It was a great holiday and a great experience. Erlis and Vato worked hard to make it all very easy for us. I suspect it was like the proverbial swan – calm and serene on the surface but paddling furiously below the waterline! The places we stayed were among the best available; the two guest houses obviously more basic but still comfortable, and the food was universally good. CycleAlbania were determined to give us a good experience and show us the very best of their country, and they succeeded one hundred percent.

Is there anything I’d like to change? Maybe. These aren’t criticisms, only thoughts and ideas about what would have made it even better for me personally. Others may differ.

I’d have liked to have had time to see a few of the places and buildings suggested by my guidebook which were on or close to our route. Of course even one such visit a day would probably need an extra hour in the day; it wouldn’t have worked on the Gjirokaster or Butrint days, but maybe a shorter lunch on the other days could have worked.

Then the bikes. I must admit to being a little disappointed, probably unfairly, but I did find my bike heavy and hard going. I understand that the bikes need to be robust to cope with the poor roads we encountered especially in the first two or three days, and the hybrid concept is a good compromise. If I was drawing up a specification I’d save weight by not having front suspension – I don’t think it added anything to the ride apart from extra weight – and I’d do without the pannier rack and pannier. Anything that couldn’t be fitted in the pockets of a cycling jersey could be relegated to a small backpack for those who needed it, or carried in the minibus. Handlebars which allowed at least one other riding position would have been good too. But in the end I managed, and for anyone who thinks they might find it too hard the company does offer the option of electric bikes.

One last word about the group. Thanks, guys! You were great company. I enjoyed your friendship and companionship. Thanks for sharing the pictures. I’ll toast you with a Korça the next time I’m in Albania. Come to think of it, I never did get to try a Korça dark beer, so there’s one reason for going back!

Map and guidebook

I thoroughly recommend the Bradt ‘Albania’ guidebook by Gillian Gloyer. I have Edition 5 dated Jan 2015 but there’s a new Edition 6 published in March this year.

I also bought the Vektor map of Southern Albania. It’s at a scale of 1:200,000. This is really only useful as a general location and road map – the scale is too small and the map too difficult to read to give any real impression of what the terrain is like. For this holiday we didn’t need a map at all as we were given a photocopy of each day’s route from a larger scale map. I bought my map from Stanfords, who also stock Albania maps at 1:50,000 but these don’t cover the whole area and you’d need several to cover the route we followed.

31 May 2018

Distance: 56km; total ascent: 1823m

Stayed at: Hotel Picasso 

I was a bit apprehensive about the day ahead. We were about to cross the Llogara Pass, and stack it how you will that meant riding from sea level at the hotel to 1035m at the top of the pass. In between were more not-insignificant climbs and drops. Before the holiday I’d imagined dancing up the climb on the pedals like a slightly aged Alberto Contador or Marco Pantani, but now I realised the reality was a long, slow grind in a very low gear in temperatures of 30° or more. Marcel Kittel on Mont Ventoux was probably a better image, though Marcel would still be a lot faster than me.

There were cop-out options, explained Erlis. Some people just took the minibus to the top. Others took the minibus for the first 17km; this got you over the first few climbs which were, he mentioned, ‘quite steep’. I had a quick word with Peter, but he scoffed (in a polite way) at any suggestion of not riding the full day. And so it was settled.

Before setting off those who had bought cycle jerseys posed for the team photo.

Team CycleAlbania
Pete, Jack, Erlis, Peter, John

Those first 17km have coalesced into a blur in my memory. There was one point when I literally stalled and had to get off and push the bike. Luckily it was only about 100m from a layby where Vato had stopped so I was able to remount and with a push from him get going again. Coming out of a village I slowly overhauled a man on a donkey cart with another donkey following behind. At that point Peter had dropped out of sight so I stopped at the side of the road while man and donkeys passed me with a mildly curious look. I tried to look nonchalant. When Peter caught me up we rode together and slowly passed them again.

There were downs as well as ups on this section – more of the lovely swooping downhills I relished. Peter had dropped behind again, and at one point I saw James a little way ahead. It was arranged that Vato would be waiting at the start of the Llogara climb so I knew we could regroup. Coming round a bend I realised that the road switching back and forth across the opposite hillside was the Pass itself.

The Llogara Pass looms in the mist

Some of the others were still at the foot of the climb as I arrived, but they left after a few minutes. I decided to wait for Peter, and passed the time eating a Snickers and some salty pretzels and filling my water bottle from Vato’s supply. Walking back to the bend I noticed just off the road one of the small bunkers which are one of the iconic images of Albania. They were built during the paranoid Communist era when the real or imaginary threat of invasion was ingrained in the government psyche. It was the first one I’d seen that was easy to reach from the road; there’s a picture in the gallery below.

I mooched about for a few more minutes before Peter rounded the bend and rode straight past the minibus and me. Back on the bike I caught him up in a couple of minutes and we rode together up the beginning of the climb. Five minutes or so later at the first bend Peter said he was stopping for refreshments; I didn’t want to stop so I carried on. We ended up riding the climb separately.

The gradient wasn’t horribly steep but it was granny minus two or minus one most of the way. The earlier mist had gone and the sun beat down on the road. There was no shade, and the temperature on the road must have been in the mid- to high thirties. It was just a matter of keeping the pedals turning and grinding onwards and upwards. I realised I needed to stop now and again for a brief rest, and set myself targets – that bend, that bush. There are five major switchbacks and as I rounded each one it was one less to the top.

Roughly half way up there’s a layby next to an old military building where Vato was waiting with the minibus and water. I pulled up, fell off the bike, and sat on the back of the trailer slurping from my waterbottle which Vato kept topped up. It was here I discovered for the first time how refreshing half a bottle of cold water poured over your head (cycle helmet and all) is.

On again, and more of the same but in fully granny gear now, trundling at a snail’s pace around the next switchback … and the next … and the minibus going past … and then arriving at a concrete belvedere, a viewpoint over the coast and a good excuse for another rest. Vato was there of course, and he pointed to a building up to our right. The top! And only a kilometre away! It looked only a little higher than where we were. I’d be there in no time.

Well, not quite. As soon as I was back on the road it took a sharp bend away from the building and carried on in the opposite direction before eventually (it seemed an eternity) turning again and heading back. And at last there was no doubt – I’d made it to the top! Disappointingly there’s no big sign saying “Llogara Pass 1035m” to be photographed under.

The rest of the bikes were parked outside. I went in to a chorus of greetings from the others who were knocking back cold drinks. A young waiter came over and I ordered a celebratory Lemon Soda. Peter came in to cheers and greetings about five minutes later. We all felt justifiably pleased with ourselves..

Llogara summit café/restaurant

Once we were recovered and ready to leave Erlis explained that our lunch stop was a few kilometres down the road. On this side of the pass the road was steeper and shadier; the whole area is a national forest park and very attractive. We had another excellent lunch on the terrace of a modern hotel/restaurant by the side of the road (picture in gallery).

Then it was our last big descent. Having given us a regrouping point at the first petrol station in Orikum (there’s a book title waiting for a book) Erlis took off. I was tracking him 100m behind for a short distance but couldn’t match his pace. I caught him up a little later when he slowed for a lorry and car going the same way; he passed them both and by the time I could safely do the same he’d disappeared.

The gradient eased all the time and I happily rolled along on my own until a few kilometres from Orikum when John caught and passed me with Robert on his wheel. I slotted in behind ready to take my turn, but John just kept going until we reached the petrol station. It was then just a short flat ride along the coast to our hotel, the Albania Riviera’s tribute to modernism the Hotel Picasso, one of a line of low-rise hotels and beach resorts along this stretch of coast south of Vlorë.

In a rather low-key way we surrendered our bikes and disappeared to our various rooms. It was only about 4 o’clock but there was nowhere obvious to gather. The hotel bar was deserted when I looked in around 5.30 and there were no other bars along this stretch of road. Dinner, when the time came, was excellent. I noted that Tirana beer had replaced Elbar. We gave our thanks to Erlis and Vato and settled our individual accounts for the food and drink we’d had over the holiday. There were no other guests, the staff clearly didn’t want to prolong the evening, so it was still early when we quit and retired to our rooms to finish packing.

Hotel view at dusk

Morning briefing

Typical Albanian village

Bunker

On the Llogara Pass climb

View at Llogara summit

Lunch stop

Hotel Picasso

View from the hotel

Viewranger track of the day.

29 May 2018

Distance: 49 km; total ascent: 1282m

Stayed at: Hotel Prinos

Today was billed as just a short ride along the coast of the Albanian Riviera overlooking the Ionian Sea. Easy, apart from the two major climbs and a few little ones along the way. This is not a flat coast; the mountains come down to the sea and the coast road goes down to the villages along the way then back up and over the next headland before dropping down to the next village. We were warned when Erlis mentioned “the two kilometre climb out of Sarandë”. This was just the hors d’oeuvres.

Our first coffee stop was in the village of Shën Vasil at the top of the first climb (not counting the 2km hors d’oeuvres).

Coffee stop with Christian and Communist structures

But it was a fine, warm day with clear skies and wide-open views of the coastline. The road stays high, away from the sea: each village has a road signposted “Plazh” leading down to the coast.

The indispensible Vato (photo: Peter)

We stopped for lunch at Porto Palermo. Set in a bay protected by a peninsula it’s no longer a port, but it is used as a water sports centre. A group of kayakers was preparing to set off as we ate lunch on yet another shady terrace.

Porto Palermo does have important historical connections though. On the peninsula is the Fortress of Palermo, built by Ali Pasha Tepelena who in Napoleonic times played the other European powers against each other to take control of a large swathe of southern Albania and northern Greece. He was a ruthless dictator, and eventually the Ottoman rulers who were notionally his overlords had enough and after besieging his stronghold in Ioannina for 17 months they captured and beheaded him.

Albanian Riviera coast

After Palermo it was only a short ride to our hotel facing the south beach of Himarë. Despite the fine warm weather the beach season hadn’t yet started and everywhere was deserted. With several hours to spare before dinner some went swimming, others walked over to the main beach to the north, others sat in the shade of the hotel terrace drinking an Elbar or two – or any combination of the above. And there was always washing of sweaty cycling clothes to be done.

Himarë waits for the summer season

At dinner Erlis handed out the CycleAlbania cycling jerseys people had ordered at an impromptu fitting session over dinner back in the second guest house on Sunday. These were good value, selling at half price for their advertising value (CycleAlbania is the company contracted by Exodus to deliver this holiday). For unexplained reasons the jerseys were only made in sizes L and upwards so James and I, both M, missed out.

Lunch at Porto Palermo

Corniche

Himarë's Wild West

Waiting for the season to start

Viewranger track of the day.

29 May 2018

Distance: 66km; total ascent: 661m

Stayed at: Hotel Porto Eda, Sarandë

We drove in, and we drove out. This morning the minibus took us further down the main road, then turned uphill to the top of the Muzinë pass (555m). Another major sightseeing opportunity awaited, and doing this saved a good chunk of time.

The roads had improved as the holiday progressed and we got nearer the coast. This morning was another exhilarating, swooping downhill on a road with very little traffic, spoiled only by my having to jam on the brakes when an unknown insect hit my forehead, got behind my glasses and stung me under my right eye. Once I’d composed myself I carried on with a sharp pain. I was praying my eye wouldn’t swell up and affect my vision, and relieved as time went on and the pain faded. We regrouped after a flat run-in to the edge of Sarandë; looking in the minibus’s wing mirror I could just see a slight red mark. I’d been lucky.

Although we were within a mile of the coast we couldn’t yet see it, as a low ridge hid the view. We were heading for another World Heritage site, the ancient city of Butrint which lies on a promontory south of Sarandë, between the sea and a large lagoon. Our route took us around the lagoon via a coffee stop at one petrol station and a regroup at another to reach the small cable-driven ferry which crosses the narrow channel which is the only outlet from the lagoon. A ‘rustic ferry’, Erlis claimed.

Butrint Lagoon

On the Butrint ‘rustic ferry’ (photo: Peter)

The far (northern) bank was Touristville. Coaches, some of them from cruise ships and labelled ‘English’, ‘Spanish’ or ‘French’ according to the language of the on-board commentary, were lined up in a large car park. There were German and Dutch bikers. Overweight people in badly-fitting light-coloured clothes wandered about. Local women tried to sell small punnets of strawberries and other fruit. And a hot, sweaty bunch of lycra-wearing Brits were looking for cold drinks and lunch.

Actually it all worked out rather well. Hotel/Restorant Livia was fairly quiet as most of the tourists were in the ancient city. We had another excellent lunch sitting at a reserved table in the shade and by the time we had finished the place was filling up, but the Butrint ruins were emptying. It was hot, but Butrint was quiet and there was plenty of shade as we followed the general route round the ruins.

Again, I won’t duplicate the guidebooks and information online. Start with Wikipedia’s article. The Bradt guidebook also has a good section if you have a copy.

Ruins in Butrint ancient city

The last leg for today was to ride the last 16km into Sarandë. There were a few small ups and downs and by this time it was hot; it was a relief to reach the town and find our hotel overlooking a small marina and with a waterside bar/restaurant terrace. It didn’t take long before most of the group were occupying a shady table where half-empty Elbar bottles (“Korça finished!”) jostled for space with larger (“Haven’t you got any, you know, large bottles?”) bottles of imported wheat beer.

For the evening meal we sat in the terrace restaurant and chose individually from the à la carte menu. The pizza was good. Afterwards as the evening faded to night, four of us sat at a table on the water’s edge enjoying a final drink, a cool breeze and the lights across the bay as an almost-full moon rose from behind the hills.

Saranda lights

Le départ

monument - Muzinë Pass

Butrint ferry - John

Butrint ferry

Butrint lunch stop

Butrint ancient city

Butrint ancient city

Butrint ancient city

Saranda bay

Viewranger track of the day

28 May 2018

Distance: 44km; total ascent: 392m

Stayed at: Hotel Çajupi, Gjirokaster

This was our easiest, shortest, laziest day: just 44 kilometres in the morning, mostly downhill or flat with only a few small blips. A delightful coffee and snack stop at a modern café/bar/restaurant/guest house outside the small town of Këlcyrë, built over a mountain stream and overlooking a river; then rolling on to the junction with the national highway SH4 south of Tepelenë.

Here we loaded the bikes on the trailer and ourselves in the minibus to drive to the city of Gjirokaster, so avoiding cycling along the not-quite-motorway SH4.

Coffee stop near Këlcyrë

I’d been looking forward to visiting Gjirokaster ever since reading about it, first in my guidebook and then after reading “Chronicle in Stone” by Ismail Kadare. Kadare was born in Gjirokaster, which is probably the only thing he has in common with the city’s other famous son, the dictator Enver Hoxha. The old city’s steep cobbled streets and tall stone houses with grey stone-tiled roofs have earned it World Heritage status so it’s very firmly on the tourist trail.

Gjirokaster old city

We checked into our hotel, the upmarket Çajupi on the main square at the foot of the old city, changed out of cycling gear into tourist gear and regrouped in the fourth floor dining room with panoramic views over the city and the valley below. A large lunch of mixed starters followed by a main course of chicken in a creamy sauce was served. Erlis raised the question of the evening meal. Did we want him to book the usual place for dinner? Seven rather overfed cyclists looked disconcerted. It was agreed that we would each fend for ourselves that evening.

Gjirokaster castle (photo: Peter)

We did two touristy things guided by Erlis: we visited the castle and one of the big old traditional houses, this one known as the Ottoman House. This is a bit of a misnomer as it doesn’t date from that period and is in fact an example of a traditional house of a wealthy Gjirokaster family.

Both visits were interesting and worthwhile. Wikipedia has good pages on the castle, on Gjirokaster itself, and on its two famous sons Kadare and Hoxha. The Ottoman house is also known as the Skëndulaj (or Skenduli) House. We were shown round by a young English-speaking woman who under friendly questioning admitted to being one of the family who own it. The best write-up I have found in English is in the Bradt ‘Albania’
guidebook by Gillian Gloyer, a book I heartily recommend.

Ottoman house

Old Gjirokaster street

Later, after consulting the guidebook, Peter and I set off to find a restaurant it recommended. We were waylayed by finding the others occupying the terrace of a bar/restaurant in the old city. After a beer or two we ended up eating there*.

I should mention that today marked a significant cultural transition. Until Gjirokaster our beer of choice had been Korça. But now Korça was unavailable; Elbar had become the default offering.

* The place was the Bar/Restorant Rrapi on Rruga Alqi Kondi. ‘Restorant’ is the Albanian spelling of ‘Restaurant’, and for the tourists Rrapi has dropped the double-r of the Albanian spelling.

Elbar

Road shadow

Erlis

Coffee place

Gjirokaster and Drinos Valley

Gjirokaster

Ottoman house

Ottoman house

Gjirokaster-old-buildings

Viewranger track of the day

27 May 2018

Distance: 52.7km; total ascent: 749m

Stayed at: Guest House Hani i Colit

It was another fine morning as we left Farma Sotira after breakfast (no trout involved). We had been promised a splendid 14km downhill section, but not before a few kilometres of easy uphill. Mountains started to appear on the horizon.

The first downhill of the day took us to the town of Leskovik, built on a hillside at the head of a long valley. The road was good, and with almost no traffic the ride was a pleasure.

Roadside shrine and cyclist

Leskovik

The promised 14km downhill started in the town. It was on a newly-built road, virtually traffic-free, the surface was smooth and fast with swooping bends and hairpins ideal for honing your descending technique.

The road took us down to a river valley – the River Viora – to within 300 metres of the Greek border and a little-used border crossing at Tre Urat. This is, of course, a border with the EU so is staffed and controlled. A few people (not me) went to have a look; they reported three bored armed women who waved away any attempt to take photos.

Unlike the uphill sections I was fast downhill and one of the first to reach Tre Urat. While we waited, Erlis took a call reporting that James had crashed on the descent. He arrived in the minibus a few minutes later with his bike on the trailer. He had some nasty and painful abrasions and bruises but nothing seemed to be broken. Erlis applied iodine as antiseptic, and they decided dressings weren’t needed. James explained he’d hit some loose gravel on a bend and his wheel went from under him.

The peloton (photo: Peter)

Once everyone had arrived and James had recovered we set off again along the valley on a straight flat road heading for a coffee stop at the small village of Çarshovë. We were 750m lower than the high point of the morning and by now it was very warm – about 30° but feeling much higher in the full sun and with the heat reflected off the road.

Looking back, I might have realised at this point I wasn’t quite 100% well. I wasn’t feeling hungry and had to force myself to eat. I put sugar in my coffee – something I never do normally. The plan now was to ride another 22 km to the guest house where we were staying that night, have a late lunch there, then go on either by bike or minibus to some thermal springs for a couple of hours’ relaxation.

Although it was only a short distance there were several small hills. Within the first kilometre I was cycling on my own. There was a bit of a headwind, it was hot, the road surface was particularly jolting and my morale slumped. I felt I was fighting the road and the bike. Thoughts of abandoning for the day and getting a ride in the minibus started to form in my head, but I determined to carry on^*. But after about an hour and a quarter I started to feel faint and a bit nauseous. Drinking more water didn’t help, and I limped along until I found the rest of the group waiting at the roadside. I told Erlis how I was feeling and without fuss my bike was loaded onto the trailer, I took a seat inside and Vato drove us off up a side road. I kicked myself when it turned out I’d stopped only 2km from the guest house, but then I reminded myself that we’d driven uphill and I really wanted to sit down quietly in the shade. I asked for a lemonade; the guest house owner brought a can of Lemon Soda. Cold and refreshing, it became the standard soft drink for the whole group for the rest of the holiday (though its sibling Oran Soda did have its supporters).

Guest House

The others arrived, we checked into our rooms and came back down for lunch; I only have a vague memory of this. It was an easy decision to opt out of the thermal springs and when the others went off I went to the room and fell asleep for a couple of hours.

By the time they all came back I’d recovered and was feeling alright again, if a little fragile. There was a short heavy rain shower as we had dinner of barbecued lamb sitting on the terrace as the light faded. After dinner Peter and I walked up the road towards the springs for a couple of kilometres before turning back to the guest house and bed. In the dark, fireflies flashed their lights in the bushes at the side of the road.

^* See Rule 5.

Photo-stop

Road to Leskovik

River Viosa

Regroup at Tre Urat border crossing

Viosa valley

Viosa River

Bridge to nowhere

Viewranger track of the day

26 May 2018

Distance: 61.4km; total ascent: 1315m

We were taken in the minibus from the hotel to a layby just on the further edge of Korçë. Here we tried our bikes for the first time, adjusting saddle heights and in my case fitting pedals. American Jack from Oregon was the only one to have brought his own bike; a handbuilt job with wheels he’d poached from his tandem. He’s going on to France after this holiday to cycle in the Pyrenees.

The bikes are Giant; hybrid style, steel frame, front suspension, disk brakes, 30 gears and fitted with pannier carriers. We have a single pannier each to carry everyday items. A quick briefing and we were on our way – four kilometres on the flat before the first climb.

At the start – leader Erlis giving a briefing

Setting off

Let me describe how our days went. The previous evening Erlis would brief us about the coming day. We were each given an A4 sheet of paper with a map and a height profile; regrouping points, coffee and lunch stops were marked. We would set off together but soon split up, not just because some were faster than others but also because people stopped to take photos, have a rest and so on. We’d regroup at the designated spots and often informally at other points – views, hilltops, etc. It was a good system and worked well. Vato followed behind with the minibus and trailer in case of breakdown, accident or overwhelming exhaustion.

Back to the first day. It’s described in the Exodus trip notes and confirmed by Erlis as the hardest day of the week, except for the last day. There are four substantial climbs and plenty of other small ups and downs. The distance may not be great but with the temperature in the mid-twenties and the heavier bike it certainly felt like a tough day.

The first climb. Ah, that set the pattern for the rest of the week. The bikes rode like mountain bikes – very sensitive to gradient changes. As the road started uphill I clattered down through the gears until I was about two above lowest. As the group sorted itself into the strong and the weak, soon only Peter was behind me. It was hot. The road was in full sun, with concrete walls on both sides. The climb took me about half an hour to cover four and a half kilometres.

Our first ‘official’ stop was at a delightful café/bar/restaurant in the middle of nowhere, with a cool shady garden. Erlis acted as go-between and waiter, taking our drink orders and delivering them to the table. Out of the minibus came Snickers bars, bananas, packets of nuts and salty pretzel sticks which with an occasional variant of Mars bars became our staple refuelling régime. Vato also carried bottled water in the minibus so we could top up our bidons. This was luxury cycle touring!

Coffee stop

There was another hill before we stopped for lunch; a full sit-down restaurant meal in Ersekë at about 12.30.

The afternoon was indeed tough. The roads in this part of Albania are, to say the least, varied. They range from fairly smooth tarmac to unmade gravel, with a particular fondness for hard, bumpy aggregate chips, patches and potholes. Full attention was needed to avoid mishaps. A series of smaller ups and downs preceded the third major climb and descent; regrouping at the foot of the last (and hardest, said Erlis) we were given final instructions for getting to the farm where we were staying that night.

The group split quickly and once again only Peter was behind me as we ground up on a bendy twisting road through the welcome shade of a forest. Granny gear minus two, then minus one, and finally Granny herself; just keep the pedals turning and you’ll get there eventually, I told myself. After three kilometres the sign advertising “Farma Sotira 4km” meant it was only another kilometre and a half to the top. No sign of the others ahead or Peter behind. Keep going. Vato overtakes in the minibus and trailer. I wave. And then it’s over – the top! Vato’s there and I decide to wait for Peter so we can arrive together. A few minutes later Peter comes in sight, reaches the minibus – and goes straight onto the final downhill run. I hop on the bike and chase after him. We get to the valley below, round a bend, over a bridge, and there it is! Our trout farm home for the night. We ride in, see the others sitting under a shady roof, dismount as Erlis walks over with two  open bottles of cold beer. This is how cycling should be!

Shady outdoors at Farma Sotira

Trout

Communist-era monument, Ersekë

Tony and Peter

Hilltop

Farma Sotira

Bikes at Farma Sotira

What made Korça famous

Viewranger track for the day:

25 May 2018

Staying in Hotel Millennium, Tushemisht, Pogradec.

After catching a ridiculously early bus from Oxford to Gatwick, a three and a half hour flight to Tirana and a 3 hour transfer in an 8-seater minibus we’ve arrived at our hotel just outside Pogradec. ‘We’ being Peter and me plus 5 other cyclists booked on this Exodus cycling holiday. Our leader is Erlis, the driver is Vato. Erlis has lived in Canada for a while and speaks good English.

Our bikes are here but we won’t get them set up for us individually until we set off tomorrow morning. I’m the only one who’s brought their own pedals. The minibus is also our support vehicle, aka The Broom Wagon; the bikes are all carried on a large trailer.

The hotel is comfortable and well-equipped, with a terrace overlooking the lake. The food’s good – plenty of vegetables, chips(!), and a main course of the special local trout which are only found in this particular lake.

Hotel Millennium terrace

Pete and John get the beers in.