The Albanian Highway

It's been a funny day. An experience for sure. Seems we aren't the only team to have had an unusual day. Reports coming in of child abduction, off roading, cars being followed by the mafia and me, well, I've been crapped on by a tortoise. But we should talk about Macedonia and even Greece before. 

Meteora. A windy road up through the arid Greek landscape revealed a stunning scenery of granite outcrops. 

On top of several of these are monasteries. Breathtaking scenery. 

Well worth the two hour, 100 mile detour. It meant that we were the last team to encounter our first non EU border. 

On our way, having viewed the stunning scenery of Meteora and the wonderful little Greek villages on the route, Marc treated us to a stop for lunch in a BP filling station next to a power station. Ice creams. We didn't stop for long. 

The road north was getting ropier and ropier and our fuel situation was getting a little desperate but with a top up of a couple of gallons we cruised to the border. 55 euros for 2 weeks worth of insurance. Pricey, which ever way you look at it. Still, this was going to be the most expensive border crossing from an insurance point of view. 

Sarah made up for the cost by buying 400 fags for 20 euros. 

And so, in to the wine making region of Macedonia. Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia to give it it's proper title. The roads were a little ropey but adequate and we pushed on through the mountains towards Lake Ohrid. 

Teams Trauma and Nightmare had already settled in to an apartment in Ohrid, paying 35 euros for an apartment for 6. We pushed on to Struga to link up with the main party. 

Campsite Hotel Drim was difficult to find for at least 2 reasons. Firstly, it wasn't at Hotel Drim. Secondly it wasn't called Campsite Hotel Drim. However we finally located it. The reception gave some idea of what we were letting ourselves in for. 

Damn. No guns allowed. 

The camp site was straight out of the 1950s. 

Those funny  round sort of caravans from 'Carry on Camping'. The grass ( well, curly weeds) was long. There was a severe lack of meat in the local supermarkets, so we were cooking mackerel and prawns. 

Later, Jim and Eileen dragged me reluctantly along to a local bar for a few beers. 9 drinks, 9 euros. Not too bad. With the sound of the lake water lapping on the shore we discussed future Windy plans and formulated the possible route for the next one. 

The campsite is infested with dogs. Large, brown, mangy looking dogs. Apparently they barked all night. I couldn't tell you, I was asleep upstairs. There were however several taking shelter under Milly's canopy and one squeezing out from under the van in the morning. 

Not the best camp site we had found but nonetheless interesting. 

By 9-15 we were on the road. Eileen driving using Eileen's Garmin. A mistake surely. There was a plan to meet up just before the border. We missed that as the Garmin took us via some more rural parts of Macedonia. Pretty scenery but poor roads. The way we were hitting pot holes  and rough patches was concerning me. This was the first country that we had no breakdown recovery for. 

I suggested finding and following the rest of the group, just in case we had issues. The Garmin and its despicable owner had other ideas though. After the dodgy border crossing (little moustachioed man in portacabin issuing expensive sheets of paper proporting to be insurance cover ) we plunged deeper and deeper in to rural Albania. 

I came to Albania in 2006 with Jo. She hated it. We only visited the port of Durres and the capital, Tirana. Neither are that special or pretty. The parts of Albania we were seeing were entirely different though. Lakes, tree covered mountain slopes, winding roads and small villages. We were making slow progress but the Garmin assured us that this was the route to Kruja. 

I was quite looking forward to lunch in Kruja. A leisurely browse through the bazaar. A short drive to the camp site along pristine Tarmac. Messers Garmin and Priddy however chose otherwise. 

I'd better add at this point an amusing little interlude. As we came around a bend there was a rock in the road. Strangely this rock was making progress across the road. A tortoise ! Obviously a photo opportunity, especially as I was wearing my Weymouth football shirt. The tortoise chose this special moment to empty it's bowels over my trousers. 

We continued towards lunch. Over patches of road with no Tarmac. Through  a town devoid of Tarmac, but mainly on semi-decent roads. Until we passed through Burrel. The road went uphill but then the Tarmac ran out. After about half a mile of no Tarmac, Jezebel cut out. It had been a bit of a hot, slow climb. Still the Garmin urged us onward. It's evil partner Eileen also suggested it was only 6 miles to Kruja. I offered to drive. The road got worse. 

Still, with only 5 miles or so to go and an alternative of 55 miles around if we went back, we pushed on, slowly and steadily over the rocky, lumpy track. This was proper off roading. Ruts, gravel and mud. Surely not a sensible place to be taking an elderly, 2 wheel drive camper van with no roadside recovery. 

By the side of the road (just this side of the sheer drops) were occasional bunches of plastic flowers and monuments to less fortunate travellers. Still we pushed on as the Garmin directed. 

Hair pins and rough bridges, crumbling sections of track. 

After 90 minutes of driving and approximately 15 miles we re-evaluated. We were about half way. The ruts were getting deeper. Really not good camper van territory. 

We took the decision to turn back. 

It was a little easier on the way back down. We encountered another tortoise (luckily an empty one).

A large stone made a decent sized dent in the number plate. 

After 2 1/2 hours we made it back to Tarmac. Reports were flooding in from other teams about the pleasant conditions they had found at the camp site. We were still 100 km away, tired, sweaty and fed up of Albanian Roads and Mr Garmin. 

Eileen returns home in a few days. I expect he will be setting off the airport metal detectors and he may need a trip to Harley Street to remove the offending article. Hopefully he will then send it back to Mr Garmin for a refund. 

Anyway, other teams had also had an eventful day. Team Like A Swede had a coming together with a lorry. No major damage caused, no injuries. 

Team Newlywed found themselves wedged up a narrow lane. Some locals offered them some directions and then offered them a child to act as a guide. With child on board, they then grounded Olly. With the Mowlam Mob and others following, they passed the child on to the Mowlems to direct them. I don't know if the young Albanian has made it home yet or is still in residence in the Mobster. 

On the subject of being followed, Robin was getting concerned as he was being followed by a sinister looking black Lexus. For about an hour he struggled to shake it off. Meanwhile, Richard, driving his sinister looking black Lexus was hoping Trigger would take him to the camp site. 

So, finally, as the sun was beginning to set over Lake Shkodra, we pulled in to the camp site. With the frogs welcoming us, we joined the gang at the lakeside bar. 

Eileen has been relieved of navigational duties tomorrow as we try to find Montenegro and then Dubrovnik. It's been a long day.