Valbona to Theth: Paradise Awaits
VALBONA TO THETH
Paradise Awaits
June 20, 2025
PART I
Given how much trekking I had done over the years, I was surprised to wake up with blisters after such a short hike the previous day. The closer I got to my thirties, the more my body seemed determined to give up on me.
But, as always – stop whining, start doing. I self-medicated, did what I could about the blisters and geared up for another long day. This would be the day. This was the hike that had made me choose Albania as my next destination. After all, the Valbona to Theth trek is one of the best-known and most scenic hikes in the Albanian Alps – crossing the heart of the Accursed Mountains through Valbona Pass leading to Theth.
From the Valbona side, the trek covers some 16 to 18 kilometres and involves roughly 800 to 1,000 metres of ascent before reaching Valbona Pass, which stands at around 1,800 metres above sea level. Most travellers – myself included – choose to do a circuit starting from Shkodër, catch a ferry over Koman Lake to Fierzë, get to Valbona and then hike all the way to Theth before heading back to Shkodër.
Yanika, my dive buddy from the dive shop I had worked in, had completed it shortly before me and had given the hike rave reviews. I could hardly wait to get started!
The Trek I Came For
After a quick breakfast, I set off. The first section reminded me of my hikes in Patagonia – wooded trails, broad forest clearings and gentle inclines beneath towering peaks. After about three kilometres, the gradient began to steepen, with several switchbacks weaving across the mountainside.
The path then passed through beech woodland and open pastures scattered with daisies, grazing sheep and horses – this area more reminiscent of the Italian Alps. Jagged mountains towered on every side, their slopes etched with pale scree gullies and what appeared to be the scars of long-past avalanches. The trail itself alternated between packed earth and loose limestone gravel. Every few metres seemed to reveal a new angle – a waterfall spilling down a distant mountainside, a line of peaks appearing through the trees or the river threading its way through the valley far below.
Five kilometres in, I reached the first trail stop, where I could finally savour a hot cuppa java. Revelling in the fact that I had overtaken almost everyone who had set off before me, I decided to take my sweet time enjoying my coffee – and cuddling the most adorable kitten. That was until my rivals began catching up with me. Apparently, resting was no longer an option. I finished my coffee, said a hurried goodbye to the kitten and took off at full speed once again.
The Climb to Valbona Pass
The steepest section came next, and I needed all the energy I could muster. As I had done the previous day, I paced myself through short but frequent breaks. The approach paid off, not only by conserving my stamina but also by giving me enough time to appreciate my surroundings.
Several points along the climb offered glorious panoramic views of snow-streaked peaks, serrated ridges and valleys shaped by ancient glaciers. The higher I climbed, the more the landscape opened around me, until it felt as though the whole of the Albanian Alps were benath my feet. And, little by little, I reached Valbona Pass.
The pass opened right in front of me, with sharp cliffs framing a view that stretched across two valleys. Behind me, the green folds of Valbona disappeared between the mountains. Ahead, the darker forests and dramatic rise and fall of the Theth Valley unfolded beneath me. A thread-thin path was visible zigzagging down the mountainside. Above it all hung the most menacing of clouds, casting enormous shadows across the peaks.
And then, predictably, all hell broke loose. It started pouring and in a matter of seconds, I was drenched. What is it with me and rain at mountain passes?!
When Wonder Becomes Familiar
Okay, this is where I’m gonna voice a very unpopular opinion. As gorgeous as the views were, I have to admit that I wasn’t particularly impressed.
I don’t mean to sound overly jaded. The mountains were undeniably grand, but they didn’t completely blow me away. Compared with Jordan’s dramatic rock formations or the glacial lakes of the Italian Alps, the grey limestone peaks here were beautiful but somewhat bland. The forests lacked the rich gradients of colour I had seen in Patagonia. Plus, the weather sucked. I had taken two planes, a bus, a shuttle, a ferry and another shuttle, then trudged up a mountain on blistered feet to reach this supposedly life-changing view. I felt somewhat cheated.
As the complaints continued piling up inside my head, I began wondering what the hell had happened to me. How could anyone become accustomed to such marvels of nature? Growing up, I would stare at photographs in magazines or watch documentaries and pray that one day I might see views like these in real life. Now, I was standing among the very landscapes I had once dreamed about and felt almost unmoved. Bored, even. Maybe I needed a break from trekking. Maybe, just maybe, I needed to do something different.
Perhaps this was the inevitable consequence of chasing extraordinary experiences so relentlessly. The first mountain range I had climbed had felt miraculous. The next had felt exhilarating. Eventually, however, each new summit began competing against every mountain, desert, glacier and coastline that had come before it.
Instead of appreciating a landscape for what it was, I had started ranking it against the greatest places I had ever seen. That hardly seemed fair. The problem was not that the Accursed Mountains were ordinary. The problem was that I had become increasingly difficult to impress. Maybe I had reached the point where simply changing destinations was no longer enough. Maybe what I needed was not a more spectacular mountain but a completely different kind of challenge – much like I had felt when I had arrived at Fierzë.
PART II
Running Towards Theth
With the storm raging around me, I had to get moving. Luckily, the route from the pass now tilted almost entirely downhill – my forte. I might not be a proper runner, but when it comes to descending mountain trails, I turn into one. This is where I usually reclaim my dignity from the people who had left me eating their dust on the way up. And that was exactly what I did.
I practically ran the entire way down, although I still found time for several coffee, beer and snack breaks at the seasonal cafés and mountain huts scattered along the route. Perhaps that’s why by the time I reached Theth, I was positively tipsy. Perhaps that’s also why I got hopelessly lost and completely failed to find my guesthouse once in town.
That aside, Theth seemed like heaven on earth. In fact, the moment I reached the village, I felt as though I had stepped back in time – to a peaceful and idyllic age in which I would have loved to live. It was a feeling I had experienced often while growing up, particularly whenever I watched Heidi, Girl of the Alps. Apparently, all I had ever wanted was to live in a stone cottage, roam through mountain meadows and spend my days befriending goats. Honestly, I could still think of worse lifestyles.
Lost in Paradise
Back to me being lost. Overheated and tipsy, I couldn’t for the life of me find the path leading to my guesthouse. I asked several locals for help, but they all pointed me in the wrong direction. My best friend, Google Maps, was also failing me because of the patchy mobile signal in the middle of the mountains.
Eventually, I resorted to begging a random backpacker to let me use their phone. Somehow, theirs managed to load the map and reveal the location of my accommodation. Nestled in the middle of nowhere, beyond yet another steep climb, was the guesthouse where I would be spending the night. And, of course, it was uphill.
Hangry, frustrated and completely drained though I might have been, the sight of the guesthouse Kulla Pracja was enough to restore me. A short trail opened onto an enormous lawn, with several stone houses scattered across it. Chickens wandered freely through the grass. A huge, shaggy dog slept beneath the sun. A fluffy cat drifted between the flowerbeds. And the mountains – those same mountains I had just complained about – towered above everything.
Happy At Last
“This must be heaven!” I kept thinking to myself. The trek itself might not have lived up to the impossibly high expectations I had created for it, but this? This was it. I had found my perfect slice of paradise. Pity I’d only be spending one night there!
I practically limped towards the main house, which served as both the reception and restaurant, where I met my host, Toma. By that point, I barely managed to introduce myself before collapsing onto a bench. All I could think about was taking a shower and sinking into a deep, dreamless sleep. Toma showed me to my room, and that was exactly what I did – until I was awakened by music from the restaurant below. I was just about to complain when I stepped outside and remembered where I was – heaven.
Famished, I begged Toma for dinner and spent the time sprawled across the lawn, playing with the cat and dog while I waited for the food. And the food? Oh boy… It was fit for a king! First came a bowl of warm tomato soup, followed by salad, pickles and bread. Then came a hearty main course of beef and potatoes. Just when I thought I couldn’t manage another bite, Toma appeared with orange and apple slices for dessert.
I was full. I was happy. And then it started raining again. I simply smiled, counted my blessings and crawled back into bed.