Monday 9th October
Day one of cycle touring through Albania.
I’ve never cycle toured before.
I just carry my rucksack.
And this is how I carry my rucksack on a bicycle.
Zak and I left Tirana mid-day, headed to Pëllumbas, twenty kilometres south-east. On the road we met a couple of German cycle tourists who’d cycled here from somewhere in Bavaria, Germany. Sven helped fixed an issue with my rear derailleur. Sebastian and Zak rode uphill for some imaginary medal.
A good trial for the legs. By the end, the cramps wouldn’t stop.
A good trial for the bicycle. 100€; somehow twice the price of Ebony’s bicycle, yet twice as good of a deal.
We followed the street of Pëllumbas in search of a campground. As the sun set we set camp, overlooking the mouth of the valley, Tirana well in view.
Tuesday 10th October
We’d camped at the beginning of a hike to some spooky cave, as “Black Cave Adventures” advertises it. We packed our bags, ditched our bikes in town, then started hiking up. Sebastian and I turned the hike into a trail run that almost felt as if it hadn’t been so long since my last proper run.
The mouth of Black Cave invites us into it’s darkness.
The throat tightens, the soiled floor becomes a little slippery.
A camoflagued pit threatens to break the ankles of the unprepared.
The bouncer greets us with vicious teeth.
The interior is decorated by the actions of time.
A noisy flock of bats dance along the ceiling.
The private room requires a sacrifice; muddy your knees to enter.
The depths, some few hundred metres, open up high and wide.
Bats roost on the ceiling. A couple hundred of them, at least.
The slippery, clayey ground graduates into a twenty-metre-high,
A million-year-old shit in a pile at the back of the cave.
We slobber to the top, just to slide our way down.
In the afternoon, Sebastian and Sven departed Pëllumbas to make progress on their journey South. Zak and I stayed for lunch, then went to find a campsite in Pëllumbasit valley.
Wednesday 11th October
News from Joe and Ebony, they’re coming south to meet us! They’ve chosen a new destination - Greece. (Well actually Turkey, but now Greece as opposed to North-East through Kosovo.)
We stopped for beer at a cafe in a town called Mullet, Zak insisted we must visit. We found camp down a local side street, invited by our new neighbours. Children played games in the yard across from us. A lad brought us a bottle of water.
We filled our bellies with my usual vegetable stew, and shared Zak’s tent. There were no trees for the hammock today.
Thursday 12th October
News from Joe and Ebony, they’re going to see my dentist in Tirana first. We’d wait for further intruction. I cycled to a cafe for the day, whilst Zak took care of camp. On return, I found we had a new member of the party, Rupert. In addition to our usual vegetables, we bought a whole chicken.
A neighbour walking past spoke with Zak, whose Albanian has been improving quickly. Zak returned with a heavy bag of gifted fruits. The grapes were gone before morn, but the persimmons would become better with time. The pomegranites, I might have had already nicked a few from the tree…
My eyes grew tired and I couldn’t move. I slept beneath the stars with Rupert.
Thursday 12th October
Today we rode just ten kilometres. It took us five hours, because Rupee had decided to followed us the whole way to our next campsite.
Rupert joined us while we watched the local mechanic effortlessly patch up a hole in my tire, then took Rupee to the supermarket. He seemed hungry, but too spoilt to eat even sausage! We’d ummed and ahhed about letting him follow on our journey, but in the end, he made the decision for us. We let him follow because we’re headed closer to Tirana, to wait for Joe and Ebony. We’ll take him home when we undoubtedly return to Mullet.
We stopped a lot for rest and water; I suppose it was a huge journey for him! I even made a cardboard-box passenger seat on the back of my bike, but he hated it. We’d tried, but Rupee quickly jumped out, so we cycled ahead and let him trail us again.
Suddenly some barking dogs darted from the bushes behind us, cutting Rupert off. Rupert sprinted backwards, three hungry dogs on tail. Immediately I pulled a u-turn, shouting, hogging the road, holding up cars as I pedalled full-speed. Just as the first dog caught up I was there. I dropped my bike and threatened him with all my might. Like the others, he backed off into the fields, as I cuddled Rupee, cars finally passing by.
This wasn’t the only time this happened, either: the real reason the journey took so long is because we spent half our time escorting this cute, timid doggy past hungry, territorial hounds.
We still had to get past, so this time we walked with him. The dogs continued their harrassing comments, and I threw their aggression back. The commotion brought out the neighbours, and they understood our situation. We finally passed the hounds, but one neighbour followed us, yelling in our direction. Shs smiled at us sweetly as we waited for her to catch up - she was yelling at her neighbours, who in the distance were stamping and smacking the ground, putting out a small fire in the field next door! The smell was nauseous, poisoned by the litter on the side of the road. As we approached we decided to help, stamping the offshoots, spraying the fire with dirt. We left, the largest flames still licking their lips.
Alas, we’d taken a wrong turn, and had to pass back the exact same way fifteen minutes later. By now the fire was reduced to a small flicker. We waved again at the poor men who seemed not to care for the fumes they were standing it. We had to go past the dogs. This time we put Rupee in his passenger seat, and Zak held him as I pedalled at walking pace. The dogs barked furiously, and trailed beside and beside us, but daren’t come near.
We cycled up to a bar at the top of this hill, and a man on the table next to us helped us order the two most expensive beers on the menu. We chatted a while with Klinton. He lives in the UK, family in Tirana. He brought the double-decker bus that sits atop this hill; he brought it from London himself. The waiter brought out the bill… 9 euro!? Did the bus take us back to London? Paulaner Helles, most expensive beers in Albania! Zak and I looked at eachother in panic. We’re down to 6.55 euro between us. But before we could say anything, Klinton announced the beers are on him. He also advised us, if we ever need anything while we’re in Albania, he’s our man.
We climbed the hill just a little bit higher, to the ruins of a military base, and set camp. Now we’ll sit tight and wait for Joe to join us, but Ebony might need a bit longer in the city, for her teeth. For tonight I have a wild hang on the hammock across the opening of the old military tunnels, overlooking the mountains of Tirana.
Friday 13th October
It’s one of those days. We lazed all day around the campsite waiting for Joe to turn up. With a such a beautiful view of Tirana and mountains, why should we move? I’ve been writing and playing chess, while hiding from the sun.
Zak left to get water an hour ago; it should have been a fifteen-minute return. Joe couldn’t get in due to a security guard watching the road leading up the old military base. Therefore, Joe cycled to the bottom of the hill, the direction Zak and I had come from. I waited in my hammock, hopelessly trying to coordinate the boys. Zak returned with tattered trousers, and Joe pitched tent twenty kilometres away.
As I gave him a bedtime rub, I discovered why all the dogs had been chasing Rupert. Rupee has nipples! Rupert soon acquired another nickname.
Saturday 14th October
I was really annoyed today. It took until 4pm to finally link up with Joe, who unknowingly had all our money and food. We camped by a river back back by Mullet, the same town where we’d picked up Ruby. In the river I took a much-needed shower, and drief off around our campfire on the beach. We caught up over the usual food and cheap beer, laughing at the troubles of the day.
Sunday 15th October
We’d ummed and ahhed about taking Ruby up to the castle. It’d be a return journey, she’d be as fast as us on the ascent, and we’d come back to camp in the same spot again. But she made the decision for us; while we were stocking up in town she simply disappeared. Fair enough, we hardly fed her breakfast. She didn’t really like the sardines Joe brought her, and they’d made the evidently questionable decision of leaving her dog food on the beach overnight, for fear of attracting some other local wildlife.
The ascent up the castle I made in one go, four hundred metres, I’m rather proud of. As much as I love it, I’m not really a cyclist. The castle was very little, clearly renovated multiple times - the last renovation rather pretty with timber, turned into sort of restaurant.
After some time at the cafe we cycled the winding, exhilirating downhill. As we crossed the bridge back to town, there was Ruby, lying on an island in the roundabout, facing our direction! Of course we stopped for a long belly rub, then went to the market to stock up on dinner, to buy her a chicken.
We came back to the same campsite we were at last night, in the grasses by the river. We set camp and scavenged for firewood, then sat around the riverside fireplace cooking dinner. The typical, but with an extra smoky flavour.
We sipped our beers as it got dark, sharing stories and banter. Zak and Joe are friends from high school, and they’ve developed a great storytelling routine.
Our steaming food was smelling sweet. A lonely cat flickered behind the fire, skulking around the rocks. Of course it had noticed us. “Pass the dog food” Zak asks calmly. “The spiced ham roll, dog food, human food.”
Joe and Zak lure it closer as I lounge behind and comment. After several pieces, she starts to become comfortable, and starts snuggling with Joe’s hands and legs. The cat wanders affectionately to Zak, who’s in charge of distributing Ruby’s breakfast.
I get up and dish out our first serving of pasta, then take my original seat. Now the cat takes an interest in me. Admittedly, I do wolf down that first serving rather selfishly. I’m starving. She nuzzles me nonetheless. Engels, after communism, Zak named her. Later I would have Engles in my lap, playfully clawing and nibbling my fingers as I gave her a rough massage. And after she’d had her fun with us, she was gone.
Ruby was gone, too. Tonight she lay with us by the fire. We’d taken our turns cuddling with her. She’s been with us for five nights tonight, tonight the last. I really enjoyed the adventures with her. She was happy, honest, and just so friendly. The locals treat her in kind. She is just a little bit chubby, and her hair is shedding for winter. She’ll be just fine. I reckon she made a quiet departure to the nearby shell-of-a-building as soon as the sky started flickering.
It hasn’t hardly rained here in some while, but finally there’s a storm on the horizon. Thinking back, I haven’t faced one now in months. At first, the looming clouds, the occasional flicker in the sky. The thunder grows, and the first spits come. We gather our belongings around the fireplace, preparing for the formal eviction notice.
We don’t feel like going to bed quite yet; there’s space under my tarpaulin. The tarpaulin is set with one corner pegged high to create an open space. The area is somewhat sheltered by the trees, and we feel the uneven pitter-patter of water falling through the branches. Zak sits on the ground, and Joe takes my rucksack. We huddle around our last beer, and ponder the beauty of the situation, the rain falling around us, to feel so close to the outside, the gentle cool draft. They’re experiencing of the best parts about hammock camping.
We wonder about their tents. Zak’s tent has leaked a little bit too, and Joe’s one is definitely not waterproof. Then I feel a drop of water on my face.
That’s not supposed to happen! I find that water’s slowly leaking through the stitching of the taurpaulin’s ridgeline. Umm… It had that musty smell when I opened it out. I might have left it damp for a month or so. The last time I used it was in Croatia, shit…
Anyway, tonight is a good trial for all of us. If something’s just not working, maybe it has to change. Speaking of which, my backpack, dear backpack I’ve had for five years, it’s zipper isn’t zipping anymore. I tried to fix it myself a few times, but I think she really needs a tailor to fix her teeth.
The tarpaulin being set with just one corner pegged high creates a natural flow path of water draining into my bag of washing. Cold wash, eight hour setting. I think there’s been a powercut - the internet is down. I snuggle into my sleeping bag, accompanied by my notebook.
Monday 16th October
The storm has passed, and all is fine. Rupert turned up at 5am smelling suspiciously like fish. Both tents had gotten a little damp last night, but they’ll make do for the rest of the trip.
Joe has to go back to Tirana to stay with Ebony. Zak and I, we’re planning our next moves - bolt it down south to the next city, camp in some cool places along the way. We want to leave this city, but eventually accept that a short detour back to Tirana might be in order - if not to see Ebony then at least for a few needed supplies and adjustments.
