Peaks Of The Balkans: Albania, Montenegro & Kosovo - Day 3

Day 3 - From Lepushe

8.13 miles / Total Ascent 1037m / Total Descent 967m 

As was to become customary, we woke early to breakfast and be on our way by 7.30am to combat the expected midday heat.

Heading out of Lepushe

We had an extra local guide today in the form of our host's sister, and our route began with a steady climb out of the village, ascending through woodland to gain the higher ground below the Berizdhol ridge. The village itself is situated at around 1200m altitude, so it was nice and cool as we gained height. 

Albanian football team elite high-altitude training facility 

After a while, we exited the woods and began crossing the grassy hillside. Unexpectedly, we came across a makeshift football pitch on an area of flat-ish ground beside some tumbledown buildings - a legacy, I think, of the Hoxha regime. We took a short break, and made jokes about the relative merits of these facilities and those of the multi-million pound England football failures. 

World cup? What world cup? Penalty spot, goal, keeper and cameraman.

From here we ascended the grassy slopes behind the goal to reach the ridge and an excellent viewpoint at around 1900m. Several paths fanned out from here, including at least one leading to the higher summits. 

Looking wistfully at the higher summits beyond

Heading for the higher ground was tempting, but our route lay in a different direction - following a line around the base of the mountain amphitheatre.  

The Kelmend Valley, with Lepushe in the middle ground

From here, we dropped down through a wooded section, dappled with sunlight through the trees, to reach one of the numerous small farmsteads that dot the hillside in these parts. Called stane, they are mostly occupied only during the summer months, when the animals are driven to these higher levels to graze on the excellent pasture, and families make cheese, shear wool, collect mushrooms and pick fruit for preservation to last through the winter months.  

Stane near Lepushe

Despite the remote nature of this area, it was around here we happened to bump into a group of scouts from Tirana. We had just sat down to talk to the shy children from the farm, when a whole herd of be-woggled girls and boys appeared from over the hill. We said our hellos - in fact had quite a chat -  then went our separate ways, which I think was a relief for both parties, and the children. 

Wild Violas

Moving on, we followed a narrow balcony path that threaded an intricate route between trees and rocks, eventually coming out to more open ground near another stane, where we stopped for lunch. There had been the odd spot of rain as we walked through the trees, but as we reached the meadows the sun was strong, so we ate our picnic quickly and moved on to a shadier spot beside a cool stream for a rest.  

Downtown Lepushe: bar on left, school straight ahead

The remainder of the walk was a steady descent on paths and tracks through woodland to eventually reach downtown Lepushe. We stopped at the bar for beers, and bumped into a couple of New Zealanders who were on a warm-up walk prior to do the Peaks of the Balkans hike.  

Heading back to our guesthouse

Then it was a short trundle down the road back to the guesthouse, where we had plenty of time before dinner for a rest, showers and a read. 

Peaks Of The Balkans: Albania, Montenegro & Kosovo - Day 2

Day 2 - Shllapit Waterfall, Selca

9.20 miles / Total Ascent 1235m / Total Descent 885m

We were on the road shortly after 8.00am, leaving Shkodra and heading for the mountains. For a while we drove across flat ground with lake Shkodra to our left, heading towards the northern town of Hani I Hotit, then struck off into the mountains on a minor road that paralleled the Montenegrin border. 

Initially the going was good, as we wound up into the hills on a metaled road. Beyond Rrapsh-Starja, though, things changed, and we plummeted on hairpin switchbacks down a near-vertical mountainside into the next valley on a rough, unmade road that was in the process of being repaired. Welcome to Albania!

The road into the Kelmend Valley
(Photo courtesy Marianne van Twillert-Wennekes/www.montenegro-for.me)

By now, we were definitely "off the beaten track". The Kelmend Valley is considered remote, even by the standards of the area, and is certainly spectacular - as the descent into the Cemi gorge proved. The Montenegro border, in places barely 1 kilometer away, tracks the crest of the steep-sided mountains opposite, the summits towering almost a vertical mile above the valley bottom.  

We made a brief stop for refreshments in the village of Tamarja (where Aleks, our guide on a previous Albanian trip, grew up) then carried on to Selca along the unmade road - a journey that offered a full body workout as we were thrown hither and yon inside the van! 

Setting off from the road at the start of our first walk

The walk to the Shllapit waterfall starts from near Selca (the track in the above picture being the main road through the valley). The going was quite gentle at first, but it was already quite warm (though nowhere near as hot as it was when we last came to northern Albania) and there wasn't much in the way of shade. However there was plenty of water available, and we drank our fill as we climbed.

Looking back on our route: path on the left

River crossing

As the ravine narrowed, we threaded our way back and forth across the river, accumulating height as we went. Although we had to push through some thick bushes as we rounded the end of the valley, the path was quite clear for much of the way, and we reached the waterfall in good time.  

Shllapit Waterfall

Spray and rocks

We took our lunch on a grassy bank overlooking the falls, keeping to the shade and taking advantage of the cooling breeze and the fine mist carried by it.

The falls as seen from our lunch spot

After lunch, we carried on - climbing through woods up the hillside to reach the higher ground beyond. For some reason I was feeling the heat a bit, so I stopped for a short break, took some rehydration salts, and in no time at all felt much better. 

Meadows and mountains

At the top of the climb, we came out from the trees to reach flat pasture and signs of life: first a barn; then houses; then people, going about their backbreaking work in the full heat of the day. Tough people, these highlanders.  

However, there was an idyllic quality to the scene - beautiful meadows, sunshine, high peaks and fantastic views - that almost made the toil required to survive here seem appealing.

Through the hay meadows

We began the gradual descent back towards the road, passing the hamlets of Mregu and Ostrici on the way. For the most part the going was easy enough, although on one loose, steeper section I slipped and ended up grazing both elbows. How do you manage that in one go?

Finally we reached the road, and met up with Ilya, our host for the next two nights. The mini van that had brought us to Kelmend that morning had returned to Shkodra, so now we had to squeeze seven of us and all our luggage into Ilya's 4 x 4 - which was cozy, and not always comfortable on the rough roads. Still we all got there in one piece, and I managed not to leak blood all over the upholstery.

We arrived at the guesthouse at about 6.30pm, so there was only time for cups of tea and quick showers before dinner. We had a variety of local foods, plus beers and homemade Blueberry raki - a lovely way to relax and end the day. What with fresh air, excercise, food and drink, an early night was had by all.

Today's was a good walk, with quite a bit of variety and some great scenery. All in all, it was a reasonable undertaking given the late morning start. And, as a warm-up walk, it served the purpose well - having both warmth and up! - and even the few minor mishaps along the way could do nothing to spoil the sense of an excellent first day.

Peaks Of The Balkans: Albania, Montenegro & Kosovo - Day 1

Day 1 - Arrival

It has to be said: the start of a new hiking trip is always an exciting time. Anticipation is high, and no matter how well or how long one has prepared for the trip, the rush to change from work mode to holiday mode can be tricky transition. Tiredness from the often ridiculously early morning transfer to the airport, coupled with any last minute packing crises, also means that a smooth journey is a real boon.

And so it proved to be, as we arrived into Tirana airport on time (about 10.45am local time) and met the rest of our group: guide Endrit, Tony who we met before in southern Albania last year, Matt from the Walks Worldwide office (but who was here on holiday, not for work) and Rebecca from Australia via The Hague.  

Rozafa Castle

It was quite warm - around 27 degrees outside - so, after brief intoductions, we settled in somewhat sleepily for the 90 minute transfer to Shkodra. On arrival, we had a relaxed lunch at a riverside restaurant beside river Drin (me Trout, Missy G vegetable Risotto) before a tour of Rozafa Castle, an imposing fortress perched on a rocky bluff near the confluence of the Drin and Bojana rivers.

Confluence of the rivers Drin and Bojana

Shkodra is the principal city of northern Albania, with a population of around 100,000. It is one of the oldest and most historic places in the region, dating back to Illyrian times (3rd Century BC). In 168 AD, the town was captured by the Romans, and became part of Dalmatia (and eventually Dacia). More recently, in the 15th Century the area was secured as an Ottoman territory: with access to the Adriatic coast as well as inland to other major cities (such as the other major Ottoman city in the region, Prizren) it also has a great geostrategic importance as well. 

The early 20th Century saw further changes/occupation as a result of the first and second Balkan Wars and the shakedown following World War 1 when the whole Balkan region was divided up and divvied out by the then major European powers - a notoriously complex and unsatisfactory state of affairs that has led to trouble and conflict ever since.

Looking over Shkodra to the mountains

 

Rozafa Castle was originally built as an Illyrian stronghold, strategically situated at this influential location. Captured by the Romans, it has since also passed through Byzantine, Serbian, Venetian, Ottoman and Montenegrin control.

There is a legend associated with the castle, about the initiative of the three brothers who set about building it. They worked all day, but the walls fell down at night. They met a clever old man who advised them to sacrifice someone so that the walls would stand. The three brothers found it difficult to decide whom to choose: finally, they decided to sacrifice one of their wives - the one who would bring lunch to them the next day - and they agreed that whichever of their wives did so would be buried in the wall of the castle. They also promised not to tell their wives of this: however, the two older brothers explained the situation to their wives that night, while the honest youngest brother said nothing.

The following afternoon, the brothers waited anxiously to see which wife was carrying the basket of food. It was Rosafa, the wife of the youngest brother. He explained to her the agreement that they had made, namely that she was to be sacrificed and buried in the wall of the castle so that they could finish building it. 

She did not protest, but accepted to be walled in on condition that they leave her right breast exposed to feed her newborn son, her right eye to see him, her right hand to caress him and her right foot to rock his cradle. It is said that milk still flows from one of the walls in the castle.

Central mosque: we had dinner near here

We checked in at the hotel, then the rest of the afternoon was free time to rest, wash, and walk out into town. In the evening, we walked into main pedestrianised centre of the town, and ate dinner on a balcony restaurant near the central mosque: salad, grilled vegetables, a spicy vegetable and sausage casserole, melted cheese fondue, beef steak, and masses of it. Lovely! 

Norfolk Coast Path - Day 4

Sheringham to Cromer - 6.50 miles

And so to our final morning, and the last few miles into Cromer. We rose early again, breakfasted, packed up our stuff and drove to Sheringham, where a trundle down the high street brought us to the sea front to rejoin the NCP.  

Sea front, Sheringham

We briefly followed the front, passing rows of unoccupied beach huts before cutting inland by the Wee Retreat - a crumbling former public convenience now converted into a stylish compact and bijou residence. Then began the arduous ascent of Beeston Bump, a pudding-shaped protuberance standing at a colossal 63m above sea level. 

Looking back over Sheringham from Beeston Bump

We stopped briefly at the trig point to gulp lungfuls of the rarefied air, and look back over Sheringham and along the coast. Next, in another unexpected twist, the path cut inland, crossing the busy A149 road and skirting the edge of Beeston Hall School. 

Quiet tracks

A series of quiet tracks led gently upwards towards the ridgeline. Gradually the countryside became more heath-like, and the route morphed from track into woodland trail as we wound our way up to the top of Beacon Hill - the highest point in Norfolk at a whopping 102m - whilst the sun shone briefly and birds twittered in the trees all around.  

And shady trails

Beyond Beacon Hill, the path threaded it's way between a patchwork of caravan parks and camping sites. The rural facade began to slip as we neared Cromer, and before long the trappings of suburbia could no longer be held at bay. From field, to houses, to main road - in a flash we were in the town.

We found a bench, drank coffee and ate Creme Eggs. Then it was a final trundle through the streets to the pier, and the end of the walk. Like many seaside towns on a gloomy out-of-season day, Cromer had a slight seen-better-days atmosphere to it this morning. As we took our final few paces, the sunshine faded and a light drizzle, blown by the wind, brought a lugubrious air to the place - a metaphor that was not lost on us.

The end!

After a quick photo to record the end of the walk, we turned on our heels and headed for the train back to Sheringham. It felt quite peculiar finishing the walk so early in the day - it was barely 11.30am - and stopping altogether would have seemed somehow unsatisfactory. So we had a celebratory Crab sandwich lunch in Sheringham, the headed back to Cley for a gentle amble and some more birdwatching.

Overall, we'd really enjoyed our jaunt along the north Norfolk coast. Despite being predominantly flat, there are enough changes of scenery, varying underfoot conditions and regular pretty villages and harbours to maintain the interest throughout. For those with an interest, the birdwatching is great, too: in spring, this coastline is one of the best places in the UK to go. And it's ideal for a long weekend - with time to complete the route and travel there and back in just 4 days.

We are already considering our next trip to Norfolk. By combining the NCP with the Weaver's Way, the Angles Way and the Peddars Way, it is possible to circumnavigate Norfolk, and I reckon it'll not be long before we are out this way again.   

Norfolk Coast Path - Day 3

Morston to Sheringham - 15.00 miles

Despite a broken night's sleep, another early-ish start found us back in Morston for around 8.30am, suitably wrapped against the chill and sporting full waterproofs. A breakfast-time deluge had more than hinted at an uncomfortable day ahead, but there were only a few last drops in the air as we re-joined the path, although the skies remained leaden.

From Morston Quay, we skirted the edge of the salt marshes for the mile or so into Blakeney. For some reason, I seemed unable to shake the rhyme about The Scarlet Pimpernel (Sir Percy Blakeney) from my mind, although to the best of my knowledge there is no link between village and character.

"They seek him here, they seek him there .... "

After a brief stop, we continued along the NCP with the Blakeney National Nature Reserve off to our left. Apart from the odd marker or tidemark of loose reeds, this was the first point at which the damage caused by the previous winter's flooding became evident. Sections of the path had been completely washed away, with breaches the causeway allowing high water to flood through.

Looking back towards Blakeney, damaged path visible
in the middle distance

Repairs to the path and the sea defences are ongoing, but much has been done during the spring. Boardwalk has been laid, and the path re-routed in places to avoid the worst bits. Tourism is a key employer and source of income to the area, with walking and (especially at this time of year) birdwatching being two of the major attractions, so the efforts made so far are having a positive benefit for both businesses and visitors.   

Further section of damaged path

Cley-next-the-Sea is an attractive village, slightly quaint, with a great-looking deli, crafty shops and a showcase windmill. It's quite touristy, as you might expect, and it's the only point on the whole walk we got lost! Not our fault, I hasten to add: the path had been re-routed slightly compared to that on the map, and not particularly well signed, so we missed it on the first pass.

Windmill at Cley

What Cley also has is a great visitor centre for birdwatchers, wildlife enthusiasts and cake-lovers alike, and we took a short detour to sample all three. For those of us a little hazy with our coastal bird ID, there's plenty of information on recent sightings to help, a huge picture window from which to watch, and enormous scones of both the greater spotted (fruit) and golden (plain) varieties to be twitched. Birdwatching. In comfort. With cake. What's not to like?

Shingle beach

Cley Marshes Nature Reserve is one of the best spots on the entire coast to watch birds, and we spent a little time indulging. Not that we needed to look too hard: there were birds in their droves, just waiting to be seen. My day was well and truly made by coming across this chap for the first time ever. 

Avocet!

Nor was it was the last one we spotted. They were all over the place, along with numerous other birds. Over the course of the weekend we notched up multiple sightings of Avocet, Snipe, Oystercatcher, Redshank, Brent Geese, Greylag Geese, Shelduck, Little Egret, Grey Heron, Cormorant, Coot, Moorhen, Black-headed Gull, Herring Gull, Skylark, Sand Martin, Swallow and .... Pigeon (the little blighters get everywhere, don't they?). Oh, and a Marsh Harrier, too, just for good measure.  

Another Avocet!

The beach on this section is shingle, and the going quite slow. Like most unconsolidated substrates, the correct gait and pace has to be found to make much in the way of forward progress without unnecessary waste of energy. The breeze was still chilly, so we hunkered behind a shingle "dune" to eat our sandwiches - a nice way to spend an Easter Sunday lunchtime.

Part of the beach was cordoned off to protect the nesting sites of 
ground-nesting birds. I wonder what these will hatch into?

Cold and breezy it may have been, but in compensation there were some sizeable rollers breaking on the beach. The wind whipped spray from the crest of the waves, driving it into our faces, and the noise and power were an impressive reminder of just how elemental a force the sea can be.

Queen Canute

Give us a wave

The four-and-a-half mile stint to Weybourne follows the narrow shingle spit, with the sea close at hand to the left and Cley and Salthouse Marshes to the right. Sandwiched between to two, the path eventually picks up an arrow-straight course along the top of the shingle bank. 

Keeping on the straight and narrow

We had thought about ending the day at Weybourne, but we had made good time, and just as we arrived ... the sun came out! So it only took a moment or two to decide to carry on, and we were soon climbing up on to the cliffs for the next three miles into Sheringham.

Looking down from the cliffs

We arrived in Sheringham at a pace. Not because we were fighting fit and still full of energy, but because we suddenly realised we were likely to miss the last bus, and we didn't know where the bus stop was! Panic over, we arrived with three minutes to spare.

Approaching Sheringham

It was another great day: plenty of variety, and lots to see. It seems this walk knows just when to offer up a change of scenery, so interest is always maintained. And the birdwatching today was superb, with a couple of first-time spots to add the icing on the cake. Cake and icing in the day and eggs for Easter Sunday, so obviously Fish and Chips for dinner was a necessity. Good job the walking had earned us a few calories.

Norfolk Coast Path - Day 2

Burnham Deepdale to Morston - 17.50 miles

Next morning we were back at Burnham Deepdale by 8.30am, ready for the next stretch. It was slightly overcast, but the rain was holding off and the forecast encouraging.

Sail boats and abandoned barge

Heading out round the edge of Deepdale Marsh, we could see the low bump of Scolt Head Island (another National Nature Reserve) ahead.

Looking towards Scolt Head Island NNR

The path here, as in many places, follows the top of a raised bank, making for easy going and giving good views over the marsh. We swapped greetings with the occasional dog walker or jogger, otherwise the early morning quiet was interrupted only by the sound of wildfowl and the swish of Goretex. 

Windmill near Burnham Overy

After leaving the embankment, we crossed a field to reach the road at Burnham Overy Staithe, and found this rhyme chalked on a board beside the Hero pub. These words come from the poem Linden Lea, written by 19th Century poet William Barnes and subsequently set to music by Ralph Vaughan Williams. It encapsulates a perfectly reasonable view on life.

Verse of the day #1

Linden Lea by William Barnes

Within the woodland, flow'ry gladed,

By the oak trees' mossy moot;

The shining grass blade timber-shaded

Now do quiver underfoot;

And birds do whistle overhead,

And water's bubbling in its bed;

And there for me the apple tree

Do lean down low in Linden Lea.

When leaves, that lately were a-springing,

Now do fade within the copse,

And painted birds do hush their singing,

High upon the timber tops;

And brown-leaved fruit's a-turning red,

In cloudless sunshine overhead,

With fruit for me, the apple tree

Do lean down low in Linden Lea.

Let other folk make money faster;

In the air of dark-room'd towns;

I don't dread a peevish master,

Though no man may heed my frowns.

I be free to go abroad,

Or take again my homeward road

To where, for me, the apple tree

Do lean down low in Linden Lea.

With no dread in our hearts for masters peevish or otherwise, we moved on through the village and down to the harbour, where we sat and watched the world go by and let other folk speed about their money-making. 

Burnham Overy Staithe

Looking back over the Okavango Delta, pods of Hippos browsing water plants
among shallow pools, and herds of Wildebeest roaming the vast plains.
Or is it the view across Overy Marsh?

Moving on, we headed out into Holkham NNR along a causeway path. The sun was gradually breaking through, but it was still cool in the brisk breeze. Before long, we reached the dunes, climbed to a low crest, and there it was: the Actual Sea!

The Actual Sea!

The next couple of miles or so to Holkham Gap simply followed the beach: blue skies, fluffy clouds and a landscape capable of reminding humans about their place in the Universe.

Big sky country, small people

Four horsemen: no immediate threat of apocalypse

Today is obviously literature day. This verse by Algernon Swinburne is definitely evocative of the landscapes of north Norfolk.

Verse of the day #2

From Holkham, the path followed a line on the land side of the dunes. The sun came out. With the increased shelter from the dunes, the temperature climbed, so we stopped to shed layers and eat lunch.

Behind the dunes

The next section, through Wells-next-the-Sea, was busy. Understandable, I guess, on a sunny Bank Holiday, but even though the path is not necessarily characterised by solitude it came as something of an intrusion. We followed the long straight path into town. This section, exposed to the full blast of the northerly breeze, was freezing, but that didn't stop us from passing a trail of under-dressed families heading the other way: in typically British fashion, it was sunny and they were near the sea, and they were damned well going to wear the T-shirt and shorts they had optimistically packed. 

Looking back to Wells-next-the-Sea

But soon we had negotiated the scrum, and were heading past the salt marshes towards Stiffkey. It's an unusual name for a village, but thankfully not pronounced as written: in local parlance one of the consonant sounds is unvoiced (stop sniggering at the back) and it is pronounced "Stoo-kie".

Our walk for the day ended a couple of miles further on at Morston, where we caught the bus back to Wells. Tired after a long day, and still in need of rest after several busy weeks, we scoffed a quick Chinese meal before heading back to the hostel, and were both fast asleep by 8.30pm. 

We were rudely awakened later on, though, when the fire alarm went off. In pitch darkness, bleary-eyed, and with boots flopping on our feet and fleeces hastily thrown on against the cold, we stumbled downstairs to assemble outside for roll-call. Fancy being woken in the middle of the night! 

It was only slowly that we realised we were the only ones out there in pyjamas, and everyone else was fully clothed. Surely they hadn't stopped to get dressed before evacuating the building? No: that was when we found out it was actually 9.45pm .........