Just one shot

From the moment Austin and I set out we knew we only had a single shot at getting to Jordan. As you folks know from older blogs the political situation in the Middle East has been even more troublesome than during my parents trip. I certainly have chosen the most inappropriate time to visit the region; the fallout for the Iraq War, the Syrian Uprising and the Arab Spring were already issues before Austin pulled out of the driveway.

During the weeks we trundled happily south and eastwards Israel and Egypt fell out seriously as the former shot three Egyptian soldiers at the border. As Austin and I began a tour of Cypriot garages the Turkish prime minister Recep Tayip Erdogan, who was angered by Israels attack on shipping visited the new Post-Arab Spring regime in Egypt and as a result, for the time being the chances of crossing from Egypt into Israel, and ultimately Jordan, were scuppered. This week has seen Lebanon make it's formal bid at the UN to be recognized as a country which has has upset the Israelis no end.

But ultimately what stopped us from going any further was the troubles between Northern (Turkish) Cyprus and (Southern) Cyprus. In 1974 Turkey sent it's troops onto Cypriot soil after a Greek backed coup (The Greek Junta had taken power in Athens the year that mum and dad passed through, 1967). The fallout is still deeply felt through the island and as a result Northern Cyprus state is only recognized by the Turkish government. So technically Austin and I had entered through an illegal port and as a consequence would have to exit through that same point. We could not in any shape or form leave Cyprus and head to Israel, nor could I leave Austin and take a passenger ferry or fly. We would have to leave and return to the north. 

Once there we couldn't travel to anywhere but back to Turkey. And once there we could only exit back into Greece (or Hungry or Armenia, or Georgia). 

Sorry if it's complicated, but it took weeks of searching, calling and talking to people to get all this information. Eventually when the last email came in to say that in no uncertain terms could Austin and I leave Cyprus by any other means than back into the north, it was time to make some decisions. And to be honest these issues have been ongoing for the last fifty years, since Dad and Mum were here, there were very unlikely to change in the next month (especially with Tony Blair sticking his beak in) so sadly Austin and I have decided to return home to the UK and get on with the hard bit- writing the book. 

Thanks for all the support and love from everyone. 

The blogs will continue so stay tuned in and please stay in touch.

Have a good week folks

And again soz if there are any typos.

Cheers Matt

Chameleon Road- Cyprus

If you want an exercise in red tape and inefficacy then take the ferry from mainland Turkey to Northern (Turkish) Cyprus. Leaving Tascu on the southern coast of Turkey the plan was to take the overnight ferry to Cyprus and from there tackle the issue of getting to Jordan from another angle.

I’ll save you the details but here’s the facts- a five hour trip became a 15 hour marathon. Sailing was at 24:00 but we eventually set off at 3:30. I had to visit and hand over cash to a total of twelve different officials before Austin and I could be on our way. By the time we pulled out of the car park and on the disputed soil of Northern Cyprus we were both going bonkers in the heat.

 

Still there were consolations, Nic was coming out to spend 10 days with me and I was really looking forward to it. Originally I should have already tackled Jordan and she was to meet me on the way back. From Cyprus we planned to take a leisurely drive back up to Istanbul together. But timing wasn’t the only issue; Austin had something to say too.

Austin for the most part has been good as gold. Like me he has had a few sniffles and coughs and not everything works but something about Cyprus did not agree with him from the moment we arrived. For almost the whole of the first week Nic was here Austin was in one garage or another. They’d get one thing fixed and something else would go wrong. In the end he had a new dynamo, a new coil, some new wiring and new points put in.

Eventually Austin limped out of the garage and the three of us headed out along the Karpaz Peninsular for a little R and R. The wilds of Karpaz are famous throughout the island and we were looking forward to the long three hour drive down to the point. Nic had a drive of Austin and for the first time I was able to sit back and be a passenger. The sun bleached world of Northern Cyprus drifted passed as the coastline dipped in and out of the ocean, each time it left a beautiful azure cove. We spent a couple of days swimming and driving about dusty trails finding wild donkeys, chameleons and little owls. Not to mention turtles (if you want to know more about these wonderful creatures have a look at Nic's Zoology Blog).

Eventually it was time to head south on the next step of the mission. As I hadn't had any luck getting into Syria the only other choice was to attempt to take the ferry from (Southern) Cyprus to Israel and tackle Jordan from there. For those of you who aren't aware Northern Cyprus and Cyprus don't get on, in fact the UN had to step in and now there is a permanent collection of Blue-and-Whites stationed on the buffer zone that runs the length of the island.

Crossing from the North into the South was supposed to be easy, in reality the Cypriots pulled us aside and went through the paperwork and car with a fine tooth comb. An hour later not only had they driven me nearly insane but they gave us a parting gift- Austin and I could ONLY leave the island by returning to the North and exiting back into Turkey. If true then we were in a whole heap of trouble.

We had been invited to stay with Russell and his lovely wife Jane (and their friends Paul and Karen) at their place. We had meet them up in the north when they jumped in and gave Austin a bump start when he was having one of his Cyprus wobbles. They adopted us; in fact they were so kind and generous that I even began to put weight on again.

For the first time in ages I was forced to relax and stay still. Austin was working fine, we had sent out a few emails trying to confirm the next step and while I waited for the replies it was time to digest another delicious fish meze while floating around their pool in the sun....(to be cont.)

There's a new Cyprus gallery over at the Facebook page.
Have a good week folks
And again soz if there are any typos.
Cheers Matt

Lost In Cappadocia

Hoopoes, invisible in the bleached grass, lifted into the air and glided away as I startled each of them as I walked through the sun filled Ihlara Valley. Here in this most perfect of gorges I stopped and took a moment to breathe and relax.

For weeks Austin and I have been barrelling across the continent heading ever south and east. With the exception of a pause to dry out in Slovenia, we have kept on pushing through the miles. Istanbul and Bursa had been a tough section, tougher than I could have imagined, but as we passed mum and dad’s finish line there was a greater freedom to step away from the restraints of their original mission.

The view from Kirk Damalti Kilisesi (St. Georges Church)

Pulling into the dusty car park of the Piri Pension, in the even dustier village of Selime, I had no idea of the beauty and serenity that was hidden only metres away. 24 hours later I sat high in the cliff face in the Kirk Damalti Kilisesi (St George's Church), an ancient Byzantine church carved directly into the rock, happy, excited and yet strangely peaceful. Above me, eagles soared high in hot thermals and rock lizards dashed about arguing over territory at the mouth of the cave. Below, the stream wandered slowly and absent-mindedly through the twisted willows and larches. A more beautiful and peaceful place I have never seen before. Before I set out, during the whirlwind of chaos that I called planning, a mate had insisted that I take the time to 'smell the roses' during the trip. I had made an effort to pause and appreciate what I was lucky enough to be doing but in the Ilhara valley, with its wonderful wildlife and fascinating history I had the best day of the trip so far. By the time I went to bed my face hurt from smiling.

Sumbullu Kilise, Rock churches in  Ilhara Valley

A few days later Austin and I rolled eventfully into Goreme, the centre of all fun and activities in Cappadocia. If you have ever taken a moment to look at a brochure or site dedicated to Turkey then you will have seen Goreme and its fairy chimneys- fluted rock formations that for centuries have been the homes of peasants and priests alike. And, as Austin drove around the corner and began to wind down through the twists and turns, and above all steep, roads of Goreme, he chose this excellent moment for his brakes to die. So with a racing heart rate, my fist clutching the handbrake and in second gear we made our slow and terrifying way to the valley floor then up the other side to Kaya camping.

The View of Cappadoica from Kaya Camping

For ten days, while I sat out the tail end of Ramazan (Turkish Muslim holiday) and Beyram(another Turkish holiday), I would be awoken, just after dawn, by the dragon yawns of burners filling hot air balloons and by the time I had crawled out of my sleeping bag and rustled up a cup of tea the balloons began to rise out of the valleys and fill the skies. Then for an hour or so I would watch the slow parade of balloons pass along the valleys like a shoal of ambling jellyfish and by the time the last one disappeared it was time for breakfast.

While the mornings were filled with balloon gazing, the evenings were spent eating with Roger and Susan and Michael and Angela. Angela and Susan whipped up a storm every night and I hadn't eaten like that since I had left home, in fact, I think I started to put weight back on again. But as wonderful and much needed as this was sooner or later I was going to have to face the brakes problem.

The first mechanic told me to take out the offending part and drive to him with it, where he would judge whether he had the correct part and then we would take it from there! Yeah, okay, time for another mechanic. So with a kick up the bum from Roger and Susan we jumped in Austin and handbrake in hand, headed to the next village to find someone else to help. Thirty minutes later Austin had a stopping distance somewhere less than fatal and we were off back to the campsite and yet another fantastic Angela/Susan dinner.

As Susan told her family on Skype-today I have had two rides in an Austin Cambridge; once without brakes and once with.

So much to tell and so little space, off to Cyprus…
There a new Cappadocia gallery over at the Facebook page.


Have a good week folks
And again soz if there are any typos.
Cheers Matt

Insane-bul.

'I think you shouldn't drive through Istanbul. No one in their right mind does that' said Ahmet while his lovely wife Ayse nodded in agreement. They had already given me their map insisting I have it, as it was better than the one I had.

The view at Kartel

Not driving through Istanbul was sage advice, and parroted by everyone and every source, which is why I could have punched myself in the facefor not following it as I found myself stopping again at another set of lights in the crammed orgy of traffic.


I had called in at the airport to see if the tourist info could narrow the search for Mum and Dad's campsite in Kartel. Turkey is a wonderful hospitable country, but their tourist information is the worst in the world by far; rude, lazy and unhelpful. Not a great advert for the country. The lazy clerk behind the counter couldn't be bothered to stand, he gave me tourist map and said there 'might be' campsites in Kartel. There were none printed on the map.


At the end of a hot, six hour drive Austin was had to endure first several hours lost in Istanbul's insane traffic followed by several more in the even greater insanity of the commuter traffic heading to Kartel and the surrounding suburbs. I won't go into the detail but by the time we reached Kartel both of us were ready to knock the whole trip on the head. It was absolute purgatory.

Jimmy and Dad in Istanbul

When the Originals paused this way looking for a few days in the souks of brilliant Istanbul, there were still beaches at Kartel. They were even able to park right outside the Blue Mosque when they went sightseeing. There hasn’t been a campsite in Kartel for twenty years, apparently, and no beaches for decades. Now the city spills unsuppressed all the way along the coast and the beaches are either parks or industrial areas.


Istanbul is one of my favourite places in the world, but Kartel is not. I collapsed into the first, and only, hotel I found.


The situation was almost completely mirrored on the run to Bursa. The info guy was rude and unhelpful, the traffic a nightmare and the end result was an expensive hotel. The only difference was that Austin threw a bit of a wobbly and we had to sit beside the road while he calmed down.

The Ulu Camii in Bursa

'And that is that' I thought later as I sat in the old market eating dinner. 'I have reached the last point of my parent’s journey'. Here they were stopped by the shockwaves of the Six Day War, the shockwaves of the Mudurnu earthquake and the shockwaves of a dodgy kebab. They called it a day and headed home.

You wouldn’t recognise the Bursa of their time to the sprawling city of today (the fourth largest in Turkey). The closest place to camp is twenty miles away from the outskirts in the ski resort of Uludag milli Parki. So as I ate my Iskendia Kebab, in the busheling market and the Call to Pray rang about the eves, I took a moment to congratulate Austin and I on getting this far, of course we still have to get back…

There a new Turkey gallery over at the Facebook page.

Have a good week folks
And again soz if there are any typos.
Cheers Matt

The Lotus Eaters- Greece

There is no proof, photographic or otherwise, to prove that driving alone for six to ten hours a day without even a radio is sending me a little bonkers.



None what-so-ever.

Oh dear and it’s not even been a month yet

Austin and I have finally arrived in the sun. Not that it wasn’t dry and sunny in Croatia, Serbia and Macedonia, but we now have the real heat of Greece; that boil your brain at lunchtime heat. We headed down the Aegean highway looking for the campsites that Mum, Dad and Jimmy stayed at. Jimmy had been the climber and had led my parents up and down either side of the Alps in Slovenia and Austria, but it was Greece that my Dad loved. Mum loved the sunshine, the warm Med and the beaches, but Dad loved Greece, the food the people, the whole thing. Once the sun had been on him for a few minutes he blended in like a chameleon eating mousaka.  

Greece is thread through my life like the veins in marble. My parent's adventures had drip fed into my soul on long rainy afternoons and boring car journeys. So it was with a great deal of excitement and trepidation that I crossed the border and headed to Platamon in the shadow of Mount Olympus looking for their first campsite. They had planned to climb mount Olypmus but by this time even Jimmy had become a lotus eater.

I arrived at the beach front with its multitude of campsites just in time for a Greek national holiday and the place was rammed. After a worrying 45 minutes I found a place and Austin and I breathed a sigh of relief; we had survived our first day of real heat.

I don’t imagine Platamon looks much today like it did in 1967. The beach looks familiar but the sheer volume of campsites and visitors would undoubted surprise the three original members. Personally I found the sandy stretch of beach along the front a little too crowded. Since I stopped surfing my physique has somewhat, how shall we put it? Softened? And if I lie on the beach I fear Greenpeace will rush out of the bushes, grease me up and attempt to roll me back into the sea. So I moved around the corner and beneath the castle high on the cliffs above, I walked along the old train lines and found myself a rocky cove where I could dive into that special blue of the Med and wash away the sweat and dirt. Holy moley it felt good to be back in the sea. The last time I had seen the ocean was back in Ostend and that was far from inviting.

Mum and Dad at Nea Kifissia campsite 1967

After a few days break to recharge my batteries, dry all my camping stuff and let the Greeks go home Austin and I headed south to Athens and to Nea Kifissa. It was another long, hot, sweaty day that mainly consisted of me handing over fistfuls of cash to the toll booth operatives. I pay tax, so I have already paid once for the Greek road system it seems a little unfair that I have to do it again.

Mum and Jimmy at the Acropolis

After a fretful search for the campsite we found it and the present owner/manager Katrina was lovely and amazed to see the photos from the original trip. In the morning I left Austin to have a lie in and I went into town to have a look at the Acropolis.

Today a great deal of love and attention is being put into this icon of western history and while it is still certainly very grand it did look a lot like a building site in places with all the cranes. Yet it was much better than I thought. As you can see the original trio wandered happily in and out of the column’s exploring the ruins, but the sheer volume of visitors (and of course the percentage of idiots such numbers would mean) means that this is no longer possible. However, instead of the big fences I had expected there was simply a rope barrier that took always like of the grandeur of the place. If you visit it make sure you go to the new Acropolis museum is lovely, really nice, calm and fascinating.

the return journey was equally expensive, but off to Turkey, perhaps the single largest challenge Austin and I have faced so far.
There a new Greece gallery over at the Facebook page.

Have a good week folks
And again soz if there are any typos.
Cheers Matt

Problems

this week has seen the closing of yet more borders across the Middle East. This week has seen Isreal bomb Gaza in return for attacks in the south, the world has called for Assad to go quietly and end his reign in Syria and this morning rebel troops have been all but knocking on Gaddafi's front door. things are very fluid as the Arab Spring has lengthened into the Arab Summer.

The original route would pass through Turkey south through Syria and on to Jordan. But just as my trip was building momentum and the Arab Spring began Syria’s answer to the calls for a new government was further repression and violence.

Plan A
Take a look at the map. The route into Jordan from the north involves passage through Iraq or Syria.


The Foreign Office reports on-


Syria-We advise against all travel to the Syrian Arab Republic. British nationals in Syria should leave now by commercial means whilst these are still available.


And for the record Iraq.-We advise against all travel to Baghdad and surrounding area, and to the provinces of Basra, Maysan, Al Anbar, Salah Ad Din, Diyala, Wasit, Babil, Ninawa and At-Tamim (At-Tamim is often referred to as "Kirkuk Province").

Plan B
Jordan’s other border is with Israel. So Plan B is to take the ferry from southern Turkey to Cyprus and attempt to take a ferry to either Lebanon, Israel or Egypt
Cyprus to Lebanon


There is hearsay to confirm that there is a car ferry from Cyprus to Lebanon. It is the shortest route, however, the border between Lebanon and Israel (Lebanon is bordered by Israel, Syria and the Mediterranean) is presently closed to all but security personnel. -Anyone travelling to Lebanon should keep themselves well informed and closely monitor political and security developments- The Foreign Office


Plan C
Cyprus to Israel


The car ferry between these two countries closed about five years ago and at the moment of writing remains so. (Plan C.1 is to find a home for Austin in Cyprus and take the passenger ferry to Israel which is at the moment still open)


Plan D
Cyprus to Egypt.


No one seems to be able to tell me whether there is a ferry here, but regardless, as of today the border between Egypt and Isreal is closed.- On 28 May 2011 the Rafah crossing between Egypt and Gaza was re-opened to people but not goods-Foreign Office






So as the world goes a little more bonkers everyday I’m left with only one way of making overland/sea to my goal in Jordan. But with Gaddafi about to fall (hopefully) the world may turn its attention on Syria and who knows where that may end up?

Don’t forget there are loads of Galleries over at the Facebook page, just click like.


Have a good week folks
And again soz if there are any typos.


Cheers Matt

Tent trauma

The Tent. So far the tent has been a source not of sanctuary but of torment. Those who follow the Facebook page (and I have no idea why you wouldn’t cos all the brilliant people do) know of my joy at discovering that my expensive Northface Tent is less than water tight.

So I thought  I would do a quick blog on that adventure alone.

the Tent Nappy

As you all know, as soon as we encountered anything heavier than a slight mist the rain began to pour in through the roof and everything that had to stay drive had to be moved back into the car. The first night saw the design and testing of the Tent Nappy.

However, further field test proved that while it was successful in a small area the rain was able to get in around the sides of the Tent Nappy so in a bit of paniced desiging and improvision we have the Tent Toupee, courtesy of the folks at Newquay.

The Tent Toupee

There are design faults, and there are many I’m sure you could point out, but the main one is that while defending from the rain the Tent Toupee is powerless against that partner in crime of thunderstorms-wind. And just like its namesake in a slight breeze it will stand up and then float away.

The Tent-a-grad

Next we have the Tent-a-grad (the Tent Castle) inspired by the castle towering over Lake Bled in Slovenia and supplied up the Dutch. However, it lacks a certain style elelment don’t you think? To be honest it shares more with a drying wood pile than either a castle or a tent.

And that folks is how the situation stands. Northface have not bothered to reply to my email and therefore i have no choice but to never risk buying their stuff again.

Thankfully we've had some blue skies since then, but there's still the journey back....

Don’t forget there are loads of Galleries over at the Facebook page, just click like.
Have a good week folks
Cheers Matt