Up by 8 Saturday morning. I came up with a travel route (and found an e-mail in my junk mail box from a professor at the Skopje University who had offered to show me coppice in the country - unfortunately too late!). Got some breakfast and then went to pick up the car. I checked out the hotel and was on the road. It was fairly easy to leave town and after nearly filing the tank with forty Euros of petrol ($55) I was off. The new and modern highway provided very smooth travel though I was looking for a slow, intimate passage. I got a lot of chances to practice my 100 Km/h photography skills and managed to get some good ones.
In retrospect, this areas surrounding Skopje to the west seemed to contain the pastoral, mixed-use landscape I was mostly searching for. Hedgerows and tree lines full of pollarded and shredded trees were abundant, something I saw less and less of to the south and east. I guess it’s just a scouting trip anyways though right?
As I proceeded, some high elevation majestic mountains emerged, still snow capped in the distance. After about forty five minutes I started to climb higher with some gorgeous views of the agricultural valleys below. To this point, almost all of the forests had appeared exceedingly young and immature. This was where I first saw a transition. I had been beginning to wonder what was going on. Largely deciduous, I didn’t get a good read on species, but it seemed that they too were managed with the roads lined with coppice and the steeper slopes above and below left to standard trees.
This pattern progressed for some time along the west mountain rods towards Ohrid. An hour or so later, I came to a junction and chose instead to aim southeast towards Bitola. I knew that the type of management I was looking for would be found in the agricultural areas, not high-elevation forest, so I directed myself towards functionality over majesty.
This stretch of road provided a bit of both. Occupying a narrow valley at mid-elevation, small villages hugged the hillside with farms relegated to narrow flats with deeper soils on either side of the valley. The only coppice management I saw here so to speak was frequent pollarding of trees along the river’s edge. Many of the villages I passed featured a mix of exquisite stone work, timber frame with wattle infill, mud brick, and both old and modern masonry. All were usually tight clusters surrounded by more open agricultural land.
One of the most common tree species I saw was the black locust (Robinia pseudoacacia). It lined roadsides all along the drive - especially the vegetated banks along the highways. It appears to have been planted but generally looked to be only 3-5 years old - too early to see how it’s being managed and for what. The predominance of this overwhelmingly multifunctional tree though in areas around the world pays testament to its value and to the foolish shortsightedness of so-called conservationists in Massachusetts who label it ‘invasive’ and have made its transport and planting illegal. To them, I ask, ‘What are you going to build and heat your homes with in the wake of the dying petroleum culture?’
As I reached Bitola, the landscape opened into a broad valley characterized by industrial field crop agriculture. Most of the hedgerows and tree lines were gone, likely due to the scale of machinery and agricultural production. The only crop I clearly recognized was mustard, but I’m sure other grains were prominent as well.
The further north I progressed, the landscape seemed to grow more and more dry. I passed through another high-elevation mountain pass and some amazing scenery and finally emerged in a land of rolling hills that extended all the way back to the city of Skopje. My return to the city proved fairly easily navigable. After a slight challenge entering the parking lot of the rental agency, I was again free and on foot. With 1.5 hours before my train to Thessaloniki, I meandered through the pedestrian streets to find an afternoon meal.
My first choice, with lovely covered open-air dining, proved a bit too highbrow, so I thankfully found a new location. While the waiter didn’t speak any English, it didn’t matter because they only served one thing - kebabs. A half dozen sausage-like links with some delicious pita-esque bread, two chile peppers and a scallion rounded out the meal. Unsure of how to eat it, I used intuition - I later saw people just load up the pita. I enjoyed a Skopsko (beer) and then headed to the station to blow some of my last Dinari on ice cream and hop aboard the train.
The journey was slow and again involved me fading in and out of consciousness. The landscape I did catch was spectacular as usual - one steep gorge between sheer cliffs next to a cresting river at dusk was particularly memorable.
The overhead lights were out in our car and we were asked to move to another at customs. Though long, the process was fairly painless. I sat in a coachette with two Finlandians and we chatted about travel plans. We arrived in Thessaloniki at 10:30. I walked to my hotel and climbed in. It was compact but comfortable. When I logged in on-line I learned I’d need to ‘make do’ once again. My flight was cancelled (for London). I tried to come up with a back up plan and do what I could to prepare to get home up to a week later than planned (all due to the Icelandic volcano).
Fortunately, I didn’t have many commitments upon arrival and can think of a lot worse things that could happen to me than getting stuck in Europe. I decided to head to Igoumenitsa the next day (Grecian port) and catch an overnight ferry to Bari, Italy. From there, I’d either reply on trains to get me to London - Bari to Bologna, Bologna to Paris, Paris to London - or try the bus.
I had almost taken the same route on my way to Greece, but it is way longer and more expensive. It should make for an adventure and some good scenery. My only hope is that I can make it to London in time to catch my flight in case the volcano has calmed down and air travel resumed.
This has been a very enlightening reality check for me. Realizing how seriously I take for granted my ability to instantly cross as ocean is actually quite alarming. While I know I’ll make it home at some point, it’s very illuminating to see how much I expect from and rely on the very culture I’m working to transform. Time will tell…. One thing I do know - the volcano is definitely in charge!
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