Crossing into Albania marked another straightforward border encounter. The Montenegrin police scanned my passport on one side, then threw it over the desk to their Albanian counterparts, who glanced at it for a mere second before returning it to me.
Positive remarks about Albania had been a common theme, with many individuals mentioning the kindness and hospitality of its people, though warning of challenging road conditions and assertive drivers.
Initially, I intended to acquire an Albanian SIM card, anticipating a four-day stay in the country. However, after spending an hour in an Albanian Vodafone store, we couldn’t get it to work with my phone. This was not a major setback, as in Albania it was possible to get some Wi-Fi and electricity while enjoying a 50p coffee.
The north of the country was mostly rural farms and small villages. A local assured me that I could pretty much camp anywhere without issue. Thus, on my first night, I set up camp in a lay-by beside a tranquil road.
My second day in Albania lead me to the capital city, Tirana. Cycling into the city was a whirlwind of chaotic traffic and assertive drivers. Yet, despite the frenetic atmosphere, cycling through was good fun and I always felt safe, even when I inadvertently ended up on the motorway.
In Tirana, I rendezvoused with Adriatik and his two brothers. Adriatik, an avid cyclist and friend of a friend of my mother’s cousin Phil, had generously agreed to host me during my stay. After a traditional Albanian lunch of chicken and rice with soup outside his brother’s jewellery shop, I headed to his brother’s apartment for a refreshing shower. That evening, Adriatik’s brother treated me to a delightful meal, followed by a visit to Adriatik’s mother-in-law’s dessert shop where we gathered around a table chatting late into the night.
It was tough leaving Tirana and the friends I’d made there the following morning. I felt very lucky to have spent my time in the city with some wonderful people. As I left I headed eastward. This meant I would not get to explore the scenic south of the country, however this was the more direct route towards Istanbul and would allow me to visit North Macedonia.
The route towards North Macedonia proved demanding, with significant climbs dotting the landscape. Alongside the road, an abandoned railway line intrigued me, tunneling through mountains and spanning valleys with impressive viaducts. As I gazed at its level path, I couldn’t help but wish it was suitable for cycling. That night, I found a great camping spot next to it.
The following morning, I was awakened by the sound of a cowbell and a man leading his cow past my tent. He seemed unperturbed by my presence. I set off for Pogradec, spending my remaining Albanian Lek before crossing into North Macedonia.
Albania proved to be a delightful country to traverse. The friendliness of its people led to numerous conversations, and while the roads were no worse than those in the UK, some drainage holes posed a challenge.
In North Macedonia, tourists were required to register with the police within 24 hours of arrival, often done through accommodation or at the police station. Preferring to avoid complications due to my wild camping, I opted to spend only a day in the country.
The journey into North Macedonia involved a long climb of 690 meters, taking over an hour. Unfortunately, the clouded sky offered no panoramic view at the summit, though the subsequent descent was thoroughly enjoyable.
I directed myself towards Bitola, the country’s second-largest city. A man approached me in the city center, attempting to convince me to stay at his hostel. However, upon learning of my intention to head for Greece that night, he advised me to “enjoy it while it’s cheap” before cycling away. I heeded his counsel, stocking up on supplies before proceeding to the Greek border.
Will Scam 