The Vjosa - Life Giving

The healing cycles of transformation and time emit,

Rays on the path forwards, except,

There is no path.

Only the river knows, the curves,

Of the earth better than herself.

In celebration of the sweet surrender to such,

An exchange alit.

Earlier, this summer, flying out into the mist above Glasgow, the grey precludes an element of the anticipatory until the rivers appear snaking below as the clouds clear above Northern Europe, glinting a wink to my aeroplane window.  I am not, unlike Neil, a seasoned paddler.  In my pre-teen years, I would kayak weekly with a local club, but aside from a rare holiday paddle, I had a long 25-year break from kayaking, until I teamed up with some instructors for some yoga and adventure retreats on Arran a few years ago.  Reigniting a nostalgic passion from my adolescence, for the sport.  A few months later, following some turbulent life events, I meet Neil from Rubbish Paddlers.  Himself, as well, embarking on new life chapters.  He reminds me on our flight, of the aims of Rubbish Paddlers: to raise awareness of the rubbish that gathers along our waterways; to encourage an inter-national ‘clean-up’, greater preservation and appreciation of these nature highways; and to promote safe and fun paddling through these beauty spots, along the way.

Neil was hungry for his next expedition, and I have long been drawn to the wilderness for adventure.  After a few training paddles on Ayrshire’s rivers, I trust Neil as a guide, and we plan our pilgrimage to the Blue Heart of Europe that winds its way from the Pindus mountains of Greece, down through rocky valleys into Albania.  The river of Greek Gods/Goddesses, Byzantine Empires and Ottoman Forts: the Vjosa.  Meaning, ‘life-giving’, as of course our natural water highways have been since time began.

The Vjosa Wild River National Park was established in March 2023 and is said to protect the entire flow of the Vjosa, and four tributaries whilst encouraging eco-tourism and benefits for the local communities.  Vjosanationalpark.al states ‘The concept was created in efforts to safeguard rivers, and their habitats, with freshwater ecosystems the most threatened in the world’.  The Vjosa is ‘free-flowing’ from its source: as in there are no weirs, hydro-electric plants or damns along its trajectory, perfect for paddlers.

We arrive via Corfu and catch the ferry (without any technical hitches 😉) to the Albanian coastal haven of Sarandë.  From there, we muster our muscle for our backpacks and catch an early morning bus to Përmet.  A beautiful, lively town in Gjirokastër County, Albania’s water-sports answer to our Aviemore.  Our craft are a Mekong Pablo Whisky Bar pack-raft for me, whilst Neil carries a 25kg pack with his Bluefin Cruise 108 SUP.   After some strong coffee and delicious bitter-orange cake, we pump up the boats and take to the water in 35 degree C sunshine, sunhats essential.  With my limited training, we aim for the class I/II rapids down-stream of Përmet, aiming for a gentler flow back towards the estuary near Vlorë.

The bright blue, azure water, from the calcium carbonate of the accompanying limestone rocky banks, ushers us quickly onwards down through said rapids, that are surprisingly ‘chunky’ according to Neil.  They activate our adrenals as he takes a few swims and I feel a little shaky, thankful to have stayed afloat on our first section.  We have a break for some trail-mix and to breathe.  After our pause, I feel a little more capable to continue, getting used to the pattern of checking the landscape whilst the river flattens out, to see how and where the water drops down.  Choosing our channel to progress, knowing the river gushes faster alongside the cliffs as opposed to the beaches.  A pair of bright Kingfishers guide our route forward, like cresting surf from the azure, blue river, darting bursts of flight.

Except now, the temperature continues to rise, our trip away coinciding with one of Europe’s strongest summer heatwaves this year.  Neil suggests we reap reprieve from the heat in the affordance of a conglomerate cave… I hesitate, thinking of the beasties who might have had the same idea but acquiesce after Neil’s reccy uncovers no slithering or crawling companions.  We pause here for a couple of hours, rest, drink water and contemplate.  Originally planning a few nights of wild camps, the heat and up-stream winds challenge us to re-assess and google provides our answer.  The Wild River Guesthouse at the next village of Piskovë becomes our new target.

Yet after we set off in the late afternoon sun, Neil faces another challenge, his SUP paddle snaps between a rock and a hard place, our adventure teetering on the precipice of failure, if not for his trusty duct-tape, and spare kayak paddle. Phew 😊.

As we reach the beach before Piskovë, our luck changes and we meet a young Albanian family swimming in the river, they speak great English like most of the kids we meet along our journey, and their Dad offers us a lift along the road to the guesthouse with our packs.  The friendly hosts provide us fresh water, home-made wine and Rake, an Albanian fruit spirit ‘for men’, I’m told!  I have a taste but prefer the wine and we enjoy their hospitality and air-conditioning for the night after quite the eventful day!

We start Day 2 on the Vjosa well rested and well fed from our guest-house brekkie including a selection of wonderful home-made jams, the rapids assist our progress down-stream, and our continued mental and physical focus is needed to navigate these.  Heading toward the village of Këlcyrë knowing we’ll again need to hide from the heat of the day in the early afternoon, this time with some delicious lemon sodas.  Before then, we meet the most challenging rapid section.  I miss a turn between some rocks and become wedged beside the bank, Neil to the rescue, releases and rides my raft down the rapids as I scramble along the riverbank, and we pause at an eddy again to review our route.  The rocks provide the perfect spot for some jumps into the current and we cool off.

Beyond the village as the sun moves closer toward the horizon, we enter the most beautiful part of our journey, the Këlcyrë gorge.  Conglomerate on one side and cliffs of Karst on the other, all the way up to the high Balkan peaks, Neil informs me we’re travelling along a fault line.  Underground springs create the Black Water of Këlcyrë and sparkling waterfalls splash down through the setting sun, from above.  A convergence zone of the horizontal and vertical, I love these kinds of magical places in time and space, a kinetic melding of a moment.

Our rafts glide us further along toward the green foothills of Peshtan, we had chosen a campsite with good reviews, a mile or so from the Vjosa up a valley, although we hadn’t quite investigated the elevation incline.  We stash our boats beside a stone tumble-down structure and head up through the weaving and winding sheep-trails along the valley.  The sun dropping, we’re keen to reach camp before our head-torches are needed, I seem to find a burst of energy, excited to use my legs for walking on dry land again up the 300m.  Mira, our camp hostess welcomes us, and I feel a little light-headed.  Fresh water from the nearby spring, and some Byrek me Spinaq, amazing spinach pastries revive us enough to pitch our tent and shower, we rest for the night.

In the morning, Mira shows us some war artifacts from Greco-Italian battles that were fought on Albanian soil during WWII.  The Albanian people I intuit are resourceful, resilient and tough, having made it through many an era of global turmoil.  There is a warmth also, to their welcome that perhaps can only come from the survival of such.

Her son offers us a lift back to the river rather than the sheep trails, which we gratefully accept after a hearty porridge cooked on our stove.  We’re dropped off at the other side of the river from our rivercraft but it’s shallow and calm, so Neil can swim across to retrieve before we set sail for the day.  I get ready to pack the raft and enjoy a swim also.  Shortly, a shepherd and his flock appear with his trusty sheepdog, Neil shouts across for me to see, we had been enjoying watching these sights along our river-cruise.  Except as Neil strides out toward our gear as the sheep still surge down the valley, Shep the sheepdog is somewhat anxious and warns him to hold-off with a sharp bite to his calf.  Erk.  Oh, bugger.

Once the SUP is ready, he drifts across back to me and shows me his war-wound.  It looks like it might need a stitch.  Why, I wonder, are the river-gods/(goddesses?) so pissed off with him...!?  Thinking of rabies and the like, we try to call an ambulance, except the Albanian operator is none-too-impressed that I can’t speak Albanian, so I quickly hang-up.  We try Mira, our friend from the campsite who calls us a taxi whilst we pack up.  I sense our taxi-come-ambulance driver enjoys the excuse to increase his speed as we fly back along the sides of the gorge to Këlcyrë, retracing our steps past the beautiful gorge, to tend to Neil’s right leg.  The team of four female medical staff hold him down, for the jab on the bum and I kindly photograph the moment for posterity 😊.  Albanian healthcare, we found thankfully, was fast and free.

We decide to stay off the water for the rest of the day, to avoid an infected wound and suss out where to catch a bus to Tepelenë for the evening.  After our first two days of adventure on the river and due to dealing with the unrelenting heat, I was happy to enjoy more air conditioning and more rest, although our original hopes of reaching the estuary within the week were dwindling.  A glass of Albanian wine and a game of Shithead (cards) lightens the mood.

In the morning, we wake early to make the most of the cooler temperatures and head down the steep steps from Ali Pasha’s castle toward Ali Pasha’s bridge carrying our packs.  We see an easy access point to the river across the other side of the bridge, which proves to be picturesque but rather rickety with a few missing planks, the adrenaline kicking in early that day.  The river valley is wider here, and the flow is faster. Our next challenge is picking the best route from the ‘braided channels’ of alluvial deposits.  We make fast progress, travelling 5 miles to Memaliaj in half the time it had taken for the same distance on our first days on the river.  My confidence is buoyed, thinking, perhaps we could reach the next campsite in Poçem by evening.  Except we hadn’t really reached the hot part of the day.  We travel on and I notice the heron flying up into the tree canopy, I’m sure we could find some shade from the trees, if not the caves for our afternoon reprieve.  The wide river bends meander on and the dry landscape taunts Neil with mirages of Cornetto ice-creams as he transforms our rafts into a gondola, serenading and gives me a break for a while.

We find a beach with a little shade from the riverbank to stop off.  Here, the land is so dry, it had formed desiccation cracks in the mud.  As I dock and step out toward the shade, I disturb a large wolf spider who had made the cracks it’s hunter’s hide.  An arachnophobe since I saw the Tarantula Scene in Dr. No at a young age, I squeal and for some reason throw my life jacket away.  Wolf spider decides to make good use of this newfound damp shade.  Ferk.  Neil to the rescue again and we sit upon the Bluefin SUP as an extra layer of protection from the desiccation dens.  I kept getting the name wrong and calling them desecration cracks.  Hopefully not an omen!

I pick up on the vibe as we leave wolf-spider territory and comment that it feels a little ominous heading off into the hot heat along the river through what feels like desert lands, with the upstream wind picking up, not really knowing when we would find decent shelter and our water resources diminishing. Not really! Says Neil. It’s just one paddle stroke after another.

We make it another three kilometres before we pause amongst some bushes for shade.  I’m able to cool off in the river, but Neil is still guarding his wound, he lies down stating he feels like a ‘couped ewe’.  We laugh, but he doesn’t look like he’s enjoying the heat much.  Google to the rescue again, and the Vjosa Guest House of Iliras on the other side, beckons.  Except there is no room at the inn.  Can we camp?  I ask. 15EUR with breakfast and it’s a deal says the host’s son via WhatsApp.  Done.  They even had a donkey, which would have been handy to carry our stuff up the steep slopes to the village.  We manage most of the way, but Neil is not feeling well with heat-exhaustion.  We make it, and the hostess saves us with fresh water and fresh orange juice.

The Vjosa Guest House was, in fact, the perfect place to end our river journey with a refreshing shower and salty chips at a nearby restaurant to replenish our salt levels.  We enjoyed beautiful views out across the Vjosa valley and the winds from the distant Mediterranean eventually cooled that evening, for us to enjoy some sleep in the tent.  Breakfast the next morning was the best of the trip: fresh tomatoes, cucumber, melon, jam and eggs all produced from the garden; irrigation provided from the Vjosa.  With plenty, the river gives, and the river can take-away, if we don’t preserve these wild spaces throughout the world.  If we avoid the desecration of our river-ways.

Although we enjoyed the beautiful blue heart, the rocky gorges and sweeping valley vistas, on our travels, we had encountered pockets of rubbish scattered down the riverbanks, in trees and gathering in pools along the water.  Untreated human waste also flowed into the river in places, and we were reticent to drink water from the river, despite tablets, a filter system and our stove to boil the water.  Whilst the eco-tourism we experienced was top-notch, the economic pressure was palpable throughout the region with noticeable depopulation of the young workforce to cities at home and abroad.  It seems, the Wild River National Park concept, is still to be fully realized, and preserving this gem of a blue heart holds huge potential with focussed budgets, education and efforts.

As we make our way back to Sarandë on the bus, we get to see some of our route again up the gorgeous valley up-stream of Tepelenë to the distant mountains.  Except on the last couple of days of our time in Albania, wildfires tore through some valleys in multiple regions, we drove past some smoke in the distance and scorched earth closer to the road.  A reminder of the delicate line we tread upon this planet, in keeping the balanced homeostasis for our serene environs to flourish.  Like life.  Back in Sarandë, the focus on economic development of the Albanian Riviera through rapid construction was somewhat of an assault on the senses, after our peaceful river ways.  We had to wonder, if this was the right answer for Albania.

Our ferry-ride back to Corfu the next day was choppy but all great adventures end well in a Greek Taverna!  The Greeks call Corfu - Kerkyra, who was a Greek water nymph and the daughter of Assopos, a river-god.  Poseidon, presiding over the seas, storms and protector of seafarers, is said to have fallen in love with Kerkyra and their offspring, Phaex, was the founder of the Phonecians. a sea-faring race that some say were a branch of the same great-ruling race as the Scots.

Genealogy aside, the Vjosa Wild River National Park ‘#aparkinthemaking’ holds merit and us Scots should as well, look to our Balkan brother’s good intentions to help preserve our precious waterways. 

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