A 200km kayak along one of Europe’s last wild rivers
One of Europe’s last wild rivers, the Vjosa winds some 272km from Greece’s Pindus Mountains to Albania’s Adriatic coast, coursing through narrow gorges and expansive valleys, its blue-green waters slipping past Illyrian ruins, timeworn villages and stark mountainous landscapes.
Home to more than 1,100 species, including the critically endangered European eel, otters and the rarely sighted Egyptian vulture, the Vjosa is more than just a river; it’s a lifeline for riverside communities and a symbol of Albanian heritage and renewal. Its turquoise waters and diverse habitats support wildlife, fishing, agriculture and increasingly, eco-tourism.
In a historic move, in March 2023, the Vjosa was established as Europe’s first Wild River National Park – a status aimed at preserving its unique ecosystem and biodiversity.
“Rivers are among Europe’s most endangered habitats, with less than 10% free-flowing,” said Beth Thoren, director of environmental action at Patagonia, which collaborated with the Albanian government on the establishment of the national park. Thoren stressed the importance of protecting rivers like the Vjosa. “Standing on the Vjosa’s banks, you realise you’ve never seen a truly ‘wild’ river – no dams, reservoirs or concrete banks restricting its flow.”
Though the Vjosa now enjoys protected status, potential threats persist. Plans for the Kalivaç Dam, a hydroelectric project on the river, were scrapped in 2021 after public outcry, but other pressures loom. The construction of Vlora International Airport next to the Vjosa-Nartë Lagoon – a vital stopover for migrating birds – has alarmed environmentalists, as has a recent law allowing luxury tourism developments within protected areas. Big-name investors like Jared Kushner are now eyeing the Vjosa Delta for high-end resorts, sparking fears that the region could face irreversible changes.
After some hairy encounters with Class II and III rapids, I reached the village of Çarshovë and stopped for lunch at a riverside restaurant owned by Ana Janku, a lifelong resident of the Vjosa. Janku’s restaurant, like so many along the river, is entirely self-sustained, with everything sourced from her family’s plot of land: vegetables, livestock and home-baked bread, as well as freshly caught fish (while we were chatting, her son Stavro was busy casting his nets).
As I tucked into a spread of byrek (a savoury filled pastry), goulash and fresh tzatziki, Janku explained how the Vjosa has sustained her family for generations, and while she welcomed the national park status, she still worries about future development that might threaten the Vjosa. “This river is everything to us,” she said. “We looked after it long before it was officially protected.” She also expressed relief over the now-abandoned Kalivaç dam. “If anyone wants to invest in the Vjosa, they have to make sure they respect it.”
Continuing downstream, I passed through the villages of Kanikol, Strembec and Kaludh where the river took on a more communal character. Locals bathed in calmer pools, young men leapt from the cliffs and fishermen stood quietly by the shore, their lines dipping into the water. As I traversed a gorge near Kanikol, an eagle circled and swooped down towards the river.
From Kaludh to the city of Përmet, I joined a group tour with Vjosa Explorer rafting company to safely tackle the river’s more treacherous sections (I’d already pushed my Alpacka packraft to its limits). I spoke with Irma Tako, the company’s passionate owner who founded Explorer eight years ago to create jobs for young people in the Vjosa River valley. “Emigration is one of our country’s biggest problems,” she told me. “The valley is beautiful, but we lack human resources.”
Tako also emphasised the need for sustainable development. “The river is ours, and she belongs to everybody, but restrictions are still needed to preserve her biodiversity and the aquatic world she supports,” she said, noting that while the national park status is an important step, enforcement and vigilance are crucial to the river’s future.
I spent the following day bathing in the hot springs at Bënjë (famed not only for their soothing warm waters but also for the iconic centuries-old Ottoman-era Kadiut Bridge) before paddling the 20km to the town of Këlcyrë. From here, the river widened slightly and the current calmed, but the scenery remained dramatic with towering mountains in every direction (roughly 70% of Albania is mountainous). I stopped for a swim and spotted an otter bobbing in and out of the rocks.
The visible abundance of life on the river is no accident – it’s the direct result of a collaboration between the Albanian government, local activists and international partners such as Patagonia, EcoAlbania and the Save the Blue Heart of Europe campaign. These efforts have yielded impressive results: maintaining the river’s free-flowing waters and thriving habitats, raising awareness of its ecological value and promoting sustainable practices, all while supporting the cultural and economic well-being of riverside communities.
“The Vjosa Wild River National Park protects more than just nature,” said Thoren. “It was established in consultation with local communities to ensure it preserved both the natural landscape and the cultural heritage of the regions it flows through.”
The next day, I kayaked through Këlcyrë Gorge, one of the Vjosa’s most stunning passages, where the river flows between steep, craggy walls and waterfalls cascade down the cliffs. From here, the voyage took a more challenging turn as both the current and tourist infrastructure dwindled. What didn’t let up, though, was the rugged grandeur of the landscape as the river started to fan out into a braided network of serpentine channels – revealing an otherworldly vista of sun-bleached sandbars and interlocking emerald streams.
Olsi Nika, executive director of EcoAlbania – an environmental organisation central to the campaign for the Vjosa’s National Park status – spoke to the delicate balance between tourist development and conservation: “The Vjosa isn’t ready for a tourism boom. It has great potential – a mix of nature and culture with trekking, rafting and fly fishing in the tributaries – but it’s underdeveloped, almost a blank page. We need infrastructure and plans for tourism while ensuring we preserve the Vjosa for the next generation.”
The region’s cultural depth hit home the next day as I explored the Illyrian ruins of Byllis, a hilltop city that played a pivotal role in ancient Illyria in the 4th Century BCE and was later integrated into the Roman province of Epirus Nova, which included parts of modern-day Albania and North Macedonia. Now a key archaeological site with sweeping views of the valley, its preserved fortification walls, theatre and temple serve as reminders of its storied past as a trading and cultural hub from a bygone age.