Altar of Stone

I arrived back at the guesthouse after my hike and met Victor at the open porch. He was surprised to see me back so soon, as he’d advised me to take my time and wait by the spring until there were gaps in the crowds. I told him that the amount of tourists and hikers was only increasing the longer I was on the hike. It was clear that there would be no still moment by Blue Eye this particular September Friday.

I told him I’d hiked all the way in, then sat by the falls for a while watching and photographing. Then I said I’d walked the pole bridge above the falls to come back. At this, he reacted like a parent whose child revealed they’d done expressly what they’d been told not to. “That bridge isn’t safe!” he said, with some exasperation in his tone. Then Victor told me about a bridge near the guesthouse which recently had collapsed and they’d had to pull people out of the river.

Victor said all water was pure because it was filtered mountain spring water, but the bridges were not all to be trusted.

Then I noticed movement across the valley from us, and I asked him if they were sheep or cows. Victor explained that they were sheep, and were actually his sheep and he named the shepherd out guiding them. In the same breath, he apologised that the guesthouse uses those sheep to feed guests because this was real life in the mountains. I told Victor no apology necessary, I was no vegetarian and my husband and I were not long removed from farming generations in the United States.

It amazed me that clear across the valley, the land still belonged to Victor and his family. He explained further that they even owned the land the other houses across the valley sat on. In the beginning, these homes paid rent to his family. But now, they had an agreement that those homes take care of the sheep and their needs, and that Villa Molla used the livestock to feed guests. Things like the wool were sent to women who used them in weaving.

Victor gestured to houses further to the left. There, he said, families could not build anymore because the rock slides made the place too dangerous and unpredictable.

Seeing my interest in how the valley worked, Victor invited me to sit next to him on the sofa. There, we sat and talked about many things, as more guests arrived or went about their business.

Victor sighed, and looked off to the distance as he said he wished someone would come and study Theth for three months. In those three months, they would learn so much about how to get along and take care of each other in a way the whole world would benefit from.

I only had a couple of days myself. And I knew I lacked the education and connections to make such a study of the highland culture. But you bet I calculated quickly in my head whether I had three months to spare lying around somewhere. The rock faces of the Accursed Mountains of Theth had me in their grip.

I stirred to my feet. The sunlight above this narrow mountain valley was telling me it was time to get into the centre of Theth if I wanted to photograph there and be back before dark. If I hadn’t lived in the Rocky Mountains of Utah, in the United States, I wouldn’t know that.

Then I said “Victor, I think I will have the lamb in saç and french fries for dinner, please, at 7:30pm like yesterday.”

I collected my camera gear and drove out carefully again, this time branching to the left for the center at the bottom of the valley instead of continuing right to Blue Eye. The instructions I had were unclear on parking, and as soon as I crossed the river bridge, it was clear that this valley was suffocating with limestone dust and tourists. So as soon as I found a spot, I parked my minivan and added to the melee.

Holding to my goal of being back to the guesthouse before dark, I set out in the direction of the Church of Theth. The waterfall at Grunas I kept in reserve, knowing that I would likely not see it on this trip. Dogs wandered happily overall, and the dirt and broken stone road sometimes ran with small rivulets of water. But this was early September in the year of drought, so everything was dry.

I wondered to myself what Spring would be like in such a valley. What would I see then?

With time, and after reshuffling the backpack of camera gear on my shoulders a few times, the steeple of the chapel came into view. I felt a current pulse through my chest. I came all that distance for pure blue water and for this simple stone chapel in a wild mountain valley.

Victor had already reassured me that Christianity and Islam coexisted peacefully here. Would my own small measure of faith be welcome too?

After walking the dusty road along a branch and wire fence crowned with Traveller’s Joy bursting with seed, I climbed the stile into the churchyard. The grass itself dried through drought and tourism, the field surrounding the church still gave an impressive feeling of peace and centeredness. One direction, you could look up the mountain valley the Shala River ran along until the peaks enclosed once again, and the other direction your gaze met curtain after curtain of limestone mountain grandeur.

I made my way slowly around the perimeter of the church, photographing carefully in the half seconds between other tourists. A group of dogs fighting distracted my attention, and I tried to see which dog belonged where as a group of four or five ran by. Or did they not belong at all to one person but just to the valley as a whole?

Following the sound of their barking and snarling, I noticed the door to the sanctuary was open. I wondered how many people entered inside after photographing the exterior. And I knew I would not miss the chance myself. Churches of other religions feel holy to me because of that specifically human presence of faith and need that rises on the incense of prayer inside.

I crossed over the stone threshold conscious of my dirty hiking boots into a cool, quiet interior. As I’d expected, the sanctuary was mine. Simple wooden benches filled the small space to the altar, rock solid and carved under a limestone and plaster domed ceiling. Everything felt right in the chapel: the altar cloth clean and simple, the wood, the stone. It all belonged. I breathed it in, then turned to take a photo through the arched door to the wildness outside. An electric pole obstructed the view.

Hesitating, I left the comfort of the churchyard by another stile to walk towards Grunas Falls. I worked my way between bustling guesthouses, sometimes shielding my camera from being shrouded in road dust with me as cars passed slowly on the bumpy roads. At least I’d make my way to the tower, I reasoned.

As I walked, I noticed the flocks of sheep and the fruit trees clustered around the stone homes. Lines of laundry hung to dry. Children and families of the highlands lived here between all the tourists, as they had for centuries before.

Climbing slightly on my way over a small bridge along a dry ditch, I saw an older man dressed in a pinstriped suit sitting by a chainlink fence. He began to talk to me in Albanian and I told him I could not understand him, nor speak his language. I pulled out my phone to try to use Google Translate, but I had no signal. He had a two stringed instrument by him, a çifteli, and he offered to play it. I’d grown up playing violin myself, so I was naturally curious about this particular instrument. The old man played a good while for me and I watched as his fingers walked the neck of the instrument with the familiarity only born of time. Here, with live music in the mountain valley, my chest once again felt that current of movement.

After he finished, I paid him in LEK because I don’t take things for free.

By this point, the sun was well fading, and I knew I had a long walk back to my car. The waterfall would have to be sacrificed. The old man tried to tell me to go on a footpath somewhere, but I politely declined and took the other direction along the bank of the ditch. From there, I could best photograph the Lock-In Tower before heading back.

On the raised bank, I passed more simple orchards and fields, as well as other tourists. Presently, I passed along the churchyard again. An older woman climbed down the stile and I wondered if I should offer her my hand. But she was too quick for me. Her son was with her, and we fell into step as we all made our way back to the cars.

Soon we started talking. He and his mother were Albanian, and lived in Shkoder. They were up in the valley for a weekend visit. Having lived in Italy, he knew some English. But he did not know as much as he would like. The mother and I would exchange understanding looks when cars passed and I shielded my camera from more dust. They reached their car first, so we said our goodbyes.

Then I reached mine and drove up to my guesthouse before nightfall.

Once there, I showed the video of the old musician to Victor. He said ‘You have a real piece of Theth there.’

We discussed the weather, too, since rain was forecast for the following morning. Rain on a winding mountain pass is no joke, and I also was not sure what the dirt road would turn to when wet. Victor reassured me that not a lot of precipitation was expected to fall, and I resolved to time my departure by the weather the following morning.

Not long after, my dinner was ready. I sent a photo to Tom because I knew he’d have loved the meal. The kittens once again were playing under the tables and chasing after a curled up caterpillar they batted like a hockey puck between peoples’ legs.

The lamb was done to perfection with marrow still on the bones. The fries looked fantastic in their basket. I tucked into the meat first and I made very good work of it. Eventually, though, despite my morning hike and my wanders in Theth, I became full. I knew this would happen. It’s the constraints of having gastroparesis.

I let Victor know I was done with my meal and he fretted over me. First, he was worried that I hadn’t eaten any fries because I came from the Netherlands, and maybe I didn’t like the fries. I assured him I’d eaten at least ten fries. Then he was worried that with all the hiking I’d done, I hadn’t had enough to eat. I assured him that I had, and reminded him I literally have stomach paralysis.

I assured Victor that I had planned it precisely so that for my last supper, I’d eat a big meal of lamb and then sleep very well, since big meals tend to do that to me.

The kittens most graciously received what was left of the lamb. I don’t know where the delicious fries went.

At this point, it was my bedtime. But I’d heard that the hot water was back on. So first, a shower while it was still dinner time, and the generator was working, so that I knew I’d have light in the shower. After the day’s effort, the shower felt fantastic. The blow dryer did not work, so I used an extra towel to cover my pillow so it would not get too wet. I repacked my suitcases to be ready to depart and to give my hair some time to air dry.

And then, satisfied with myself, I fell into a comfortable sleep.

Know before you go:

• Albania is a cash market. You can easily find ATMs in many cities and the airport, and you’ll get the best rate in the cities. Do not convert to euros as it’s just as easy to carry LEK. If you have a Revolut card, you can also pay at some locations.

• Not all water is safe to drink. Use good judgement and, if necessary, buy water at the grocery stores.

• Not all diesel is created equal, and fuel quality varies a lot by station. Fill up at large, reputable stations in the cities or on main highways, not small rural ones, and top up before heading into the mountains. My rental company advised asking for the best quality 'Greek' or 'Shell' diesel and keeping receipts. Shell is new to Albania (arriving through the Kastrati network), and its stations carry premium fuel, so a Shell or Kastrati station is a safe bet.

• Stay in Albania when travelling with a rental auto, as accidentally travelling outside Albania can incur extra costs. Always read your rental contract.

• Before travelling, download the Google Map of the area you’ll be going to your phone.

• Google Maps is not always reliable so keep your eyes open and trust your instincts

• Also consider downloading any Spotify playlists to your phone.

• Charge and carry power banks.

• Albania is outside the EU, so plan for a local SIM or extra coverage from your own provider. I bought extra coverage through my provider, KPN, before I went on vacation.

• Carry reliable food for the mountains and long drives, supplement with dinners you trust. For managing my gastroparesis, I carried shelf stable snacks and foods with me like protein powder, squeezie applesauces, tuna salads, and Clif bars.

• Bring hand sanitiser and a pack of toilet paper. You can buy wet toilet paper at the stores. When in the mountains, paper napkins might be placed outside of toilets so check before you go.

The Details

Auto Rental: Auto Rent Bala, Rruga Kastriotët, Tirana 1050, Albania

Theth Accommodation: Villa Molla, Rruga Gjecaj, Theth 4027, Albania

Blue Eye Parking: Franc’s Bar, 9Q39+W7 Nderlysa, Albania

Mesi Bridge: 4H7F+RX Boks, Albania

Shkodër Accommodation: SANTO Hotel, Rruga Marin Bicikemi, Shkodër, Albania

Shkodër Souvenir Shop: Souvenir Albania, Rruga Kolë Idromeno, Shkodër, Albania

Catholic Church: Metropolitan Archdiocese of Shkodër - Cathedral of Saint Stephen: Sheshi “Gjon Pali II”, Shkodër 4000, Albania

My church: Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints: Rruga Gerej 19, Shkodër 4001, Albania

Shkodër Restaurant: Arti Zavane, Rruga Berdicej 4001, Shkodër, Albania

Patokut Restaurant: Aroma Patokut, Patok Patok, Laç 4706, Albania

Fuel Stations: ESP Oil, Bolv Oil, Coral, Elda, Kastrati

Taxi: Clean Taxi: Kompleksi Dinamo, Tirana 1000, Albania