Wellspring

Awakened early by my own fear of missing out, I found dawn hanging out the balcony window with my camera.

I watched the sun ascend the far side of the mountain, lighting the valley long before it crested the mountain top. And I photographed it when the rays finally stretched long arms down to the valley. Today was Blue Eye, why I’d come to this particular valley, the promise I made to the camp counselor, and Victor had said that starting after breakfast was early enough.

I took him at his word.

Breakfast was a buffet of local foods, including olives, feta and assorted soft cheeses, tomatoes, jams, and more ready to be mopped up with flat petulla te sheshta, an Albanian fried bread. I’d already taken my medicines and supplements with a protein shake, so this was technically second breakfast. Which felt wholly appropriate because I was about to set out on an adventure.

Victor and I discussed the various routes to Blue Eye. I could just simply hike from the guesthouse itself, but that would nearly double the time hiking. I could also walk down to Theth, then pay for a small bus or 4×4 to take me to the trail. But then, I’d add an uphill climb back to the guesthouse at the end of my hike in the heat of the afternoon. Lastly, I could drive to the trailhead myself, bypassing any extra hiking or expenses beyond perhaps paying for parking. Victor and I agreed this was my best option, seeing as I’d be hiking with a full backpack of camera gear and the point was to photograph, not to see how far I could push myself.

It did mean more driving on even narrower roads.

I saw how long it would take, and figured the tradeoff of walking less was worth the twenty minutes it would take to drive there.

So I carefully set out, first backing out uphill, and then driving up the steep driveway. I knew I rented a car so I could drive and have this kind of freedom in my schedule, I reminded myself, as I listened carefully to how well my wheels were gripping the loose limestone rocks.

Then, back out on the paved road once again learning every single turn and elevation change at a personal level. Some parts, rock overhung the road nearly forming a natural tunnel. Other turns were too narrow for two cars to pass each other on. If you met oncoming traffic, one person would start backing up either downhill or uphill with a sheer drop to one side.

I was glad I was alone.

And it was yet another good arm workout, as the car wove steadily from curving left to curving right, and back. Control, patience, and keeping your cool were all essential components to that kind of driving.

I knew where I was headed on the map, but Google Maps kept insisting on another route once I got to the dusty dry valley where my hike would begin. Eventually, I just overrode the signals and headed forward down a still paved road.

Eventually, signs designating free parking came into view. As a bonus, there were several spaces still open. Happy to have finally safely reached my destination, I parked and then walked to the covered picnic area designated ‘Franc’s Bar,’ in order to ask if the parking truly was free. Franc cheerfully greeted me, and assured me that it was truly free. He said it gave him more opportunity to talk with interesting people if he offered free parking. I thought it was also a very clever way to get people to buy drinks once they’d finished their hikes. I did not begrudge him his business model. In fact, I knew I’d gratefully buy some water when I was done.

The famous blue waters that run in Nderlysa were nowhere to be seen.

It appeared that Albania was suffering from drought just as much as Amsterdam was.

Franc reassured me that I should head up to the hanging bridge to start my hike. Victor had said as much, too. There is also a dirt road recently made but, according to Victor’s earlier assessment, the making of the road had stripped the hike of some of its authentic beauty. Franc said that I’d see a road open up to the side once I got up to the hanging bridge.

The hike begins with a steep set of boulder scrambling steps, with hand and footholds beginning to show dark and smooth from wear and tear. I reached the hanging bridge, but crossing it would not take me to where I was going, so I just looked. Still, very little water. Though there were deep pools nearly hidden from sight at the base of the falls. These were the famed stone groves of Nderlysa, rose-toned and carved out by the Black River that, further up, carved out the Blue Eye pool I was hiking to. Only this year, the Black River disappeared before joining the Shala River in Nderlysa.

I looked for the sign and the road. Then I realised that road was probably an inflation of the actual path I would be walking on. Compounded by the drought, the first few hundred meters were lost in white limestone rock.

As I paused and got my bearings, a group of hikers caught up to me. This group had obviously hired a local guide. I tried not to tie myself to the group, but also noted where they went.

The hike, after the initial scramble, laid out flat in the open sun with rocks, dust, and shrubs on either side. The plants themselves had taken on the bone coloured limestone. Everything was the same colour.

Eventually I heard water in the river. I broke off from the path and found the water, along with butterflies and a few flowers glittering in the sun. It was obviously less water than in other years, but still the turquoise blue quality of the karst environment was beginning to show. After that quick refresh by the water, I continued my hike.

Soon, it switched from slow hot incline to a much more vertical incline. We were entering the upper alpine valley.

When you reached the top of this climb, there was a cross that many people were posing at. Across the valley and substantial drop off, there was another high altitude waterfall visible. From here, the climb stayed steady and rocky, but there were more trees and shade. The path forks, but both paths led to the same destination. I took the lower path, and the guide with his couple followed the same route.

Suddenly, I heard falling rocks overhead and paused to assess the situation in time to see the passing feet of a donkey headed back down on the upper path. I was close enough to hear the donkey but far enough I could not photograph it.

Further on, clutching to the walls of the mountain, I passed the first place you could buy cold drinks on your way up. The coolers themselves were just open freezers, cooled by piping in the local spring water directly into the freezer and filling it to the top. Sodas, energy drinks, and water swirled lazily in optimal near frozen goodness. But I’d brought my own water direct from the guesthouse, and was not ready to stop yet.

I did notice I was slower than the average hiker though. Perhaps because I was extra cautious, or because I was carrying two lenses and a professional camera the whole time. Honestly, I did not see anyone else carrying a backpack the size of mine on this hike. But I was grateful for the added weight because I have just a bit of fear of heights and the weight of the bag helped me feel more grounded on the mountainside. This grounding feeling was very welcome when I walked along sections of steep drop off.

Much like the roads I’d been driving on, I gave way for groups either passing from behind or coming back down the mountain. This gave me more time to look around, since much of photography is seeing. It also gave me time to wonder at what I was doing, to remember I’d hiked places like this before in Utah, and to catch my breath as needed.

The trail after the first water point began to drop again, which made perfect sense to me because you find water at the bottom of mountain valleys. So down I went, and eventually I came to another suspended bridge. I knew from my research I needed to cross this one to get to Blue Eye, and that many people stop here. Sure enough, people were swimming, posing, and filming on either side of the bridge in the crystal clear blue waters.

I pressed on ahead, and found the second water point with spring cooled drinks on the other side of the bridge. We were close now.

The path ran along an old broken wall and an abandoned stone house with fruit trees and beehives out front. Then it dipped once more down, with the sounds of falling water.

Finally.

I paused briefly before rounding the final bend. Whatever I found, this moment would be unforgettable.

And, then, a deep emerald blue and turquoise water pool came into view, surrounded by more worn limestone and several bikini and speedo clad Europeans who’d made a similar hike to mine. People would enter the water, one at a time, feel the shock of the cold, sometimes swear, and then exit the pool.

The near freezing temperature of the pool had not been overstated.

I sat down and just took it in. I’d made it to Blue Eye in Theth. The man next to me asked if I was also going to jump in. I gestured to the camera and said no. Then I asked if he would, but he was French speaking and I’d exceeded his known English words. So we sat next to each other and just wondered at the beauty of the falls. The pool was beautiful and freezing and full of people; wild karst water however clear is not water I'd swallow.

Then I carefully made my way around the base of the pool to photograph it from different angles, as free from swimmers as possible.

I have to admit to caution here, and not just the caution of not wanting to photograph some poor soul shivering in their bathing suit. I manage a couple of chronic conditions every day of my life. That, coupled with the fact I’m rapidly approaching middle age and being a solo female traveller, made me really question if I could really reach Blue Eye.

And, if reached, would I be able to hike back down and continue on my way without too much fatigue or too many stomach problems?

So when I sat at the base of those falls, with rivulets of pure water finding their way downward on both sides of the stone I sat on, I just took time to breathe.

Where did this beautifully clear water spring from, even in drought? I was not even sure I could find the answer to it. All I knew is that this water was last season's snow, fallen on Black Peak, still finding its way down even in drought.

But I did know one thing. I still had a hike down to do, and I was ready for more water. I walked the iron staircase up the side of the cliff to a restaurant, where I bought myself two water bottles and drank them both. Usually, with gastroparesis, I would not have room for that much liquid in one sitting. But this was a hot and sweaty hike under the Mediterranean sun.

From the restaurant, I took the path marked as exit so as not to clog the one way staircase back down to the increasingly crowded falls. I’d followed its path from below already; I knew it led to the rock formations above the falls, and to an even narrower bridge.

But first, more rock scrambling with my camera bag on my back and my Columbia hiking shoes gripping the terrain under my feet. I rounded an outcropping of rock to find two round poles laid across the gorge, and planks haphazardly nailed in at intervals. I paused.

First, I thought I’d record it on my phone as I crossed, like I did when I crossed the hanging bridge over the blue waters below.

Then I wondered if it were true that you felt more fear if you looked down, so I walked to the edge and peered down both sides of the bridge and filmed it with my phone. Not surprisingly, the phone could not actually capture the depth of the image on either side of the bridge.

I knew I could walk this, easy, as I walk the narrow bridge by the gemeentehuis pond in my village with ease. Balancing has always been something I enjoyed.

But as soon as I stepped onto the bridge, I knew it was different and demanded my full attention. I hastily stuffed the phone back into my pocket and crossed with care, heaving a sigh of relief when I reached the other side.

The path took me along the base of that old abandoned house before connecting back into the path I’d hiked in on. Down, slowly again, this time taking in details I’d missed on the way up; the wild orchid no bigger than my thumb, the limestone stuck growing in the trunk of a tree held in place like a diamond setting in a ring.

In time, I reached Franc’s bar and bought another water bottle and an ice cream. Another worker was there, and he asked if I was Dutch. Had I accidentally said ijsje instead of ice cream? I didn’t know but I did realise what eight years of living between languages does. I did not want to sit long, because I knew if I got fully tired after the hike I’d struggle to drive back to my accommodation safely.

So back up and around the mountains, tracing the ridges and even waterfalls like a pencil on tracing paper. I only had to back up once, downhill at a narrow bend.

Double relieved and exhilarated from my accomplishment, I pulled into the uphill car park at Villa Molla. Time now for a well earned shower; even my black leggings were powdered with trail dust. I stepped into the shower only to find the power was once again out, as was the hot water.

I did, in fact, shower in that freezing cold spring water that day.

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