Day 11 – Saturday, August 16, 2025

Hmmm, I did wake up once or twice during the night, but overall slept rather well – that is, until a few seconds before quarter to six in the morning. Suddenly, at 5:45, the sprinkler system set off on the patch of grass I was lying on. To make matters worse, one of the sprinklers – which I had not noticed the previous evening – was right in front of my tent. A rude awakening indeed. Within seconds, my tent, sleeping bag, and all other belongings inside became wet. It was then that I suddenly sat up, still in my sleeping bag – and the strong spray hit me right in the face. My natural reaction was to escape, but my feet were stuck in the sleeping bag, so I strained a muscle, which hurt (a bit, at least) for the rest of the day. When I finally managed to free myself from the sleeping bag and leave the tent, I quickly dragged it to a dry location, doing my best to get myself and the tent dry. It was a bit chilly that morning (it was not even 6 am), and I was glad I had packed a bit too many clothes – some of which stayed dry – so I quickly changed, feeling better.

It was just water, wasn’t it? No major harm done – so I figured I might as well start packing my things. If they were wet, I would dry them somewhere later on. I was up in the saddle before 7 am and soon at a pretty deserted border crossing between North Macedonia and – back again – Albania. Now I was kicking myself for having gotten rid of my Albanian currency. Oh well.

I reached the hilly section of a town called Pogradec (the rest of the town lies on the lake), where I bought some supplies, mainly water and a few bureks. Unfortunately, they would not take my Macedonian denars, so I paid by card. In the middle of town was a memorial dedicated to the heroes of WWII, with a red star – it reminded me of my native Hungary before the fall of the Iron Curtain.

Heroes of a past era

Continuing on, I entered a mountainous area where a road sign warned of bears. Hmmm, probably the bears also had warning signs about long-range cyclists – they didn’t bother me, and vice versa.

As I was heading towards the town of Bilisht on a very straight patch of road, I saw someone walking in my direction, with a large backpack and a big stick in his hand. I stopped to say hello, and we chatted for over an hour. It turned out that this guy from Italy, called Gianmarco, about 28, was walking (!) from Italy all the way to Japan. He was a movie director and wanted to get ideas and see the world. Granted, he was not using just his feet – at times he took buses, hitchhiked, even rode tractors. I’ve been following him since on Instagram - you can find him under Gianmillion. By September he was already in Turkey – something impossible if done just on foot. Despite that, an amazing adventure – chapeau and bon voyage!

En route to Japan

Apart from that, nothing much happened that day – until I arrived at yet another border crossing, this one between Albania and Greece. Just before the actual crossing was a fast-food stand where I ordered a köfte sandwich. I had no Albanian leks left, only denars and euros – an Albanian family saw me struggling and kindly paid for my lunch. Thanks indeed! They even bought me an ayran – a delicious yoghurt drink.

I had visions of multiple-hour wait times (for cars) between Albania and Greece, but there was such little traffic at this otherwise large border station that the officers seemed even a bit bored. At the Greek passport control, the officer saw my ID card and cried out, friendly, “magyaro, magyaro!” 😉. And there I was – back in the EU – after having been to Bosnia, Serbia, Montenegro, Albania, and North Macedonia in about ten and a half days. Each of them left quite an impression on me.

The trip so far had been really great – but, spoiler alert, the Greek portion would turn out to be even nicer. As mentioned earlier, this was my first time in Greece by bike, and what an amazing trip it would turn out to be!

Crossing into Greece felt like entering a different, much more developed world. While I have to say the roads in the Balkans were quite good, it was still noticeably better on the EU side. There were multilingual signs (well, multiscript – since not everyone, me included, can read perfect Greek).

Speaking of signs, I saw one indicating directions to a freeway (not for bikers), “local roads” – seemed too complicated – and a third direction. I set off in that third direction, and the first settlement I reached was a small village called Krystallopigi, which means “crystal water.” Not sure what was meant by that – a pretty place, but nothing special to see. I was displeased to discover that if I wanted to head south, I first needed to bike northeast, only then cutting back south – what would have been just over 20 kilometers became more than 30 – quite a difference on a bike… unless…

…unless I took the “local road” next to the highway. I opted for that, and it became my first adventure within an adventure in Greece.

Here, the local road was unpaved, leading me up to a very pretty local church, from where the road would just climb and climb and climb.

First picture in Greece

As noted earlier, not a single road on this planet climbs forever (though I thought this one might). I watched on Google Maps as the distance to the next village, still about 15 km away, slowly shrank – very slowly, but shrank it did. To complicate things, a group of cows was standing right in the middle of the road. I did not feel they were amused to see me – one even stamped its front leg. Better to dismount, I thought, and keep the bike between myself and the cows – at least it would offer some protection. I dared not look them in the eye, not wanting to seem threatening. I felt their gaze for a while, but then I hopped on the bike and was soon out of their reach. My assumption that the ascent would end was correct – a descent began. Though not too easy, as the road was quite bumpy. This local road paralleled the freeway, crossing it, going over or underneath.

To my delight, the asphalt returned after a while, so progress became easier. Soon I was approaching a tiny, remote village called Ieropigi. Outside the village, a shepherd appeared – or rather, his dogs did. They did not greet me in friendship – not the first time this would happen in Greece. Anyhow, I reached the village, where there was a pub of sorts, with old men drinking. To my surprise, they spoke a bit of broken German, as they had worked in Germany – and they told me there were no hotels or restaurants in the vicinity.

Remote village in the mountains

I kept getting closer to “civilization.” The next village, I believe, was called Agia Kiriaki. There I saw a group of people busy constructing a house – when they saw me, they shouted out, “Tourist!” The village even had a restaurant, but it would not open until 8 pm. All my begging and nagging were no help – the owner would not budge. So I continued and rolled into a real “metropolis” (to show off my shiny Greek knowledge) called Mesopotamia (yes, another Greek term – apparently I was between rivers). The Wikipedia article about the village highlights its football field and mentions that not less than two players from here reached the Greek First Division. So came my first mini-adventure on this otherwise adventurous trip to an end (but the day was not yet over…). Now I was in a town with multiple restaurants, coffee shops, and bakeries. On this Saturday evening, they all seemed quite full. My plan was to have something quick to eat and then find a place to sleep.

The locals recommended a place called Mr. Gyros, which I managed to find after a bit of hassle. They staff was very friendly, spoke English, and the gyros was excellent – in fact, so tasty I ordered a second one. The village had a lot of young people, some dining at Mr. Gyros, who also spoke very good English. Actually, in most of Greece, it was easy to get along with a mix of English and German. I asked if there was a camping site, but they told me there was none. However, pitching a tent by the river was allowed. This would be about 4 kilometers away. They also mentioned another possible spot (probably at another river) about 15 kilometers away. They added that not long ago, there had been a large music festival. As I am writing this now, I googled what they meant – most probably the 45th edition of River Party at Nestorio – something similar to Sziget in Hungary. Supposedly, 50,000 people had attended. Another reason to return, even though I am not the typical festival person.

Anyhow, the safer bet was to ride to the closer river. If that did not work, I would try the other option. It was a short ride – I had to cross a highway, then I was in an entertainment park. There were quite a few cars headed that way, which I found strange, but soon understood – a wedding party was in full swing underneath a gigantic tent. I talked to the hostess; she was very friendly and even invited me to come back for a drink after I had pitched my tent – but I did not want to be a gate-crasher. A bit further, I saw the signs showing where camping was allowed and even spotted a camping car or two - but they drove off. There was a bridge over the river, and to be as far as possible from the music of the party, I decided to put up my tent on the opposite side.

Large wedding

This was the area for my night

That went smoothly – no issues whatsoever. In the distance, I did hear some loud bangs, which I first attributed to the party – maybe fireworks. I laid down, but the bangs did not stop. It would be quiet for a while, then a loud bang, quiet again, then another. I started paying more and more attention to it – were they hunters? If yes, would they see me? Or was someone building a road? On a Saturday night, that seemed unlikely. I guessed the quiet period between bangs was about five minutes, and with every bang I thought – and hoped – it would be the last one. The worst part was that it simply would not stop. I would doze off, “miss” a few bangs, then one would startle me awake. I thought of packing my stuff and moving somewhere else, but it was too late for that (it was dark, and I was tired). So I did my best to fall asleep. I even used some ohropax, but the sound pierced through easily. It was not the best of nights – but in the end, I did fall asleep.

I rode 103 kilometers and ascended 900 meters.