June 9, 2018
Goat drive on Logara Pass
Rachael is waiting for me at a turnoff at the tight bend of a long switchback. She’s alone here until my arrival. Behind her is an old, half ruined concrete structure of some sort, perhaps a legacy of Hoxha’s decades long program of intensely fortifying the country. Unused now, except as a subject for graffiti.
She directed my attention up the slope behind me, where a large flock of goats is working its way down the hill in our direction. They’re too far away to make out much detail, but the sounds of their bells come through clearly, as do the whistles and calls of the lone man driving them our way.
They’re approaching fast, and within a few minutes the vanguard arrives. I walk in front of the bunker to get a better shot of them with the sun at my back, and as I do so the leaders freeze. We stare at each other for a few minutes until it registers that I’m in their way, so I return to the road and they immediately start coming again.
There are perhaps twenty or thirty goats in this first group. They scramble their way down to the shelter, and then just mill around. It looks as though that’s their destination.
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Before long, more goats arrive, and more, and more. It feels like a huge river of goats, all converging on the shelter, overrunning everything in their path, coming in from all directions. If you’ve ever watched a herd of goats like this you know what a beautiful spectacle it is - the color, the motions, the sounds.
By this time, there are more than just the two of us and these countless animals on the scene. A woman has pulled off the road, and is up against the goats with her camera, firing continuously in all directions. Then another couple shows up, then another. On the road, other cars have stopped and are blocking one lane of the tight hairpin turn, the drivers staying in their cars because there’s no more room to park. It feels like one of those scenes in Yellowstone - you know where the moose is because of the scrum of gawkers standing nearby.
The goats just keep coming, and the mass around the shelter gets denser and denser; but they’ve all stopped further movement. A few goats look like they have ideas, and perch up on ledges looking down the steep slope below, but no one ventures on.
Finally the end of the river arrives, the last few stragglers join the group. Behind them is the lone driver, armed with nothing but his voice, his whistle, and an occasional stone. It’s unfathomable to me that this actually works, and that he has control here. What a magnificent pagent. Now what though?
With a rock thrown into the crowd and a few calls and whistles, he sets them in motion again. A few start out at first, scrambling down the steep slope - it’s easily a 30% grade - and before long everyone is going. It’s an avalanche of goats cascading down the slope, scrambling, racing, tumbling, kicking up a cloud of dust. It’s almost shocking to watch, almost violent, it all happens so fast.
And then the scene repeats itself. The vanguard arrive at a large barren patch of scree, and soon the rest of the river arrives, clusters up, stops. The leader watches from above until the movement is complete, and then starts down the slope after his charge.
Time for us to move on, for its getting late in the day and we still have some substantial riding ahead. We hop back on the bikes and coast further down the pass. We drop another thousand feet, but I can still hear the driver whistling high above in the distance.
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What an awesome goat experience. That herd has to be one of the luckiest ones on earth thanks to that view of the sea they get. And you photographed it beautifully.
Of course, I could praise your photography and videography on every single one of your journal pages. It's that good. I know it helps to travel in such amazing locations but, still, you really know how to capture the moment.
Greg
6 years ago
And you’re right too, that these are some lucky goats! If I come back as a domesticated animal, this lot would suit me just fine. And not a view blocker in sight!
Take care,
Scott
6 years ago