As I battled along brambly footpaths and unmade suburban roads, chased out of Tirana by street dogs, I had my doubts about this trip. I’d arrived with the sinking realisation that I’d forgotten to pack my multitool and had to scour Tirana’s bike shops to find one, and then my route failed to download on my Garmin. It was early afternoon before I’d picked up the right road and found a cafe with a satisfying view back to the capital. When the waiter said my proposed route to Elbasan was “not possible”, I panicked, only to realise he just meant it would be easier on a motorbike. The road would turn out to be not only possible but quiet, smooth and scenic. The only hazard was crossing tortoises, varying in size from half-walnut to half-football.
