I was craving an adventure, and this was one of those times I just wanted to go and not worry about planning everything. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy planning trips myself—it’s something I find fun—but it takes a lot of time.
This time, I didn’t want to deal with all the details, and I wanted the trip to include some hiking. Hiking in an unfamiliar area alone isn’t my favorite idea (especially since I’ve had my fair share of mishaps on the trail).
After a bit of research, I came across a trip—Hiking in the Balkans offered by Intrepid Travel that sounded perfect. It was affordable, small group travel (I steer clear of groups larger than 12), and it had a mix of hiking and culture—exactly my kind of trip.
The itinerary officially began in Split, Croatia, and ended in Tirana, Albania. Since Split was really just the meet-up spot and Tirana mostly served as a drop-off point, the actual trip didn’t leave much time to explore either city. That’s why I padded the trip with a few extra days on both ends—three before in Split and three after in Tirana.
Then I tacked on eight solo days in North Macedonia: five in Lake Ohrid and three in Skopje. But that’s a story for another post (actually, two posts).
For now, here’s a look at my journey through the Balkans.
Honestly, why not? That’s my answer to most places—but hiking in the Balkans had been on my radar for a while. These countries were once part of the former Yugoslavia, and while they share a complicated past, each one has its own culture, traditions, and landscapes. I wanted a trip with good hiking and meaningful experiences, and this region delivered. Think wild mountains, historic villages, and stories that really stay with you.
I flew into Split a few days before my Intrepid trip was set to start (See my post 3 Days in Split, for more on that). It was our meetup location and the first of four countries we’d be traveling through. The trip was supposed to include a lot of hiking, but the weather had other plans.
We met that evening, and our Intrepid guide took us on a short walking tour of the old town, pointing out places of interest. It felt a bit redundant since I’d already explored on my own—and I was glad I had, because that night and a few hours the next morning were all the time I would’ve had in Split.
After breakfast, we left Split and headed to Bosnia and Herzegovina. The border crossing at Kamensko was quick. While Bosnia has its own currency—the Convertible Mark—many places still accept Euros.
We stopped for lunch at Restaurant Orahovica, with a view of Jablanica Lake—bright turquoise water nestled between the mountains. I tried zeljanica for the first time (a spinach and cheese pie made with phyllo) and loved it. Bosnian coffee followed—strong, thick, and served in a small copper pot.
We had planned to hike in Blidinje Nature Park that afternoon, but rain changed our plans. Instead, we visited Tito’s Bunker near Konjic—a Cold War–era underground facility hidden behind a plain house. Inside were blast doors, narrow halls, old equipment, and even Tito’s personal quarters.
Afterward, we drove to our lodging inside Blidinje National Park: simple, dorm-style accommodations in an A-frame building. Nothing fancy, but comfortable enough for the next two nights.
We headed off in SUVs to explore the Cincar Mountains, where around 700 wild horses roam free. They’re descendants of domestic horses that were released decades ago and have since adapted to life in the wild.
We watched them graze with jagged peaks in the background—an unforgettable sight. At one point, a herd started running toward us. Our guide told us to hold our arms out wide to appear bigger—a tip I won’t forget. It worked.
After that, we stood there for a while, just watching. The open plains, the lakes, the mountains—it felt like the perfect place for them. The sky was clear and impossibly blue. You couldn’t have designed a better home for these beautiful animals.
Later, we drove to another part of the range, near a cluster of old stone katuns—seasonal herder huts scattered across the open hills. The wind had really picked up by then, but we set out on a gradual climb through grassland and rocky slopes. Nothing technical—just a steady uphill walk with big views and strong gusts the whole way.
When we got back down to the katuns, our guide passed around a block of Livno cheese and some fresh bread. Made from a mix of sheep’s and cow’s milk, the cheese was sharp and nutty—a regional specialty. After that hike, it tasted especially good.
On the way out, we had to pause while a few of the wild horses crossed the dirt path in front of us. It was the perfect end to the day.
As great as yesterday was, today topped it. We left early for Umoljani, a small village in the Bjelašnica Mountains, and set out on a loop hike to Lukomir—the highest and most remote village in Bosnia. The area was part of the 1984 Winter Olympics, and it’s still known for its dramatic views and long ski trails.
The trail to Lukomir was stunning: open meadows, rocky hills, and sweeping views over Rakitnica Canyon. At one point, we passed through a field full of wildflowers glowing in the sun—one of those quiet moments you just take in.
Lukomir sits at about 1,500 meters and feels untouched. Stone houses, narrow footpaths, sheep in the fields. Women knitted slippers outside; men tended animals nearby. The village felt peaceful and welcoming.
Lunch was Bosnian pita—flaky, layered dough stuffed with fillings like spinach and cheese, potato, and meat. I stuck to the veg ones (the potato was my favorite), and we ate outside next to the oven they were cooked in.
We walked a different trail back to Umoljani, passing more quiet meadows and stone walls.
It was one of those days that just clicked—great weather, great trail, great food.
By evening, we were back in Sarajevo with time to grab dinner on our own.
We had a bit more time to explore Sarajevo that morning—crossing the Latin Bridge, seeing Sarajevo Roses, and wandering through the Old Town. I’d arrived the night before, so between the evening and the next morning, I had about half a day to take it in. Not nearly enough, but enough to get a feel for the city. (You can read more about that in my Half a Day in Sarajevo post.) It’s a place that makes an impression quickly—beautiful, complicated, and very much its own.
Then we hit the road. The border crossing into Montenegro was easy, and the drive into was wild—57 tunnels, tight curves, cliffs, and glacial lakes. We stopped at a roadside stand to sample fruit rakija. I tried raspberry—better than I expected.
We spent two nights in Žabljak. The hotel (Hotel Lovac) was basic—no hot water, weak heating—but it had a restaurant, and we were glad not to have to go far. Dinner was Kačamak, a heavy dish of cornmeal, cheese, and kaymak (a rich, clotted cream). It was the only vegetarian option, but I actually kind of liked it. Definitely filling, and the kind of warm, comforting meal that’s perfect on a cold night—especially with a glass of red wine.
We hiked the loop around Black Lake, its clear glacial waters reflecting the snowy peak of Medjed Mountain. Everything felt quiet, still, and untouched.
We had lunch at a local restaurant: spinach pie again, and I still wasn’t tired of it. In the afternoon, we did a second hike through pine forest—peaceful, shaded, and a nice contrast to the wide-open views from earlier.
Dinner that night was Kačamak again—hot, cheesy, and served in a wooden bowl with crusty bread. The restaurant was packed and noisy, but in the best way: full of people enjoying themselves, just the kind of vibe you want in a mountain town. I felt completely at home.
We stayed for a while after dinner, sharing a bottle of wine and playing cards—one of those low-key nights that somehow ends up being one of the best.
We left Žabljak early for Grebaje Valley in Prokletije National Park. The road construction made for a long ride, but the views more than made up for it.
We stopped at the Tara Bridge over the Tara River Gorge—one of the deepest canyons in the world. The view from the top was unreal.
After lunch at a small local restaurant, we laced up our boots and started hiking from the valley, with intentions of heading to Volušnica and continuing on to Popadija and Talijanka.
These three peaks are part of the lower range of the Accursed Mountains (also known as Prokletije), a region known for its harsh terrain and long-standing stories of isolation and danger.
We weren’t aiming for the highest summits, but it didn’t take long to realize these mountains are no joke. In just two miles, I climbed 2,332 feet to reach Volušnica. The trail was steep, sometimes exposed, and dark clouds hovering over Popadija and Talijanka made the whole scene feel a little ominous.
As we neared the top, the wind picked up. At one point, I had to crouch behind a rock near the summit just to shield myself from the gusts. A storm system had been moving through the region, already disrupting a few of our hikes. The original plan was to continue along the ridgeline and summit all three peaks, but our guide made the call to stop at Volušnica—it was too risky to keep going.
That night, we stayed at Ethno Katun ROSI Agrotourism. I had a simple wooden cabin, and when I asked the owner about the heat, he explained that everything—warming the rooms, heating water, even cooking—is done with wood. Since the area is part of a protected forest zone, they have to be careful about how much they use and where it comes from. Nothing is instant here—if you want hot water or a warm room, you have to plan ahead. It was a good reminder of how much goes on behind the scenes in places like this—and how much of a difference having an extra sweater or coat on hand can make.
This day and the next were supposed to be our biggest hiking days, but a strong storm front was moving in fast, forcing our guide to change plans. Our next two hikes were canceled because of the bad weather. One of those hikes would have taken us across the Montenegro mountains into Albania, where mules were supposed to carry our luggage—but even the mule handler refused to send them out in that weather.
We left Montenegro in the morning, passed through Kosovo, and arrived in Albania. Rugova Canyon was stunning—sheer cliffs and winding roads. Lunch in Junik included a great omelet and a cold Peja beer. When in Kosovo, you’ve got to try the local beer—it’s not every day you get to travel there.
IIn the afternoon, we took a bumpy ride through Valbona Valley to reach the trailhead for a waterfall hike. A short hike, rough roads, and a drive that sticks with you—all part of the adventure.
Dinner was traditional Albanian food at Restaurant Raditia Tropojë—fresh, filling, and just what we needed after a long day.
After breakfast, we drove toward Tirana, stopping at Komani Lake for a short boat ride. Two hours on the water through a deep mountain valley. The weather cleared just enough to show off the colors.
We pulled up to a rocky beach to stretch our legs. I dipped my feet in the water—cold but nice.
As pretty as it was, the boat ride felt a bit like filler—especially after missing some of the bigger hikes. Still, it was relaxing.
We reached Tirana in the afternoon. Our guide took us to a traditional restaurant, and I realized it was Oda’s—a place I’d loved on my last trip. Dinner was grilled vegetables, stews, and warm bread. Afterward, I wandered through the square, caught some live music, and had a drink by the Opera House.
We had one last breakfast together that morning, and then it was time for goodbyes. Most of the group headed to the airport, while I moved to a different hotel to begin the next part of my trip.
I had a couple more days in Tirana to explore on my own (see my post: 3 Days in Tirana for more on that). It had been ten full days—busy, beautiful, occasionally a little chaotic—but absolutely worth it.
Hiking in the Balkans was full of contrasts—wild mountains, quiet villages, and cities with rich, complicated histories. Each border crossed, hike completed, and meal shared added something different to the experience.
Traveling with Intrepid Travel made it easy to reach some out-of-the-way villages and places that aren’t always simple to get to. And while a few of our hikes were canceled due to weather, I don’t hold that against Intrepid—these things happen. The hikes we did get to do were beautiful and challenging, even if we missed a few of the best ones.
I definitely had a great time on this part of my trip. And when I can’t—or just don’t feel like—going it alone, these small group tours really do work for me.
Copyright-2025 | All rights reserved.
