Pedalbania – Stage 6
Himarë – (south of) Vlorë
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.
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.
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..
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.
Viewranger track of the day.
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