Category: TD25

Rome again, home again, jiggedy jig

Date: July 24 – 31 2025

July 24, 25 | Roccosecco

With last night’s meal cooked by nonna still in our minds we took a quick detour for a cafe stop at the beautifully named Sant’Elia Fiumerapido, an ordinary, therefore very attractive, typical Italian small town.

 

Clever work by The Navigator meant we could skirt the city of Cassino on the way up to the Monte Cassino abbey on its 500 m perch above the city. It had been completely rebuilt in only a few years after its wartime bombing into rubble by the largest amount of explosives ever dropped on a single target, appalling vandalism reputedly watched from nearby hill tops by picnicking politicians and generals. It is now once again a magnificent building with potentially wonderful views over the surrounding plains to the mountains peeking through the smog, and we explored every nook and cranny.

We steamed on our way in 36° to stay with our friend Anne’s cousin, Kaye, a highly talented artist and Cassino battle expert who has lived in tiny Caprile, near the village of Roccosecca, for 18 years. Kaye gave us a tour of her area the next day, from the ruins of the 9th century fort high above to the first planned Roman road, the via Latina, near a church built out of salvaged Roman ruins. There’s so much history casually surrounding everything in this country that we’re no longer overawed by stepping on ancient relics, although it is always exciting to stumble on them in our aimful wanderings. This was our first day off the saddles in ages and to be driven around in an actual car was slightly discombobulating, as was hearing fluent English for the first time in weeks.

July 26 | Vico nel Lazio

After a quick ride into the now-closed Melfa Gorge – lovely but plagued by slips like our Manawatu gorge – we took on an almost Balkans level of climbing to the mountain village, Vico nel Lazio. It has been tidily restored for local consumption and we were once again the only foreigners in town although it was full of visitors for a celebration of some kind. The usual stalls full of gaudy toys and a sound stage were waiting for the early party crowd to arrive by 10pm, but we were starving after a long series of climbs with no supplies along the way so we wandered the narrow lanes in search of a regular eatery. Not a chance – everything was upmarket – it’s a ski town after all – and we weren’t well enough dressed for the first place, but luckily found Vicola Antico wine cellar where the pasta was a lesson in al dente, and the charming host struggled to pronounce “thank you” in response to my appallingly voiced compliments.

Accom: B&B Vico Suites

July 27 | Zagarolo

Our last day in the hills before we descend to Rome, and what a mixed feast. Our first attempt to avoid the slightly busy main road was thwarted when we found ourselves in a recently mown hay field with no way out, in spite of it being marked as a road on our maps. The next was more rewarding, a long straight narrow roughly gravelled path running parallel to the main road. Our suspicions were proved correct when we rode over a short section of the original large flagstones of a Roman road – no signage, no fuss, just an ordinary piece of history tucked away in a landscape full of such artefacts.

There was a bit of climb to Fiuggi, a large and busy resort filled city which we skirted and then we didn’t need to pedal for 22 km down a cycle path built on an old electric railway. Once we had taught our legs how to work again we climbed to the unanticipated treat of Genazzano, with its Roman gate and utterly original medieval and probably older streets and houses that made us seasoned village hunters go “wow” repeatedly. They also have a strange, pseudo ancient ruin, probably a folly built only a few hundred years ago, and the most recent pope visited their church two days after his selection, a proud local told me.

Zagarolo is on the top of a steep hill 2 km long and 100 m wide with an enormous palace blocking the whole width half way along. Our hostess bought us a coffee and a packet of local biscuits as a thank you for staying here, and the locals grouped on the streets, chatting in the warmth of a late Sunday evening, all greeted us with a friendly, softly spoken “buona sera” as we took our passagiata after our home cooked fresh pasta with pesto.

Accom: Casa Campanfiore

July 28 | Rome and more

With our heavy duty raincoats ready we set off on the final day, deciding while sheltering from the first storm to take a longer ride around the thunder-clouded scenic route we had planned. Eventually we turned onto the final part of the via Appia Antica and thanked our suspension for the smoother ride over the flagstones than the ancient Romans had had on their wooden and iron wheels.

Rome is not a village and therefore not a destination for this trip. We rode in triumph through the main gate, (against the one way traffic), dodged the crowds of Jubilee year pilgrims and one last cloud burst, glimpsed the Circus Maximus as our only sightseeing event and followed the Tiber on cycleways nearly all the way to Fiumicino to prepare for the flight home. Jill’s phone battery failure meant we had a final exciting 10 km on an almost motorway after missing a turn, but it was rush hour so the traffic was almost stationary.

Isola Sancra, an island in the lagoon of the Tiber delta where we are staying is effectively a village, with 2 small, well-stocked supermarkets, a cafe and a restaurant, so we feel comfortable here. It will be our home for the next four days.

Accom: Garden Basement

July 29 -31 | Logistics

The local bike shops had no boxes so we took the bike path we missed yesterday back to a mega shopping district where Decathlon had just unpacked two bikes. Back and forth with taxis and further excursions to find out where Italians buy duct tape (Hint: Ferramata, small hardware shops are interesting throwbacks to decades ago pre-Bunnings era proper hardware stores, but are eye wateringly expensive). We took one last ride to the mouth of the Tiber where we found fishermen repairing the nets of their crane fishing rigs and had a coffee at the Free Love cafe by the end of the road by the rebuilt lighthouse that had been ancient until the Germans destroyed it while sulking in retreat.

Back at our last home in Italy we disassembled the bikes and boxed them, with the batteries going to a Roman bike shop. We’ll have one last meal at a local highly recommended trattoria specialising in cucina tipica (local grub) and it’s all over.

It’s too soon to summarize all this. You may not believe me after all these long raves, but words fail me. Hopefully my memories will not.

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Roccosecco – Vico nel Lazio

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Vico nel Lazio – Zagarolo

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Zagarolo – Isola Sancra

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The Southern Appennines

Date: July 16 – 23 2025

This is just a record for ourselves really — we’re travelling happily and slowly, taking each day as it comes, and wishing it wasn’t ending so soon.

16 July | Matera – Tricarico

A quick note on why we tour on eMTBs. Today’s ride is a perfect example of what counts as a “road” according to the three mapping apps we use. Many of these so-called roads start as gravel, then morph into grass tracks, faint dirt paths alongside fields, or blackberry-choked single track that would be unmanageable without full suspension and electric assist. Sometimes, we’re pushing — hike-a-bike style. No, we’re not too old for this sort of nonsense… but yes, we carry a PLB.

We’re picking each day’s destination based on distance, climbing, and the chance of finding a grocery store — or on bloody European Sundays, a cheapish restaurant. There is no retail on Sundays.

Tricarico delivered: an enormous apartment, a little worn but clearly in the family for generations, and an authentic small-town festa. Their patron saint had already been paraded around town, and that evening there was a free concert and fireworks. We wandered out around 9 p.m. while it was still quiet, but the stage and stalls were ready to go. At midnight, we were jolted awake by fireworks that felt like they were being launched from the rooftop. A good, genuine kind of town.

Accom: Malvarosa

17 July | Possidente

We stopped in Pietragalla en route to visit the Palmenti di Pietragalla – 400-year-old hobbit-like wine-making caves. There are about 200 of them dug into the rock, each with a grape-stomping chamber and a pit below for fermentation. There’s little signage, but we were lucky enough to meet a young local woman who explained everything. Most were originally owned by local families; some still are, others now preserved by the government.

Our hosts in Possidente, Angelo and Anna Possidente, were extremely friendly and told us 60% of the town’s 700 residents are related.

Accom: La Casetta Di Anna

18 July | Conza della Campania

A steady ride to the replacement town of Conza della Campania, rebuilt in the ’80s after a devastating 1980 earthquake. Nearly 3,000 people died and 250,000 were left homeless.

Of the $40 billion allocated to reconstruction, only $9.6 billion actually reached the people. The rest? About $20 billion went to creating a new class of local millionaires, $6 billion to the Camorra, and $4 billion in political bribes. You can see the evidence across the region — rebuilt towns, funded projects that were never built, and empty subdivisions.

Conza itself feels like a West German aid project: a gridded layout with uniform houses. Not bad, but quite unlike the organic chaos of a typical Mediterranean town.

Accom: 12 Nocembre

19 July | Mirabella Eclano

No blackberry-blocked single tracks today — a relief. Mirabella has Roman ruins (Aeclanum) and a world-class supermarket. The ruins are part of the old Via Appia and can be freely explored for a modest fee.

Pam’s supermarket is the most impressive deli we’ve ever seen: a whole wall of chilled fresh pasta, an aisle of dried pasta, an army of deli meats with three butchers ready to chat, and a cheese and wine section that goes on forever. Typical of Italy — unchilled beer and no junk food.

Accom: B&B Relais Aeclanum

20 July | Campolattaro

A 43 km ride turned into 60 with a detour from a too-busy road and some bonus laps of Benevento (accurately translatable as “Good Fart”). The route looked tame on the map but hid several brutal climbs, including a new record: 22°.

Highlight of the day? Finding an open supermarket. On a Sunday.

Accom: La Magnolia sul Lago

21 July | Guardiaregia

We’ve found ourselves on the Appennino Cycle Trail, a 3,000 km route running the length of Italy. We’ll follow it for a few days. It’s mostly tar-sealed, scenic, and nearly car-free — absolute luxury.

We cruised 41 km through forests and farmland, with a Roman ruin along the way that Jill thought was spectacular. I’m all crumblied out so I sat in the shade and played with the inevitable friendly stray dogs. Guardiaregia is a classic vertical village – stacked up a hillside and totally non-English-speaking. Real Italy.

Accom: Il Palazzetto dei Briganti Trans: The little palace of the brigands

22 July | Isernia

A gentle 500 m climb through the Matese Regional Park — a perfect day’s riding. Smooth sealed roads, hardly any traffic, and a final descent to Isernia’s lovely old town. We might be the only foreigners here.

Accom: Residenze Portacastello

23 July | Sant’Elia Fiumerapido

Another glorious day on quiet roads. Our one off-road section was blocked by a conveniently bulldozed barrier — someone must’ve known we were coming and the only route around it involved a few 20° climbs. For the non-cyclists, that’s Very Bloody Steep.

We’re staying on the outskirts of town, so Sant’Elia itself remains undescribed. But we do have a view of Monte Cassino and since it’s only a 500 m climb we’ll visit it in the morning.

Only a week left in Italy now — and some of that will have to be spent finding boxes and dismantling bikes. The adventure continues, but it’s starting to feel like the home stretch.

Accom: L’Airone Country House

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Matera – Tricarico

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Tricarico – Possidente

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Possidente – Conza della Campania

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Conza della Campania – Mirabella Eclano

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Mirabella Eclano – Campolattaro

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Campolattaro – Guardiaregia

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Guardiaregia – Isernia

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Isernia – Sant’Elia Fiumerapido

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Stone houses, stone walls and cave dwellers

Date: 12 – 15 July 2025

12 July | Brindisi – Martina Franca

Brindisi is an attractive port city with a wide pedestrian promenade along the harbour — and a surprising lack of apartments or hotels overlooking it. There’s a large Roman column marking the end of the Via Appia, the ancient road from Rome. I’ve got a bit of a thing for old Roman roads, so Brindisi had a head start with me.

We thought we should check out the much-praised beaches north of the city. After a painful wind through shoreline suburbs, our first glimpse of this supposed paradise was people perched on deck chairs scattered across a wide reef — no way to swim, but at least they could see the sea. The next 20 km revealed every scrap of sandy shoreline occupied by lidos, each with loud music and bars. I said to Jill the nearest nice beach is in New Zealand, and we headed inland towards trullo country.

Trulli are the cone-shaped houses Puglia is famous for. Stacked stone walls and houses are everywhere in the Mediterranean — a natural way of clearing fields and creating permanent structures — but these take it to another level. The first ones we saw were like upside-down grey ice cream cones in an olive grove. We trespassed to have a closer look inside — relax, they weren’t occupied.

Soon we were among whitewashed architectural cones perched incongruously on New Mexican-inspired lifestyle blocks in subdivided olive orchards. Thankfully, that didn’t last long, but it showed how strong a theme the trulli are in this region. We spent the afternoon riding narrow lanes lined with dry stone walls, passing ancient olive groves and trulli both derelict and spruced up for tourist accommodation. Finally, we climbed to Martina Franca, where we’d booked a place in the Old Town — with some trepidation.

Happily, it turned out to be an unexploited old town with tidy, narrow streets and mostly lived-in houses. Puglia has a reputation as Original Italy and, although it’s becoming increasingly discovered, it largely ignores its potential for tour buses of gawping day trippers. After a late dinner, we joined the passeggiata — the leisurely Italian evening stroll — and found the streets packed with locals. Groups of children played, teenagers hung out stylishly, families wandered, and cafes were full. Mediterraneans start going out at 9 or 10 o’clock — about when Ponsonby is closing — and when we called it a night at midnight, they showed no sign of slowing down.

Accom: Domus Alba

13 July | Alberobello and Locorotondo

Next stop was Alberobello, with a side trip to Locorotondo — the first for its UNESCO-listed trulli (hundreds of them, sanitized and entirely for tourists), the second because of all the o’s in its name. Both are firmly on the tourist circuit, especially Alberobello, dangerously veering towards becoming Disneyfied. 

The roads around them more than made up for it, winding past stone walls, olive groves, genuine trulli, and plenty of simple, rustic beauty.

Accom: Casa Vacanza Trullo Dimora Storica Morea

14–15 July | Matera

Next came Matera — another UNESCO site, famous for its cave-dwelling recent past. The Italian government forcibly evicted its residents in 1950, partly because they were embarrassed by such primitive living conditions when trying to join the postwar developed nations. There was also the small matter of rampant disease, no water or sanitation, and a 58% child mortality rate.

Over the last twenty years, the former caves have been tastefully converted into hotels and shops, and the tourists are lapping it up. So did we. We took a guided tour with a highly enthusiastic local archaeologist who explained that the area has been continuously inhabited for 14,000 years — the third oldest such place in the world.

You can’t see the caves from the streets because over the centuries they’ve been built outward. The cliffs now look like Flintstones-style apartment blocks, with neighbours above building onto the arched roofs of those below and streets forming where needed. A vast interconnected cistern system stores winter water for the long, dry summer — remarkable engineering by people who were, in relative terms, just out of the Stone Age.

Three days of being tourists is enough. It’s time we started travelling again.

Accom: L’ Alba Sulla Murgia

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Brindisi to Martina Franca

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 to Alberobello and Locorotondo

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to Matera

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An island of two halves

Date: July 9 – 12

We might have been about 30 years too late to see Corfu at its best. The contrast between the absolutely charming interior which begins about ½ km from the coast, and the very well exploited beaches makes it two completely different countries and 4 or 5 days is nowhere near long enough to be able to comment adequately on either of them.

We rode off the ferry directly to our first accommodation at Tarkis Family Tavern  which promised live music at night, but only provided a moussaka that taught me how it should be made. I started to like this island, but next morning just around the corner we struck an intensely commercialised beach crowded with people who see the world differently from me. An espresso at four times the price of yesterday’s Albanian wake-up call cemented my prejudices and Jill worked hard to find a nice big hill and some gravelled back roads to restore my equanimity on the way to our next place – another of the 2% in our price range. This one had a pool, a major attraction even in the now declining heatwave.

I also suffered a terrible tragedy when my Brooks B17 saddle broke, but by a wonderful coincidence one of the two bike stores on the island was right next door and had a cheapie that will get me home, but the difference between the pure pleasure of the perfectly crafted English leather and this one is Very noticeable. I was going to send it back to the same factory in England where they have been hand crafted in the same way since 1880, but it bounced off the back of my bike on one of Jill’s interesting side roads and it’s gone forever. It takes ages for a new one to mould itself to perfectly fit your bum, but that’s the price you pay for perfection.

 

We thought we would hire a boat and go looking for deserted beaches so we booked 2 nights at the next small town, but our research didn’t reveal that Paleokastritsa is one of the hottest holiday spots on the island. We could hardly see the TMZs for resortwear-clad women, rented quads and motor scooters filled the streets with excitable children (in their 20s) impressing each other and we retreated to our “hotel” and its pool. We had had a brilliant ride on very rough roads and tracks to get there though, and loved the little villages with their multiple pastel coloured houses, so the contrasts continued.

A mean wind blew up and cancelled the boat trip, so another short ride to see more of Corfu’s villages followed by a Fish Bourdeto (Corfu speciality) at a seaside restaurant saved the day.

A back-road ride back to Corfu port the next day and a 6 hour ferry ride took us to Brindisi near the bottom of Italy from where we will aimlessly ride to Rome, not following any special route but sort of thinking about the next day as we go.

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Kontokali to Acharavi

Accom: Tzilios Studios

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Acharavi to Paleokastritsa

Accom: Arianna

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Day trip

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Back to Corfu

 

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The southern parts

Date: 4 – 7 July 2025

July 3 | Dolna Garica – Kamenice
We rode just beyond Korçë (too big, too busy) and stayed that night in Kamenicë, a small, spread-out village nestled into the head of a valley. Lodge Veis is a log cabin run by a very nice couple. The hostess and her mother milk their ten goats twice a day and make feta, and brought us a generous sample after dinner along with her raki. Donkeys are used routinely for transport in the village, and the free-ranging livestock wear gently clonking bells that make calming background music. That sound will forever trigger happy memories.

July 4 | Kamenice – Lake Shelegur
I didn’t take many photos today, which surprised me because it was immensely enjoyable, with alpine meadows backed by steep, heavily treed slopes stretching up forever. Very light traffic even on the state road and virtually none on the wiggly old road when we had the opportunity to use it.

And absolutely no rubbish! Everywhere else on this tour, increasingly as we moved south, we’ve been struck by the casual attitude towards littering. Not far north of here, roads were continuously fly-tipped and we supposed their houses must be impeccably clean. Strangely, when we went to put a plastic bottle in a bin, there was always a show of thumbs up and a “bravo” or two, but the litter was overwhelming. Not so in this part of the south at all.

Our accommodation was an unpretentious small hotel looking over a very attractive small alpine lake in a National Park jointly cared for by a Greek–Albanian partnership. Just another very good day.

July 5 | Lake Shelgur to Kelcyre

We left too early for breakfast, trying to beat the heat, but had a great omelette in Leskovik. Then we headed down a back road that none of our bike routing apps would recommend. It was about 700 m of a slow, winding descent on broken and washed-out macadam, as they call it here – gravel held together with tar. There was no traffic, because this road has been replaced by a flash new one, but there were a few older men gathering herbs for their mountain tea.

On the other side of a deep and impossibly steep valley there were a few vineyards, and at the end of the valley, faraway mountains loomed so large they never seemed to get closer. I think we let out more involuntary “wows” per kilometre than even in Durmitor, and it scored very highly. This road, and yesterday’s, will one day be a major scenic route.

At the end we emerged in Çarçovë, where Bar Restaurant Ana deserves a Michelin star for the best grilled veges on bread – all home grown by Ana – which fuelled us for the next 30 scenic kilometres through the Këlcyrë Gorge. It was hot as hell and we jumped into the river fully clothed, splashed ourselves at ice-cold roadside springs, and pressed on.

 

July 6 | Kelcyre – Gjirokaster

A day when I really felt that the title of this website fits me properly – I turned 75.
Our next stop was Gjirokastër which sounds like a brand of fishing reel and was the birthplace of Enver Hoxha, but apart from that we knew nothing about it. It was a hot and uninteresting slog along a state highway, and a final very stiff climb up to the old town, where we had booked an apartment in the old Diplomats House – a UNESCO-protected landmark. This town is a bit of a local tourist mecca, and we sat on our balcony looking out over stone roofs to the Ottoman houses below the enormous castle, as tour groups lined up to take photos of the uniquely yellow house. We were given a guided tour of the interior by our host’s mother – I think the eighth generation to live here.

After dinner we walked further up the hill to the buzzing TMZ and sampled the local dessert, oshaf – sheep milk yoghurt with figs and cinnamon – and I felt thoroughly birthdayed.

 

July 7 | Gjirokaster – Saranda

Our last day in Albania was punctuated by a few attempts to sightsee. An old bridge, some Greek/Roman ruins, a field of bunkers, and a Blue Eye (a spring with an extensive TMZ) were hardly a reason to pause, so we carried on to Saranda and caught the next ferry to Corfu for a brief holiday before the final leg – tracing the ancient Via Appia from Brindisi to Rome.

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Gorica e Vogel to Kamenice

Accom: Lodges Veis

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Kamenice to Lake Shelgur

Accom: Resort Mezini

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Lake Shelgur to Kelcyre

Accom: Cosy Riverside Apartment

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Kelcyre – Gjirokaster

Accom: The Home of Diplomacy

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Gjirokaster to Saranda

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A glimpse of another country

Date: 30 June – 3 July 2025

We can’t claim to have seen North Macedonia, or at least I hope we haven’t. Our route skirted around Lake Ohrid on the NM side, and while we began in an untouched backwater, Radozhda, the rest of the lakeside is heavily touched.

Our next stop was the city of Ohrid, and the only reason I’m not making the obvious jokes is thanks to the dinner we had on the outermost jetty of a restaurant offering a carbon-copy version of the traditional local menu. The food was fine, the sun setting over the lake was sublime, and although my reaction to the seething hordes of fellow tourists was utterly predictable, the evening won me over, so no ‘orrid jokes from me.

The following day was a short one, what we call a day off. We had wanted to visit Sveti Naum, the monastery established in 905 AD and one of NM’s main attractions. We had heard they served meals and I had imagined a monk serving tankards of dark ale, but settled instead for a plastic cup of draught beer and a pizza by the lake as the whole site is now just a large and tidy TMZ. We swam near the spring that feeds the slightly slimy lake and left feeling no holier for the experience.

Next day, an awesome ride 800 m up and down over the Galicica National Park took us to the border and to one of the best experiences of the whole tour.

Dolna Gorica is a small village with gravel roads and free-range livestock. Chickens, sheep and cows wander freely, and donkeys rummage in rubbish bins. Curiously, most houses date from the 1960s, with only the occasional crumbling mudbrick shed to remind us of older times.

Zana, our host, invited us to the family home at the far end of the village for a home-cooked meal – for a modest price, and made entirely from her garden. Even the cheese and wine were hers. The fish, roasted on a bed of diced potatoes, carrots and garlic, came from the lake – close enough. While we ate, she wandered off to find her cow (named Baba), milked it, and started on that evening’s cheesemaking.

Breakfast (included) was a repeat performance, and we were heavily loaded as we pedalled over the 300 m hillock to Korçë — and the end of our TransDinarica journey.

From here we’ll freelance our way across southern Albania, catch a ferry to Corfu, then another to Italy for more fun with the Apennines and Roman roads.

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Radozhda to Ohrid

Accom: Villa Malezan

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Ohrid to Trpejca

Accom: Villa Geros Trpejca

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Trpejca to Gorica e Vogel

Accom: Prespa`s Balcony Guesthouse

 

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To North Macedonia

Date: 27 – 29 June

June 27 | Tirane – Elbasan

Leaving Tirane we were immediately led on a typical TransDinarican-style diversion up the hilliest way out of town they could find. It gave us the promised views of the city – albeit obscured by smog – and the welcome sight of live Hermann’s tortoises on the road. They’ve replaced snakes as the common roadkill over the last few days, so we rescued a few and watched a pair battling for territory by repeatedly headbutting each other.

Our destination was Elbasan, whose claim to fame is a fortified old town. Originally built in the 3rd century by Diocletian (the same Roman emperor who gave Split its massive castle), this one differs in its complete lack of commercialisation. There’s a tastefully installed alfresco dining area in one corner, but the rest is original – lived-in houses, tiny winding streets, and ankle-twisting cobblestones. A section of the ancient Via Egnatia runs right through it so we bounced along it the next morning on our soft tyres, thinking of the ancient Romans shaking their teeth out on their way to Turkey.

Accom: Green House

June 28 – Elbasan to Librazhd

The TD route would have taken us to Moglicë, but there was no accommodation available, so we had the bright idea of traversing to the main route by heading up to Librazhd. Simple, we thought, there’s a road straight up there by a river. It’s a state road, so The Navigator got out her compass and maps and worked out a Plan to ride around most of it.

Caution: Do not try to follow this route.

Especially if it has been raining. You won’t be able to get back onto the main road by the time you read this.

Geez it was fun though. A massive, steep climb through small villages, roads turning into goat tracks and dry, rutted dirt paths that would be impassable after even a light shower. There was a café halfway where children impressed their parents by practising their English on us – What is your name? and looking astonished when they understood my answer. When we finally rejoined the last 10 km of the highway, it had become an unfinished motorway — so we rode along the unused side until we could safely join the main road. We had big, happy grins on our faces and had completely forgotten the long, hot flat plains of the previous days.

Accom: Home 12

June 29 – Librazhd to Radozhda (North Macedonia)
A steady climb mostly along the main road on a quiet Sunday morning led to a final 400 m ascent to the North Macedonian border. Just beyond was Lake Ohrid – the largest natural lake in the Balkans – waiting for us at the bottom of the hill.

We had spotted an interesting road leading down to it on our bike-routing app and turned onto what was basically a farm track just past the customs station. Like yesterday’s adventure it got rougher and less road-like the further we went, eventually becoming a full-on MTB single track. We were no longer on the road the app had imagined was there but we were heading downwards and somebody must have been there before so we ploughed on. Then came the best surprise yet: an actual original section of the Via Egnatia out there in the middle of uncharted nowhere where we walked on flagstones laid 2,000 years ago as part of the Roman Empire’s main highway between the Albanian coast and Turkey.

There’s no mention of it in any guidebook – you’d have to be as lost as we were to find it – but if you know where to look and zoom in closely, it’s there on Google Maps.

It’s only 27° here this evening, the guesthouse has a restaurant over the water, and we are the only tourists on this side of the lake. What a great introduction to another new country.

Accom: Villa Radozda

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Tirane – Elbasan

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Elbasan to Librazhd

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Librazhd to Radozhda

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Stari Bar

Date: 22 – 26 June

Stari Bar | June 22 – 24

We had heard about Stari Bar on the southern coast of Montenegro, described as a non-commercialised old town (stari means “old”), which is almost unheard of in Europe. We’d seen one earlier on the Ciro Trail at Počitelj, but most restored historic areas tend to succumb to the same formula — neatly paved streets, every house converted into a café, souvenir shop, jewellery store or big-brand outlet like Esprit. Tourists love them and the locals move out. We usually avoid them.

Stari Bar turned out to be a good combination. The old castle and fort are run as an open-air museum with good, unobtrusive signage and very little restoration, aside from repairs to earthquake damage from the big one in 1979. The densely packed TMZ is limited to the original street leading up to the castle gates, and we missed it completely by taking a side route.

On the way — thanks to a Jill-led detour — we came across the oldest tree in Europe. Really! A 2,400-year-old olive tree, scruffy, gnarled, twisted and pockmarked old sweetie. Nearby groves are filled with 2,000-year-old olive trees still producing fruit – a testament to Bar’s long-standing title as the olive oil capital of the Balkans.

Our apartment for the two nights was a bit special. It sat high above the sea (290 steep steps up), with a wide view of the ocean. The owner also runs a four-table restaurant right on his private, concrete “beach,” serving food mostly caught by his own hand. As the sun set over the horizon and he delivered a plate of perfectly grilled octopus, I was inspired to make all my friends back home in wintery New Zealand as jealous as possible.

Accom: Apartments Dora

Tirane | June 24 – 25

We had to backtrack to Shkoder to rejoin the TD route, which meant a couple of long, hot days on the flat plains heading towards Tirana – 90 km one day, 83 the next. Some of it felt a bit third world: pony carts, and in one small village, a boy under an umbrella trying to sell canal fish from a bucket of warm water, but there were also cool motor scooter carts and a tiny tractor pulling a mountain of hay, with a few hitchhikers perched on top.

Tirana, on the other hand, is a different world. It’s full of tall modern buildings (Google “architecture in Tirana” – it’s worth a look), along with large mosques and the powerful Bunk’Art 2 museum. That one tells the story of Albania since 1913, with a focus on the Hoxha years from 1944 to 1993, when the country was heavily repressed and isolated. It was grim, but air conditioned.

It’s 35°C now and we’re taking a day off to plan our next steps. Rather than heading south into even more heat, we’re going north into North Macedonia, then back to the coast. From there we’ll cross to Corfu, then over to Italy, where we’ll fly out of Rome. From now on we’ll be riding in the early mornings and finding air-conditioned shelter in the afternoons to survive the Mediterranean summer.

 

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Shkoder to Dobra Voda

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Dobra Voda to Stari Bar

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Dobra Voda to Lezhe

Accom: Kris’s apartment