Albanian Lakes and Mountains – Lake Bovilla & Gamti Mountain

Albanian Lakes and Mountains

For $22 round trip, Jess and I took a guided tour to Lake Bovilla and Gamti Mountain just outside Tirana. I only mention the price because the experience-to-cost ratio was absolutely insane.

Our day started at 9:00 a.m. when the bus picked us up. Shortly after, we stopped at a small coffee shop for a quick bathroom and caffeine break. Naturally, Jess and I were far too distracted by a small family of street dogs to bother with either.

There were two puppies, plus what we assumed were mom and dad. While mom lounged lazily in the sun, dad stood guard beneath a large tractor like a seasoned professional. The puppies, however, wanted absolutely nothing to do with us.

One of them — the multicolored one — was especially skeptical. He clearly hadn’t spoken to 052 about how friendly and delightful we are. Instead, he spent most of his time yelling at us, play-fighting with his brother, and enthusiastically shaking a makeshift toy: a stolen construction glove.

When you’re an Albanian street puppy, everything is a toy. Trash = toy. Brother = toy. Parents = toy. Random, probably smelly work glove? Elite-tier toy.

That little family completely lit up our morning, and the adventure hadn’t even started yet.

After leaving the coffee shop, we began ascending one of the bumpiest roads we’ve encountered near Tirana. The guide asked if anyone experienced motion sickness. I reluctantly raised my hand — apparently the sole weakling brave enough to admit it.

Through sheer concentration and every anti-motion-sickness trick I know, I survived the drive without incident.

Our first stop rewarded the struggle immediately: a massive, thunderous waterfall.

For the past three months, nearly everywhere we’ve traveled in Europe and North Africa has been defined by relentless rain. This winter has been exceptionally wet, and the weather has followed us almost everywhere. Fortunately, this excursion gifted us one of the first truly warm, sunny days we’ve had in weeks.

Because of the heavy rainfall, the waterfall was absolutely roaring. Our guide explained that it doesn’t normally exist and hadn’t flowed in years due to heat and drought conditions.

It felt incredibly lucky to witness such a temporary, powerful force of nature — complete with a double rainbow and deafening, echoing sound.

We couldn’t stay long, as the bus was technically stopped in the middle of the road, but we captured a few photos before continuing on.

Upon reaching the hiking point, our guide reassured us that the first portion of the hike would be easy.

Reader, it was not.

Despite being in excellent shape from months of walking, our ankles protested loudly and our quads immediately filed formal complaints. The climb was steep, relentless, and humbling.

When we finally reached the restaurant area near the top, I briefly wondered which part had been the “easy” section. That curiosity was answered when our guide casually gestured toward a near-vertical cliffside staircase and announced:

“Next, we go up there.”

The stairs clung to the rock face with intermittent railing and what felt like aggressive optimism. Jess — who is afraid of heights — initially failed to realize that this was our intended route. She later told me she had photographed the staircase earlier while thinking, “Who would be crazy enough to climb that?”

Us. We were those people.

Halfway up, Jess vividly remembered her fear of heights.

To her credit, she pushed through with remarkable determination, though she became understandably concerned about the “Jess-sized gap” between the stairs and railing — a gap that revealed a very long drop.

Recognizing the seriousness of the moment, I positioned myself between Jess and the exposed edge. No teasing, no joking — genuine fears are sacred territory in our marriage.

Besides, Jess recently saved me from accidentally encountering a snake on one of our river walks by discreetly ushering me away before revealing the horror. Fair is fair.

After nearly twelve years together, we have developed a strict “no phobia mockery” policy.

Reaching the summit brought immediate relief, awe, and a sobering realization:

Everything climbed must eventually be descended.

The views, however, were extraordinary. Snow-dusted ridgelines, rugged stone faces, and Lake Bovilla shimmering in surreal turquoise tones stretched out before us. The combination of sunlight, elevation, and mineral-rich water created one of the most serene landscapes we’ve ever witnessed.

It was breathtaking in the truest sense of the word — both visually and physically.

Descending confirmed my earlier suspicions: it was brutal.

Each step required intense concentration, tired knees, and a deliberate refusal to look anywhere except directly at our footing. Loose gravel, narrow pathways, and gravity formed an unforgiving trio.

When we finally reached the restaurant and its very welcoming chairs, we both ordered salads. After that level of exertion, a simple salad tasted like a gourmet masterpiece.

The final descent back to the bus proved no gentler. Fatigued legs and complaining joints accompanied us down the rocky trail, though we made it safely without incident.

By the end of the day, we had climbed from roughly 240 feet above sea level to 1,808 feet — and felt every inch of it.

Despite the physical toll, the experience was unquestionably worth it. The lake, the ridgelines, the waterfall, and even the skeptical construction-site puppies combined into an unforgettable adventure.

Albania continues to surprise and impress us.

Every day here feels like a gift — especially those that include sunshine, mountains, and mild suffering in exchange for spectacular views.

Before parting ways, our guide shared his WhatsApp number and promised that our next destination would be even better than Lake Bovilla and Gamti Mountain.

After what we had just seen, that feels like a bold claim.

Naturally, we can’t wait to find out.