Valbona Valley

Listen first. Under the wind there is a dry clatter. It is the sound of water moving over a wide bed of pale stones. Some are the size of an egg, some the size of a bread loaf, and nearly all of them are bleached almost white. The air smells of cold rock, crushed grass and, now and then, woodsmoke from a guesthouse chimney. Above you the walls of limestone rise so steeply that the sky looks like a narrow blue river of its own.

This is Valbona Valley, high in the far north of Albania. If you set out from Plav, you have already crossed an international border to get here. Plav sits on the Montenegrin side of the same mountain range. The two places are close on a map but separated by high ridges. For most visitors the link between them is on foot, along a long-distance trail that threads through three countries.

The mountains around you are known in English as the Accursed Mountains. In Albanian they are the Bjeshkët e Nemuna, and on the Montenegrin side the same range is called Prokletije. The name sounds dramatic, and it is. Locals tell several stories to explain it. One popular version says the land was cursed because it was so hard to live on. Treat these tales as folklore. The geology is real enough on its own.

Most of what you see is limestone. This rock dissolves slowly in rainwater. Over a very long time, that process carves sharp ridges, deep gullies and hidden channels underground. Ice did the rest. Glaciers once filled valleys like this one, and they scoured the floor into a broad, open shape. Look at the width of the valley compared with the size of the river. A small river did not dig a valley this wide. Moving ice did.

Now look closely at the river itself. Here is a detail many visitors miss. In the dry months, parts of the Valbona River can seem to vanish. The surface turns to dry stone, and the water continues somewhere beneath your feet. This is typical of limestone country. Further down, the water returns to the surface, clear and very cold, with a blue-green tint that changes with the light.

The valley and its slopes are protected as a national park. The forests on the lower slopes are mostly beech, with pine and other trees higher up. In autumn the beech turns copper and gold against the grey rock. The wider range is home to animals that are rare in much of Europe, including brown bears, wolves and wild goats called chamois. You are unlikely to see a bear. Still, it is worth knowing you are walking in their country.

People have lived in these mountains for centuries, and life here has never been easy. Winters are long and snow can close the upper valley for months. Families traditionally moved livestock up to high summer pastures and came down before the cold. Some of that pattern continues. You may pass a shepherd's hut, a stack of hay, or a few cows grazing calmly on the road as if they own it.

Northern Albania has a long tradition of customary law, passed down by word of mouth for generations. It is often called the Kanun. Among other things, it placed great weight on hospitality and on a sacred promise known as besa, meaning a pledged word of honour. A guest was to be protected and fed. You may feel an echo of this today. Many guesthouses here are family homes, and the welcome is often personal.

As you walk, notice the older stone houses. Some have thick walls, small windows and a solid, defensive look. In the northern Albanian highlands, fortified stone houses of this kind are called kulla, which simply means tower. They were built for a hard climate and, at times, for a hard social world. Not every old house here is a kulla. But once you know the shape, you start to see it.

Travel to the valley has its own story. Many visitors arrive by a remarkable route. They take a ferry along Lake Koman, a long, narrow reservoir between steep walls of rock. From the far end of the lake, the road climbs north towards Valbona. Others come on foot. The best-known walk crosses the Valbona Pass to the village of Theth, in the next valley to the west. It is a full day on rough mountain paths.

That walk is part of a larger trail called the Peaks of the Balkans. It loops through the high country of Albania, Montenegro and Kosovo. This is how Valbona and Plav are truly connected. Walkers can move from village to village across the borders, sleeping in guesthouses along the way. Border rules apply in the mountains too, so hikers need to arrange permission in advance. It is a modern trail laid over very old shepherds' paths.

The valley is not only for serious hikers. You can walk along the river gravel for an hour and feel completely alone. You can sit on a warm boulder and watch the shadows move across the cliffs. In the morning, the sun reaches the valley floor late, because the walls are so high. In the evening, the light leaves the river first and stays longest on the summits. The peaks glow pink and orange while the valley is already blue with shade.

This remoteness is both the charm and the challenge. Mobile signal can be weak. Cash is more useful than cards in many places. Weather changes fast, and a clear morning can turn to rain and cloud by afternoon. None of this is a reason to stay away. It is simply part of being in a place where the mountains still set the rhythm of the day.

Before you move on, stand still for a moment. Pick up one of those pale stones from the riverbed. Feel how smooth it is. Water and ice have been shaping it for longer than any house here has stood. Look up at the ridgeline, then back down at the river. As you walk away, listen again for that dry clatter of water over stone. It will follow you down the valley for a long time.