Today was always going to be a wet one. The rain had been hammering down all night, and I had 40km ahead of me. By 8am it looked like the skies were having second thoughts, so I packed up and set off optimistically. The trail, however, had turned into one long series of puddles—more water than path—so I made the sensible call to stick to the main roads and good old tarseal.
Then came the bridge. A long, narrow stretch on a mini-highway with cars, trucks, and buses flying bye at crazy speeds. I decided walking the bike over was safer than becoming road art. Halfway across, a man on a shiny moped stopped, all neat and well-dressed, looking very concerned. He thought I had bike troubles. Once we cleared up that I was fine (and only slightly concerned about the traffic speed), he pulled out a wallet bulging with 5000 lek notes—about $100 AUD—and insisted on taking me to a café.
Now, I’m not sure if it was my charming rain-splattered look or the bike he was after, but let’s just say I politely declined. He left looking a little heartbroken, and I continued on feeling rather proud of my moral fortitude. I can’t be bought—not even for coffee and cash!
The road after that was one long splash zone. I stopped for a treat of fresh organic grapes and later ducked into a café for a well-earned espresso while the rain regrouped. It finally caught up with me just 1.2 km from my accommodation. I took shelter at a local grocer, had a friendly chat, then rolled on to Fushe-Krujë, dripping but content.
The forecast says rain for the next few days, so tomorrow I’m hopping on a bus to Durrës to spend some time by the coast. There’s plenty of history there—and if the sun decides to make a cameo, maybe even a hike or two.
Until then, I’ll just keep drying out.
