Logara Pass

June 9, 2018

Miremengjes!

And it is indeed a good morning. There was a break in the weather in the middle of the night, and it is overcast when we wake up. We have a memorable breakfast on the roof of Vila Kosteli: memorable for the view across the Ionian Sea; memorable for the fine meal, warmly and graciously presented by our hosts (coffee, bread, fresh fruit, orange/apricot juice, and a delicious ham and cheese omelet); and memorable for the environmental conditions.

When we sat down it was grey but dry, and we were seated at an uncovered table overlooking the sea. Soon after bread and coffee arrived, a few misty drops arrived; and five minutes later we were in the middle of a downpour, scrambling for shelter as our host left his omelet preparations behind and hurriedly erected the canopy.

It was a wonderful feeling, sitting in the comfortable morning air, sipping our coffee and watching the weather gradually mutate from a brief, intense squall to a partial clearing. A perfect beginning to the day, I’d say.

The view from the rooftop of Vila Kalonia, a great place to stay in Himara

After hurriedly clearing the table when the rains started, We reassembled our breakfast after the canopy was is in place.

You have to zoom in to see it, but it’s really pouring. Rivers of water started pouring off the corners of the canopy.

Once the rains move on, the rest of the day is projected to be sunny and the temperatures mild - much more comfortable than yesterday’s scorcher. It’s perfect for our planned ride, an out and back to the summit of Logara Pass high on the shoulder of Mount Cika, the highest peak in this part of Albania that we’ve been seeing on the horizon yesterday and from across the strait in Corfu.

Shiheme me vone (see you later)!

The ride

A few seasons back we took a winter loop through southern Arizona. At the conclusion of this tour we took a ride up Mount Lemmon. Ever since then, we have used this terrific ride as the gold standard for mountain climbs. We thought the climb to Mount Lemmon was about as good as it gets.

Today’s ride enters the Anderson Ride Pantheon as a Lemmon-grade climb. It’s another day of riding that feels to us as about as good as a climbing ride can get. And that was before the Goat Episode, which I’m logging as a separate entry because it was so spectacular.

From our hotel it’s only a forty two mile round trip ride to the summit of Logara Pass. A reasonably short day, given that we’re carrying no luggage beyond the essentials that we fit into our underbags. Short, but quite challenging. By the end of the day we’ll log 6,800’ of climbing, a new one day record for this tour.

The ride begins with a bang with an honest 10% grade beginning right at the edge of town; over just two miles it climbs about seven hundred feet before easing out a bit, drops a few hundred feet, and then continues up. We’re both quite happy to be riding this without luggage today; otherwise, some of these grades would have stopped us in our tracks.

At Dhërmi, the last village before the climb, we stop for a brief break. The Greek salad is good enough, but the best feature is a nest filled with three insistent cliff swallow chicks anchored in the eaves just above the tables.

A small suburb above Himara. Everything is up from Himara, and steeply at first.

I’m not sure it was really 10% here, but steep enough. We’ve seen dozens of steep grade signs here, and they’re always 10%. It must be cheaper to just produce one sign, and interpret it as meaning ‘steep’.

With this blue domed roadside shrine, we could be in Greece. Much of the population around Himarë is Greek.

Vuno, a village above the coast. We’re above the Albanian Riviera, and about five hundred to a thousand feet above the beach resorts. We have plenty of climbing ahead of us without checking out the beaches.

Above our table at our lunch spot in Dhërmi. I’ve never seen them close up like this - it’s charming the way they’re tucked in, their heads tilted.

Soon after leaving Dhërmi we get our first sighting of the pass: an awesome scar that zigzags up the face of a massive treeless slope in broad, mile long switchbacks. Over the next eight miles we gain 2,600’, biking up a very steady 7-8% gradient. Without our luggage, it’s not a particularly painful climb, just a long one. It’s so beautiful that it’s easy enough to get distracted from the pain of the climb, with wonderful views up the face of Mount Cika and out across the Ionian Sea. As we near the summit the sky darkens. It looks like it’s probably raining on the far side of the summit. We’ve been really lucky today - there’s just enough weather to keep the temperature down without spoiling the views.

As usual, I stop often for photos and bring up the rear. When I arrive at the summit (elevation 3,400’), Rachael is in conversation with an Italian woman, one of a group of six or seven cycle tourists on a short getaway - they’ve taken the ferry from Brindisi to Vlora; are biking south to Saranda, where they’ll ferry first to Corfu and then on to Brindisi. It’s really amazing to me that we’re seeing so many bike travelers here in Albania - it feels like a pretty edgy adventure to us, but the Europeans are obviously well familiar with it.

There are also bees in Albania. Surprisingly though, no swifts that we’ve seen so far.

Our first view of the climb to Logara Pass. The road zigzags across the face of this huge slope. I always like seeing what I’m getting in for.

Looking down on the Ionian Sea, from early on in the ascent.

The large formation ahead on the right is Mount Cika, the highest peak in the Ceraunian Mountains.

A pillbox bunker, one of countless bunkers left behind from Hoxha’s regime.

Nearing the summit, the skies begin to darken.

Lagosa Pass. It looks like it could be raining on the opposite side of the gap.

Looking down on the Ionian Sea, from our 3,400’ elevation at the pass

It amazed us how often we run into bike tourists on this highway. We’re seeing all sorts: commercial tours, group outings, epic odysseys.

We don’t stay at the summit long. It’s getting late in the day already, and there is quite a bit of climbing in the reverse direction to overcome once we drop down to the villages again - nearly all of it in short, steep climbs marked as 10%. It’s a thrilling ride going down, racing past phenomenal views that are even better in the late afternoon light. We can’t really go too fast because it’s too steep, and the hairpins are so extreme. It would be easy enough to go flying off into space if we let ourselves get carried away.

Eight miles like this - fabulous views of the sea and the land in all directions. What more could you ask for?

Flying downhill into the face of Mount Cika

Halfway down, I find Rachael waiting at a pullout, waving me off the road. She’s looking back up the slope at an immense herd of goats working their way down the slope, rapidly approaching. It’s phenomenal, one of the finest things I can remember seeing - fine enough that we’re there for at least 20 minutes, along with other folks who pull off, pull out their cameras, and start shooting like crazy. I’ll put up a separate post for this, but for now here’s a teaser:

Finally the event passes and we start descending again. We’re running out of day, but the views just seem to keep getting better. Have to stop. And then we finally come to the villages, and are slowed by the various 10 percenters. And by an encounter with Sandros, yet another long distance tourist making his way south from Munich to Crete. I catch him on a hill because he’s loaded down, and we stop to chat for a bit. Then I move on, and as soon as we’re rolling downhill again and he flies by because he’s loaded and I’m not; and because he has more nerve.

Sandros, on a minor jaunt from Munich to Crete. Also an itinerant donkey who just happens by.

Finally, we’re down. It’s after six, we’re starved, and we waste no time. As soon as we can shower and change we head out looking for a restaurant, ending at one with an English menu and a knockout view from their balcony dining space. Ordering dinner is entertaining. The owner, who has just enough English to get by, hears our order but keeps coming back to the fresh caught fish from the Ionian Sea, that we should try instead of what we have in mind. Finally he won’t take no for an answer and takes us into the kitchen to show the trays of calamari (no way - we both hate calamari) and a tray of fish I don’t recognize. I ask him what it is, and he tells me again - fresh caught fish, from the Ionian Sea. We give up and say ok, and we all go back to the table. He opens up the menu and points - it’s not caught fish, it’s cod fish. And it arrives shortly, arrayed as hoops with their tails in their mouths. It’s served along with everything else (saganaki, salad, bread, wine) by his 12 year old son, who also pours the wine for us. Later, the owner tells us the wine and ouzo are both home made, by his grandfather.

Albania - it’s knocking our socks off.

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Ride stats today: 42 miles, 6,800’; for the tour: 1,470 miles, 129,400’

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Lyle McLeodThought I’d check out you’re Logara pass day after your ‘vote’ on the best pass ever thread. Looks incredible and once again you are doing a fine job of determining where our next tour will be! Ionian coast is continuing to rise to the top of the list.
Days like you had here are truly magical. Thank you for sharing it.
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3 years ago

Scott AndersonTo Lyle McLeodThis really was an exceptional day. We were so lucky to have had this experience. Our whole experience of riding through southern Albania was exceptional too though. I really hope we can return someday.
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3 years ago