Porto Palermo Castle

Listen first. Small waves slap against the rocks below the walls, and the wind carries the smell of salt and wild thyme. Under your feet, the path is pale, dusty stone, warm even in the early morning. Around you, the bay curves almost into a circle, its water shifting from deep blue to clear green near the shore. And sitting on a low knob of land in the middle of it all is a squat, grey fortress, built to watch the sea.

This is Porto Palermo Castle, on the Albanian coast just south of the town of Himarë. The name of the bay sounds Italian, but its roots run much deeper. Ancient writers knew this inlet as Panormos, a Greek word that roughly means a harbour sheltered on all sides. Stand here for a minute and you will understand why. The headlands fold around the water, and even on a windy day the bay stays calm.

The castle you see today is closely linked to one of the most remarkable figures in Balkan history — Ali Pasha of Tepelena. In the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, he ruled a large territory across what is now southern Albania and northern Greece. Officially, he served the Ottoman sultan. In practice, he acted almost like an independent king. He built and strengthened fortresses across his lands, and this bay, with its deep and protected water, was a prize worth guarding.

Historians generally date the fortress to the early nineteenth century, during Ali Pasha's rule. Some accounts suggest that an older fortification, possibly Venetian, stood here first, and that Ali Pasha rebuilt or expanded it. The evidence is not fully settled, so it is fair to say the story has more than one layer. What is clear is the purpose. From these walls, a garrison could control ships entering and leaving one of the best natural harbours on this stretch of coast.

Now look at the shape of the building as you approach. It is not a square, and it is not round. The castle is laid out as a triangle, with a projecting bastion at each corner. This design was practical. Angled walls and corner towers allowed defenders to cover every approach with gunfire, leaving few blind spots. It is a style of fortification shaped by the age of cannon, when tall thin walls had given way to low, thick, solid ones.

The castle stands on a small peninsula, joined to the mainland by a narrow strip of land. As you walk across it, notice how the water sits close on both sides. In rough weather, waves can wash near the path. This narrow neck made the fortress easy to defend. Any attacker on foot would have to come along a single exposed line, in full view of the walls above.

Step through the entrance and the temperature changes at once. The stone walls are very thick, and the air inside is cool and slightly damp, even in midsummer. Your eyes need a moment to adjust. Narrow passages lead to vaulted rooms, their ceilings curving low overhead. Light enters only through small openings, so the interior feels shadowy and quiet. The sound of the sea fades to a soft murmur here, muffled by the masonry.

There is a popular story attached to this place, and it is worth telling — as a story. Legend has it that Ali Pasha built the castle for his wife, Vasiliki, a woman he is said to have loved deeply. Locals sometimes call it a gift of love. It is a romantic idea, and it makes the cold stone feel a little warmer. But treat it as folklore. The walls, the gun positions and the strategic location all point to a military purpose first.

If you climb up to the higher level, the view opens across the whole bay. From here you can see why the location mattered for so long. The water below is deep enough for large vessels, yet sheltered from the open sea. That same quality drew a very different kind of military interest in the twentieth century. Look along the far side of the bay, at the base of the hills. You may notice a dark opening cut into the rock.

That opening is part of a former submarine base from Albania's communist era. Under the regime of Enver Hoxha, the country became deeply isolated and heavily fortified. A tunnel was carved into the hillside so that submarines could shelter inside the mountain itself. Here is a surprise many visitors miss: in this one bay, you can see two completely different eras of defence facing the same water — a fortress built for cannon, and a hidden base built for the Cold War.

For much of the communist period, this area was a restricted military zone, closed to ordinary visitors. That helps explain why the coast around it still feels open and undeveloped compared with some busier parts of the Albanian Riviera. Today the military presence is largely gone from daily view, and travellers come for the castle, the swimming and the quiet. The base area may have its own access rules, so check signs on site before you wander.

Before you leave, take a slow walk around the outside of the walls. Look closely at the stonework. You will see roughly cut blocks of different sizes, fitted together and bound with mortar. In places, the surface is worn smooth by wind and salt. Plants push out from cracks near the top. Small details like these show how long the building has faced the weather here, standing between the hills and the open water.

Now pause where you are. Feel the wind coming off the bay, and listen to the water moving against the rocks. Two centuries ago, soldiers on these walls watched the same horizon for sails. Later, other eyes watched the same water for submarines. Today, the only boats you are likely to see are small fishing craft and swimmers. As you walk back across the narrow neck of land, look over your shoulder once more — at the grey triangle, low and steady, keeping its watch over the bay.