BALKANS BUZZING
Rakia and riding in the mountains of North Macedonia and Albania
Words and images
Luke Jarmey
A delicious concoction of Balkan landscape and culture, North Macedonia is a feast for the eyes, a tickle for the tastebuds and, nearly always, a raucous treat for the tyres … and I haven’t even started on Albania yet.
Joined by my high-alpine bike partner in crime, the blonde-moustache twiddling Swedish Viking, Hugo Magnusson, we spent a week trundling through North Macedonia and Albania in search of trail gold, cultural delights, and the Balkan Peninsula’s finest rakia (fruit brandy).
The tour operator, Explorer 2018, invited us to help them assess the mountain bike potential of North Macedonia and Albania. We joined a motley crew consisting of bike guides Martin Grannas Brannstrom and Graham Pinkerton, travel agency reps Ross Cluley and Jonas Ernevi from Le Ripp and, believe it or not, French film actor Michel Biel a film actor.
Aside from a verbal tussle with an over-enthusiastic Swiss border guard with a lagging grasp of the current EU/Schengen/Brexit rules, we touched down in Skopje International Airport unhindered.
Meeting us in the North Macedonian capital were Dimitri Dimitrov, Stojan Hadji Jevtimov, and Risti Risteski—three absolute gents and legendary purveyors of good times. Dimitri handled logistics for the trip, Stojen alternated between bike guiding and driving, and Risti, also known as Ricki, was our second driver. An ATV tour operator by trade, Ricki has bulging tattooed biceps coupled with a passionate love for the violin and one hell of a good nature!
Day one
Great mountain bike trips should start with a good trail. Unfortunately, this one didn’t. After a wonderful, rakia-fuelled night, combined with many an utterance of “good rakia should soothe the throat, but burn the soul”, we set off the next morning with mild hangovers to tackle the first ride.
Located on the mountain Skopska Crna Gora, this consisted of 800m vert of thorny, overgrown undergrowth and derailleur-busting rocky gullies. After three or four hours of challenging descents, we were led battered and bruised into the garden of Jorgos Voumvoulakis, one of the local riders. With ice-cold cans of Macedonian lager thrust into our hands, platters piled high with delicious morsels of sheep cheese and the enticing whiff of grilling meat and veg, the day suddenly took a turn for the better.
Later that afternoon, the riding also drastically improved. After being shuttled up Vodno Mountain, we started our descent from a gigantic looming cross that dominated the skyline. Aside from an aggressive elbow-smashing spill from Hugo, the trail was good, really good. Flowing berms catapulted us into sections of tech, smiles were had, and the earlier thorns were quickly forgotten.
After a two-hour drive and a delicious midnight feast, we passed out in Hotel Scardus.
Day two
Waking up to our first proper Macedonian breakfast, we wolfed down platters of omelette, feta-like cheese, olives, and tomato and jumped on e-bikes for a guided 50km ride around the Shar mountains.
Metodi Chilimanov and Mihail Solakov, who run Shar Outdoors, cut their teeth and continue to operate very successfully in the cat skiing game. With all of us being ski frothers, we spent a good deal of the ride scoping lines for a hastily pledged winter return.
Providing an abundance of refreshing river crossings and what appeared to be Macedonian cowboy meetings, the ride proved a perfect respite for our previous day’s bruised bodies.
That evening, via a quick stop at a rather cool “Painted Mosque” in Tetovo, we transferred to Carevec Mountain Hut, situated next to Mavrovo Lake.
Our host, Vladimir Gorgioski, was utterly brilliant. Sporting a tightly curled moustache that left even Hugo impressed, Vladimir was the epitome of hospitality and good humour. With rakia glasses constantly filled and bellies stuffed with mouthwatering pork stew, we toasted our chef, Vladimir’s wife Sonja.
Day three
An exposed mountain trail and the imminent threat of violent thunderstorms made day three a race against time. After shuttling to Galičnik, the starting point for a mountain trail plummeting down to the village of Janche, the skies to the east started to blacken. The clock was ticking.
Graham hastily dropped a wall in front of a particularly pretty little church. Then we scarped onto the trail—a deliciously exposed, cliff-side, rocky path reminiscent of some of the finest fodder in the Alps. Navigating a garden of polished rocks, we swung into a couple of swooping turns before hitting a just-about-doable double switchback.
Feeling chuffed that we’d appeared to have outrun the storm, we let the brakes off and entered the forest. The quality of the trail continued with a mixture of long, fast straights, rail-able corners, and the odd techy switchback thrown in for good measure.
“Feeling chuffed that we’d appeared to have outrun the storm, we let the brakes off and entered the forest.”
Then the rain came. Having lived for eight years in the French Alps and experienced all kinds of mountain weather, I can say with conviction that this was truly torrential. Thirty or so sodden minutes later, we rolled into the entrance of our next accommodation, just in time for the rain to stop. Classic.
The Hotel Tutto was a real treat. Spending most of the time in the cavernous main hall, we wolfed down platters of Macedonian treats while gazing in bemusement at the interior decor. No, we hadn’t been spiked with psychedelics: the room contained an eclectic mix of painted Fiat 500s, about 20 telephones, various treasures from what appeared to be Africa and the Middle East, and other randomness.
Day four
It transpired that a promised 30-minute pedal from the uplift drop-off point to the top of Deshat Mountain was, in fact, a two-hour sweaty ordeal through thick, bear-infested forest.
Understandably, the frequency and volume of muttering and moaning began to increase. However, a spot of soul-searching showed that the ratio of mechanised to human-powered ascents had been remarkably good thus far and we should stop whining.
From here we descended on the “Cross-Border Biking” track. With us were Stefan Dodic and Viktor Jovevski, who, along with Dimitri, had developed this descent as part of the Cross-Border Biking initiative.
The top half flowed through relatively gentle, open, alpine terrain before dropping into the small mountain village of Vrbjani.
The long descent down to Žirovnica was simply phenomenal; it was essentially a tunnel-like loamy rollercoaster, and arguably the closest I’ve come to the speeder bike chase on the Forest Moon of Endor in Star Wars VI.
After a couple of pints in Žirovnica to toast the trail builders, it was time to begin the drive to Albania. En-route to the border, we stopped for a guided tour of the Monastery of Saint Jovan Bigorski. Established 1001 years ago, this was a beautiful and fascinating insight into the Orthodox side of North Macedonian culture.
Day five: Albania
After a late, and quite literally bumpy arrival, we awoke in Albania. Our beautiful accommodation, Guest House Sabriu, reminded me of a large house and gardens one would expect to find in the Cotswolds of England. I quickly learnt that this was a country of contrasts, and not just in the architecture.
A particular breakfast highlight was the savory donuts, served with cherry jam, yoghurt and whatever particular variety of sheep’s cheese was on the menu that day.
Hand-picked by our Albanian guide, Orgest Noka, the day’s ride was a 1400m descent from the mountain, Mali i Gramës. Driving through the town of Peshkopi on the way to the peak, I was struck by the deep vibrant colours of the buildings, decor and landscape. To my ignorant and not-nearly-travelled-enough eye, this almost reminded me of Central America; a notably different aesthetic from what we’d experienced in Macedonia.
We’d experienced exposure on the bikes, but this was the first time on the trip where we felt that stomach-lurching rush that only a precarious off-road mountain drive can give you. After praying to the higher powers that Stojan and Orgest knew what they were doing, we finally arrived at the top.
What lay before us was a mind-blowing vista of wonderfully deep and wide mountain valleys, with visible storm cycles creating a saturated hazy cloak on the far horizon.
Setting off down an arching ribbon of singletrack, we plunged headfirst into the descent. Unfortunately, one of these distant storms, crackling with lightning and roaring with thunder, suddenly became localised. So, with a scream and a scamper, we dashed to shelter in a nearby shepherd’s hut.
Luckily high mountain farm fortifications are built exceptionally well in Albania, and we managed to survive the sudden onslaught of weather. With the sun now beaming brighter, we had a riding experience that will be forever etched into my memory.
“With the sun now beaming brighter, we had a riding experience that will be forever etched into my memory.”
The trail started off on chalky white rock, that felt like tacky dirt mixed with gritty stone. Long straights peppered with sections of tech gave way to harder packed grit with natural little hits to air off. The ground then softened into tunnels of vibrant rusty red, providing a natural half-pipe to carve our way down. Hollering and hooting, this track shot to the top of our trip’s trail leaderboard.
Not long afterward, we rode through a beautiful mountain village dotted with finely constructed stick barns that contrasted with a gleaming white mosque and surrounding buildings, all replete with roofs in the same deep rust red as the aforementioned soil.
It was here that the stark contrasts of Albania become particularly clear. Looking one way, we had a slice of picturesque Alpine village perfection, but on the other, our gaze fell on towering hills of waste. Every possible type of rubbish imaginable was strewn around, complete with the associated stench. Unfortunately, this is a reality in a country that has yet to develop extensive waste collection networks. Talking to some locals, an initiative is progressing, slowly but surely.
The dipping sun made the rest of the ride down a feast for the senses: golden light offset against the hazy blue post-storm atmosphere created a dream-like mirage of ghostly valleys in the far distance.
Day six
With our trip nearing conclusion, we had some admin to sort out in the form of PCR tests so we could fly back to Switzerland.
Our nostril invasion journey into the local town of Peshkopi turned out to be a welcome opportunity for some cultural exploration. With long biking days and accommodation transfers, this was something that hadn’t been a possibility until now.
Walking around Peshkopi was an experience. One street would almost resemble a tidy suburb of England, and the next, a colourful, jazzy neighbourhood with painted yellow, red, and blue buildings.
Friendly groups of kids would follow us around, bantering in broken English and posing for photos. It wasn’t just kids (and interestingly, Mercedes) that numbered in their hundreds—there were stray dogs everywhere. Luckily, we didn’t encounter any canine trouble. In fact, one of the most heart-tugging memories of the trip was a tiny puppy bounding into the welcoming arms of Swedish bicycle ripper turned animal whisperer, Martin.
After that little morsel of visual poetry, we jumped into the wagons and headed off to our final accommodation.
Up until this point we genuinely didn’t realise we’d be staying in an Albanian castle. So, when Dimtri casually mentioned the plan in an offhand manner on the drive over, the stoke levels shot to the moon. While maybe not Camelot, it was certainly a castle, complete with small defensive windows to fire from.
After unloading the bikes, we went for a little pre-dinner pedal. We bumped into yet another posse of bantering youths and we had a great time letting them rip around on our bikes after failing to impress them with our wheelie skills.
When we returned to the castle, Lulzim Hupi, the owner and host, greeted us with a beaming smile and warm demeanour. The castle had been in Lulzim’s family since it was built. In fact, his great, great Grandfather had singlehandedly defended family and castle during a drawn-out battle against a marauding warband more than a century ago.
We heard this story after dinner, sitting cross-legged in a circle, drinking rakia within the stone-walled and traditionally decorated main social room. While recounting the tale, Lulzim was visibly emotional. He had a strong love and passion for his family’s history and the castle that symbolised it. It was powerful to see and deeply moving.
Day seven
Before driving back into North Macedonia for our flight home, there was one last surprise left in store for us: an ecofriendly form of bike uplift—horses.
Now, I’m not going to lie, it did seem rather odd to sit on a horse, our bikes lashed to another animal and all of us being led up the mountain by someone on foot. However, the locals were into it, and we thoroughly enjoyed the experience. We were able to get up into some quite technical terrain, which gave us a plethora of exposed rocky trails to choose from.
After one nasty over-the-bars slam from Michel, we rocketed down a sun speckled trail with storm clouds brewing above us. What a way to end the trip.
Still buzzing from the bizarre morning, we waved our goodbyes to Lulzim, Orgest and the rest of the village crew and started on our long journey back home.
The drive to Skopje International Airport provided an opportunity to reflect on the week, and I couldn’t wipe a cheesy grin off my face. This had been a true life experience in two amazing countries, with colourful culture, quality trails and incredible people. North Macedonia and Albania aren’t known as mountain bike destinations, but with Dimitri, Orgest and the rest of the community putting a huge amount of effort in to rectify this, they should be. Give it a go: trust me, you won’t be disappointed.
Some links
Tour Operators
www.active.experience-macedonia.com/ — North Macedonian-based tour operator, also offering trips in Albania and other Balkan destinations.
www.leripp.com – UK/Swedish based MTB tour operator who offers bike holiday packages to Macedonia and Albania.