In this article
The challenge of Jezerca
Human beings are strange creatures, always wanting more, even when they do not know what lies ahead. Those who aim for mountain summits should know better than anyone what I mean. Let me try to explain through my own case. The walks and hikes I began at the start of the year, or “bjeshktari”, the proper Albanian word used in Kosovo, which I will use from now on, gave me an appetite for a real challenge.
But because Mount Gamti, Brari and Dajti, or the climbs and walks around Qafë-Shtama, Skutërrë, Sotira and Kërraba, involved elevation gains of no more than 400–800 metres, the feeling they left at the end was less and less satisfying. In other words, your enthusiasm faded a little. An even more exciting challenge was needed, and for that, a climb of Korab had been planned.
Korab was scheduled for early July, but a last-minute change of plan meant that the next adventure would be in the Albanian Alps, on another equally well-known mountain, Jezerca. It was precisely this “demand for more” that pushed me towards a different challenge, even though I really had no idea what awaited me. From a mission to climb the highest mountain, I ended up with the idea of climbing Albania’s most dangerous peak.
Jezerca and Korab differ by only 70 metres. Its rocky summit, marked by a cross, reaches 2694 metres and is the highest peak in the Albanian Alps. Asking about the meaning of the name, I learned that Jezerca was not really connected to the Serbo-Croatian word meaning “lake/pond”, but rather to “jezer”, which in Gheg Albanian means mist.
So it was the “Misty Peak”, and that is indeed what I found it to be.
Setting off from Rrogam
We left Tirana at midday on Saturday and reached the village of Rrogam in the Valbona Valley around evening. The climb to Jezerca would begin before dawn on Sunday, at around 3:30, and the idea of walking in the dark made me very excited.
First, I should say that the mountains are a perfect place to make friends. That proved true of our guide Sajmir, Edmond, Regip, Albana, Andel and the whole group. Though I must admit that the journey began with a sudden realisation: I was one of the few people in the group with so little experience.
I answered the question of whether I had climbed a mountain before, but was met with friendly smiles from everyone and a warning that an exhausting climb awaited me. Here and there people began talking about crampons, spiked footwear suitable for climbing on snow, ropes and ice axes. At that point I understood that up there we might encounter snow and a challenge that could be considered “mountaineering”.
Although it frightened me a little, the challenge excited me, and I began Sunday morning’s walk with that excitement. It was fantastic to walk in darkness that slowly cleared as the sun rose over the Alps. The sun’s rays gave all the surrounding summits enchanting colours, while the slope immediately began to climb steeply.
We left the pines and the small forest at the mountain’s foot behind, and after 5 kilometres there was no more tall vegetation.
It was interesting, because for more than three quarters of the ascent you could not see Jezerca’s summit. This was because it was surrounded by other mountains that made it impossible to see directly from the Rrogam trail.
Among rocks and glaciers
As we climbed beyond a steep grassy slope, at around 1500 metres, the panorama changed completely. “From now on, we will have only rock and, in places, snow,” our guide told us. And it was clear enough, as the eye stood transfixed before an infinity of varied greys.
At this stage of the climb, a geography lesson would often come to mind. You know those glaciers that never melt, the ones you had to learn about in high school? There they were in front of me. In fact, I realised I would have to walk across them too, which was why we needed the “crampons, rope and ice axes”.
It was immensely exciting to line up in single file and walk without putting too much weight on those glaciers.
At this point, I believe we may have been above 2000 metres. Until then I had not quite realised it, but we were right in the centre of the so-called “Accursed Mountains”.
Then, with no warning at all, exhaustion hit me. Walking on snow, feasting my eyes, filling my lungs and my ears with that quiet no longer meant anything. All I wanted was a chance to rest.
But it was hard because, as I said, the fact that you could see Jezerca’s summit only after more than three quarters of the journey did nothing to motivate you.
When it was past midday, we reached the section the group called “the cable”. It was a great mass of rock with a cleft down the middle, where a steel cable had been fixed to assist the climb. Sajmir, Edmond, Regip and Andel’s meticulous organisation got the whole group up that section without difficulty.
From there, the summit appeared off to one side, high above us.
An enormous boost to my motivation blew away the exhaustion and the pain in my ankles. Sajmir’s words, “You will not be passing this way again, so come on, let us reach the top,” became gritted teeth on all those stair-like rocks leading to the summit.
There were 200 metres left to climb, but the panorama was breathtaking. Wherever you turned your head, you saw sky and nothing but mountain peaks. Utterly breathless.
You did not know what to do. Walk, and you feared missing the view. Stop, and you feared falling behind. 
The summit and the descent
Did I tell you that Jezerca meant the “Misty Peak”?! Well, the moment we reached the summit, mist began to form out of nowhere. Mist that brought a few clouds too, which seemed angry at us for having climbed the peak and vented rain on us.
We did not even have time to write our names at leisure in the notebooks of the brave. Two or three photographs, then off at a run to escape the rain. It was a fantastic descent, because you not only saw the sky darkening with clouds but truly understood what a mountain means.
I do not know, perhaps because of fatigue, perhaps because of inexperience, or perhaps because we had covered part of the route in the early-morning darkness, but the way down seemed longer than the way up. OK! I admit it, I was shattered!
The total was around 15 hours of walking, covering somewhere over 20 kilometres with an elevation difference of 1700 metres. But the challenge had been met: we had set foot on Jezerca’s summit! Now it is Korab’s turn, even if we should have done them in the opposite order.
Special thanks go to Saimir Kalbaj and the whole group.