TCRNo6 part 5: The Wild West is Due South

I return to the CP4 hotel just in time to order food, exchange stories from the road, and get my head down for a few hours. At 2.30am I hear a door closing in the corridor and the sound of a freewheel. I’ll catch them I think to myself, but I really need to pull my finger out now and press on for the finish, there is a race to be had. I manage a banana and some left over pizza for my 3.30am breakfast and get on the road for Albania. 

Dawn in Bosnia

My sense of direction is confused at this early hour, I blindly follow the map on my iPhone along narrow lanes through hamlets reminiscent of the English Lake District. A mountain pass drops down between dark limestone cliffs into a winding gorge, wispy clouds hang between the jaws of the ravine as the weak sun stuggles to shine through dawn fog. Back in June when I was route planning I was under the impression that this road was deserted but I pass several villages with small shops and the sight of a bakery stops me dead, I need pastries. I order a good sized quantity of feta pie (sold by weight), it’s good riding food - sioux pastry and feta, loads of fat and salt. 

By 9am I’m at the border to Montenegro, it’s midway along a popular rafting canyon and I enter Montenegro dodging missing planks on a rickety wooden bridge. The limestone gorge that follows is utterly spectacular, I wasn’t expecting this scenery today, days of sleep deprivation and thousands of kilometers in my legs are more than repaid by the views here, this is awesome. 

Gorge in Montenegro

All good things must end though and by early afternoon I’m fighting to stay awake on a busy main road whilst the sun cooks me slowly at 35 degrees celcius. A local man suggests a good spot for a swim in a river as I lie down under a tree for a power nap. I’m too tired to move, I close my eyes for a few minutes under a fig tree before rolling away to the next town near the Albanian border.

A taxi driver makes a particularly close pass and gestures for me to get off the tarmac onto the intermittent gravel shoulder, everyone passes close here and I get the feeling that cyclists are not welcome on these roads. Earlier in the day I was passed so close that I was sucked sideways towards the rear door of an Opel at 45mph, I see no choice other than to keep moving though. Hanging around and procrastinating would just be prolonging the pain. I’m surprised to find a long queue at the Albanian border, I’m not waiting though and I pull in behind a couple of Italian motorcyclists on big capacity adventure bikes. Waiting for the queue to move we chat, I tell them that I ride an Italian Moto Guzzi motorbike back home and we exchange travel plans. Dark storm clouds hang over the mountains to my left and a strong wind picks up. Fortunately it’s a tail wind which propels me south to a town buzzing with crowds and roadside stalls.  Cars stop in the middle of the road and discharge more people that you'd think could fit inside a 40 year old Mercedes saloon. Pavements are littered in what looks like the most random bric a brac stalls; cookware, cushions, handbags all laid out in piles next to the road. Two old men come up to me when I pull over to check my route, they want to  know what I’m doing but they don't speak any English. My Albanian is worse than their English. One of them calls their son who does speak English and gets me to explain to him what I’m doing. I explain but I need to get moving, I’m a long way from my 300km target for the day. With this in mind stopping at a restaurant for a meal seems indulgent but that’s exactly what I do in the next town I reach, it’s a premature reward for what will follow between here and Meteora. 

Following a pasta meal I’m on the main road to Tirana and it’s become very dark, Albania has little in the way of street lighting once away from major roads. I try and piece together the landscape from distant lights and silhouettes but it’s mainly ‘head down arse up get me out of here’ riding as cars and lorries scream past. I have to divert off the main road when it turns into a motorway but my alternative is a string of unlit potholed back roads, the kind of thing you find at the back of a row of terraced houses back home in Yorkshire. I find a mini market open at midnight and stock up on caffeine drinks. I’m temped by a ripe looking water melon until I remember that I don’t have a knife. Focus! I tell myself once more. I know from my planning that there’s a bridge out ahead but the gravel diversion takes longer than expected, 45 minutes seems to vanish in the blink of an eye during the wee hours. Around one corner an oncoming car forces me to the right of the road where CRACK! I've hit a massive pot hole. The stereo hiss of two rapidly deflating tyres spells trouble. 

Double puncture, double trouble

It’s pitch black where I pull over, no streetlights and my dynamo lights switch off soon after stopping. Both tyres are totally flat and I don't fancy my chances making a tubeless repair in the dark. Within a couple of minutes a car stops and the driver checks if I’m ok, he offers me a bed for the night and warns me of hit and run incidents round here at night. I thank him for his concern and a few minutes later a second car stops and four young men get out. Again they want to help and their car headlights are appreciated as I fit a couple of inner tubes and re-inflate my wheels. Its a relief to be rolling towards Tirana again. 3am is dead time, no-one wants to be awake and I look for a suitable spot for a nap. I’m about to lie down in a closed filling station when the owner comes put and asks me what I'm doing. The city is not the place for a quiet nap. In the centre of Tirana cars drag race, I see Ferraris and Lamborghinis going head to head as I sit eating a gyro amongst the party people on a street corner. I think I may have travelled through time to the Wild West

Tirana 

Gyro at takeaway 4am

By dawn I’ve escaped Tirana via a mountain pass to the south. The morning is spent climbing a long valley to a minor road which turns out to be gravel. 50km of gravel is going to be slow and the chances of puncturing high, and, I’m down to my last spare inner tube. I move a couple of waypoints in the Komoot app and re-plan east to a large lake. It doesn't get me out of a big climb at the hottest point of the day - a busy hairpin pass which has more roadside car washes than the rest of Europe put together. Given the barren landscape you'd think that water would be scarce here but it’s gushing from roadside hosepipes and sprinklers like it’s going out of fashion.

street art in tunnel under motorway

sunrise south of Tirana

From here it’s easy rolling to near the Greek border under the glare of the early afternoon sun. I’m running on caffeine following my ride through the night, the afternoon drags but I know that the finish line is within my grasp before sleep. I kick myself for not having paid more attention whilst route planning because I failed to notice that Komoot’s suggested route into Greece isn’t an official border crossing. No, it's a sandy, lumpy track that terminates in a field of cows by a stone marking the Greek border. I enter Greece through the back door wary of punctures from the rough gorse strewn path. I’m also watching the clock anxiously, I know that there are two other riders not far behind and if they have a better route they could well pass me.

Albanian B road

rush hour

sneaking in to Greece via the back door

Early evening is Greek social time and the village bars are busy with locals. I pick up a few sesame seed bars and a large bottle of water which I hope will see me through to the finish. The sun drops and I peer towards the horizon in an attempt to see my destination but it’s wishful thinking. Meteora is hidden from view, I have at least 100km and some big climbing ahead of me. I check my route once more and eliminate a few hundred metres of climbing with a time saving re-route. By the time it gets dark I'm exhausted, blindly following Komoot’s blue line on my iPhone and wishing for the finish. I'm struggling to stay awake and one climb from a quarry deep in a valley seems to be never ending. The road climbs through pine forest and in my tired and confused state I keep thinking that I'm in Germany. I start to see mild hallucinations, a cat running past, buildings, people. None of them are real. Last time this happened was 15 hours into a 600k/24 hour ride so I’m not too perturbed but it's a warning that I'm approaching my limits. Around midnight the urge to sleep almost wins out. For the first time in the race I give in and take a couple of caffeine tablets to see me through to the finish. 

The climb to the final parcours is fairly brutal but I’m riding on auto pilot. 10% incline? Yeah, whatever. I did this stuff on my training rides, just keep moving and don’t dwell on the moment. I grind upwards knowing that with each metre covered I'm one metre closer to the finish. The darkness hides the magnificence of Meteora’s rock pillars, they are vague silhouettes and I'm too busy avoiding rocks in the road whilst following a purple line on my phone to guess at their beauty. 

I roll down towards the finish looking for Pub 38 and suddenly I hear whooping and applause to my left. People! Yes! The finish!!!

I’m helped from my bike and given a cushioned seat outside the pub. On the table to my right is a large beer and a gyro, I’m told that there is a room for me at the hotel across the street. Perfect, I thought I’d be sleeping rough tonight. Its 2.35am and I've finished 19th, it’ll sink in once I’ve slept but for now I'm numb. James Hayden’s parents are doing a fantastic job of manning the finish line. James’ dad carries my bike to my hotel room and checks I’m ok before leaving me to pass out. If there’s one thing I’ve learned on this journey it’s that people like people, and they are generous. So much more generous than you’d ever believe if you spend your life fearing the world at large. As Curtis Mayfield sang a few times:

"Bite your lip

And take a trip

Though there may be wet road ahead

And you cannot slip

Just move on up

For peace you'll find

Into the steeple of beautiful people

Where there's only one kind"

Bike

Genesis 931 Croix de Fer custom build with carbon fork

Dura Ace cranks with 52/36 Q rings

Ultegra mechs and 11-32 cassette

Hydraulic disc brakes

Carbonal 45mm deep section carbon rims laced to Hope rear hub and SP dynamo front hub
Schwalbe Pro 1 tubeless 28mm tyres

B & M dynamo lights with USB socket for charging phone

Topeak iPhone case

Thomson seatpost

Selle Italia SLR Kit saddle

Gel pads double taped under handlebars

Luggage

Apidura waterproof frame bag

Sea2Summit dry sack strapped under tri-bars at front

Apidura fuel cell

Topeak top tube bag

Apidura large waterproof seat pack   

A big thanks to...

Jen at Velofondista for bike preparation and travel arrangements

Guy, Claire and Nicola for keeping Gutsibits running

The Huddersfield Star Wheelers, HCC E riders and Stadium Riders that have encouraged me over the years

view near Meteora

the rock pillars of Meteora

Monastry on a pillar