South to Shqiperia
I’m up early again. There’s no breakfast at our apartment so I head down into the town around 6.30am on the bike to drop into town and have a walk and find breakfast to bring back to the apartment.
Crystal clear water..
Ah, the janitor is in town, I see. You could have said. I mean really, not even so much as an invitation.
A stunning walk around the peninsular which leads back to the start point with only the odd jogger and the bin men for occasional company.
A quick coffee..
.. and then breakfast is sourced from a hidden mini market, without a sign and almost impossible to identify apart from people going in and out. Inside it’s a proper scrum. Back to the apartment and we ready ourselves.
I’ve said before this part of the world is where old VW Golfs go to die. These are the cars of the apartment owners.
A few days ago by coincidence I was messaged by a friend who lives in Albania. He had a friend who was recently travelling by car to Albania, but had problems at the border as the Green Card he had was delivered by e-mail, and thus not bright green, and was rejected. In that conversation I sent him a copy of my green card, to which he responded the dates are now, and where are you? I let him know that we were going to be in Albania in a few days, but knowing he and his family had been having a lot of things going on didn’t want to bother him. If I could ask one favour I said, could you help us book the nice hotel we stayed at for your wedding a couple of years ago close to where you live? Not at all, was the response- you’re staying with us. A typical gesture from some terrific people.
So we had somewhere to go.
We bid goodbye to our friendly apartment owners and go south. Brian has already made off towards some national park areas he wants to see via Bosnia Herzegovina. Brian is going to find himself somewhere further North to our stop near Durres as so we would meet up tomorrow in Southern Albania.
It is less than half an hour along the coast road to the border with Montenegro. It is busy, and we queue behind some serious and miserable Germans as we slowly inch down to the border. I play them some music, a few motown classics, which I don’t think is Adventure-cool. Dad lurks in the shade very much getting the hang of all of this.
Well, this pair of wallys have now made it to Montenegro
Eventually we cross over the border and begin making our way through Montenegro. There’s traffic police not far from the border (who later pull Brian for speeding after an eventful border crossing for him).
We wind our way South until meeting the short ferry across Kotor bay
The ride along the South Shore of Kotor bay into Kotor itself is fabulous, a fairly busy single track road. Its eventful and recommended. At Kotor,we sit outside the old town and have an ice cream. Things are now in the early 30’s and it is well worth it.
You’ve got to mind the Cruise passengers, but they’re harmless.
Happiness is.. (copyright Ash)
I have Jaffa Cake Ice Cream. This is a development..
The motoring is bitty, the driving standard is gradually deteriorating and you have to concentrate. Beyond the town of Bar, we divert into the hills and make the crossing to Albania at Sukobin after stopping in a bar I stopped at a couple of years ago, where I remember they had Wi-Fi, and I could message our hosts to let them know where we were. The boy who served me before seemed to remember me, but he’d grown up - bigger, tubbier and he now drove a Mercedes.
The crossing to Albania was painless. There was only a single car pulling away when we drew up and in less than five minutes we’re filing our things back into place and heading out towards Shkoder. The main road towards Lezhe is picked up and it is pretty easy motoring, for Albania, relatively speaking. Eventually we meet motorway and think petrol.
One thing you will notice if you ever visit Albania, is that you will never ever ever run out of Petrol- there are an immense number of petrol stations, next door to each other; across the road; hotels with petrol stations, restaurants with petrol stations. Etc etc..
We draw up and fill up, and as I go in a man behind the counter greets me warmly 'Hello, how are you!' he says. 'Ah, grand, you speak English' I say in response, at which point he comes back with 'Hello, how are you!'. So much for that. But anyway, two cornettos and a tank of fuel are cheaply procured, and I am given my farewell (Hello, how are you!).
It’s the usual mixed bag of motoring in Albania, MOT failures, gangsters in big white German cars (in 2012 it was big black German cars, how things change), horses, pick up trucks loaded with a million bits and bobs, Mercedes Sprinter minibuses that stop in the middle of the road. But there’s loads to see, and the place is like a theme park for the eyes. My dad has really enjoyed it. He thinks the place is bonkers.
Traffic police are everywhere in Albania, certainly on the main highways. They lurk by bridges and in shady spots, men behind dark glasses with lollipops waiting what looks to be randomly diverting traffic in for their attention. We have no problems though, even when you could say we were pressing on.
We reach Durres at around 5pm and our friends live just outside in a place called Qerret. They live in a beachside village which is fenced inside a private compound and have a lovely house. We're greeted with beers, cold cuts and cheeses.
Today was not big mile day by any means, actually only a total of around 170 odd miles, but very satisfying. The change from Croatia, through Montenegro to Albania is fascinating and what biking in this part of Europe is all about for me.
We try not to be a burden, but at the hosts insistence we're taken for dinner at a hilltop venue and have a very pleasant evening. At least we manage to foot the bill, which isn’t very much actually. Amongst other things we talk about the traffic Police and our host Rubin says that 'they really won't bother foreign motorcyclists unless you’re doing something absolutely stupid'. That does seem an accurate summary from how I see it, but what qualifies as absolutely stupid here, well I don't know, and, erm, well it didn’t seem too polite to ask about it.
I think a good piece of advice about motoring around this part of the planet is that I'd heard is 'Once you realise they’re not trying to kill you, its ok'. It is just the way they drive. Keep your wits, keep confident, if something wants to come past, let it go, no problem. In towns and cities, the best advice is just to be nimble and keep rolling. Better to tippy toe through and make progress than be in the way. It seems to work quite well.
Our genial host and a good meal.
We’re driven home to an excellent and peaceful sleep.