The fishy business of crossing borders

In a trip of interesting border crossings, this one had to be the most challenging, and spectacular. After a day of driving the length of the Montenegran coast (itself not unchallenging, and certainly not unspectacular), we arrived eventually in the extreme south-west corner of the country, where the Tara river spills out over a broad marshland into the Med.

With the map indicating that there was a border crossing (albeit another one on a route marked in white in our wonderful Europe-wide road atlas - something we were beginning to understand meant different things depending on which country you were in), we persevered south despite the route becoming more and more circuitous. Eventually, after a few guessed turns, we arrived - in front of us, appearing in a neon glow out of nowhere at the end of a twisting road, was what appeared to be the local equivalent of the Sunset Strip. The only difference being it was composed entirely of fish restaurants. As it was now dark, we opted for sitting down to try out the local (and obviously VERY freshly caught) fare, and seeing what we could divine from our hosts regarding accommodation, and getting across the border.

As always seems to happen when you are in where you feel truly out of place, we were surprised by how helpful the restaurant staff were - after a delicious dinner we were on our way to stay at a local guesthouse. While not 5-star, there were pillows on which to lay weary heads and some rather bewildered attempts to explain the way to the border. In the morning we got up early, as we were aiming to traverse Albania the next day from north to south, and wanted to get the first obstacle of checking passports out of the way. This yielded something of a bonus; the fishing area we were in was simply stunning in the dawn light:

Having snapped the rising sun to heart's content, we attempted to head south. Dead end - although there was the helpfully labelled toilet block featured above. We wound our way back and attempted another road, this time at least finding landmarks which were indicated on the map. Unfortunately, on arriving at what looked like a border post sitting alongside a dirt road, we were told by the sleepy guard that we awoke that the post was no longer operating. This was fairly apparent by virtue of the complete lack of road on the other side of the post - who knows what superior our guard had annoyed to get that posting.

He helpfully explained where the closest crossing was - back up the road we had come, and then doubling back again to our east, a good hour away. But we finally made it, and by breakfast time were in Albania.