Rugova Gorge

[RH] It almost seems inevitable that the longer we're over here, the more infrequently we get around to updating this blog. But plenty of other folks maintain a far more consistent blogging schedule over a far longer duration, so I guess "inevitable" isn't the most accurate term to describe our slackerly habits.

With that bit of self-flagellation out of the way, let me describe a short trip we took over to the west end of Kosovo a couple of weekends ago. This is the region of the Accursed Mountains, which lie immediately west of the city of Peja and which skirt the storied border with Montenegro. Although topping out at only about 2600 meters (8600 feet), these mountains really live up to their name ... at least in terms of their dizzying vertical uplift from the fertile plain that extends all the way from Peja back to Prishtina (86 kilometers). Peja's elevation is about 1800 feet, and within no more than 3 or 4 miles to the west of downtown, there are peaks towering a good mile or more above the city.

There's one way to drive up into these mountains from Peja, and that's via the mind-blowing Rugova Gorge. Anyone who's ever been down into the Black Canyon of the Gunnison in western Colorado would have a fair idea of what Rugova Gorge is like. Except that there's no road down at the bottom of the Black Canyon. The funny thing about the "highway" that heads up Rugova Gorge is that, engineering marvel aside, it strikes westerners as pretty much just like every other crumbling, under-maintained goat-path of a road that you encounter all over rural Kosovo. Except, of course, for the almost nauseating hair-pin turns that, naturally, shadow the contours of the roaring river that cut this gorge over the eons.

But let me back up a little: We took the bus over to Peja from Prishtina on a Friday afternoon without having too clear an idea where we'd spend the night. We'd just as soon have stayed somewhere up in the mountains that evening, but our cursory research hadn't nailed down the particulars. Such as, how does one arrange transportation up into the gorge from Peja? We knew that a taxi would always be possible, but we'd also heard (correctly, as it turned out) that this was not exactly an economical way to go. Anyhow, once we'd determined that there was no bus or van heading up the gorge that late in the day, we lugged our bags through town to the Peja Hotel, a renovated faux-Bavarian structure with small, modern rooms and in-suite bathrooms. (This relative luxury was offset by the thimble-sized bathroom sink that seems standard in the Balkans -- so small, in fact, that you can barely brush your teeth, much less wash your face, without slopping water all over the floor.) And then we headed out for a look around.

As lovely a setting as Peja occupies, the city itself is disappointingly drab and forgettable -- its architecture an unfortunate combination of neglected and crumbling traditional structures, Tito-era high-rise slums, and a smattering of generic, newly developed apartment complexes and office buildings. And it's a very traditional Muslim culture, meaning that it's rare to see a female face amongst the hordes of men packed into the outdoor cafes in the old downtown. I could elaborate, but why bother? Suffice it to say that the over-amped third-rate dance music* from the disco down the block ended by midnight, so we were able to get a decent night's sleep after all.

The next day, at the crack of noon, we finally conceded that unless we coughed up the taxi fee, it was unlikely we'd make it much beyond the Peja city limits that day. So we made our way back to the bus station, and Chelle negotiated in pidgin Albanian with a taxi driver, finally getting him down to 25 euros (one way) for a ride up the gorge and beyond, to a lodge at an elevation of about 1050 meters, with high peaks surrounding us on three sides.

As I mentioned earlier, the gorge itself is spectacular, with vertical to nearly vertical granite walls that extend upward for a couple thousand feet in many stretches. These cliffs are pocked with dozens of cave entrances that are visible from the road. Chelle, who does some technical climbing, was salivating over the prospect of someday climbing the walls here in Rugova. In this vein, we even saw a couple of old, untended climbing lines at one point ... left hanging, in typical Balkans fashion, as a lure to some subsequent climber foolish enough to trust the integrity of a line that's weathered god knows how much exposure to the harsh elements of the gorge. (Sort of the wilderness equivalent to urban life here in Kosovo, where it's routine to come across uncovered and unmarked manholes in the streets and sidewalks, silently waiting to suck the unsuspecting night stroller 8 or 10 feet down into their foul depths. Hope you got your tetanus booster.)

Anyway, it took us a little less than an hour in the taxi to arrive at the lodge we hoped to spend the night in. We arranged for the driver to return the next afternoon at 4:30, and then we set about the unexpectedly vague path to securing lodging for the night. I say vague because, although one of the lodge employees had assured us there would be a room available that night (the place was booked solid the previous night), it wasn't clear just when. That is, there was evidently no checkout time for customers who'd spent the previous night. So even though it was now about 2 PM, they just couldn't give us a solid time frame as to when we could check in, stow our bags, and take off on our eagerly anticipated hike up the trail to the snowbound alpine lake we'd been told about.

Fortunately, Chelle did a bit of hiking around the grounds and up the slope to an unaffiliated restaurant while I sat in the lodge cafe and read my book, awaiting the checkin opportunity that I'd been led to believe would happen any minute now. Or not. By the time she returned with news that the place up the slope had a room they'd rent to us very cheaply, nearly an hour had passed and I'd just been informed again that we could check in "in about an hour." To save time, we just left our bags for the time being in the storage room at the first place, walked up to the new place, had a quick lunch, and set off on our hike. (By this point, we were running up against a limited number of remaining daylight hours.)

To be continued ...

* The likes of Celine Dion, Boney Em, and England Dan & John Ford Coley