A hike through the Balkans

The last time I crossed the Balkans, the map wore different colours. 

Travelling through, what was then Yugoslavia, to Greece in the late 1970s. 

Not daring to leave the train with images of Midnight Express flashing through my eyes,  

and currency changed almost stop by stop as the Euro had hardly been conceived. 

Now the Balkans are open. 

Only Albania has the Lek and even here there was an easy acceptance of EU currency.  Flights arrive from all over Europe and English, French, Italian and German are widely spoken. Arriving in Tirana summer humidity wraps itself around in all its 35^c glory.

From Tirana we drove up to the Komani Gorge.  An unnatural landscape formed by the damming of the river in the Albanian communist era.  It produced 100% of power then, but with the increased demand of the western world it can only meet about 70% of this now.  A boat ride introduced us to high, white limestone which was to dominate the rest of the journey, a trekking circuit through three countries little affected by the trappings of western life.

Mountains roll away into eternity.   Rivers carve steep sided valleys through ancient limestone with white peaks often circle to crown the skyline. 

Above the tree line rolling grasslands are scattered with a myriad of wild flowers.  Bowls to make any skier turn as green, undulate high above sea level.

Remote, with tracks created by shepherds, this region is barely mapped and a local guide is necessary if not following one of two recorded hiking routes traversing the three countries. Via Dinarica or the Peaks of the Balkans.  The mountains bear few signs of recent devastating conflicts, bar the odd memorial, gated and protected from trampling of livestock.

Hospitality is generous to the extreme.  Those who have nothing will give you everything.  Once the summer pastures are reached you may well find yourself sleeping in a barn on a mattress.   Spotlessly clean, but a barn no less.  Clean, fresh water tumbling from the surrounding hills could be your only ‘running water ‘ in which to wash or drink.  

There is no fast food.   Milk and butter comes from cows who wander in for milking at their own behest. 

Sheep are grazed under supervision of shepherd and dog.  Watchful of wolves which still roam at large. Cows wear alpine bells and their melodic clang is often the only sound you’ll hear rising up to a mountain top from grass covered slopes.

Lamb will be fresh from the pasture.  Roasted long and slow in a wood burning stove.  Its head a delicacy and honour be given. Salads based on finely chopped cabbage, tomatoes with taste and cucumber.  Light dressings topped with pine nuts.

Time takes on a sense of mañana.  Distances becoming vague, maybe 2 km, perhaps 4.   Once off the two main trails, especially in Albania, you could find yourself truly off piste being lead by a ‘mountain man’ from the locality where the routes are only etched in his mind and not on the ground.

Tourism still very much in development,  logistics don’t always run on the smooth tracks of travel we have come to expect. Out of major towns and cities roads turn to tracks.  Ponies are used to transport people and goods alike. In an hotel you can get your own room, a guest house is more likely to be a ‘dorm’ experience or Alpine mountain hut.  Lower your expectations still further and you’ll experience the generosity of shepherds with a barn for your accommodation a stream to bathe, and the freshest food you’ve ever savoured.

In a few years this may change. I’ve witnessed first hand how rapidly my own Latvian family’s life has leapt into modernity.  Now is the time to take that step back to a Europe with few people and their strong, passionate, traditions before its absorbed by the homogenisation of modernity.

Organised by Exodus, I walked for 11 days in these lovely Balkan Mountains.

Starting with the ride along the Koman reservoir and hydro.  Through Kosovo and the Prokletij National Park to Montenegro and Plav.  Wiggling south again to Albania and our end in Valbona.