Into Montenegro - An Unusual Entry

I struggled to keep up with Wendy as she chased our guide in what was the first of two car chases that day. Our destination was Montenegro on the far side of the River Bune. We had already spent a frustrating morning trying to find the nonexistent bridge marked on our map which now meant a 60km round trip. "I will get you across" said our lovely Albanian saviour, so we followed down an increasingly muddy track, in which his car got stuck, to the bank of a wide river where a small boat was waiting. Having come out of his way to help us he then insisted on paying the ferryman, who appeared from nowhere, to get us across.
Our second pursuit ended at a water mill, to which the proud owner was insistent we visited and photographed. So with leaky wellies on, I walked up the mill race to snap the spray of water emerging from the mechanism. Over coffee we heard stories of places he had worked all over the world but until we produced photographic evidence the mill owner refused to believe that we had arrived in Montenegro by boat.

Albanian History

"Use the motorway, you must always use the motorway" the driving instructor shouted at us in Albanian, which was being translated by one of his 5 pupils from the back seat. We were heading north from Tirana having finally escaped from its traffic mayhem which first involved being gridlocked, followed by a period of weaving around constantly stopping minibuses and bike eating manholes before enduring a dead straight highway on which the traffic noise alone was intensely unsettling. "And you must stop before dark as there are robbers about" he added helpfully before offering to put us up for the night.
Earlier we had passed a timeless scene of an older couple shepherding their goats and considered what they might have lived through. The reign of King Zog, invasion by Mussolini, occupation by Greece and Germany during the war, rule by Europe's most maverick dictator Enva Hoxha, who brought Stalinism and a cultural revolution before isolating the country and covering it with thousands of concrete bunkers due to fear of invasion.. Or perhaps they had just flown in from Monaco.
He may have ended up a tyrant but having joined the Resistance it should be noted that Albania, with its majority Muslim population was the only country occupied by the Nazis to end the war with a higher Jewish population due to their being sheltered and given false papers.

Kastrati Petrol

I'm unsure if this brand of Albanian petrol would catch on in Britain, but as a cyclist it has some appeal. Could also be useful in the fight against climate change.

Seen in Tirana 24/4/8

Tirana

Having been a country sealed off from the rest of the world for most of my lifetime Albania, and especially its capital, Tirana have a faintly exotic appeal. Its tourist attractions though are somewhat limited beyond a centre comprising both fascist and communist influences. The massive Socialist realist mural depicting heroes of the Revolution overlooks a featureless central square beyond which extends Mussolini's wide boulevard's.Capitalism is forging ahead with leafy streets swanky shops displaying high priced fashions overlooked by Soviet style housing blocks enlivened by gaudy patchwork painting courtesy of the artistic mayor.

Albania, but where is Castro?

Steamy heat, elegantly distressed buildings, donkeys, veteran tractors, Mercedes cars in various states of disrepair, ethnic music pumping out, 1960's buses, palm trees, so much about this country reminds me of Havana. Not that I have been to Cuba, but I did once watch Buena Vista Social Club.

Crossed the border still with a bundle of Macedonian Dinari which the bank could not change. However a bank official took me outside and made a call on his mobile. Moments later a guy arrived in classic overcoat with huge wads of notes in his pocket. Out with the calculator and the deal was done in moments giving us over 10,000 Albanian Lek to spend.

Traveling towards Tirana brought back memories of another place - Uganda. Verdant green mountains, smoky minibuses, precarious roads winding up high passes, torrential showers and great enthusiasm about our presence here is so reminiscent of The Last King of Scotland.

Into Macedonia & the town of Bitola

"Change money?" asked the ice cream seller to let us know we were now in Eastern Europe, as we sheltered from the uninhibited curiosity of downtown Bitola. It was Saturday lunchtime cafe society on the wide pedestrianised boulevard and we were the entertainment.

Booked into the wonderfully named Tokin House, on Marks i Engels St. just off Marshall Tito St! A further Iron Curtain moment occurred in the ultra modern supermarket. Due to non-recognition by the computer I was told it was not possible to have the cake I wanted and had to make do with another flavor that was selected for me.

Not having done our homework we knew little about Macedonia, including the value of its currency. Using the ATM did not help as it just gave us a choice of various quantities of Dinari so we had to guess a value from supermarket prices. Went for a slap-up birthday meal costing a whopping 1000 Dinari which we later found out to be 12 Quid.

Enjoyed the chilled atmosphere of Bitola with its tree lined streets and setting, nestling beneath the high mountains so we stayed a second night. We became part of the cafe set, sitting outside the Jazz bar and watching the world go by. By midnight its 100% stilettos except for 5 refusniks wearing trainers, but I'm assured they will be sent for re-education so they can fit in with the post-communist world.

New gear - Altimeter

Have wanted an altimeter for ages and finally got one in Barcelona. Thought at first it was jinxed as before I had fixed it on the bike, my wrist broke. However it is well suited to Greek mountains as the tightly packed peaks mean huge amounts of up and down and spectacular results. The key figure it records is the accumulated climb of each day so although the highest point we have been so far is around 1771m we have been averaging around 1200m of daily climbing (= to Snowdon) and so our altitude gained in the first Greek week was the same height as Everest. Other stuff it records is highest point, average gradient, steepest gradient, mileage etc. It sits on my stem but all these figures are too distracting so I cover it up and have the joy of seeing how hard the day was when we finish riding. Even off the bike it was useful as, because it works using atmospheric pressure, it makes an excellent barometer.

Ten Days in the Greek Mountains

With over 550km completed and an altitude gain exceeding 13000m its been a tough but enjoyable 10 days. The weather (from a cool start) got increasingly hot reaching 30C before plunging back down again to give us rain, a cold northerly wind, spectacular hail storms, fresh snow on the road and a 0C morning. Mainly the roads/tracks have been great although we keep ignoring advice that our route is unsuitable for bikes due to condition/steepness. Constant maintenance is required on the mountain roads with frequent rock slides and many sections with precarious overhanging boulders. Hugely rewarding though with rough tracks winding up wooded passes to reveal vistas of snow capped mountains and remote villages perched on precarious slopes.

Greek Mountain Slideshow

Our Greek Diet

Our daily food intake goes something like this -
Breakfast Where possible oats and (soya) milk powder with pumpkin seeds and sultanas. However oats are now hard to find so we have been having rice pudding with honey, washed down with cowboy coffee.
Mid-morning As well as biscuits to keep us going we have some or all of spinach pie/bananas/pineapple juice
Lunch Bread, cheese, tomato and onion and maybe an orange.
Afternoon (finished cycling)Green tea for Wendy and hot lemon for me. And nuts, either walnuts, cashews, peanuts or pistachios.
Tea A choice here, its either dal and rice or tomato sauce and pasta with cheese. Basic mix is the same, olive oil, onion and chopped tomato just an alteration of the herb/spice balance.
Sometimes we have local wine and usually we have a bar of chocolate during our evening game of cards.

Cyclist Bites Dog

Used to protect farms, property and most usually goats no story about cycling in Greece would be complete without mentioning them. Having developed tactics for countering their menace I have become far more confident over the years so they have become just annoying rather than scary. However one incident did cause some alarm. Cycling along the only busy road we have been on, 4 large dogs emerged snarling from farm buildings ahead and ran behind a long fence towards us barking furiously. Why make all that noise I thought when you can't get at us. My feelings changed as they emerged through a hole right by us and charged towards me. Into attack mode I swung the bike across the road and straight at the lead dog while roaring furiously which made 3 of them turn back through the hole and the biggest to turn its attention towards Wendy who soon saw it off. What was particularly scary was that it occurred on a section of road on which large trucks were doing 50mph. Luckily it was clear but if one of those had been around...

Route revamp - The Yellow Line Tour

Finally completed the big loop from Sicily to Kephalonia picking up the bikes along the way. Eased our way back into cycling mode with a couple of rides around the island and thought about our future direction. Original plan was to do some island hopping and maybe sailing. However it dawned on us that we had reached our most distant point but had only completed 3 weeks of (excellent) cycling. So decided that islands were too small to be messing about with and would head straight to Patra on the Peloponnese and then head north through the mountains of mainland Greece, in earnest. So new route is former Yugoslavia turn left through Alps then along the French side of the Pyrenees to Bilbao. Now its head down cycling, no tourist delights, no sunny beaches just peaks, passes and and sore asses.

APRIL FLOWERS

AND THE ARM IS MENDED...

FERRIES TRAINS AND FOOTBALL

Stromboli-Milazzo Sun(30/3) 2.5 Hrs Direction - South
Sat by the jetty as ferry sailed to Salina as we were caught out by the clocks going forward. Decided on Sicily instead as the next ferry went there. After a fruitless hospital visit we found somewhere to watch the football. Ordered pizzas and a goal for Napoli (v Palermo, a Sicilian team) which upset the locals. However, good atmosphere developed, which survived the 93rd minute Napoli winner.

Milazzo-Levanto Mon 15 Hrs Direction - North
After removal of plaster, caught the sleeper train to La Spezia, with the train going in the boat for the ferry crossing. Initially reserved attendant became very animated as he spoke of his love for English football and surprised us with his knowledge of Aston Villa.

Levanto-Ancona Tue 8 Hrs Direction - East
Reunited with our bikes and off to Greece. Back on the train to Ancona, arrived at half time, booked in hostel and got to the Velvet Cafe to find Man U. dismayingly already ahead away to Roma.

Ancona-Patras Wed 22 Hrs Direction - South
Overnight ferry on which the Bursar was as upset as us that none of the on board T.V.s were showing the football. After he made a flurry of strident phone calls we watched Liverpool achieve a slightly fortunate 1-1 draw against Arsenal which also pleased the Liverpool supporting Bursar. After another ferry which headed west for 2.5 Hrs we are now (after 4 days of travel) back at the same latitude as Sicily, although it was warmer in N. Spain 2 months ago...

STROMBOLI

I scrawled a signature with my left hand to confirm I was in peak physical condition for the guided ascent. Despite the warmth I wore a jumper to cover the plaster in case it caused concern. One of the Aeolian Islands, north of Sicily, Stromboli consists of its 924m volcano with 2 small villages clinging to its slopes. Constantly active, its last major eruption was in 2007, flattening 2 houses and spewing large rocks over the island.

The afternoon climb through lush vegetation was easy enough. After scrunching through a larva field we donned helmets and warm clothes before going up the windswept ridge to reach the summit. There we had the drama of not only a beautiful sunset lighting up a layer of cloud below us, but 170m down in a crater was a pool of glowing magma spitting out molten rock. Our walk was timed for sunset so that the red hot rock became increasingly visible amidst the swirl of smoke emanating from many places around the crater.

Our descent down a steep slope of soft volcanic ash was therefore in darkness. Our guide suggested we slid using our heels as if we were skiing. He didn't realise that if I did that I was likely to end up with another broken arm...

Stromboli slideshow