The Bradt Travel Guide to Albania describes it as “one of the world’s classic boat trips, up there with the Hurtigrut along the Norwegian coast or the ferry from Puerto Montt to Puerto Natales in Chile.” Stephanie and I haven’t taken either of those so we can’t make the comparison, but will confidently state that it’s worth taking most of a day (in good weather) for the round-trip ferry from Komani to Fierze in the Albanian Alps.
Komani is one of three large artificial lakes formed by a massive hydro-electric scheme built during the communist era in the 1970s and 1980s. The damming of the River Drini and its tributaries not only provided electricity but protected downstream communities, including Shkoder, the economic and cultural capital of northern Albania, from seasonal flooding. The dams upstream and downstream from Komani changed the landscape, flooding the valley and submerging homes and agricultural land. In what today is Lake Komani, the river already flowed through a deep gorge between sheer limestone cliffs, so the topography was little changed. What would once have been an exhilarating raft or kayak ride is now a calm 2 ½ hour ferry trip with the same spectacular scenery.
The ferry provides a vital transportation link. Few roads reach the towns and villages of this mountainous region, and those that do require a long circuitous route, in one case crossing the border into Kosovo and then back into Albania. Melting snow and spring rains pour down the slopes, undermining the road surface, causing dangerous subsidence and leaving huge potholes; during heavy rains, some are blocked by mud and rocks. The fastest and safest way from the Adriatic coast to the remote mountain region of Tropoja, its administrative center Bajram Curri and Valbona, a popular resort town and the starting point for mountain hikes, is to take the ferry.
It's a two-hour minibus journey from Shkoder to the Komani ferry terminal, just above the dam. For the first 15 miles, the road runs west through agricultural land and small villages. Then the road twists up to the first ridge and descends through rock-strewn slopes covered with pines and firs to the lower lake on the Drini. For the next hour, it’s a bone-shaking ride up and down the mountains. The driver, who does this route most days of the week, knew the road well, anticipating every tight turn and rough patch where the road surface had crumbled into loose rocks. Finally, we crossed the bridge over the Drini below the dam, and made the last couple of miles on a well surfaced road. We parked in a dark, wet tunnel and walked the rest of the way to the ferry landing.
It was a busy scene, with cars backing up onto the ferry and passengers, some with bicycles, boarding. Officially, the ferry has a ten-vehicle capacity, with the cars and minivans tightly packed on the lower deck. In places, you must breathe in to move between them, or look for an alternate route. On the outward journey, it was just as packed on the two passenger decks, with some people standing for the whole journey.
You quickly forget the crowded conditions as the spectacular scenery unfolds. The ferry took a middle course with towering mountains on all sides.
In places, it appeared to be heading straight for a sheer rock face. Then, at what seemed the last moment, it turned into a new expanse of milky turquoise water that Stephanie compared to the color of glacier melt.
We saw scattered dwellings, accessible only by boat, along the shoreline and others perched high above the lake. The view from the front room must be spectacular, but you have to wonder how far people have to travel on mountain paths to reach even a dirt road. It would be an expedition to go to the market, the clinic or a government office. And in winter, you might be cut off for months by the snow. This is the region where generations of partisans—from those fighting the Ottomans to those who resisted the Italians and then the Germans in World War II—took refuge, launching guerilla raids and then disappearing into the gullies and caves.
In one place, the captain turned off the engine, allowing the ferry to keep moving by the motion already generated. The ferry was passing through an area where plastic trash had accumulated in vegetation. The captain obviously wanted to avoid the trash wrapping around the propellors. It was a sorry sight, and one sign that Albania, a country where solar panels are common and where all the Tirana buses and half the taxis are electric, has a patchy environmental record.
At Fierze, the cars and the cyclists disembarked and headed up the next mountain slope on the road to Valbona. We sat on the terrace of the only restaurant—indeed, it was one of only three buildings—in Fierze, had lunch and felt happy we were not hiking or cycling up the mountain. We boarded the ferry, this time much less crowded, at 1:00 p.m., for the return trip to Koman, and then the bumpy minivan ride back to Shkoder. Of course, we took too many photos.
