The day after our hike in Butrint National Park, we found ourselves in the town of Delvina. We spent leisurely hours, strolling along the town’s cobbled streets and around its picturesque neighborhoods. We were in bed early. It would be an early one tomorrow. The program held a 30-km hike over the ridge of Mount Gjere and on to Gjirokaster.
The darkness was strict and ubiquitous while I was having my coffee on our accommodation’s balcony the next morning. Refusing to validate the forecast’s pessimistic predictions, the air was bereft of any rain. To our great luck, that was to remain so for almost the entire day.
The daybreak met us at the northern verge of the town, shortly after we’d left the Road SH78 and got on the smaller road towards Kakodhiq and Lefterohor. Bundles of soothing sunlight periodically found their way through the clouds veil and onto the soggy ground. Mists rolled frolickingly upwards, and gradually dissolved, revealing the might of the surrounding mountainous scenery.
In Lefterohor Village
Five thousand horizontal and four hundred vertical meters later, we approached civilization once again in Lefterohor. This was a pretty cute, inhabited solely by Greeks village, whose name means the free village.
Some light rain had started falling by then and its streets were utterly empty. Only the bountifully smoking chimneys betrayed the presence of humans in this otherwise desolate village. Eventually, we ran into a lone, kindly old woman. She was en route to the pasture together with her numerous goats. We talked briefly and she expressed her genuine worry about us venturing up the mountain in such weather. She offered to invite us home for a cup of coffee, but we had to politely refuse as we had a long way.
Climbing Mount Gjeres
We left Lefterohor and took the dirt road leading up to the ridge of Mount Gjeres. We weren’t going to encounter a human soul until late the following morning.
It drizzled sporadically, but overall we had a dry way up. Though mostly foggy, we got to marvel at some pretty astonishing views during clearing spells. It was too cold to have a break longer than a minute or two, but fortunately calm enough to keep walking with ease. The road was steadily gaining elevation, but not as steeply as to exhaust us.
Upon reaching the foot of the main ridge (at 40.0034, 20.1033), we had a choice to make: we either stick on the road and snake together with it for 4 km back and forth over the slope; or we climb the remaining 450 meters of elevation straight-line ahead over a distance of 700 meters. We took the second. That was quite exhausting, but we saved a good deal of time.
We reached the ridge and hardly got to see anything other than fog. Only some proximate, dramatic rock formations appeared now-and-then out of the enveloping whiteness. It started pissing down for good almost simultaneously with us crossing over the ridge and heading down the other way. I wouldn’t complain about it. It is always psychologically better to have the rain downhills.
We tramped over slippery sod and scrambled over more slippery rock along that gully we followed on our way down. Before long, and shortly before dusk, we were out of it and regarded the distant view of civilization emerging briefly through the fog. It was time to sleep.
We descended further until we spotted a decently flat patch of ground to pitch the tent. It was a lovely spot. I can only imagine the gorgeous views we’d have witnessed on a clear day. Then it was dark, very dark.
Through Lazarat and into Gjirokaster
It was progressed morning when the rain came to a brief break, allowing us to pack and leave comfortably.
Shortly after our departure, a pack of noxious shepherd dogs scurried behind us. One of them, the boldest, remained stuck a few steps behind me for a good few minutes. He barked and growled and cried manically, haughtily exhibiting his salient teeth every time I turned around to confront him. He went totally bonkers every time I extended my arm contentiously at him. Luckily, for both of us, he showed prudence in keeping his distance. It would have been a nasty, gory fight.
The dogs eventually retreating, the quiet reinstated, we were left in peace to finish our way back to civilization. Soon, we entered Lazarat. I was fancying a cup of coffee in nice some nice local place, but we found nothing such. Hardly anyone was outside, but the few that were greeted and talked to us heartily.
As heartily we were welcome by a bunch of gypsy kids that run over to us upon us entering Gjirokaster. We then were in the relatively busy streets of this new city, looking for our accommodation, anticipating a hot shower and a dry change of clothes.
