Peaks of the Balkans Trail Tour: With Jérôme Clementz through the wild Prokletije Mountains

Text: Jérôme Clementz

"No, no - we need a taxi for four. Four people and four bikes." Ludo uses his fingers to make sure that the landlord at the Rugova Base Camp really understands us and can order us a suitable car. The Kosovar nods. He seems to have understood about the four long ago. I think it's our bikes that are irritating him and the person he's talking to on the phone. But at some point our landlord laughs into the phone, shrugs his shoulders and hangs up: OK, taxi's coming, but it'll take a while. Very good, then there's still time to set up our bikes. We first landed in Pristina this morning and then travelled two hours by bus through the Rugova Valley to this accommodation. However, we only want to leave our large luggage here and continue straight away by taxi to Liqenat, where our adventure is due to start. Our schedule for the first day is a little tight. But this European mountain range is almost unfamiliar to us - better not to waste a minute. However, nobody had realised that our tour could fail because there wasn't a taxi big enough for us and our bikes.

The Peaks of the Balkans Trail - never heard of it

My mate Ludo May came up with the idea of this tour a few weeks ago. He said that he didn't want to spend the whole summer travelling from one enduro race to the next. I'd rather be out and about on my bike again, discovering something completely new. And the pictures we found on the internet looked really exciting: The Balkans - more precisely: the Prokletije mountains. Where the borders of Kosovo, Albania and Montenegro meet. For a long time, this region was considered a forbidden land. Today, an ancient shepherd's path has been unearthed and marked out as a tourist hiking trail. It is 192 kilometres long and climbs from summit to summit at an altitude of over 2000 metres. It crosses national borders three times along the way. The tour should take ten days on foot if you choose the long loop. We couldn't find anything on the internet about how long it would take by mountain bike. "Perfect!", agreed our mates Cyril and photographer Jérémie Reuiller, and no further persuasion was needed.

An off-road vehicle with roof rails for large luggage stops in the car park. 'Outdoor Kosovo' is written on the side door. If this is our taxi, there should be enough space. A tall, wiry driver gets out and takes firm steps towards us. His expression is grim. But his English is better than that of our host. It's our bikes that are bothering him. The trail is not feasible with them. But it doesn't take long for him to understand that we have alpine experience, know our equipment and have a fair idea of what we're getting into. Eventually he thaws out and introduces himself. His name is Mentor, a mountain guide and specialist for the Peaks of the Balkans Trail. We are allowed to lash the bikes to the roof of his car and off we go. During the journey to the starting point, Mentor gives us valuable tips and as we say goodbye, he slips us his business card: "If you have any problems, give me a call. Any time!" An offer that we will unfortunately have to take him up on.

What you couldn't see so well in the pictures on the internet: These Prokletije mountains are damn steep. We don't have much time to warm up, our heart rates and lactate levels start pounding straight away. But it doesn't take long before we reach the first terrain level, where the small Leqinat Lake has made itself at home. It lies there like a green pearl in the lush green alpine meadow, loosely surrounded by a few conifers. Its western shore already borders Montenegro. But what worries us are the white patches on the flanks of the pass above. Mentor had told us about residual snow fields. The winter had been exceptionally long this year. But the white patches are becoming increasingly dense on the remaining 400 metres up to the pass. We have to descend faster than expected - and trudge for eight kilometres through ice-cold, ankle-deep slush. That takes energy. And morale. Only the GPS device still claims that we are on the right track. We haven't seen the path for a long time. "Be glad the snow isn't frozen, otherwise we could just turn round again..." Cyril stomps ahead and stops abruptly in mid-sentence. By the time we catch up, he has already made up his mind: "A bear!" Indeed, the paw prints in the snow are actually from several bears, as we also discover the same tracks in miniature. The prospect of encountering a bear family in the middle of this wild area gives us renewed vigour. Just like the Mégavalanche descent on the other side of the pass. For 100 metres, at least two of us have fun. The other two have to push. But soon we have a sandy path under our tyres again, which leads us down through alpine meadows to the first farms in Montenegro. A woman sees us approaching through the kitchen window. Are we looking for accommodation? No, we tell her, but she beckons us onto her terrace anyway. Before we know it, tea and a large plate of pancakes are waiting for us. Hospitality that we would experience every day from now on.

We should be careful. A story that we hear again and again over the next few days: Just ten days ago, two Belgian hikers slipped on an icy snowfield up here and fell down the steep slope. Both dead. That's why we curb our thirst for adventure a little on the following stages. According to Mentor, no more large snowfields are to be expected, but we prefer not to make any excessive manoeuvres. Who knows how long it will take for the helicopter to come to the rescue in an emergency. If it can come at all, because the weather will keep us at bay more and more often over the next few days. Every afternoon, the clouds in the sky swell up into monsters, but we always just make it back to the accommodation before it starts to pour or hail.

We had just been happy because we had successfully sat out a thunderstorm in a mountain café so that we could now tackle the ascent to the Valbona Pass dry and refreshed. The next black wall rolls towards us. All that remains is a frantic retreat. Just get away from the pass! We find a halfway sheltered hollow in the terrain below the ridge line and crouch down to endure the misery. At least it doesn't last long. But we are completely soaked and we know: The crash site of the two Belgians is now lurking up there. A diversion has been set up, but it leads up a via ferrata. "You can forget it with the bikes," says Mentor on the phone.

Avoiding the crash site is not an option for us

The icy snow field has thawed. At least the tread of our shoes is gripping quite well. Nevertheless, we consider every step. Highly focussed, we feel our way across the fall site one by one. Only when all four of us have secure ground under our feet do we laugh again. With relief. But also because we are now rewarded with a snow-free enduro trail down into the next valley. Admittedly: You have to push and carry a lot uphill on the Peaks of the Balkans Trail. But downhill it was 98 per cent fun. Even the descent from the Péja Pass down to Albania, which Mentor had described to us as completely unrideable: far too steep, rough scree and the tightest of bends - we enjoyed every hairpin bend of its 700 metres of descent. The landscape also changed constantly on this tour. In Kosovo, everything reminded us a little of the Vosges mountains and later of the Siberian steppes. Montenegro surprised us with flowering alpine meadows and Mediterranean-scented pine forests. Now, in Albania, white Dolomite rocks gleam at us before the following valleys to the east open up again like Scotland and Mongolia. Unfortunately, what we didn't see in all those days were bears. We asked the hut keepers several times how likely it was to encounter bears. The answer was always a shake of the head. But just as we are about to set off again after a rest in a meadow near Doberdoll, we spot them after all: up there on the slope - at a safe distance - a female bear and her three cubs are romping up the mountain meadow!

Info Peaks of the Balkans Trail

The precinct

The Dinaric Mountains stretch 600 kilometres across the Balkans. From Slovenia (Julian Alps) via Croatia to the north of Albania. In the far east, where the three countries of Kosovo, Montenegro and Albania meet in a tri-border region, the highest, steepest and most rugged peaks rise: the Prokletije Mountains (highest mountain: Jezerca, 2694 metres). Translated, Prokletije means "cursed" or "forbidden". Precisely because of its steep topography and impassability, it was only properly mapped in the 20th century, and for a long time tourists were not granted access due to the Iron Curtain between Albania and Montenegro. In the meantime, however, the borders have been opened and these mountains are increasingly being referred to as the "Albanian Alps".

The tour

The Peaks of the Balkan Trail is an ancient shepherd's path, which today leads over the highest peaks and passes of the Prokletije Mountains as a major hiking route. Over a length of 192 kilometres, it crosses all three national borders and immerses itself in a wide variety of landscapes. In the middle of what is probably the wildest and most unspoilt mountain range in Europe.

The entire route can be covered on foot in ten days, but it took us eight days by bike. That says it all. Anyone embarking on this tour by mountain bike should be prepared for long stretches of carrying and pushing in the steepest terrain. The route is 98 per cent rideable downhill, but only if you have a solid enduro riding technique. Otherwise, you'll be pushing a lot and won't be much faster than a hiker.

Visa

The borders are open to hikers and bikers, but you need a type of visa for all three countries, which you can apply for online: www.peaksofthebalkans.info

Accommodation

The Prokletije Mountains are not particularly densely populated, but you will come across farms and villages. It is best to use the organisation service of Outdoor Kosovo: www.outdoorkosova.com