Within twenty minutes of setting off from Shkodra, we reached the turn marked by a slightly askew and severely faded sign which contained the word "Koman" - the name of the town where the ferry stops. Sure enough, our badly paved road had become a dirt path covered in rocks of various sizes, dips and ditches, and I braced myself for the 2 hour drive to come. Within fifty meters though, the rocks become pavement, and not the badly scarred, dangerously pot-holed pavement we had come to expect on those rare occasions we encountered paved roads, but a smooth, even glossy, surface. I held my tongue sure that if I declared aloud my ever growing happiness at this development, I would jinx it. Yes, there were patches of rock, usually around the sharp corners, which I suspected may have been deliberately left unpaved in order to try and prevent more people from plummeting off the sides of the roads to their deaths, but for the most part, the road to Koman was a veritable autobahn.
And so we waited two hours in the three cafe town of Koman. They too demonstrated a fondness for ceramic tchotchkes. The town really does have three cafes, an electric plant connected to the dam (although there was no electricity in the town while we were there), and a "cement hotel", or so it was dubbed by my friend in Prishtina, whose tale of the evening she spent there once with her family and the deaf mute son of the owner contained many references to the establishment in The Shining. While we did not enter the cement hotel, we saw it down the road, a pink cement concrete block, and it looked quite benign. Perhaps, on another trip, we can stay there ourselves. Yeah, right. Moving on...
As we waited the two hours the line grew, which confirmed what I had heard about the ferry generally being full to capacity. Meanwhile, the local population went about their business including shepherding their sheep up the same mountain road we would take to the ferry.
When this truck boarded, the entire ferry sank a foot. At last, we could go. And for two hours, we moved slowly through the gorges.
The two hour journey was impressive, beautiful and worthwhile. The tranquility of travelling by ferry almost made me forget the trauma of travelling by road. Because of it, I would actually recommend a weekend visit to Albania - skipping the Kukes-Shkodra road but taking the ferry in and out instead.
About fifty minutes later, we had taken the picturesque road which goes along the mountains and hills which surround a huge lake, seeing a farmer here and there and maybe a half dozen houses scattered in the hills. We came into a valley with about a dozen buildings/trailers and I stopped to ask how far we had left to go until we reached Koman. The nice cafe owner told me I had reached Koman as he pointed to the sign over his establishment, "The Koman Cafe". Okay, so I am not the most observant person sometimes. The owner added that a policeman standing on the other side of the bridge could direct me to the queue for the ferry. It was only 8 o'clock. Our estimated two to three hour journey took a mere seventy minutes. Not bad.
We pulled across the bridge, had the policeman point to a couple cars parked on the side of the road around the corner, and we followed suit. Still not entirely sure if we were in the right place, because but for a couple trickles of water, there was definitely no place for a ferry to pull up, we sought reassurances from our nearest neighbors, the car in front of us, and satisfied ourselves that yes, indeed, this was the line, that we would drive through the mountain somehow and come to the ferry stop at around 10 a.m., when the cars coming off the ferry had finished coming down the same road.
And so we waited two hours in the three cafe town of Koman. They too demonstrated a fondness for ceramic tchotchkes. The town really does have three cafes, an electric plant connected to the dam (although there was no electricity in the town while we were there), and a "cement hotel", or so it was dubbed by my friend in Prishtina, whose tale of the evening she spent there once with her family and the deaf mute son of the owner contained many references to the establishment in The Shining. While we did not enter the cement hotel, we saw it down the road, a pink cement concrete block, and it looked quite benign. Perhaps, on another trip, we can stay there ourselves. Yeah, right. Moving on...
As we waited the two hours the line grew, which confirmed what I had heard about the ferry generally being full to capacity. Meanwhile, the local population went about their business including shepherding their sheep up the same mountain road we would take to the ferry. 
Finally, at around 10 a.m., I could see a trail of cars starting to make its way down the mountain road in front of us. The ferry had obviously arrived. We waited another twenty or so minutes, then we were off. The mystery of where exactly the ferry comes in is solved when I see a tunnel through the mountain.
We cross through and come out on the other side of the dam, where the water is captured in deep mountain gorges. 
When we finally get to the ferry, the men organizing entry to the ferry tell me that I have to back the SUV onto the boat (instead of drive on/drive off). This nearly gives me a heart attack, but with the help of about four men, yelling at me in Albanian and gesturing wildly, I succeeded in not sending the car off the sides of the dock or into any major part of the ferry, and tucked the SUV safely onto the side of the ferry. The very first people on had to back on to the back gangplank and were practically hanging off the ferry.
When we finally get to the ferry, the men organizing entry to the ferry tell me that I have to back the SUV onto the boat (instead of drive on/drive off). This nearly gives me a heart attack, but with the help of about four men, yelling at me in Albanian and gesturing wildly, I succeeded in not sending the car off the sides of the dock or into any major part of the ferry, and tucked the SUV safely onto the side of the ferry. The very first people on had to back on to the back gangplank and were practically hanging off the ferry. 
Had I had to do that, it probably would have finished me off.
(By the way, the little tin hut which you can see to the right of the photo is in fact the ladies bathroom - I seriously curtailed my liquid consumption to avoid having to use it.)
Loading goes rather quickly and I think we are about to go because it looks like there is no more room when a truck full of huge cement pipes pulls up.
Surely, I thought, it can't fit, but the men reorganized the cars, and the truck driver backed the truck up on the ferry.
When this truck boarded, the entire ferry sank a foot. At last, we could go. And for two hours, we moved slowly through the gorges.
The two hour journey was impressive, beautiful and worthwhile. The tranquility of travelling by ferry almost made me forget the trauma of travelling by road. Because of it, I would actually recommend a weekend visit to Albania - skipping the Kukes-Shkodra road but taking the ferry in and out instead.
We pulled into Bajram Curri, where the ferry docks, and where our road to Kosovo awaited us.
A short twenty minute drive later, we came to the border. As soon as we crossed into Kosovo, but for the section near the border crossing, where we had to drive down a dirt embankment, at the instruction of the police, in order to reach the paved road, the roads were brilliant.
We stopped in Djakovo, a small town notable for having an interesting Ottoman period bridge and a large Catholic community (evidenced by the new Catholic church going up - I think the largest in Kosovo).
We stopped in Djakovo, a small town notable for having an interesting Ottoman period bridge and a large Catholic community (evidenced by the new Catholic church going up - I think the largest in Kosovo).
During lunch, Prof. D. asked me what it would take for me to drive back via Decani, a town near the western border of Kosovo, famous for its monasteries. Since I didn't know exactly how long it would take us, and I knew Prof. D. had a flight out that evening from Prishtina, I begged off, saying no because of time constraints. This was true, but also true was the fact that I was counting the minutes to when I could get rid of the keys, the car and the need to take up any further road challenges. Public transportation and taxis, here I come!
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