Download as PDF - Touratech Nordic

with canals. Modest villages stand on hilly
outcrops. Here and there minarets poke out
from among groups of houses. Ahead of us,
on a hill, red Albanian flags with their twoheaded
eagles flutter atop the Butrint castle
overlooking the lake of the same name.
A wooden rope ferry, more like a raft really,
takes us and our enduros to the other
side. There is a strip of land just a few hundred
metres wide separating the salt-water lagoon
from the Adriatic, and yet a mountain
ridge blocks the view of the other end of the
isthmus. Half out of curiosity, and half out of
the need to find somewhere to sleep soon, I
steer onto a dirt road that looks like it climbs
the ridge. It’s lucky I don’t know beforehand
where the track leads.
The spring rains have completely washed