Himara

June 8, 2018

I’m rueing a bit the fact that we did no language training in preparation for our visit to Albania. It’s not because we’re having difficulty managing our affairs - I’ve been surprised at how easy it is to be here so far, and how much assistance there is for English speakers - but it feels irresponsible to not at least be able to say hello, goodbye and above all thank you in our host’s language. Google Translate is a useful tool alright, but who wants to pull out a cellphone and look up a word when you just want to say thank you?

We’re trying, but it’s slow going. Yes and no (po and jo) were quickly mastered, if you don’t count pronunciation. But falaminderit (thank you), just won’t come to the foreground when the pressure is on. Maybe tomorrow.

Today is due to be a scorcher, so we get an early start. We’re packed up and down at breakfast at 7:30 (8:30, in Greek time - we gained an hour yesterday) and are on the road less than an hour later. It’s hot already, but the first two hours of our short ride to Himara aren’t too bad. And, other than the heat they’re a total delight.

We leave Saranda by a four hundred foot climb south as we angle up the ridge that backs the city, and then make a U-turn on the other side of the ridge and head north. We ride high above a beautiful cultivated valley, surrounded by treeless grey green hills and ridges.

To our surprise the road is almost empty, even though it’s the primary road north along the coast. Road surface is great, cars are few and courteous, and the unmotorized traffic is of great interest: numerous individuals traveling on foot, including two men accompanied by a pack horse and another with two horses in tow; cows on the margin of the road; horse walking in the road; probably the most entertaining goat herd we’ve ever witnessed (don’t miss the goat video!); and a surprising number of bike travelers. In a way, this is no surprise - for the moment, this seems like ideal bike touring country

I was worried about this road, as it’s the main route north.

One of the riders in an organized tour, led by Cycle Albania.

This is why every village in the region has an enormous tree in the center of the main plaza.

There aren’t many places in Western Europe that you see sights like this any more.

Best goat drive ever? It felt like it today.

Buon Giorno! He must think we look Italian. It’s our tans.

On a trip to the store. He tied them up at the hitching post and walked inside.

Horses on the loose. They’ll appear later, when they overtake us while we’re chatting with other bikers.

Claude, from Paris. He arrived here after biking through Kosovo and Macedonia, and is on his way to Crete if the heat doesn’t get to him. The other bike belongs to a Dane, biking the other way. They had just met up and stopped to chat when we arrived on the scene. Soon two other bikers from the Cycle Albania arrived and stopped, and finally a guy on a scooter with a flat tire, hoping someone had a suitable pump.

By 11:30 though, it is getting seriously warm (we will later learn that it is a very humid 95). The final hour and a half to Hirare, which include a thousand foot climb, are quite difficult with the sweltering sun blazing away against your back as we climb. Tempers grow short. Curious minds want to know why we aren’t biking in cooler, flatter country like some wiser bike travelers we are aware of. I stop for very few photos, but even those are too many - we just need to get there and out of the sun. In the final two miles I use up a half bottle of water pouring it on my head.

The saddle doesn’t look that high up, and it’s not really - just five hundred feet, with another equal climb around the corner. Without a 95 degree sun beating on your back, it wouldn’t be bad at all.

One photo too many; we need to keep moving.

At about one we reach our hotel, but don’t know it. Even though we’re standing right under its sign, we don’t recognize it. Instead, we bike on a few blocks further to the beachfront, stop in at a cafe, and consume: a delicious omelet, an enormous salad, three liters of water, and a large beer.

The cafe owner speaks very little English (and I can’t even say thank you!); but his young son can translate a bit. The man takes an interest in our trip, wants to know where we’re from, where we’ve been and are going, and is quite impressed once he understands. He squeezes my forearm to indicate he understands how strong we are, and then goes off to tell his father (the apparent grandfather in this three generation set). I hear him say Crete, Athens, Meteora, Corfu, OHrid, sounding impressed.

Soon the grandfather comes over, gives us a big smile, and tells us that America is very good, and Trump is very, very good! Sometimes, it’s better to not know what people are saying, actually.

Here’s what overheating and stress can do to you. Even thoug our GPS brought us right to this spot, we couldn’t find Vila Kosteli.

We find our hotel with the cafe owner’s help. I show him a photo of the hotel from the Booking website, and after puzzling for a minute he points to where we came from. So we go back, look more carefully, and see the clues we missed in our overheated delirium earlier: the hotel name, and a Booking rating sticker in the window.

We check into our room and then hide out for about two hours, giving thanks for the miracle of air conditioning. About five, after it’s started to cool down a bit, we walk down to the nearest beach, rent a palapa and lounge chairs, and test the waters.

The waters are quite a challenge though - the beach drops off steeply and the waves are significant. Rachael, a weak swimmer, spends a few minutes wading and cooling off before giving up. I’m more confident in the water and get beyond the breakers, enjoying bobbing on top of the waves for a while until Rachael, anxious that I might need her help, beckons me back in. After lying around in the shade of our palapa for just long enough we go back to the room, shower, and walk off to find a meal.

It’s easier if you learn when your young; like Albanian, I’m sure.

We find a meal easily enough. Himara is mostly a beach resort, split between two beaches separated by a small rise. Our hotel is on this rise, so we can go either way. We’re here for two nights so we can do both. Today we go north, tomorrow we’ll go the other direction.

The north beach is lined by a half dozen restaurants and bars, one of which was recommended by our travel guide so we sit down there and enjoy our first pizza of the tour (spelled pica in Albanian, but with the same pronunciation). We also enjoy the ceaseless crashing of the waves not far from our table, and the unending parade of walkers, strollers and bikers out enjoying the mild evening air, the best hours of the day.

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Ride stats today: 33 miles, 3,500’; for the tour: 1,428 miles, 120,600’

Today's ride: 33 miles (53 km)
Total: 1,384 miles (2,227 km)

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