The secret, scenic side of southern Albania

Times

18 hours ago

The cat's out of the bag. Almost 12 million people visited Albania last year, many of them heading to the riviera on the promise of an affordable, sun-soaked beach break. But the truth is that overtourism is already looming, prices are rising and international investment — including from Jared Kushner, President Trump's son-in-law — means traditional villages are being developed into beach resorts.
If the prospect of sunbathing a few yards away from the Trumps or being in a hotel that could be anywhere in the world puts you off, there's a part of the Albanian riviera that package holiday giants and hotel tycoons tend to miss. Undiscovered Balkans, a small British travel company that specialises in offbeat adventures, has introduced a small-group tour to highlight some of southern Albania's less-trumpeted treasures.
I joined the trip in May and spent a week exploring lesser-known coastal towns before dipping into the hinterland, where I visited Unesco world heritage sites, swam in hidden waterfalls, stayed with farmers high in the mountains and rafted on one of Europe's last truly wild rivers. We finished on crowd-free pebble beaches 200m above sea level in a fishing hamlet on the shores of Lake Ohrid.
I arrived in Qeparo, one of the quieter seaside villages in Vlore county, under darkness after a three-hour drive from Tirana. I woke to views of Old Qeparo, the original farming village in the hillside, spilling down the mountain to meet New Qeparo on the seafront, where beach bars and boat rental centres were gearing up for the season. The first of many feasts of the holiday commenced on the patio overlooking all of this.
Our host was the lovely Mirella Kokedhima, an empty nester who runs the guesthouse at her hilltop farm somewhere between the two Qeparos. What she could cook up following a belter of a thunderstorm and resulting power cut was impressive, and done with a smile. Eggs, goat's cheese, yoghurt, salad, homemade chocolate pastries, sausages, and Turkish coffee so thick you could chew it, all came our way.
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This early in the season, the sea was too choppy for kayaking, so we spent the first day hiking along the coast. Our group of eight Brits, ranging in age from thirties to sixties, rambled along karst limestone cliffs with epic views of traditional villages and sparkling water, Corfu a hazy mound across the bay. The scent of wildflowers and thyme hung in the air and birds chirped from nearby branches. Nine miles later we descended to Borsh beach and dipped our weary feet in the crisp Ionian water, a well-earned beer in hand.
The next day we turned our backs on the seaside and joined our guide, Alfi Pepaj, in a 4×4 for a scenic off-road adventure through the mountains to Gjirokaster, a Unesco-listed Ottoman-era town. The scenery was all dramatic, green carpeted peaks and wide, open meadows, with nobody around for miles. Along the way, we pulled up seemingly in the middle of nowhere and followed Pepaj down into a canyon, where a waterfall cascaded. As we swam a chorus of Albanian water frogs spectated from their moss perch.
An hour or so later we arrived in Gjirokaster and were immediately charmed. Our accommodation was a characterful hotel inside an Ottoman house with furnishings to match. Nowadays, most will know Gjirokaster for its traditional old town and bazaar, which draws similarities with Bosnia's Mostar or northern Albania's Kruje. But the town was also the birthplace of Enver Hoxha, the brutal communist dictator who ruled Albania for 40 years until his death in 1985. It's a wonder how such an evil man could come from such a beautiful and peaceful place.
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Gjirokaster's remarkably preserved 13th-century fortress gives far-reaching views of the region and its cool stone walls offer respite from the summer heat. The town is very clearly popular with tourists, but prices were reasonable and an Aperol spritz set me back just £6.
The following morning we once again headed for the mountains on another 4×4 tour where more of that spectacular karst scenery awaited. We drove along dizzying passes to the village of Hoshteve in Zagoria, the neighbouring county. Several photo stops later, we wandered down the hill to a 12th-century village church which houses some of Albania's best-preserved frescoes and icons, surviving several wars, the Ottoman Empire and Hoxha's dictatorship.
We sauntered back up to Kristina and Ladi Telo's guesthouse for another Albanian feast. We ate on their wraparound porch, which was adorned with flowers, citrus trees and swallows nests, not a sound or another soul in sight for miles. I couldn't believe the amount of food (all fresh) that was coming from a kitchen no bigger than most people's pantries.
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Suitably stuffed and with Pepaj translating, I got talking to Kristina and found out they had converted their home into a guesthouse 12 years ago after spotting a market for feeding and sheltering hikers passing through. One thing led to another as Kristina showed me around and the next thing I knew, I was trying on her traditional shepherdess dress and modelling it to the rest of the group.
Our next stay was at a 120-year-old restored farmhouse overlooking the Vjosa valley, where the Vjosa, one of Europe's last truly wild rivers flows. To get there we had driven up a rocky dirt track, just centimetres from a sheer drop at some points, but it was well worth the effort. Now a listed building, Kristaq Cullufe's family home was lucky not to have been seized by the communists and for a long time it lay abandoned. The village is a shadow of its former self, with many having left to find work elsewhere.
Following the collapse of communism in 1991, Cullufe's family returned from nearby Permet city and set about restoring the farmhouse. In the first-floor bedroom stood his mother's peja, a wooden chest Albanian brides would fill with things to take to their marital home. On the patio, where we ate to the sound of the Vjosa gushing through the valley below, were more artefacts, including old farming tools, sewing machines and telephones.
More of that bucolic mountain scenery filled our windows the following day as we drove to Lake Ohrid, our final stop. But not before we had some fun on the Vjosa, whitewater rafting, cliff diving and wild swimming. We arrived under darkness once again, leaving the lakeside views a surprise until morning.
Straddling the border with North Macedonia, the Unesco-protected Ohrid is one of Europe's oldest lakes. We stayed in the sleepy fishing village of Lin, which is a tourism destination well and truly in its infancy and the kind of place where people own a boat rather than a car.
Our final day was an active one, hiking and kayaking to secluded pebble beaches in the morning and cycling the length of Albania's share of the lake in the afternoon. There are no overpriced sunbeds to fight over here. The pleasant 12-mile ride took us past allotments, overgrown bunkers, quiet enclaves where ducks quacked from behind the reeds, and fishermen selling their catch on the roadside.
We stopped in the larger town of Pogradec, which has a real British seaside feel to it: children giggled on the fairground rides, the smell of candyfloss and doughnuts wafted in the air and old men puffed cigarettes and sipped raki as they played checkers on the promenade. Pogradec is a resort town that's got the balance right with tourism — buzzing, but not too crowded.
If you prefer to spend your holiday flopping on the beach sipping cocktails, this trip probably isn't for you. But if you're looking to experience a more authentic side to Albania, with outdoor adventures and priceless cultural exchanges, it just might be.Laura Sanders was a guest of Undiscovered Balkans, which has seven nights' full board from £1,195pp on a South Albania Activity Holiday (undiscoveredbalkans.com). Fly to Tirana