Llogara National Park

Listen first. Wind moves through the pines above you with a low, steady rush, like distant surf. The air smells of resin and warm needles. When the sun comes through the branches, the light reaches the ground in thin gold strips. Below, somewhere past the edge of the road, the Ionian Sea lies flat and blue. You are standing where the mountains of southern Albania meet the coast, and the two seem very close.

This is Llogara National Park. It sits on the road between the city of Vlorë and the villages of the Albanian Riviera, above the coast that leads south toward Himarë. The park was established in 1966. It protects forest on the slopes of the Ceraunian Mountains, a limestone ridge that runs parallel to the sea. Here, mountain forest grows only a short drive from beaches and olive groves.

The name Ceraunian is old. It comes from the Greek word for thunderbolt. Ancient sailors knew these heights as a dangerous coast, where sudden storms came down from the peaks onto the water. Stand here on a windy afternoon, and that reputation makes sense. The weather can change quickly. Clouds can form on one side of the ridge while the other side stays bright and clear.

Now look at the trees themselves. The park is known for its conifers. There is black pine, and there is Bosnian pine, a tough mountain species of the Balkans. Higher up, there are firs. Many trees near the pass have a strange shape. Their branches grow mostly on one side, like a flag held out in the wind. Locals often call them flag pines. Strong winds blow across this ridge for years and bend the trees into these forms.

Here is a detail many visitors miss. Those bent trees show you the direction of the wind. Find one, and follow the line of its branches with your eye. You are looking along the path that the wind usually takes over the pass. The tree has recorded this pattern in its own wood, year after year. It is a kind of weather map, made by the forest itself.

The road through the park climbs to the Llogara Pass, at roughly a thousand metres above the sea. On the northern side, the slopes are green and shaded. On the southern side, the land drops steeply toward the coast in a long series of hairpin bends. The descent is fast. In only a few kilometres, the road goes from cool pine forest down to the warm, dry scrub of the Mediterranean shore.

From the viewpoints near the pass, the coast spreads out below you. You can see the curve of the bay, the pale line of the beaches, and the small villages along the water. On very clear days, some visitors say they can make out the island of Corfu, across the strait in Greece. The haze often hides it. When it does appear, it is a low grey shape on the horizon.

Now for the second surprise. This pass is often linked to Julius Caesar. In 48 BCE, during his civil war against Pompey, Caesar landed his army on this coast. In his own account, he names a landing place called Palaeste. Many people connect that name with Palasë, the village you can see near the shore below. Local tradition goes further and calls this route Caesar's Pass, saying his soldiers marched over these mountains.

That part, the march over the pass, is tradition rather than proven fact. Historians agree that Caesar landed somewhere on this stretch of coast. The exact route of his army is less certain. Still, it is worth imagining. Two thousand years ago, Roman soldiers may have looked up at these same limestone slopes, and wondered how to cross them before Pompey could stop them.

The forest is also home to animals, though most stay out of sight. Wild boar move through the undergrowth, and foxes hunt along the edges of the trees. Large birds of prey ride the strong air currents along the ridge. If you watch the sky for a few minutes, you may see a wide shape moving slowly in circles. Those same rising winds bring paragliders here, and they launch from the slopes near the pass.

The human side of the park is simple and welcoming. Along the road, there are small restaurants and roadside stalls. Many sell local honey, mountain herbs, and dried mountain tea, which Albanians brew from a wild plant of the high slopes. Roast lamb is a common dish here. Drivers often stop to rest before or after the bends. The smell of wood smoke from the kitchens mixes with the smell of the pines.

If you walk a little way from the road, the noise of the cars fades quickly. The ground underfoot is soft with old needles. Grey limestone breaks through the soil in places, rough and pale. In the shade, the air can feel several degrees cooler than on the coast. In summer, this is part of the appeal. People come up from the beaches to breathe the mountain air for an hour.

Take a moment before you leave. Look once more at the line where the green forest ends and the bare slope begins. Look at the blue water far below, and the white road winding down toward it. Listen again to the wind in the branches. As you go, watch for the flag pines along the road. Each one still points the way the wind travels over this ridge.