for hotels.
After a couple of aborted efforts and a few laps of town we hit upon the Grand Hotel.
Interesting attempt at creating the feeling of opulence.
We thought these international Verruca exchange slippers were in lieu of a shower mat - they are in fact a sign of Albanian hospitality, as you are intended to take your own shoes off when you enter someone's home.
Secure parking for the bike was kindly arranged by the concierge - and some friends!
Then it was off to explore the sights of downtown Korce.
Some of the old buildings must have been magnificent in their day.
The locals were very friendly and we chatted in the way you do when neither of you speaks a word of the other’s language.
We ate locally and were served by a guy with excellent English – amazingly learnt by listening to English pop music!! He advised us, very lyrically, that our planned route tomorrow via some lakes to Elbassin was a no no, even on a big bike like the GS – something about ‘a long and winding road’ with ‘rivers too deep and mountains too high’, or something like that!
We wandered back to "hotel posh but cheap" and watched the mayhem that is an Albanian traffic roundabout, at night in the middle of town. Complete chaos watched over by local Guzzi mounted plod, usually two up.
So some late night route re-planning was needed for tomorrow.
Up early to escape whilst the crazy multi-directional roundabout was still empty.
A wonderful variety of roads, views and scenery.
Beautiful gorges and rivers - or should that be gorgeous gorges!
With some difficult choices to be made.
We stopped for lunch and sauntered into this local eaterie. We played charades with the owner and his wife in an effort to understand what was on the menu. There was no menu really. Eventually he pulled a dead lamb out from under the counter, whilst his wife appeared from out the back with a dead chicken in one hand swinging by it’s neck and a plate with what looked like a couple of whole rat kebabs in the other. Amidst this scene of low tech slow food service came a local youth who asked in perfect English whether he could help as we seemed to be having a little trouble. Turned out he was from Harrow (on the Hill, actually) over for his brothers wedding. Small world!
Well fed (we had the lamb!) it was back on the trail. Albania is a beautiful and naturally rugged country. Also very hot at this time of year.
The magnificent Gramoz mountains in the distance.
We headed towards Santander on the coast and pitched up for the night in a pleasant enough guest house owned by the local police chief. The bike got parked overnight next to the family jet carwash business.
The following morning we again left town early to beat the heat. Half a mile out and the tarmac disappeared to be replaced by this now familiar site.
Short sections of perfect black topped highway would appear like mirages through the dust – then vanish again just as you changed up into fourth gear for the first time in three hours!
We headed for and into Durress on the coast via a sprawling and messy Fier and Lushnje.
We treated ourselves to a beach side hotel and watched the sun set on the Albanian Riviera whilst we drank chilled red wine!
A sad day as we left Albania. It had been an amazingly wonderful country. We’ve met only the kindest of people and revelled in its chaos. We balanced the camera on the bike and took this as we left the border plaza and entered Montenegro.
Shortly afterwards a very hot and dusty Czech couple on a Varadero joined us. We chatted and sweated and smiled at the Albanian experience – feeling like kids wanting to pick our mats up and go back to the top of the helter-skelter for another go.
The state of the roads make it a tough but hugely enjoyable riding experience. It’s much worse for the pillion though and Ruthy, bless her, was in need of some much needed off bike time as she was feeling, well a little tender.
We headed for Petrovac on the coast, via an extraordinary Monastery at Ostrog built high up into the rock face. There was a perfectly good car park at the bottom, wondered what was wrong with building it there!
En-route to Petrovac we stopped over in Podgorica at a truly awful and very expensive 1950’s communist era hotel. One of our worst decisions on the trip, but it had been a long and tiring day. Hotel Crna Gora – don’t go there!
We'd taken two days R&R at Petrovac, giving Ruthy some much needed off the bike time. Then it was on around the coast of Montenegro.
and into Croatia.
Our plan was to visit Dubrovnic for the day.
A bit touristy (!!) but enjoyable non-the-less. Lots of new Terracotta roof tiles after all the shell damage.
Some of the old tiles on more important buildings were re-cycled
The following morning up bright and early and into Bosnia – green fresh and alpine.
Brilliant traffic- free roads – with proper tarmac! I got pulled by the local police for overtaking on a solid white line in the middle of a radar trip – no fine, just a polite suggestion to take it a bit easier!!
Some interesting old relics along the way.
Many of the little villages we passed through had new houses to replace those destroyed in the conflicts. Every village had a grave yard, way to full for the size of the village and all the marble dated 1993. It was very sad.
We were heading for Sarajevo, but decided at the last minute to cross into Serbia for the night.
On the advice of a Serbian guy we had met in Petrovac we headed for Uzice. Couldn’t find a hotel – but this taxi driver phoned someone who spoke English and she gave me directions
Uzice was pretty grim
The hotel likewise – which would have been ok if it had of been cheap, but it wasn’t. We were on the eleventh floor.
decisions, decisions.
The ride into and out of Serbia had been great. We headed for Sarajevo again and soon arrived at the bridge where poor old Archduke Ferdinand met his untimely end and kicked off a lot of trouble in Europe.
Sarajevo old town is quite interesting. Reminded me in many ways of Turkey. Must be the early Ottoman influence.
We only had a few hours to look around - it would be an interesting place to explore further, another time.
Next we headed south through Bosnia for Mostar and a two night stopover. We found a good Motel.
And went sightseeing. Mostar is beautiful. It has been almost entirely re-built after the war in the early nineties. The magnificent arched bridge was destroyed. Today local lads jump from it for 20 euros a go, collected from the tourists!
The scars from the conflict with Serbia are still clearly visible.
This was once someones home.
Our Motel was built in the grounds of a once fine building as I discovered when I went round the back to park the bike for the night.
We would have loved to have stayed longer in Bosnia but time was ticking away and we needed to be heading for home.
We headed south and hooked up with the Adriatic Highway – a glorious stretch of road which hugs the coast of Croatia.
We took the ferry across the Velebitski Kanal
and on up the coast. The new motorway has taken so much traffic off this road and it is a pure joy to ride.
A brief flirtation with Slovenia and the reality of the EU.
Then all too soon we were back at the hotel on the outskirts of Venice. Ruth was to fly home the following day. Sad farewells.
I then did Calais via an overnight in Innsbruck. The Tyrol mountains in Austria were stunning. Then a ferry to Dover.
and safely home - I never managed to get a sticker for Albania
The bike didn’t miss a beat. We had not a single incident, despite riding through the whole of Albania in shorts and tee shirts. No Eastern European mafia, no bribes at border crossings, no dodgy requests for "local insurance", no problems with the local police, even when pulled for speeding – just friendly helpful people.
Ruthy was amazing, living out of one pannier for five weeks and still looking great everyday. Her tender bits have now fully recovered!!
Albania and Bosnia are incredible and beautiful places to visit
<SUP></SUP>
The age old problem – how do you get a proper chilled out summer holiday and get to go adventure biking all over Eastern Europe.
This year we were very lucky and did both.
Five weeks, five thousand miles, two holidays, 13 countries and a load of stickers.
My wife is an absolute star when it comes to riding pillion but hates the motorway drag through Europe. So I rode to Venice, she flew. Me 15 hours her 2½ hours. She has a point.
Anyway we met up at Marco Polo Airport all smiles and ready for the off.
First stop Venice where we had to have a go on one of these.
Then it was down the Italian coast to the ferry port at Ancona to have a go on something a bit bigger. We queued in the heat and the diesel fumes from the large trucks. Bikes were last on. The three Italian lads on their ‘peds that queued with us were eager to get to Greece and the girls.
The overnight sailing was a doddle. Comfortable cabin with a very large porthole.
7:00am and the sun rises over the Albanian coastline.
Igoumenista on mainland Greece, 8:30am and already nicely hot. Our destination for the day, Volos, another ferry port and then onto the island of Skopelos.
It was a hot ride through Greece, great roads but tough for the pillion. It was strange going passed so many of the landmarks we’d passed on the Turkey Trot earlier in the year.
We’d rented a villa and pool on the island of Skopelos.
Right on the edge of Skopelos old town.
Great views of the bay
Nice bit of shade beneath the olive trees for the bike
plenty of time for plenty of this!!
and this!
Managed to get out and explore some of the interior of the island.
Met some of the locals
Went Monastery spotting, as you do on holiday
Stunning seascapes from the highest point on the island.
Just a wonderfully lazy two weeks. Even the local cops had very little to do.
One of the beauties of eating ‘al fresco’ is that you can use the dining room table for laying the maps out. And plan.
Then all too soon it was time to pack the bike
And leave the island for the big adventure – Albania, Bosnia, Croatia and the Adriatic Highway. Nothing booked, just going to make it up as we go.
About the only bit of shade back on mainland Greece in which to put all the bike gear back on. It felt very odd after two weeks in shorts and flip flops.
We overnighted at Edessa in northern Greece, about 30 miles shy of the Macedonian border.
Up early to beat some of the heat. We crossed into Macedonia wondering what these strange Eastern European countries would be like. Proper border crossings with proper guards, proper guns and proper surly attitudes are proper good.
Heading for Bitola, the GPS said chuck a right, so we did. The road predictably deteriorated into little more than a dirt track. Grown men stopped and stared as we rode our mighty GS bike through their town, barely a car in sight. Then it struck me that they were all leaning on shovels. At the end of the street we had to negotiate a barrier and then a 6" step back on to tarmac. Mrs P’s voice on the intercom – "erm, I think that road was actually closed to traffic whilst they resurfaced it". Oops.
We rode through little villages and towns. We got chased up some dodgy side streets by some guy on a moped who was simply trying to catch us up and tell us we were going the wrong way. He led us out of town and put us on the right road. Nice guy.
Then in what seemed like in no time at all the border crossing for Albania came into view.
We tagged onto the end of a large queue of traffic to leave Macedonia for stage one of the border crossing.
Then you sit in no-mans-land in between Macedonia and Albania. And wait, a little anxiously, hoping all the paperwork amassed at home was going to be ok.
Ruthy decided to 'phone home and tell her Mum where she was!
Then a strange thing happened. We’d been followed through the last few miles of Macedonia by a very serious looking black BMW with blacked out windows and blazing headlights. It was now stopped right behind us in the queue. Ruth got off the bike to stretch her legs. A darkened window powered down and a gloved hand beckoned her over. I watched in the bikes mirror, ready to kick the side stand down in an instant and save her from the clutches of the Albanian Mafia. Turned out the guy just wanted to tell us that bikes didn’t have to queue – just go straight to the front!
Then Ruthy had to go and attend to the admin.
Then we were in Albania - FANTASTIC!!!!!
It was very strange riding past these relics of such a recent conflict. They were to become familiar objects over the coming days.
We stopped at a fish restaurant on the shore of Lake Ohrid and ate Koran, very similar to Trout, and unique to the lake.
The restaurant owner’s kids seemed to enjoy life by the lake.
Then it was back on the road, heading for Korce.
I’ll use the term "road" loosely.
Two up, fully loaded on hot, dusty loose gravel surfaces with lorries being overtaken by buses and they in turn being overtaken by old Renaults, calls for a certain amount of concentration.
We eventually arrived in Korce after a thrilling ride!
We consulted the faithful guide book for hotels.
After a couple of aborted efforts and a few laps of town we hit upon the Grand Hotel.
Interesting attempt at creating the feeling of opulence.
We thought these international Verruca exchange slippers were in lieu of a shower mat - they are in fact a sign of Albanian hospitality, as you are intended to take your own shoes off when you enter someone's home.
Secure parking for the bike was kindly arranged by the concierge - and some friends!
Then it was off to explore the sights of downtown Korce.
Some of the old buildings must have been magnificent in their day.
The locals were very friendly and we chatted in the way you do when neither of you speaks a word of the other’s language.
We ate locally and were served by a guy with excellent English – amazingly learnt by listening to English pop music!! He advised us, very lyrically, that our planned route tomorrow via some lakes to Elbassin was a no no, even on a big bike like the GS – something about ‘a long and winding road’ with ‘rivers too deep and mountains too high’, or something like that!
We wandered back to "hotel posh but cheap" and watched the mayhem that is an Albanian traffic roundabout, at night in the middle of town. Complete chaos watched over by local Guzzi mounted plod, usually two up.
So some late night route re-planning was needed for tomorrow.
Up early to escape whilst the crazy multi-directional roundabout was still empty.
A wonderful variety of roads, views and scenery.
Beautiful gorges and rivers - or should that be gorgeous gorges!
With some difficult choices to be made.
We stopped for lunch and sauntered into this local eaterie. We played charades with the owner and his wife in an effort to understand what was on the menu. There was no menu really. Eventually he pulled a dead lamb out from under the counter, whilst his wife appeared from out the back with a dead chicken in one hand swinging by it’s neck and a plate with what looked like a couple of whole rat kebabs in the other. Amidst this scene of low tech slow food service came a local youth who asked in perfect English whether he could help as we seemed to be having a little trouble. Turned out he was from Harrow (on the Hill, actually) over for his brothers wedding. Small world!
Well fed (we had the lamb!) it was back on the trail. Albania is a beautiful and naturally rugged country. Also very hot at this time of year.
The magnificent Gramoz mountains in the distance.
We headed towards Santander on the coast and pitched up for the night in a pleasant enough guest house owned by the local police chief. The bike got parked overnight next to the family jet carwash business.
The following morning we again left town early to beat the heat. Half a mile out and the tarmac disappeared to be replaced by this now familiar site.
Short sections of perfect black topped highway would appear like mirages through the dust – then vanish again just as you changed up into fourth gear for the first time in three hours!
We headed for and into Durress on the coast via a sprawling and messy Fier and Lushnje.
We treated ourselves to a beach side hotel and watched the sun set on the Albanian Riviera whilst we drank chilled red wine!
A sad day as we left Albania. It had been an amazingly wonderful country. We’ve met only the kindest of people and revelled in its chaos. We balanced the camera on the bike and took this as we left the border plaza and entered Montenegro.
Shortly afterwards a very hot and dusty Czech couple on a Varadero joined us. We chatted and sweated and smiled at the Albanian experience – feeling like kids wanting to pick our mats up and go back to the top of the helter-skelter for another go.
The state of the roads make it a tough but hugely enjoyable riding experience. It’s much worse for the pillion though and Ruthy, bless her, was in need of some much needed off bike time as she was feeling, well a little tender.
We headed for Petrovac on the coast, via an extraordinary Monastery at Ostrog built high up into the rock face. There was a perfectly good car park at the bottom, wondered what was wrong with building it there!
En-route to Petrovac we stopped over in Podgorica at a truly awful and very expensive 1950’s communist era hotel. One of our worst decisions on the trip, but it had been a long and tiring day. Hotel Crna Gora – don’t go there!
We'd taken two days R&R at Petrovac, giving Ruthy some much needed off the bike time. Then it was on around the coast of Montenegro.
and into Croatia.
Our plan was to visit Dubrovnic for the day.
A bit touristy (!!) but enjoyable non-the-less. Lots of new Terracotta roof tiles after all the shell damage.
Some of the old tiles on more important buildings were re-cycled
The following morning up bright and early and into Bosnia – green fresh and alpine.
Brilliant traffic- free roads – with proper tarmac! I got pulled by the local police for overtaking on a solid white line in the middle of a radar trip – no fine, just a polite suggestion to take it a bit easier!!
Some interesting old relics along the way.
Many of the little villages we passed through had new houses to replace those destroyed in the conflicts. Every village had a grave yard, way to full for the size of the village and all the marble dated 1993. It was very sad.
We were heading for Sarajevo, but decided at the last minute to cross into Serbia for the night.
On the advice of a Serbian guy we had met in Petrovac we headed for Uzice. Couldn’t find a hotel – but this taxi driver phoned someone who spoke English and she gave me directions
Uzice was pretty grim
The hotel likewise – which would have been ok if it had of been cheap, but it wasn’t. We were on the eleventh floor.
decisions, decisions.
The ride into and out of Serbia had been great. We headed for Sarajevo again and soon arrived at the bridge where poor old Archduke Ferdinand met his untimely end and kicked off a lot of trouble in Europe.
Sarajevo old town is quite interesting. Reminded me in many ways of Turkey. Must be the early Ottoman influence.
We only had a few hours to look around - it would be an interesting place to explore further, another time.
Next we headed south through Bosnia for Mostar and a two night stopover. We found a good Motel.
And went sightseeing. Mostar is beautiful. It has been almost entirely re-built after the war in the early nineties. The magnificent arched bridge was destroyed. Today local lads jump from it for 20 euros a go, collected from the tourists!
The scars from the conflict with Serbia are still clearly visible.
This was once someones home.
Our Motel was built in the grounds of a once fine building as I discovered when I went round the back to park the bike for the night.
We would have loved to have stayed longer in Bosnia but time was ticking away and we needed to be heading for home.
We headed south and hooked up with the Adriatic Highway – a glorious stretch of road which hugs the coast of Croatia.
We took the ferry across the Velebitski Kanal
and on up the coast. The new motorway has taken so much traffic off this road and it is a pure joy to ride.
A brief flirtation with Slovenia and the reality of the EU.
Then all too soon we were back at the hotel on the outskirts of Venice. Ruth was to fly home the following day. Sad farewells.
I then did Calais via an overnight in Innsbruck. The Tyrol mountains in Austria were stunning. Then a ferry to Dover.
and safely home - I never managed to get a sticker for Albania
The bike didn’t miss a beat. We had not a single incident, despite riding through the whole of Albania in shorts and tee shirts. No Eastern European mafia, no bribes at border crossings, no dodgy requests for "local insurance", no problems with the local police, even when pulled for speeding – just friendly helpful people.
Ruthy was amazing, living out of one pannier for five weeks and still looking great everyday. Her tender bits have now fully recovered!!
Albania and Bosnia are incredible and beautiful places to visit
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Thanks for sharing.
