Vermosh-ish

With further storms predicted in the afternoons, we aborted our plans to climb up from the Grebaje valley. We started cycling out towards the Albanian border. The Vermosh crossing was far quieter than I had imagined. The pot-bellied policeman at the border gestured disapprovingly at me cycling in his country with Kiran. Maybe he thought it was a dumb idea.

We came to a bridge that was high above a loud waterfall. Clear water gently steamed till it plunged in a foaming white roar on to the rocks below. Kiran wondered if we would be able to cross it while canyoning.

The rain arrived just as we arrived at the turn off to Vermosh. So we decided to get lunch at the home restaurant of a farmer, and had to choose between 3-4 kinds of potatoes. Then it poured, so we asked if we could stay there. They were super friendly and kind, letting us sleep on the floor of the dining tent rather than the wet grass outside. The dogs barked all night, only to be interrupted by a fox squealing. I missed sleeping in nature.Read more