Family Funishment Field Notes: Theth, Albania

Theth’s story stretches far beyond its newly rising fame among hikers. Tucked deep within the Accursed Mountains of northern Albania, it was once isolated geographically and culturally. For centuries, life here revolved around shepherding and tight-knit extended families, governed by the Kanun of Lekë Dukagjini, a unique medieval code of customary law. The best-known relic of this era is the Kulla e Ngujimit, or Lock-In Tower, a stone refuge where men sought shelter during blood feuds.

Until the 20th century, modern Albanian history largely bypassed Theth. During the communist era, the government opened the area only to officially sanctioned researchers and a few documented expeditions, effectively preserving its isolation. It wasn’t until the early 2000s — and especially the last decade — that Theth began its transformation into one of the Balkans’ great hiking destinations.

Theth’s new road already replaced the infamous track that once required a 4x4 and Albanian perseverance. Despite the uptick in visitors, Theth is still a place where the quiet wins. Guest accommodations in Theth are almost entirely family-run guesthouses rather than hotels Breakfasts are made of yogurt thick enough to stand a spoon in, honey from the hives just behind the guesthouse, and cheese pulled from the dairy room that morning. Villagers still walk the valley floor with their cows at dusk. Church bells still echo from the photogenic white stone church that has become Theth’s postcard image.

Services remain limited by design and geography. There are no ATMs, few places that take credit cards, and cell signal remains patchy at best. Medical facilities are minimal. Shops are more like storerooms with a few shelves, and if you forget to pack something obvious — socks, sunscreen, charging cables — you’re likely out of luck. Electricity and internet have a “when it feels like it” relationship with the village, and no one seems eager to improve their reliability.

The iconic Theth–Valbonë Trail draws trekkers from all over the world. Once a utilitarian shepherd route linking two remote valleys, the path now winds through forests and scree slopes to a panoramic alpine pass. It’s roughly 10–12 miles, but wild enough that hikers may find themselves trekking with pack horses hauling luggage between guesthouses.

For travelers, the valley lands somewhere between Swiss alpine scenery and Balkan folklore. Emerald rivers slice through the rock at Grunas Canyon, waterfalls tumble through forests, and the air smells like pine and woodsmoke. Wildlife still thrives here: brown bears, wolves, chamois, and lynx move quietly in the forests, while golden eagles circle overhead on warm thermals. You’re unlikely to encounter most of them but knowing they’re out there reinforces Theth’s untamed landscape.

If Albania is one of Europe’s great last frontiers, then Theth is its quiet heart — a high-altitude time capsule where the modern world is allowed to visit, but never fully take hold.

Family Funishment’s chapter on Albania was one of my favorites to write, because our time in Theth was life-changing. I hope you’ll read it, then close your eyes and imagine us, hiking steadily hiking our most intimidating route. Each step crushed the fear and doubts that we’d brought with us and I would give anything to take them again.