The Southern Coastal Trail, a musical!

The blog about the Southern Coastal Trail has come and gone, but I have one last surprise! I used Suno to create a musical score about the hike then set it to videos and photos from the trail. (Filmed on location in Albania!) If you want a summary of everything I wrote in the previous six posts, this video is it!

And if you think it looks interesting, you can hop on and virtually hike the trail at Walking 4 Fun! And see how many of the photos and videos you recognize from the video. =)

Happy trails!

Day 6: The Toughest Day....

 

May 9, 2025: Despite the weather predictions, it did not rain during the night. It was a pleasant night with the sound of crashing waves drifting through camp.

The day's hike started immediately heading uphill toward the town of Lukovë, and even early in the morning, the temperature felt brutally hot. This wasn't even the hot season! I couldn't imagine how bad the heat and humidity must be during the summer months. The advice for this trail is to hike in the spring and autumn since the winters are so cold and wet and the summers are so brutally hot, and I could believe it. It felt brutally hot, even in May!

The town of Lukovë supposedly had a market and restaurant, and Google even reported that they were open! I would have to take their word for it, however, since they were located a bit off trail and I missed the turnoff and wasn’t inclined to go back to check it out. Anyhow, it still felt a little early to take a break and Google also promised a couple of other places that were open on the next beach I would be coming to. I didn't really need anything in Lukovë and simply passed through the town without any breaks.

The path through Lukovë was often narrow and steep!

The trail left town on a paved road, but fortunately it wasn't a particularly busy road and soon I turned off it onto a more pleasant gravel road. At one point, I reached a chain-link fence that was blocking the road and wasn’t  entirely sure what to do. It seemed clear that I wasn’t supposed to continue forward, even though that was clearly where the trail led. Even worse, there appeared to be absolutely no alternatives around the closure.

However, nobody appeared to be around and there seemed to be no good reason for the closure, so I went around the fence and pushed onward.

It looked like they had used heavy machinery to flatten a section near the top of a ridge, as if preparing the land for a construction boom but, so far, nothing was actually being constructed. Just a large, wide and flat area ready for a resort. I had to scramble down a steep slope to get down to it as well, which wasn't the easiest of tasks but I made it well enough.

See me, near the left side of the photo wondering how I was going to get down from there?! =)

The trail then left the gravel road entirely and followed what looked like game trails the rest of the way downhill to the beach and, once again, absolutely everything in town appeared to be closed or being constructed.

And even though Google Maps promised two restaurants and bars that were open, neither of them were. There were absolutely zero services available for tourists. None. Zilch. Nada. Everything was closed or under construction--absolutely everything. !I did find two tourists from Germany loitering near their vehicle and they said that they were waiting for a paddling session that was supposed to start 20 minutes earlier but the guides still hadn't shown up and they had no idea if they would.I didn't have any suggestions about their problem, but I asked if they happened to carry any extra water in their vehicle that we could use since we were extremely low and there appeared to be nowhere in town to buy any. They gave me two small bottles of water, freebies from the hotel they had been staying at. It wasn't much, but I was hugely appreciative of it. Even a little water was better than none!

I walked around one of the closed restaurant-bars and sat down on some beach chairs to take a break. Although the bar was obviously closed, I spotted a large fridge with cold drinks inside with absolutely nobody around guarding it. Could I grab something? Leave some money behind for anything I took? It felt a little unethical, but a cold drink would have really hit the spot! There were also some more water bottles that might have been useful to add to my pack. 

I didn't take anything right then, thinking about if it was an ethical thing to do or not. I took a break, reading my Kindle and relaxing.

At least I did for about 10 minutes until a few construction workers showed up and spoiled the mood. They started speaking loudly to each other, put on some loud music, then grabbed some hammers and started building a wooden walkway from the beach-side bar out across the beach. Bang! Bang! Hammer! Hammer!

Construction workers interrupted my otherwise peaceful break! =(

They were friendly enough when they saw me, waving hello then ignoring me like I wasn't even there. That was fine by me, but all the noise was an annoyance. After another 15 minutes or so, more of the workers arrived. *sigh*

The German couple passed by soon as well, carrying paddle boards toward the sea with a couple of guides and a couple of other tourists. I guess their guides finally decided to show up, and I waved as they passed by.

The peace and quiet was shattered and I was no longer enjoying the break.

Looking ahead on my maps, I saw a creek at the edge of town and that was my plan to restock with water. I had a filter. I even checked the satellite view of Google Maps and the creek appeared to be a genuine creek with water in it--not just a dry creekbed. No problem!

So I headed out, passing by another restaurant and bar that looked like it had burned to the ground. "According to Google, this place opened at 10:00am this morning, I think they're wrong."

According to Google, this place opened at 10:00am, but I think they were incorrect!

The trail then led away from the sea, through some olive groves. After a few minutes, four adorable little puppies came running out to me, yipping and yapping. They didn't actually seem happy to see me, more like warning me to stay away, but it was hard to take them seriously because they were so small and cute. I wasn't going to bother picking up any rocks to throw at them, but if they started getting too close or aggressive, I could probably just kick them without too much trouble. (Not that I wanted to kick puppies or anything, but I didn't really want them biting me either!)

And while these puppies didn't seem entirely friendly, they seemed to have enough sense that I was much bigger and that they were no match for me, and kept their distance. No kicking necessary!

The creek where I wanted to get water was to the left, but it looked positively stagnant and disgusting. The satellite images didn't make the water look so bad! There was livestock all over the olive groves, though, and they clearly used the creek for their own purposes. Now I kind of wished I had asked the construction workers about buying some water, but I didn't want to backtrack either.

Another five or ten minutes later, I found four adult angry dogs and those were more concerning than the puppies. I picked up rocks when i spotted them as they barked and ran toward me.  "Back!" I shouted at them, swinging my trekking poles around.  "Stay back!"

Off to the left, I could see the creek where I had wanted to pick up water, but that was absolutely out of the question with the angry dogs clearly wanting to rip my throat out. In my haste to get by the dogs, i missed a turn in the trail completely and realized to my horror that the path up the hillside that I needed to follow was back in the direction of the dogs. Argh!

The trail out from the beach was super steep once i left the olive grove!

With pockets full of rocks, I got by them and followed the trail up an incredibly steep, overgrown trail. I emptied my pockets of the rocks and asked Karolina precisely how much water she had now that we had bypassed the last potential water source until the end of the trail. Between the two of us, we had about one liter of water, one! We wouldn't die out here, but we were going to be extremely thirsty and miserable until we reached town.

Anyhow, the trail climbed steeply, probably about a thousand feet over the course of a mile or so. The trail was badly overgrown with lots of thorny brush that ripped at our clothes. Beads of sweat rolled down my face like a creek. Good grief, it was hot! The only saving grace was that clouds had blown in and obscured the sun so at least it wasn't sunny, but it was still brutally hot and humid.

Karolina kept asking how much higher we had to go, and I regularly updated her on our progress. "Halfway up!" I told her. Then "3/4 up!" And finally we made it--not to the top, precisely, but to where the trail largely flattened out. Looking back, just a couple of kilometers, it felt like it had taken us hours to complete. We drank some of our water, but nowhere near enough. I could have easily guzzled every drop we had without any trouble, but I knew that we had to ration it and reluctantly did so.

But just because the trail flattened out, it did not mean the trail got easier. Oh, no! The badly overgrown trail eventually just petered out completely and I soon found myself  having to bushwhack through some seriously thorny brush to continue onward.  Occasionally, I even spotted a trail marker painted on a rock which was always exciting--confirmation that I was still on the correct track even if there was no trail to be seen.

So many wildflowers by the ruins!

Along this stretch, it did start to sprinkle a bit--annoying to be surrounded by so much water but yet not enough to drink. At least if it was pouring buckets I could catch some of it. The trace amounts of rain I experienced was enough to get me wet and annoy me, but not enough to catch and drink. Argh! 

And then I spotted some ruins above the trail, and the trail spilled out onto a gravel road. It was wide! It was flat! Oh, praise the Lord! I was very excited about this and felt that maybe my luck was finally turning. 

The gravel road became a bit overgrown in parts, but it was considerably faster and easier to traverse than the terrain I had been doing. It followed the contours of the hillside, and around a bend, I could see civilization That was Shën Vasil, another small town about 1 kilometer before the town that I actually wanted to reach. But I was getting close!

The town of Shën Vasil was in sight!

As I approached even closer, I passed a spring along the trail that had a water catchment around it. Yes! Water! Good, clean water! I filled up a half-liter pouch and guzzled it down like a bear eating salmon. Then I filled it up again and drank even more. Yes, wonderful water! 

As I approached closer to town, I came across two locals who spoke no English but seemed to be asking me where I was headed, and I told them Nivicë. They tried to talk to me more, but it was hopelessly muddled and I had intended to continue straight on the road, but they pointed me down a turn that seemed to follow a parallel road. The GPS tracks I had for the trail didn't seem to follow either of the roads, but since I had told them we were going to Nivicë and they were pointing us down that way, I figured they must know what they were talking about and turned down the parallel road.

That road eventually led me to a road towards town. 

I had pulled out my GPS and still saw that the end of the trail was another kilometer away. This wasn't it. I then pulled out my phone with the maps and had it locate me on my maps, and my suspicions were confirmed--I had made it to... Shën Vasil.

Son of a bitch! I had gone the wrong way! 

While i had no plans to finish the trail in Shën Vasil, it was marked as an alternative route for starting or finishing the trail. 

Google Maps did show a market perhaps a five-minute walk away in town, however, and I decided to walk to it and at least get a cold drink. I deserved that much, so that's what I did.

There was no Coke in the store so I bought a Pepsi instead. I also got a Fanta Exotic I was perfectly happy to drink either of them. And on the spur of the moment, I grabbed an Oreo ice-cream

After finishing my drinks and ice cream sandwich, I walked the rest of the way to the town square just to take a look around and followed the trail back to where I had already been, having now walked in a big circle around the one side of the town. This time, however, I turned uphill away from the center of town and continued on my way to Nivicë.

The rest of the hike was uneventful. I made it to Nivicë without any additional trouble, and reached the end of the trail at a commanding viewpoint overlooking most of the town. My plan was to take the bus from there into the nearby town of Sarandë which was one of the bigger towns along the coast and the main transportation hub for this section of the coast. From there, I could catch a long-distance bus to Tirana (the capital) and the airport where I had planned to fly out from.

The end of the trail....

According to Google, there was a small store/restaurant near the main road out of town, so I walked down to there to get another cold drink and figure out how to get to Sarandë. The door of the restaurant had a closed sign on it. *sigh* But then someone saw me and said to wait a second, and they opened the door to let me in. Horray! I ordered a couple of drinks and started figuring out how to get to Sarandë.

I had downloaded an Uber-like app for hailing a taxi and it showed the price of a taxi from there to Sarandë was about $25. No problem!  So I hit the button to do that, but it came back saying that there were no drivers available. So that didn't work. I don't even know why I ever bother with these apps. I've tried Uber a half dozen times over the years at various trailheads and have always had the same problem. I've never managed to actually hail a taxi with an app when I really wanted one.

Well, I could still take a bus, and I tried to find online if there was any sort of schedule or routes about how often they came through, but I wasn't having much luck. 

What about hitchhiking?  I've hitchhiked all the time from trailheads due to lack of other options!" I was not, however, sure about the legality of hitchhiking in Albania. I certainly didn't want to end up in an Albanian prison.... So I started doing some Internet sleuthing about the topic and as far as I could tell, it's not only perfectly legal, but actually quite common in smaller towns with little reliable public transit.

I'm writing about the day's misadventures in my journal while I waited to get out of town.

At one point, I saw a bus go by in the direction that I wanted. Oh, shoot! If they were running every hour, I would have at least an hour to wait now. *sigh* If they ran less often than that, I might have a long wait!

While I was doing this, the people running the restaurant said that they could call me a taxi. Oh, yes! That would be great! They called some place in Sarandë and the taxi driver told me the same $25 price, so I agreed and he said it would take a bit less than a half hour to drive out there to pick me up. No problem, I told him!

I then started looking for lodging in Sarandë. I had made no reservations in advance since I wasn’t  entirely sure when I would finish the trail. I found a reasonably priced place near the water and the beach. 

I paid for my drinks and packed up my stuff heading outside to wait for the taxi. The taxi arrived about 10 minutes later, and I piled in and soon arrived in Sarandë, a lovely town on the Mediterranean coast. =)

And thus ended my hike of the Southern Coastal Trail in Albania! And, of course, the route has been added to Walking 4 Fun as a premium trail for those who would like to try walking it virtually!

The view from my hotel in Sarandë was great!

  

Waterfall near Lukovë

Bird wandering around Lukovë

 

Water! Beautiful water!

 

Day 5: The Sun Hates Me

 

May 8, 2025: I slept well that night. And the morning was beautiful! Because I had camped on the west side of a steep hill, I didn't expect the sun to actually show itself there for hours, so I broke up camp and started hiking while still in the shade.

You can see the giant shadow of the mountain I was camped on in the morning. It would be hours before the sun reached our campsite!

 

Most of the trail was relatively flat and easy making for rapid progress. The trail followed the contour around the mountain on which I had camped, and it quickly lead me into the sun where the temperatures soared seemingly within a couple of minutes. The trail might have been flat and easy, but the sun was brutal!

I missed a turn from the gravel road that I had been following and had to backtrack about five minutes to find the correct turnoff, which was down a very narrow and overgrown trail and super easy to miss. But I found it and continued onward, none-the-worse for wear.

The trail soon split into the main path and an alternate path. For the most part, I prefer following the main path unless there is some specific reason not to, but looking at the maps, the alternate path looked easier and had me following alongside a scenic beach and seemed like it would be more pleasant. On the other hand, keeping in the mountains away from the coast might be a bit more rugged, but the views were phenomenal. 

So I decided.... on the easy, flat beach route. 

Borsh Beach, straight ahead!

In any case, the trail started heading downhill toward sea level and as it approached civilization, there were seemingly two separate groups of sheep and goat herders, both with angry dogs. After my success in cutting a switchback to avoid them yesterday, I wanted to do the same today.

This cutting of the switchback was considerably steeper than the last time and Karolina was convinced it was dangerous. I was surprised--I had seen her scramble up and down even more steep terrain than that. Yes, it wasn't ideal, but it was certainly manageable! She eventually followed behind me, somewhat reluctantly, but her hesitation had given one of the flocks of sheep time to move into our way at the bottom of the cut before we could get through, so it turned out to be for nothing. I still picked up rocks, prepared to throw them at the angry dogs, but the shepherds managed to keep the dogs away from us and that wound up not being necessary.

And then... I came to a creek. There was no bridge, and no easy way to cross it without getting my feet wet. My first ford! It would also be my only ford. I tromped through without even taking off my shoes like I'm usually inclined to do--and boy was that water cold!--but Karolina had to stop and take off her shoes before crossing, then stop again to put them back on afterwards. So inefficient! =)

Karolina starts taking off her shoes in order to ford the creek.

Then I followed another gravel road to the beach before turning onto a paved road paralleling the beach into the small town of Qazim Pali.

Once again, it seemed like half the town was under construction. There is a massive construction boom happening in Albania right now! I passed one construction site after another and nothing appeared to be open for at least a mile!

But then I finally reached the "open" part of the beach where I stopped at an open-air, beach-side restaurant for a break.  I was keen on ordering lunch having already ate cereal for breakfast. But was told, however, that lunch items would not be available until noon--still a couple of hours away. So I decided not to order anything--for now. Maybe I would still be around in a couple of hours for me to order lunch, though. =)

So many resorts being built on these beaches! So few tourists at this time....

Almost immediately upon sitting down on the shaded patio, clouds came out and the sun was obscured. The sweltering heat we had been hiking in turned into an uncomfortably chilly breeze. 

 I waded into the water of the Mediterranean just for the heck of it, and that water was cold! I did see people swimming in it, but there weren't hoards of people and now I knew why!

After a couple of hours of resting, noon struck and I asked the waiter if I could order lunch now. He said sure, and I ordered the chicken tacos. "I'm sorry sir, but we are out of that." 

Already?! But the lunch hour just started! Dejected, I settled on a Caesar salad with fries.

My beach-side, open-air restaurant... stupid clouds!

After I ate lunch, and nearly three hours after we arrived, I figured it was time to keep going and I paid the bill, picked up my pack, and started hiking.

Almost immediately, the scorching heat of the sun came out again. Oh, come on! It was cloudy and cold almost the entire time I was resting, and now when I would have preferred it being cloudy and cool, the sun comes out again? Stupid sun. Stupid clouds. *shaking head*

I passed another shepherd with angry dogs, and picked up more rocks to throw just in case, but just the threat of throwing them was enough to keep the dogs at bay and I didn't actually have to throw any.

And along this next section of trail, I passed a lot of other hikers! Actual hikers! One was a large group of about a dozen people, led by a guide. They were certainly not thru-hiking the Southern Coastal Trail, but perhaps signed up for a nice afternoon walk between two towns where the trail was in good condition.

But I also passed by two separate couples who did look like they might have been thru-hiking the trail, but we passed by each other like two ships in the night without anything more than a "Hello" so I never got their stories.

I finally arrived at Lukova Beach. Again, most businesses appeared to be closed, but there was one restaurant that was open playing music that was painfully loud. I decided to skip it and head to the beach where I grabbed a lounge chair to rest.

And, almost immediately, the clouds came back and covered the sun. Really?! Why did the sun only come out today while I was actually hiking and preferred cool weather?! When I was sitting in the shade with a nice breeze, then the clouds came out and it got too cold?! I felt like I must have made the weather gods angry for some unknown reason.

I was not the only tourist here, among the dozens of lounge chairs, only two others were occupied. From eavesdropping on them I figured out that they were from Germany and the UK.

This time, not only did the clouds come in, but there was even a trace amount of rain. I felt the occasional drop and wondered if I would have to move somewhere that was more protected from the elements, but nothing came from it and I was able to stay in my lounge chair. It was still chilly, but at least not so wet.

I had stopped near a pier. When I first arrived, I walked out onto it to see the view, but now I saw a guy who looked like a local that would walk along it, then peer over each side very intensely. We were curious what he was doing and continued to watch. About five minutes later, another guy joined him. What were they looking for? What were they doing? 

A few minutes later, it looked like one of them was now carrying a small harpoon. Where had that come from?! Were they hunting? Looking for the perfect fish off the side of the pier to catch? I never saw them deploy the harpoon, much to my regret, but I was curious all the same and wished something more would happen. 

The pier! The pier!

Looking at the maps ahead, I predicted that we could probably find somewhere to set up camp at the far end of the beach. After that, the trail climbs a steep hillside and I had doubts about camping opportunities after that. Consequently, I knew I had to walk maybe 10 or 15 minutes from our current location and I was in no particular rush, taking a break there for a couple of hours.

Eventually, however, it was time to go, and I packed up my bag and headed out.

And, once again, the sun came out. Really?! Geeze! Not that I had to hike far or hard, but still, it seemed like a mean joke for the sun to come out the minute I finally left from my break. The clouds and sun were laughing at me.

Just as I started hiking to the end of the beach to find a place to camp, the sun came out again. *sigh*

 

At the far end of the beach, I had gotten away from the civilization and the trail led inland through some olive groves. The olive groves had clearly been used by many people as a campsite with several old fire rings dotting the area. I would bet that those fires were illegal, but I had no intention of building any fires. I just wanted a place to camp, and this looked ideal.

I didn't want to camp directly on the beach itself. I've done it before, and the sand gets everywhere and isn't very stable. You get yourself into a good position, but then the sand shifts underneath you and it's no longer comfortable anymore. But the grassy field under the olive trees looked positively luxurious to me, and that's where I wanted to camp, so that's where we camped. =)

I claimed this land for my campsite for the night. There's still a lovely view of the Mediterranean, and you can tell that we were not the first people to camp here. See the fire ring in the background? (And there were several others in the area!)

The beach, however, was perhaps a one-minute walk away and the views of the Mediterranean were still visible even from camp. It was a lovely spot to stop.

After sunset, I headed back to camp and went to sleep. The end of another day!

 

Watching the set sun!

 

And, of course, not only did the sun set, but the moon was also up and looking beautiful as usual!

 

Day 4: The Dolls are Watching....

May 7, 2025: According to the weather forecast, it was supposed to rain all night. However, it did not rain at all--until I woke up in the morning and wanted to start hiking for the day. Looking at the current forecast, however, it appeared that the rain would pass quickly, so I decided to try waiting it out before pushing onward.

And... I was successful! After an hour or two, the rain stopped, and I started packing up camp. While doing so, two northbound hikers came up the valley. Other hikers! Wow! These were the first hikers I had seen on the entire trail! One of them came from the UK while the other one was from Belgium, and we chatted for a few minutes.

The trail would head to the bottom of this steep valley before climbing up the other side. (Not all the way to the tops of those mountains in the distance, though. Not that high!)

They reported passing a few other hikers along the route--which was news. But since I was hiking in the same direction as those other hikers, I just hadn't crossed paths with them. Most people hike the trail from north to south (southbound), but apparently if you want to see other hikers, it's better to go northbound! Although you'll just pass by them and not actually see them for very long.

Anyhow, the hikers continued onward and I finished packing up camp and headed immediately down a steep, rocky slope. The going was slow, and due to the recent rain and the sun coming out, the humidity was unbearable. Steam rose from the trail like it was being baked, and it felt miserably hot. At least I was going downhill which didn't take so much energy as going uphill!

After a few miles, I finally reached the bottom of the valley but as all things go, what goes down must go back up, and I was now heading uphill again to the small hamlet of Kudhës.I took a short break at the bottom by the river running through the bottom of the valley and it started to sprinkle a bit. Nothing serious, and it didn't last long, and while getting wet wasn't pleasant, at least the temperature felt a bit more bearable when the clouds blocked the sun.

Even that didn't last long, however, since the rain stopped and the sun came out again.

I crossed the creek at the bottom of the valley over this bridge.

 

The climb up to Kudhës followed a narrow, windy road that was super steep and utterly exhausting to get up. It wound its way through an olive grove, and at one point there was a flock of sheep ahead guarded by several "angry dogs." After yesterday, that's what I started calling them. They were definitely none-to-happy to see me.

However, looking at the map ahead, the road switch-backed numerous times through the area and I suggested to Karolina that we could basically cut a switchback to largely avoid the flock and angry dogs, and that's what we did. I had to check my GPS to make sure that the road would still switchback so we could get back on the trail quickly, but it all checked out so we cut off the road, through the olive grove and directly up the hillside before reconnecting with the road several minutes later. The angry dogs were still close enough to see ne trying to sneak by and barked and howled at me with anger, but they didn't seem to want to leave their flock behind to chase me so I got by without having to throw any rocks, wave trekking poles or shout at them. One of the easier places where I got around the angry dogs.

At the edge of town, I reached a small church with a few graves that had a water spigot running out front. The spigot itself didn't seem to work. Water flowed out of it and jiggling the handle didn't make it flow faster or better, but it also didn't turn off the flow either. In any case, it didn't matter to me--it looked like good, clear water and perfectly suitable for drinking and I definitely needed to fill up with more drinking water.

I was not sure where the source of the water was, however. Did it come out of a spring? Was it piped down from higher up in the city? I had no idea, nor had I any idea if the water was treated, so I pulled out my Sawyer Squeeze and used that to treat water for us. 

A giant pig with a family of piglets passed by, seemingly not really caring about my presence.

I filled up with water from the facet at this church/cemetery.

I continued into Kudhës. Kudhës is a relatively small town, but it's long, built along a steep ridge of a hill. The one road I followed was basically the main road through town that the whole town was built around, and it was steep from top to bottom.

One thing I had started to notice was that many of the buildings had stuffed animals or dolls hanging off them. I first noticed it yesterday and thought it was just something that that one person had done, but then I saw another one. And another one... and I slowly started realizing that it was a "thing" that some people did here. I theorized it was probably supposed to ward off evil or bring good luck (kind opposite sides of the same coin, really), but they had often been hanging there for months or perhaps years and usually had a haunted look. It didn't help that they often seemed to be strung up by their necks or impaled in their bums with rebar. These did not look like happy toys!

Definitely not a happy toy!

Later, Karolina would message her Albanian friend whose wedding we had attended to ask about those, and she confirmed my suspicions that it was meant to ward off the "evil eye" and bring good fortune, and that elderly and superstitious people were more likely to do that--especially on newly constructed or purchased properties.

There's not much to say about Kudhës except note it's unusually steep, linear layout on the crest of a ridge. This town marked the end of another stage in the guide, so I stopped long enough to check the maps for the next stage and figure out where I might be able to stop for the night.

This is the town of Kudhës. Notice how long and narrow it is, sprawled out over a steep ridgeline.

 

Another view of Kudhës, but this time from the other side. (The previous photo was taken from the other side of the valley, while I was still descending to the bottom of the valley. This one was taken on the way out of the city.)

About halfway through the stage was a small town of Old Qeparo, which was roughly my minimum goal for the day to stay on schedule. On the maps, just before the town, it looked like there might be some decent places to stealth camp, but I wanted to go into town in the hopes of scoring a cold drink. After the town, the opportunities for stealth camping were less clear. To be fair, the maps were never designed to point out good places to camp. They were meant to provide directions, not point out campsites. But you can read a map and see if there might be nearby roads or civilization that would make stealth camping more difficult, or if there are trees and bushes around to stay better hidden, and see where terrain was flat and therefore more suitable for camping. But none of those factors were guarantees about finding a good campsite just by looking at the maps.

In any case, I decided that I had time for a longer break. On the maps, it looked like there might be a shady area not far out of town near a dry streambed which might make a good place for a break, so that's what I did.

And it was a perfectly lovely place to stop for a break for an hour or two. =)

A dry streambed. (This is not the dry streambed where I took a break, though!)

After a lengthy rest, I pushed onward toward Old Qeparo, noting an abundance of very nice stealth camping sites along the way. The section between Kudhës and Old Qeparo had so many amazing campsites! I took note of them, especially as I got close to Old Qeparo and considered the idea of going into town for a cold drink and backtracking ten minutes to a stealth campsite out of town.

The town itself was slightly off trail according to my sources, but the trail markers actually did lead through the town itself. I wasn't sure if that was because the route was officially rerouted through town or if every hiker stopped in town anyhow that they may as well mark the trail that way. In any case, I descended a steep hillside off the main trail into a short side trail into town and made my way to what I first thought was a restaurant with an outdoor patio but turned out to be a small market with an outdoor patio.

Overlooking the town of Old Qeparo. There are cold drinks down there somewhere!

Either way, however, there were cold drinks available and a shady place to sit outside, and I took the opportunity to do so. I got a Coke, and after finishing up, I went back for seconds this time I got a Fanta.

While resting on the patio, a couple of the cattle in town decided to get a little frisky between two cars, making a racket that sounded like it might be denting the cars until a woman from the market went over and shooshed the cattle away. She looked at the vehicles as if checking for damage before returning to the market. Another exciting day in Old Qeparo.

Looking at my options, I didn't feel like backtracking to the last nice campsite. Backtracking just felt wrong, even if it wasn't more than about 10 minutes or so. And now with a visual line of site ahead, I felt confident that I could find a good place to camp on the far side of town further down the trail. There were fields of olive trees ahead (which the guidebook suggested were actually abandoned and no longer farmed), and I had noticed that even when olive trees were planted on steep hillsides, that the ground had been terraformed into flat terraces that the olive trees were planted in and surely I could camp on one of those flat areas, even if it was on a steep hillside.

So I pushed onward, walking perhaps a quarter-mile out of town before following a gravel road into an old olive grove and finding a wonderful place to camp with commanding views of the Mediterranean Sea and overlooking Old Qeparo. Sunset wasn't for a few hours, however, so I suggested that we not actually set up camp just yet. Let's not look like we were camping there just in case somebody wandered by, but rather try to look like we were just taking a nice, lovely break.

I pulled out my groundsheet to lay on, then spent the next few hours reading my Kindle and finishing the latest saga of Jack Reacher kicking butt. By sunset, not a single person had wandered by and we finally set up camp.

And thus ended day four on the trail.....

I had a lovely view of the Mediterranean Sea from the campsite in the old olive grove!

  

Not only could I watch the sun set, but I could also watch the moon rise! =D

Looking back toward the hilltop view of Old Qeparo.

 

The valley I had to descend into then back out of. (That's Kudhës on the left.)

 

The baby hanging by its neck wasn't the only creepy thing on this house.... Look closer near the back of the building....

 

It also had this mannequin checking out everyone who passed by!

A little before Old Qeparo, I passed by this fancy spring!

And there were lots of frogs swimming around in the puddle of water it created in front.

This caterpillar was trying to cozy up to me!

Day 3: The Dogs Were Angry That Day....

May 6, 2025: Early in the morning, a terrific thunderstorm rolled through the area. Rain poured from the heavens in buckets and thunder rattled the windows. None of that mattered to me since I was tucked safe and dry in a hostel, although it did disturb my sleep.

The thunderstorm eventually passed and I started preparing for the day's hike, said goodbye to Denim, and hit the trail at about 9:00am.  The trail went literally right past the front of the hostel so there was no effort to get back to the trail--I was already on it!

I put on my shoes at the hostel, preparing to start another day of hiking!

The route followed some roads out of town, but somewhere along the way I missed a turnoff and plowed onward in the wrong direction for maybe five or ten minutes. It wasn't really a big deal--but definitely an annoyance. I pulled up Google Maps to see how to get back to the proper trail and it appeared that there was a small path through some olive fields that would hook me back up with where I was supposed to be without having to backtrack quite so far, and I decided to go that route instead.

And it was a pleasant diversion. I followed a gravel road through the olive fields, away from the busy traffic on the street I had been following, and at times the gravel road became a narrow walking path. I passed one woman walking in the other direction along the way, but that was it and after five or ten minutes, rejoined the route where I was supposed to have ended up earlier.

I passed through these olive fields after missing a turn and trying to reconnect with the trail.

From here, the trail started climbing steeply and steadily into the mountains. First it followed a gravel road, winding its way up the hillside, but I had to slow down a bit when I reached a shepherd with his flock of sheep and goats that blocked the road. I continued following the road, but the shepherd took his flock cross country and I soon found myself behind him again.

This time, however, he tried to talk to me. He didn't speak English, but with a little hand-waving and pointing, I told him that we were heading to Pilur. He said something in Albanian that I couldn't understand, and I tried pulling out my phone to open Google Translate for him to talk into, but he waved that aside and pulled out his own phone and called someone. I could tell that it sounded like a young girl, and I assumed it was probably a daughter or something that spoke English and could translate for us.

They conversed for a couple of minutes then he handed the phone to me and my guess turned out to be correct--it was his daughter, and she spoke English. She explained that her dad wanted to warn us about "angry dogs" ahead, and that it wasn't really safe to continue onward. I actually could hear dogs barking not too far ahead, so I had little doubt that he was right.

"Umm... okay...." I said, wondering what I was expected to do now. I had actually passed a few "angry dogs" along the trek already, not including this shepherd who had a couple of dogs that did not seem pleased to see us when we first arrived (although now they were leaving us alone). My policy for dogs was to pick up rocks and, if they started to threaten me, throw rocks at them. The dogs back off quite quickly when you start throwing rocks at them. I had even learned while hiking the Jordan Trail several years ago that just picking up a rock can often be enough to get them to back off. They know what you're doing! So I'll sometimes just pretend to pick up a rock even if none are around (or even if I already have a rock in hand) as a warning. "Don't mess with us! We can pick up rocks!"

Anyhow, I said we would pick up some rocks and throw them at the angry dogs. It's not like I had a lot of alternatives. Even if I walked some other route, there would likely be other angry dogs! But I also asked what her dad advised.

She asked to be handed back to him, which I did, and they talked a bit more before he gave the phone back to me and she translated that her dad said to wait for a half hour and the dogs would be gone.

How could he possibly know that? I found this a little puzzling, but okay.

The flock of sheep (and some goats) that were blocking the trail.

 

I gave the phone back to the shepherd and sat down under the shade of a tree to wait for a bit. The shepherd also hung around, seemingly wanting to make sure I was okay. He talked on his phone with some other people in the meantime, then, after five or ten minutes, he waved to me and seemed to indicate that it was safe to continue onward. It hadn't been a half hour yet--not even close to it.

The only thing I can figure is that he knew the people who owned the dogs up ahead and he had called them to let them know we were walking by and that gave them enough time to put the dogs on leashes because when we passed by the structure, we did see several dogs, but they were all leashed up and of no threat. Still, I carried rocks as I walked by. Better safe than sorry! But I didn't have to threaten any of the dogs with them.

Safely past this obstacle, I powered onward up the mountain, which soon reconnected with the main route again. (Lest you've forgotten, I had decided to take an alternate route through Himarë late yesterday, and had not yet reconnected with the main route until now.) 

At this sign, I officially was back on the main trail rather than the alternative I had been following since yesterday.

 

At this point, I left the gravel road and followed an actual trail ever higher into the mountains. The air was getting thin up here! I huffed and puffed and beads of sweat dropped from my brow. It was hot. Perhaps not so much in temperature, but combined with the humidity, it was taking a toll. The trail started weaving among pine trees that became an absolute forest in places and the shade was welcome, but it didn't help with the humidity or the stagnant air.

After at least another hour of hiking, I reached the town of Pilur and followed roads the rest of the way into the town center. Pilur is a small town with probably no more than a hundred or two inhabitants, but it was situated on the top of a hill, had wonderful views looking all the way out to the Mediterranean, and provided a nice fountain to fill up with water and a shady place for a break.

What it did not provide, however, were any open restaurants. I was hoping to buy a cold drink or something in town, but the couple of restaurants in the town center appeared to be closed for the season. The only liquid refreshment available was the water from a fountain that people constantly drove up to to fill up empty jugs that they loaded into their vehicles to take home. I was prepared for this eventuality, however, knowing that these smaller towns likely had no public services available. That was the main reason I veered into Himarë, after all--to fill up with groceries for the trail for the next couple of days.

I sat down at a table and wrote in my journal, read my Kindle, played with my Rubik's Cube, and ate some snacks out of my pack.

I stopped for a break here in Pilur's town center. It was a lovely place for a break with views to the Mediterranean, shade, and a nice breeze.

 

I spent over an hour there, and it was a pleasant stop. One local guy walked up to me and started trying to speak to me, but he didn't know any English and apparently didn't have a daughter he could call to act as a translator, but I was 't entirely sure he actually had anything important to tell me either. He just seemed like a lonely old guy that wanted to talk with some people, and I was a huge disappointment for him.

Shortly before I planned to keep going, a German couple biked up from the opposite direction and asked if any restaurants were open. "Not that I could find," I told them, and they seemed immensely disappointed about that. Unlike me, they had counted on restaurants being open.

I said that I had some food I could share if they were hungry, but they waved it off and said that they'd be fine--although they would have to fill up with water from the fountain. (As I did.)

I packed up and said goodbye to the Germans on my way out of town. For the rest of the day, the trail led mostly downhill, and my progress went a lot faster. Plus, I sweat a lot less going downhill than uphill. 

The restaurants in town, however, were closed up tight. =( 
At least I could use the tables and chairs outside, though!

 

My guidebook warned me about "angry dogs" along a certain section of trail and to be wary of them--the first time my guide mentioned a specific location along the trail with angry dogs so it was a warning I definitely heeded. I filled my pockets with several rocks and kept a couple of them in hand figuring better safe than sorry.

And the guidebook was not wrong. Near that area, a few dogs that had been running loose came running at me like I was prey to be taken down and eaten. I shouted at them and waved my trekking pole around, and I immediately used one of my rocks and threw it as hard as I could at one of the dogs and they immediately paused their attack.

I pulled another rock out of my pocket and I kept yelling at the dogs to "back off" and swinging my trekking poles at them, all the while continuing down the trail and trying to put as much distance between me and the dogs. After a few minutes, the dogs left me alone, apparently no longer in their territory.

The trail passed by a small man-made reservoir, a stagnant pool of water used by livestock that I was happy to pass by since I had filled up with water in Himarë.

The small reservoir that I passed along the trail.

The trail hopped over a small ridge, perhaps 30 feet high, before plunging down a steep hillside where it flattened out in a small area near a valley bottom. It was only a little after 3:00 in the afternoon, quite early to stop for the day, but the weather forecast called for rain to start sometime between 4:00 and 5:00 and looking ahead on the map, I wasn't sure that I would find a better place to camp for the rest of the stage.

So I suggested to Karolina that we stop to camp for the night right then and there, and seeing the wisdom of my suggestion, agreed to it.

This gave us hours to kill before sunset, and I used the time to read the latest Reacher adventure on my Kindle. 

By 5:00, the rain still hadn't started, and I had begun to regret stopping so early in the afternoon. The whole point of stopping was to set up camp before any rain began, but if there was no rain, then there had been no reason to stop so early! 

The hours marched onward, and still the rain held off. Some ugly clouds did roll in, but no rain came from them.

However, a little after sunset, I saw a flash. Then another one. The fireflies were coming out!

And as darkness descended, the fireflies came out with a vengeance!  Hundreds and hundreds of them, all around the campsite, as far as the eye could see! It was positively magical! It reminded me of one of the best firefly displays I had ever seen while thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail. Wow, wow, wow!

I must have watched them for over an hour, mesmerized by the flashing lights before turning into bed and going to sleep. Maybe stopping so early for this campsite wasn't such a bad idea after all... =D

 

I tried to take photos and videos of the fireflies, but alas, they really didn't turn out. As amazing as it was to see in real life, they were much too dim for my cameras to catch. So instead, I'll show you what I ate for lunch: tortillas filled with salami and cheese. =)

 

A post about Albania would not be complete without a photo of more bunkers. =)

 

The trail today went quite high into the mountains and was even filled with a proper forest!

 

Road into Pilur

 

Water fountain in Pilur

 

Monument in Pilur