A Balkan Introduction
Leaving Greece
Returning to Greece we spend a few days relaxing by the sea. We can’t stay long because we’re on a mission to get to the Abentuer Allrad event in Germany. Between us and Allrad are the Balkan countries of which we know little to nothing about. Exciting, but first we have to cross the first hurdle and get into North Macedonia. Exiting Greece is easy but no one on the Greek side, nor in the no mans land between border posts can tell us where we can buy insurance for the next leg.
Unsure what to do, I make an executive decision to just wing it and see if we can get in. What’s the worst that could happen?
“Insurance!” demands the uniformed guard in the border control booth, his stoney face set in a cold hard unwelcoming grimace. We give him a long explanation as to the why’s and wherefores as to why we didn’t have any. “Green Card!” he barks back in response. I keep the reply short. “No.”
“You! Park There! Yellow Building!”, he barks and gestures angrily towards a yellowing building on the North Macedonian side of the border. “Buy Green Card! Fifty Euros!”. Finally, an answer. He keeps our passports and I do as I am told, no one seems concerned about me wandering passportless and undocumented into their country.
Inside the yellow building it is dark and gloomy and a group of stubbled men sit around a cluttered table drinking coffee. I’m not sure what I’ve just walked into so just smile and ask “Green Card?”. One of the men gets up and moves to a desk. Politely, he asks for the vehicle documents, confirms it will be fifty euros, cash obviously, and prints me out a piece of paper with the word insurance on it and gives it an official looking stamp.
North Macedonia
Returning to the border post, I present my newly printed insurance document. The grim uniformed guard stamps our passports and then, magically, his face transforms and breaks into a warm beaming smile. “Welcome to North Macedonia!”
We spend a few days around Ohrid and it’s namesake lake, it’s serene mirror like surface glinting in the sunlight. A man arrives with a number of laminated Id cards which apparently show he is a licensed bee keeper, honey producer and seller to tourists like ourselves.
Rosana turns into Winney the Pooh around honey so I know our finances are going to take a hit. The honey is delicious and the mead is strong enough to knock out a actual bear.
The Bay of Bones is the big tourist pull on the lake with coach loads of people navigating the narrow lanes to look out over the village in the water. Few seem to wander down to investigate further. That’s a shame because it’s an interesting journey back in time, but it will be the quiet beauty of the lake is going to be my lasting memory.
The Balkan countries offer some awesome hiking opportunities, but Rosana will not be in a fit state to hike for quite a while. Her injury is healing slowly and she’s still not able to walk far. Despite this we check out some of the hiking areas for future reference. Arriving at Rock Land Camp the local children become fascinated with our van and with Rosana. I find this quite entertaining as she’s not all that fond of children. I start to lose my sense of humour when they start flicking switches and pushing buttons in the van.
As we prepare to leave North Macedonia, we camp on the beautiful shores of Lake Mavrovo within the Mavrovo national park. It’s so quiet, just us, a herd of horses and a lost cow. Okay, the cow is not all that quiet but it’s worth having around for the comedy value of horse vs cow standoffs. In the afternoon sun we start to pack up the van to move closer to the border when I hear a vehicle coming down the rocky track to the lake. I look at the van with surprise, it’s an older version of our van which is rare enough, but this one is on Chilean plates.
The owners are a young Venezuelan couple and we are soon joined by their friends, an Argentinian/German couple in an old Fiat motorhome. We decide to stay another night. During the evening another van arrives, Spanish plated with a Spanish/French couple. A lot of travel is about meeting people and sometimes locals, sometimes other travellers and it’s a chance to exchange tales, recommend locations and talk of home.
Albania
Always cross borders early. That’s what everyone advises and it’s good advice. After lots of chatting and an inability to act on adioses, we arrive at the Albanian border late in the day.
We’ve run low on water and fuel and again we have no insurance. I can see the insurance office on the far side of the border post, although no one seems bothered in checking that we have any. But I am the cautious type so get some anyway.
The old boy in the insurance office seems confused about the whole process of selling insurance. Eventually I exchange fifty euros for an official looking piece of paper and we head off into the evening. The road disintegrates into a molasses of potholes within metres and our speed drops accordingly. We’re not going to get very far and due to our water situation, we agree to stop at the first campsite we see.
I am confused at first because it seems we have driven into the woman’s front garden. This is probably because we have, but luckily she also uses it as a campsite. At fifteen euros a night it doesn’t seem that Albania is all that cheap.
We get set up and the lady asks us to join her for coffee. Of course! Rosana doesn’t drink coffee, but she is offered quince juice instead. Slowly members of the family join us, culminating in the father-in-law who brings home distilled spirits.
He shows me pictures of his home made still. By this time I am grinning inanely because I am not really a big drinker and this stuff is frighteningly strong.
Eventually we excuse ourselves and wobble off to make dinner. Maybe we look too thin because no sooner than we have sat down to eat, our host appears at the door with half a loaf for freshly baked bread and the tastiest bowl of beans that I’ve every had. Simple food, cooked well.
The trend continues the next morning with further coffees with the family. Rosana gives all the girls bracelets that she has made and I try to drive out without running over their strawberry patch while they stand and wave us off.
Best fifteen euros we’ve ever spent on a campsite. I think we’re going to enjoy Albania.
Albania is not kind to vehicles. We are crossing the north of the country and the mountain roads are steep and in poor condition. I try to avoid the worst of the potholes, keep the engine temperature under control and not overheat the brakes. And then there’s the other drivers, the standard of driving is not all that high. It’s tiring, but rewarding work. The views are big and mountains bigger and if you ignore the litter it’s stunningly beautiful.
We treat Godzuki! to an oil change and a bath in Shkodër and my constant mechanical checking identifies failing balljoint and track rod boots, but they’ll get us home. Probably. What do I know, it’s not like I’m an actual mechanic.
It’s sad to have to leave Albania so soon, the people have been so welcoming, but time marches on and the Allrad date is not going to move back for us. Our entry into Montenegro is farcical. Other good advice for border crossings would be to avoid bank holidays. Of course, I had no idea the first of May was a bank holiday, that’s not how we do things in the UK. After getting through the queue at the border, no one asks for insurance and I can’t see an insurance office. By the time we reach the first town I know we’ve missed it, we turn around and join the queue in the opposite direction. On reaching the border I park up and go for a wander.
Montenegro
The insurance office is so well hidden it’s amazing they do any business at all. The lady behind the counter sternly refuses to sell me insurance. It’s fifteen euros a day if she were to sell it, but she won’t because I don’t need it. I assure her I do. But no, people from the UK don’t need to buy it. I concede defeat and try my insurance company, a company not well known for answering the phone all that promptly. Eventually I get through, confirm that I don’t have cover for Montenegro but they tell me that they can sell me some.
Great! Apart from the nagging doubt that they said exactly the same thing about Türkiye and then said they couldn’t. After some rather expensive time on hold, they confirm that no, they cannot provide cover. We give up and go back to Albania for a beer.
It’s the next morning and I come up with a plan. Try again. Not a great plan, I’ll admit. The border is quieter today, going north anyway. The queue coming south is long and mostly comprised of motorhomes. The lady behind the insurance counter sells me ten days insurance for fifteen euros. I even have the right amount in cash. We’re in!
The overriding impression of the Balkan countries so far has been just how green they are and Montenegro does not disappoint. After checking out beautiful but busy Kotor we head for the Durmitor national park where we meet up with Matt and Lucy and go for a short walk to a view point. Rosana manages okay but it’s on the limit of what she can manage right now.
We head down to a riverside camp sport for the evening, forty five minutes of steep hairpin bend roads which dissolve into a stony off road track. I lock in the hubs, select four wheel drive and low range and watch Matt bounce his van all over the place to make progress along the track. He’s on the brakes locking wheels while we are driving gracefully. That’s the difference, with some effort it’s possible to get a two wheel drive van to a lot of remote places, but we can do it in a much more mechanically sympathetic way.
The camping spot is stunning. An icy clear blue river races through the tree clad valley and we share it with a German and American in an awesome little Mitsubishi Delica. These four wheel drive vans are a marvel and hugely capable. The German offers to tow Matt up the hill if he needs it. In the morning we go our separate ways. Matt and Lucy are meeting family in Slovenia, we have a date to meet in Germany. I’m amazed Matt gets his van up the hill unaided, gung ho youth and heavy feet on his side.
We cross the Sedlo pass, the highest we’ve ever taken the van at 1900m. The views are stunning and continue to be so until we reach the far side where we make camp next to a damed river, not far from our next border crossing.
Flickr Albums: North Macedonia | Albania | Montenegro