6th June 2010 - Rotterdam to London

And did those feet in ancient time


Walk upon England's mountains green


And was the holy lamb of God


On England's pleasant pastures seen

It is a day charged with emotion. One part of me is looking forward to getting home. Another part wants to turn around and go back; to continue the adventure and just keep driving from country to country until I find Utopia and settle into a blissful lifestyle. I feel that as soon as I reach the UK I will be back on the radar again. For the duration of the trip, it is like I have existed in an invisible parallel universe looking in on this world. The English Channel represents the dividing line between universes and when I drive off the ferry people will see me again and I will be forced to take my place in society again.

I have arranged a late check out at the hotel. I don’t need to leave until 5PM and, after a good breakfast, spend the day cleaning camera equipment and watching the omnibus edition of Eastenders. BBC television hasn’t improved. I am packed and ready to go. One last look around the last hotel room I will stay in on this drive and I head for the car.

The ferry is due to leave at 10 PM I arrive at 6 and figure I am in for a long wait. There are only 4 other cars in the boarding lanes. I settle back and watch Nadal win Wimbledon on the TV in the car. At 7 the gates open. I wonder why but soon realise the ferry is boarding now. I drive up the ramp, park and head up to the cabin deck. I find my cabin. I am really surprised at the quality. Immaculately clean with a shower, towels, soap and shampoo. My constant companion on this trip, hunger (I have lost 5kg so far), reminds me i haven’t eaten since breakfast. I stow my bags (seafaring talk there) and head for the restaurants one deck below. The restaurants are large and well lit and have a huge selection of food. I opt for Swedish Meatballs which are very tasty and soon consumed. A short, stocky Dutchman resembling a hobbit approaches the bar and orders 4 beers and 4 large Jack Daniels with coke and ice. He sits 2 tables away from me and necks a JD straight down, followed by a beer. He repeats this until all the drinks are gone. The man is clearly on a mission. He returns to the bar and orders the same again. I am envious and would love a beer. However, the risk of driving off the ferry in the morning and straight into a breathalyzer doesn’t appeal.

Fed and watered, I buy an English newspaper and head to the cabin. It is 8 PM and the ferry still has two hours before departure. An hour of reading followed by a nap and a shower sees me up on the restaurant deck again as the ferry pulls away from the dock, The Dutch hobbit (we’ll call him Beerbo) is again into 4 beers with JD chasers and I am amazed he is still standing.

I have not travelled by ferry since the 80’s when my bank took part in a few football tournaments. Usually there is a coach load of Geordies returning from a weekend jolly up collapsed in heaps all over the bar area wearing the same Newcastle United shirt they put on Friday when they left. Inevitably, one of them will be an amputee who’s false leg disappears at some stage during the journey. Usually, it is a stag weekend for someone who 90% of them don’t know and who they have left behind in Amsterdam without realising it. You need to be an ice skating champion to walk around as the floor is covered in hurl and lung butter. But it appears the economic downturn has bitten deeper than I expected. The only hardcore drinking being done is by Beerbo who has moved onto large vodkas and is sitting head down talking to the table in Dutch.

I head back to the cabin. With so much going round in my head I figure it will be hard to sleep. I wake up at 5.45AM and we have already docked in Harwich. The boat will disembark at 6.30AM and I head to the restaurant deck for coffee. Beerbo appears and, in the time it takes me to drink the coffee, necks 4 beers. I head back to the cabin, pack and head for the car. I am getting my head around driving on the left hand side of the road as I drive off the ferry towards customs. About 60 metres before the customs shed, an official in a fluorescent vest steps in front of me and indicates to stop. From my right, a huge lorry rig with trailer and a Dutch number plate moves across towards the customs shed. It is a huge rig and must take some driving. A hand waves from the window to acknowledge me letting him go and then a face appears grinning. It is Beerbo. Possibly the drunkest man on the ferry has just driven into the UK in a huge rig and, if heading for London, into rush hour traffic.

As i reach the shed the customs officers are smoking and drinking coffee. They watch each car pass noting the number plate. They see mine and cigarettes and coffee cups are dropped and they scramble to show me to the inspection area. Inside they ask me where I have come from and stare in disbelief when I tell them. They produce a world map and ask me to point out Doha. I do and they remove the map and ask me to detail every leg of the trip matching the details to my passport stamps. Another half an hour talking about the trip and they are happy. I get back in the car and, just as I am pulling away, one of the customs officers says the words that cause the wheels to fall off; Welcome Home. Now I suspected that at some stage there may be a tear shed as certain emotions built. But those words cause a torrent and I have to pull the car over to one side to get myself together. The stress of the planning and making of the trip surfaces. I figure it is better out than in and in 20 minutes I am back on the road again. Strangely, feeling much better.

The journey to home is uneventful. To be truthful, I don’t remember too much about it. I stopped once at a service station to get a coffee. Not because I particularly wanted the coffee, just because at last, I could.

5th June 2010 Munich to Rotterdam

I leave Munich at 9AM. The previous day’s drive has left me aching and the cramp attack at 4Am has left me sore in both legs. Nurnburg is directly north of Munich and seems the logical target for the first part of the drive. I am soon on the Autobahn and realise early that driving in Germany requires a new skill set. In the absence of speed limits, approaching a slower vehicle in the slow lane, a check of mirrors reveals a clear lane for overtaking with a dot in the distance being the closest car behind. What you don’t realise is that the dot behind you is travelling at 220KMH and closes you down at such a speed that he is immediately behind you and flashing headlights.

This is becoming a day of realisation. For the first time since starting this journey I feel like I am out from under the cloud of Qatar. Don’t ask me how this feeling came about but I feel that the weight of the world is off my shoulders and that a cloud has lifted. Maybe the drive through the Alps last night was a wake up call about what is on this planet compared to Qatar. There is also an impending realisation that the drive is almost over. I can’t believe that I have come this far and that within 48 hours I will have reached the UK.

From Nurnburg I head North West for Frankfurt. I am making reasonable progress on the Autobahns when they are 3 lanes. I am surprised the number of these roads that are under repair and closed except for one lane, which significantly slows progress. By Frankfurt the sun is shining and the drive is becoming a real pleasure. The forests on either side of the road add to the experience. At Frankfurt I take the road for Dusseldorf where I figure it will be a good place to spend the night. As I get to Dusseldorf I see a sign for Arnheim. I figure it is better to get in Holland before stopping and push on. As with many other legs of this trip, I keeping pushing. I am soon in Holland and see the signs for Den Hague. I know this is near Rotterdam, where the ferry will leave from the following night. I reach the ferry port area at 8PM. I am exhausted and start looking for a hotel. They are all full and I am faced with the prospect of kipping in the back of the car. I remember passing signs for Rotterdam airport. Airports have always got hotels, so I head in that direction. There are 4 hotels at the airport and they are all nearly empty. I check into the room and crash out fully clothed.

4th June 2010 - Brindisi to Munich

I manage about 3-4 Hours sleep. I wake up on the couch and all is quiet. By my calculation, we are about an hour and a half away from Brindisi. The ship is totally quiet. There are no crew or passengers around and I note the cloud and sunrise of the starboard (right) side of the ship. I grab the camera and head for the deck. A strong breeze greets me as I open the door to the deck. I shiver and close the zip on the jacket. I don’t think it is that cold but lack of sleep and an empty stomach combine to create a chill.There is a battle going on between the sun and the clouds (See pictures). Each time the sun breaks through the clouds bring in reinforcements and take over the sky. The sun climbs but eventually loses the battle and disappears completely.

An announcement asks for drivers to return to their vehicles. I head down to the car hold and start the engine. As I wait to leave the ferry, I work out the driving strategy for the day. I will drive until I get tired and then find a hotel and crash for the night. The rain starts as I leave the ferry. The number plate attracts the Italian Customs Officers and I am pulled over to one side. A quick chat about where I have come from and I am away. The rain is heavy as I find a two lane highway. The signs are for Bari and I know from my planning that this is north of Brindisi, so it will do as a target. I find myself driving in the fast lane as the slow lane is in such bad condition. This is the first time I have had to do this since Saudi Arabia.

The Italians have a strange way of driving. They all believe they are racing drivers. Their way of overtaking is to drive up behind the slower vehicle in front, pull out and overtake and then pull back in front of the slower vehicle as close as possible. On several occasions I am forced to hit the brakes as the car cuts back in. B*****ds. I hope their economy goes the way of Greece or they go out of the World Cup at the group stage. The drive is now becoming very difficult because of the Italians and the heavy rain. The rain starts to clear up as I reach Bari and select Pescara as the next target. The view of the Adriatic is beautiful as the sun emerges and I head up the East coast. By the time I reach Pescara the sun has won it’s battle and the temperature is climbing. From Pescara I opt for Ancona and push on. At Ancona I stop for food and check the SatNav. Bologna looks feasible and I guess that that would be a good place to spend the night. It is about 2PM but I am feeling pretty good so Bologna it is. Joining a major toll motorway helps the journey and I arrive in Bologna without any signs of fatigue. I check the maps and decide that Verona is possible and push north towards the alps. The alps appear on the horizon as I approach Verona. A sign states that Munich is 270 KM away. I am feeling good so decide to make the push to Munich tonight. It is 6PM. Reaching the Alps is like a shot of adrenalin. The scenery is breathtaking and the route through the mountains is amazing. My eyes are starting to play up due to lack of sleep and the light changing as you drive around the mountains. I enter Austria and arrive at Innsbruck where the highway goes right and descends to Munich, north of the alps. A difficult drive into Munich, because of the strength of the sun, brings me to the centre of the city. I find a hotel at 9PM. It has been a 1200 KM drive taking fourteen and a half hours. I head to a nearby McDonalds for food as the hotel restaurant is closed. On the way back to the hotel a drunk vagrant advises me that if I don’t give him food he will punch me. He can hardly stand up, never mind punch anyone and looks seriously under nourished. I give him my chicken Mcnuggets and he looks amazed that his threat has worked. I am still laughing as I get back to the hotel.

A selection of the Photographs from Cairo are now on my web site at: http://www.johnee-dee.co.uk/portfolio101945.html
A selection of the Photographs from Wadi Rum, Jordan are now on my web site at:
http://www.johnee-dee.co.uk/portfolio103735.html

3rd June 2010 - Thessaloniki to Igoumenitsa

I leave Thessaloniki at 11.30 AM. I have plenty of time before the ferry so it will be a leisurely drive. Again, the route is scenic as I head west on very good quality roads. The roads climb and there are a large number of tunnels as we weave through the mountains. I figure I will get to the ferry about 4, sort out the tickets and chill until the ferry leaves. I never figured that Igoumenitsa would be the wild west and potentially one of the most dangerous places I have encountered on the trip so far.

After another scenic journey I descend into Igoumenitsa. It is 4.15 PM and I am more or less on schedule. I park the car and head into the terminal building. It is a large building with ferry company offices, food outlets and souvenir shops. There are only about 6 people in the whole place. The Endeavor Lines office is closed, but this is to be expected as the ferry doesn’t leave until 1 AM. Coffee is the order of the day as it is likely to be a long night. I approach a coffee bar where a man is seated talking to a lady behind the counter. I order coffee and sit down. I start to work over the route in my head once I arrive in Italy the next day. The man decides to start up a conversation. He asks where I have come from, where I am going, where my car is and whether England will win the World Cup. He seems a nice guy but keeps asking questions. My usual response to people asking questions like this is to ask whether they are a policeman. I ask him. He says he is and produces his ID. Finally, I have been caught out using the policeman line. I laugh and luckily he sees the funny side. I buy him a cup of coffee and he warns me that Igoumenitsa is a dangerous place and that I need to keep a close eye on my car. He explains that the Greeks have a big problem with Bulgarians since they were admitted to the EU. This would explain the treatment of the Bulgarian cars at the border the day before. Apparently, organised gangs travel into Greece and cause havoc stealing cars and anything else they can lay their hands on.

After another coffee I decide to head back to the car, heeding the advice of Kostas the cop. I decide that the dive knife in the boot would be better kept close to me in the car. I recline the driver seat, lock the doors and try to catch some z’s. I am in the land between awake and sleep when I become aware of someone close to the car. Just as I open my eyes, someone tries to open the rear passenger door. I jump up and reach for the dive knife. The guy sees me and takes off. I get out of the car, leaving the knife on the passenger seat, and watch as he runs across the car park and jumps in a Bulgarian registered car and takes off at high speed. Kostas had not been exaggerating. At 6 PM I am standing outside the car stretching my legs and looking West wondering whether the sunset will provide a photo opportunity. A car, again with a Bulgarian plate, pulls up behind me and the driver, who is alone, gets out of the car and asks where the car comes from. I tell him Qatar. I suspect this is a distraction ploy and move to the front of the car where I can see all around. The man is overweight and and lights a Marlboro cigarette after removing the filter. He is wearing a singlet, shorts and flip flops. I figure if anything happens he will not be able to run very far or fast. He cuts to the chase, and asks if I would be willing to carry a package to Italy for EUR 500. He says he has an address in Brindisi for delivery. He will pay me EUR 250 now and I will get the rest when I deliver the package. I decline and he doubles the offer to EUR 1,000. I tell him again I am not interested and he gets the message. I am amazed at what goes on in this town. But it isn’t finished yet.

As I am talking to the man I notice a minibus with Bulgarian plates arrive at the terminal building. A group of youngsters get out and head into the building. There is one man and about 8 women. I guess it must be a school trip. I get back into the car and try to visit the land of nod again. Within about half an hour there is a tap on the passenger window. I look up and a young girl, probably no older than 15 is standing there. She is one of the group from the minibus. I put the key in the ignition and wind down the window about 6 inches and ask what she wants. In short, she offers to perform a sexual act on me in exchange for a packet of cigarettes with a further variation for two packets. I start laughing, which doesn’t go down to well (No pun intended). I try to explain that I don’t do that sort of thing on first dates and that I like to be wined and dined first. She doesn’t understand this. She gives me the finger and storms off.

By 10 PM the terminal building has become much busier. I am still laughing over the events of the day so far when a huge commotion breaks out outside the terminal. It is a full on brawl and seems to involve about 20 people. Sirens are coming from everywhere as the local police descend on the place. Police dogs emerge from vans and the commotion seems to be under control. An ambulance arrives and two people are carted off. I go to the terminal building and see Kostas the cop with blood on him. I ask if he is ok and he tells me the brawl was between a group of locals and Bulgarians. Two of the Bulgarians were stabbed in the fight and all of the participants have been arrested. He asks how I spent my time and I tell him the events of the day. He laughs and says the next time I travel not to do it in a Range Rover. I take his point.

I return to the car. At midnight I drive onto the dock to wait for the ferry. The Ioanian Queen docks and 3 cars and 10 lorries are boarded in no time at all. The ferry leaves 15 minutes early at 12.45 AM. The ferry looks almost new and is clean and comfortable. I hadn’t booked a cabin for some reason. I find a couch and curl up figuring any sleep will be a bonus.

2nd June 2010 - Istanbul to Thessaloniki

With a heavy heart, I say good bye to Charles the following morning. He will fly back to Doha that afternoon. It has been good to have company since Cairo. I thank you my friend.

After a couple of wrong turns, I find the road to Erdine. It is of good quality, but very busy and slow as I head out of the city. A petrol stop (At $2 per litre Turkey is the most expensive place so far on the trip) highlights the attention the car number plate is starting to attract. The petrol attendants ask where the car is from and when I tell them Qatar they look bemused. It appears the only Arab country they know is Syria.

Two hours later, I reach Erdine and can go right for Bulgaria, or head south (left) for the border with Greece. I head south and eventually reach the border post on the Turkish side. I know that there will be no issues leaving Turkey, but there are so many horror stories about entering Greece that I am very nervous. Two checks on the passport and I am out of Turkey. I drive 2 KM across no mans land and arrive at the Greek border post. Again the number plate attracts nearly all the customs officers to the car at the same time. To my right in another lane two Bulgarian registered cars are having the seats removed (back and front) and the spare tyre taken out so a drug dog can go over everything. This sight doesn’t fill me with joy. The most senior (judging by uniform and size) customs officer asks for my passport and green card (green card is the insurance for the car). I hand over the UK insurance policy and he tells me that he has never heard of the insurance company and I would be better off buying insurance from the Greek government. I figure that if this will grease the wheels of entry into the EU, why not. He advises me that it will coat EUR 150 but if I go back over to Turkey it will cost EUR 100. I tell him that if I am spending money I want to do it in the EU not Turkey. He takes me by surprise when he hugs me and says “Thank you my European brother”. There is one small problem. I am only carrying USD in cash. They will only accept EUR as payment for the insurance. The senior customs officer takes me by the hand and starts walking towards the duty free shop. When we enter he pick up a packet of mints and tells me to pay for them with 3 x $100 notes. This I do and receive enough EUR in the change to buy the insurance. We march back to the customs point and I complete the insurance formalities. By now, the wheels are off the 2 Bulgarian cars and even the steering wheels have been taken out. With a wave the customs officer says goodbye and I am in the EU. I am over the moon that the crossing was that smooth and easy. Now it’s on to Thessaloniki.

The drive is scenic and mainly highway. The road is in excellent condition and I make good time on reaching Thessaloniki, albeit in rush hour. The drive along the sea front reveals hundreds of bars teeming with people just watching the world go by. I find a hotel and check in. After a shower and a few beers in the bar I sleep early. The ferry from Igoumenitsa is at 1AM the day after tomorrow, so I don’t need to be up early the next morning.

In reflection, I have got a lot further than I originally anticipated. This trip was 3 months in the planning, but deep down I suspected something would go wrong somewhere around Syria, Jordan or Turkey. To have reached the EU has eradicated a lot of trepidation. But there is still a long way to go.

29/30th May 2010 - Mersin to Istanbul

Charles looks tired the next morning. Clearly he had found the free porn channel as well or the pressure of sleeping in the car all day while I drive is starting to take its toll. We leave Mersin and head back towards Adana. After 50 KM we reach the Ankara road and head north through the hills. The route is scenic and the road seems pretty good. There are a lot of lorries bringing goods inshore from the ports along the Med. It looks like an easy leg of the journey is ahead of us. Famous last words. Soon the road is under construction and we are squeezed into one lane in each direction. Ordinarily, this wouldn’t be a problem, but when you are stuck behind a lorry at 40 KPH you can choose to sit there and take all day for your journey or overtake and push on. I opt for the latter. Problem with this approach is that as soon as you overtake one lorry another one appears. Also the cars stuck behind lorries coming in the opposite direction have the same idea. What transpires is like a ballet on wheels. From behind the lorry I note a gap and emerge into the opposite lane. There is a lorry coming in the opposite direction but a good distance away. As I emerge a car appears overtaking the lorry coming towards me. He sees me and we both pull back in behind the lorries we were following in the first place. This goes on for about 60 Km and is really quite stressful. Finally, the road returns to normal, then becomes a 3 lane highway as we push on towards Ankara. Charles is already asleep, clearly the car ballet has exhausted him I settle down for the rest of the drive and as we take a gentle left hand curve at 130 KPH, a herd of 200-300 sheep appear in the road in front of us. I get on the brakes early enough and we stop short. The previous day, I was behind the wheel for 13 hours. Today will be much shorter and we opt to stop at the first hotel we come to. This happens to be the Aktif Metropolitan, Ankara. They have rooms and the hotel is modern and very clean. It is also dry and doesn’t have a bar. No real problem as tomorrow we will be in Istanbul. After an excellent meal, I process some photography and relax in the room.

Following breakfast we head North East for Istanbul. I guess that the Ankara-Istanbul highway will be a good quality road. I am not disappointed. We are soon on a 3 lane toll highway that would put most western roads to shame. This is again impressive. I have been hugely impressed with Turkey since our arrival. The industry and infrastructure far outweigh my expectations. I can’t see any reason why Turkey would not be a major contributor to the EU, If allowed to join. 450 KM later we are on the outskirts of Istanbul. Charles is awake and has a map of the city from a previous visit. We know roughly where the hotel (otel) is. We drive over a couple of bridges and, after a couple of wrong turns, arrive at the hotel. It turns out that we are a day late. I had found a lost day in the travel itinerary before I left Qatar. I thought I had accounted for it but it rears it’s ugly head here. We should have checked in the previous day. Luckily, there is no problem and we check in. Now having been surprised by the free porn channel in Mersin, I am equally surprised by the mirrors on the ceiling in this hotel room. After a shower we head out and take a tram to an area with lots of bars. We take up residence in an Irish pub called “The James Joyce” for the night and seek liquid sleep assistance.

We are up bright and early the next morning and have breakfast on the 4th floor terrace. The hotel even lays on entertainment as an Albatross dives down and starts eating food from a nearby table. We are alerted by the scream of a one eyed German boy with a patch who just happens to be sitting at the table at the time. The parents rush over and chase the huge bird away. I figure it must have happened because the kid looks like a pirate.

We head for the Blue Mosque and San Sophia. They are interesting to see, but again I am singularly underwhelmed by them. This goes back again to having seen the Pyramids and Petra at the start of the trip. By 11 AM we are back in the hotel. We have lunch. My head is already back on the road for the drive the next day. The trip is clearly getting to Charles as he is talking about buying something. He needs another bag for his flight home tomorrow. I ask if his medical insurance is up to date just in case he breaks a $100 note.

I chill in the room for the rest of the day and need to get focussed on what is ahead. Tomorrow I will be alone again and crossing into the EU. There are many horror stories about the Greek border regarding cars being seized and drivers locked up. This is a major milestone in this journey. Once into the EU border crossings become much easier. But first the Greeks.

28th May 2010 - Lattakia to Mersin

As usual we get lost leaving Lattakia. Instead of heading north and crossing into Turkey, we are heading East towards Aleppo. We are not too worried about this as we know that there are border crossings north of Aleppo. We have only experienced good roads in Syria so far. Therefore, we are surprised that we find ourselves up in the hills of Northern Syria on two way road heading for Aleppo. As soon as we come up behind a slow(er) vehicle, overtaking becomes a nightmare. There are a lot of blind bends and hills and I refuse to go for an overtake on any of them. This goes on for what seems for ever. After 3 hours of hill driving we arrive in Aleppo and see signage for the Turkish border. We are heading North so we figure we can’t go far wrong. We drive through small towns and villages until the border signs simply aren’t there anymore. The SatNav shows we are still heading towards the border, so we push on. We are on single track roads and farm machinery is regularly in the road ahead of us. Finally, we are in a village where the widest street is the width of one vehicle. Something has gone wrong. We head back after marking in the SatNav where the border crossing is. We drive through towns and adjacent to the border until we follow a right turn through a village heading South. Suddenly we are at the Syrian border post. We run around for an hour getting stamps on car documents and passports before finally being ready to leave.

There are two border crossing that have concerned me since the beginning of the trip. The first is the crossing from Syria to Turkey and the second from Turkey to Greece.

With some trepidation, we approach the Turkish border station. We hand over the passports and are told to go buy visas and come back. We drive into the compound and park up. The visas are $20 each. Charles, as always, is hungry and orders two burger meals inside the terminal building. I go to buy insurance for the car. In the insurance office the young man tells me 1 month’s insurance for Turkey is $50. I agree and give him my passport, the money and the car registration. He tells me that 3 months insurance is the same price. I tell him that I will only be in Turkey for a few days and I only need 1 month. He repeats the 3 month offer, and I agree, to which he asks why I need 3 months if I am only staying a few days. I think he is taking the p**s, so I tell him to do whatever he thinks is best. With insurance in hand I return to the shadiest hamburger meal I have ever seen and, despite being hungry, only manage to finish half of. I suspect the half burger may come back to haunt me in days to come.

Insured, visaed and still hungry we head for customs. The customs officer is a rude SOB shouting that the car registration is not valid. I stay calm as he starts to raise his voice. Finally, we go to his supervisor who speaks good English. He soon works out that the name on the car registration and the passport are the same. He apologizes and proceeds to rip the customs officer a new orifice in Turkish. The officer takes me back to his counter with his tail between his legs and stamps the car documents. We are clear.

We drive from the border towards Adana. It is already 5PM and it looks like another 3 hours at least of driving. The roads are in good condition and, despite making good progress, we only reach Adana at 7.45 PM. We have reservations in a hotel in Mersin which is another 1 hours drive from Adana. I have been behind the wheel for 12 hours so decide 1 more hour won’t make much difference. We get to Mersin and have no idea where the hotel is. We decide to stop at the first hotel we come to and stay there. It happens to be the Mersin Otel. It is funny how in Turkey hotel is otel. I have been pronouncing it like this for years so it’s nice to be somewhere that thinks the same as me.

We have a bite to eat and watch the first half of the USA versus Turkey in a football friendly. Returning to the room, I decide to watch the second half until I doze off. Going through the TV channels looking for the match, I come across Hustler.com TV. There is a free hard core porn channel broadcasting throughout the hotel. Now I know that this is not uncommon in hotels throughout the world. To find it in a hotel in the “Islamic Republic of Turkey” comes as a bit of a surprise.

27th May 2010 - Damascus to Lattakia

When we leave early the next morning, the streets are quiet. We drive around Damascus for an hour, not to see the place again, but because we are lost. Eventually, we find the road north to Homs which will take us to Crac Des Chevalier. We follow the road for 2 hours and on reaching Homs we head west following the signs for Lattakia. About 40 KM along the western road we start to see signs for the castle. We turn off and follow a road through small villages, climbing gradually to the fortress. About 5KM away we start to see the castle on top of the hill. It is an impressive sight. It is just a shame that today is very hazy. As we get closer to the castle, the road becomes very steep and I am glad of the power of the Range Rover.

We arrive at the entrance and park up. It is immediately obvious that this castle is no ruin. It looks from the outside like it is 100 % intact. We pay the entrance fee and hire an English speaking guide called Ramadan. He explains the structure and history of the castle. As we walk around you can actually feel how it must have been to have lived here during the time of the crusades. As we reach the upper levels the wind gets up and is very strong. Looking down from the top you can really appreciate the strategic position of the castle. It was actually designed to stand a siege for up to 4 years.

After 3 hours we leave the castle and head back to the highway. We follow the signs to Lattakia and arrive about 4PM. We don’t have a hotel reservation so we need to find somewhere to sleep. The Lonely Planet book recommends the “Al Riyad Hotel”. We find it on the map and rock up outside. Charles checks on room availability and we are in. This is by far the roughest hotel I have ever stayed in, but it has a bed and shower and will do the job. We spend a pleasant evening on the terrace of a local bar before hitting the sack. There is a point I need to make here. I have lived and worked in many countries. I believe that, collectively, the women of Syria are the most beautiful I have seen. This is not a beauty assisted by Max Factor or L’Oreal, it is a natural beauty rarely seen in other countries.

We will leave in the morning for Turkey. Syria has been a real experience. I really didn’t know what to expect but it is clear that this is a progressing nation. Damascus has a lot of history, but it is outside the city that the country really has a lot to offer. My problem is that we started the trip in Cairo, moved to Petra then came to Damascus. After Cairo and Petra anything will be an anti climax. We were there with limited time but I plan to come back some time to explore the country further. I would recommend a visit to this country to anyone.

26th May 2010 - Damascus, Syria

It is a slow start this morning due to the adventures of yesterday. We leave Petra heading east for the highway to take us towards Amman. We climb through hilly countryside before descending and finally joining the highway. The highway is two lanes in each direction and we make good time. Reaching Amman, we manage to skirt the traffic of the city and pick up a ring road. After a couple of wrong turns we find a highway sign posted for the Syrian border. We keep heading north and arrive at the Jordan border post. After an hour of running from pillar to post for passport stamps and exit approvals for the car we are done. We drive to the gate and, after a final official check of all documents by an official, we enter no mans land between Jordan and Syria. It’s a 3 KM drive to the Syrian side and we go through a gate and are advised to park the car up. You need to fill out 2 immigration forms for Syria. We fill the forms and hand over our passports. The Syrian Immigration officials are in a hurry to stamp them and in no time we we have the passports back stamped. Now for the car. I am approached by a bad smelling man who speaks some English. For a fee, he will take care of all the car documentation. I engage him and we start running from office to office obtaining stamps and changing money for customs charges. Finally $200 lighter all documents are done. We head to another gate and we are into Syria. The whole process has taken an hour.

We follow the signs for Damascus which is about 120 KM from the border. The road is in reasonable condition and the land mainly agricultural. Traffic is light and we arrive in Damascus in just over an hour. Now all hell breaks loose. Damascus is a busy city. Cars are coming at you from all directions. The worst are the yellow taxis who undercut you and appear from nowhere. Despite watching your mirrors closely, they keep appearing where you least expect them. We are lost. The hotel is in the Old City and we are going around in circles. We finally stop and ask a cab driver to go to the hotel and we will follow him. He gets reasonably close but the police are stopping him going into the area. Eventually we get the hotel on the phone and they tell us to stay where we are and someone will come and get us. I park the car and a policeman is all over me to move it. I talk to him in English and try to explain that I don’t speak Arabic. He is becoming frustrated and angry and tries to speak English. I switch to German and he must be ready to shoot me when the hotel porter appears and clears up the situation. We stack the bags on a trolley and set off into the Old City. The place is a labyrinth and we follow the porter for about 800 meters until we reach the hotel. I wait for Charles as he has fallen back carrying his own bag to avoid tipping the porter. Finally, we are at the Old Vine Hotel (See picture). The Old Vine Hotel is a converted 17th Century house focussed around a central courtyard. The bedrooms lead of the courtyard which is cool and quiet thanks to 12 foot thick walls.

After checking in we take a walk around the maze that is the Old City. The place is a vibrant throng of humanity from all races and creeds. The hotel is close to the Umayyed Mosque and we use this a a reference point to get back to the hotel. We head for an area where we know there are bars. Returning at 1AM the streets are so quiet it hurts your ears. We have changed the plan for the stay in Damascus. We have decided to head north a day earlier to a resort called Latakia. This will give us the chance to visit the crusader castle at Crac Des Chevalier. The traffic should be light as Friday is the weekend.We have breakfast and head out to walk around the Souk El-Hamidiyeh. The place is huge and every time you expect to have reached the exit. another street appears selling more goods. We reach the spice area and the smell is amazing. Every spice and herb in the world seems to be on sale.and merges in the air to make you want to stay there for hours.

Damascus really is a vibrant energetic city. Even at night you can feel it straining at the leash to erupt again. Then at dawn the leash breaks and the energy is released for another day.

25th May 2010 - Petra, Jordan (Part Tw0)

We set off and, after 20 meters, we are scrambling up a scree slope that makes the previous steps seem like the stairway to heaven. At the top of the scree slope is a vertical 10 foot climb. Charles, despite the climb being twice his height and wearing essentially all terrain flip flops, makes the climb quite easily. I follow him up, but now start to have doubts about the wisdom of trying to get this photo. Next as we walk across more scree slopes, Fatima tells us the story of the American tourist who fell on this route recently and lay in the sun for 2 weeks before they found his body. The body was only located due to the vultures and eagles circling above. Fatima’s insistence that he died as a result of not having his medication with him as opposed to the fall, is of little comfort to us. We push on through undergrowth, scree slopes and open flat land. On the flat land, Fatima advises us that many snakes are in this area and to look where we are treading. I don’t have a problem with this as I am wearing military issue desert boots. Charles on the other hand has already started collecting cactus in his feet looks wary upon hearing about the snakes. Before long, we reach another vertical climb. Bigger this time at 12-15 feet, we go up. I am hoping they don’t keep getting bigger. After 40 minutes following Fatima we arrive at the ledge above the Treasury. It is now hotter and the ledge is about 6 feet wide. I stand up with the camera and take one shot as dizziness and blurred vision hit. I sit down in a hurry but Charles doesn’t notice as he is pulling cactus thorns out of his feet. I try to stand up again but what I believe is vertigo starts to come on again. Charles realises there is something wrong as I sit back down. He offers to take some pictures and I hand him the camera. It is weird, that I have never suffered from this before and this is not a good time to start.

Pictures taken, Fatima explains that we need to take a different route down that doesn’t involve any vertical descents. This we assume is good news.; we assumed wrong. We start moving along the cliff face parallel to the ledge. At first the path is wide and I assumed this would be the same for the rest of the journey back to the visitors centre.

The path begins to narrow and then disappears. It is at this point I realise that Fatima’s route requires us to cross a 8 inch ledge with a drop onto a scree slope of about 8 foot. Below was a 1000 foot drop into the gorge. We clear the first ledge with ease and relief. The path widens again, but I suspect not for long. After another 10 minutes, we reach a narrower ledge, which Fatima walks across with ease. She has clearly done this many times before. This one has no scree slope below, it is a straight drop into the gorge. I now realise that that we are in a place where we have no right to be without professional mountain climbing equipment. We get across this ledge but on the other side you have to climb further into the cliff face, before dropping down again onto the path. The adrenalin rush from these ledges and the rising temperature are causing me to sweat heavily. I am losing fluid at an unhealthy rate. We move on as the path reappears again, hoping it stays with us forever. It doesn’t. The next ledge is the narrowest yet. We need to climb up about 12 inches but we are helped by an incline in the cliff face which forces our body weight left. This is the hardest one yet; but by the the time we have cleared it I realise that we are at the apex of the path and we must now cut in away from the cliff face. We do, and it is a welcome relief to be away from the gorge edge. We climb up scree and through undergrowth for another 10 minutes and emerge into the open. A goat herder and Fatima are talking and we take shelter inside a rock overhang to keep out of the sun. To say we are tired is an understatement. I am also burnt on both arms.

Fatima points out a cave about a kilometer across a flat piece of grassland. She tell us to climb the steps to the right of the cave and that the path will take us back to the visitors centre. We set off, relieved that the ground is flat and that we are almost back at the entrance. We reach the cave and climb the steps. We get lost for about 45 minutes but eventually find our way back to the entrance. Back at the hotel, a cold shower goes a long way to reducing my body temperature and I sleep early. A normal day’s sight seeing turned into the most amazing adventure, albeit a risky one.

25th May 2010 - Petra, Jordan (Part One)

I have no regrets about what happened on this day. I didn’t plan the events or expect to take such a physical and mental battering. As we set out from the hotel, it looked like just another day of sight seeing. The plan was to walk into the gorge, photograph the Treasury, look around and get back to the hotel and chill. But even the best laid plans.........

We head to the visitors centre and buy our tickets for the day. JOD 60 later we head through the entrance and start a gentle stroll down the hill towards the gorge. There are tombs left and right, carved into the rocks by the original occupants. We climb one, look around and return to the path. We are hassled (gently) by horse owners who want us to ride their horses. But we are British; we don’t ride we walk. At the bottom of the hill we buy water from a drinks station and head down into the gorge. It is cool inside as the walls are high and a gentle breeze takes the edge off the early sun. Tour groups abound, Japanese, Korean, French and German. The gorge winds left and right and finally emerges at the Treasury. I have been keen to get here for sometime. It is a photograph I have wanted to take since I first read about it in 2004. There are a lot of cameras around but I suspect many will be disappointed with the results when they upload or print their pictures. My pictures are showing severe over exposure due to light refraction of the rock. I wind the camera down 1 f-stop and then another which seems to do the job. We move to the right of the Treasury and move into a more open area, where caves (probably homes) are carved into the rock face. Just when it appears we have run out of things to see a set of stairs appear carved into the stone on our left. Charles asks a boy with a donkey where the stairs lead to. The boy doesn’t speak English, but the donkey says they lead to the high sacrifice place. We decide that it is worth seeing and anyway will provide a high vantage point for more pictures. This is where the plans all go out the window.

We start up the stairs. I believe we won’t be going very far. But as we climb, it becomes obvious that this is a much bigger undertaking than I originally calculated. We climb and climb on stone steps that have been in existence since before the birth of Christ. Every time we turn a corner expecting to be at the end another flight of steps appears and we have to go again. I am suffering. The camera rucksack is getting heavier as are my legs. Breath is at a premium and I start taking rest breaks sitting on rocks. My core temperature is at an all time high. At one stage a Boeing 777 flies past beneath me and the passengers wave up. Another corner and a group of tourists, also climbing, appear on a staircase 300 feet above. It is heartbreaking. Charles, having a lower centre of gravity, and 16 years on me, is ahead and having to wait as my lungs prepare to exit through my mouth. Finally we reach a fork in the track. There is a young woman, sitting under shade, who tells us where to go for the sacrifice area. She points in another direction and says that is where you can photograph the Treasury from above. Her name is Fatima and later we will be better acquainted with her. Now I have seen the photos of the Treasury from above online. It starts to play on my mind as we make one more climb up the steps and find a most welcome drink station. I must look ready to die after the climb. I am red faced, sweating and in the early stages of sunburn despite the hat and arab head dress. As we sit recovering a group of about 10 German pensioners arrive at the drink station. They are carrying rucksacks and don’t have a hair out of place or a bead of sweat on them. We spend the next 10 minutes looking for the secret cable car they came up on, to no avail. We are baffled how they climbed (According to my altimeter) 1200 feet and look like they are on a morning stroll. We decide in the drink station to go for the overhead shot of the Treasury.

We head back down and are told by another lady that we will never find the ledge over the Treasury without a guide. Again, we are British. We take advice from no one. For some reason this advice starts to sink in and by the time we reach Fatima again we are convinced taking a guide is a good idea. She offers to show us the ledge, making sound like a stroll in the park. It wasn’t.

24th May 2010 - Aqaba to Petra

After a decent breakfast, we leave the Marina Plaza Hotel and head north for the road to Amman. It is good to have Charles for company and to be back in the Range Rover and in control of transport again.

We are told that Wadi Rum is close to Petra. Today’s drive should only be about 120 KM. 40 KM north of Aqaba we see a sign directing us right from the main highway to Wadi Rum. Clearly the information we received was wrong. We turn off and 18 KM later arrive at the Wadi Rum Visitors Centre. We are approached by a local and asked if we want a tour and for how long. We opt for 3 hours and he fixes us up with a Land Cruiser that looks like it should have been scrapped 50 years ago. It has no door handles, window controls or air conditioning. The cost for three hours is JOD 70. We set off and the first stop is “The temple” which turns out to be a pile of bricks. We move on to the “Lawrence Spring” which is a tree half way up a mountain. I decline to make the climb and off we go again to “The Cave”. This is not really a cave as you can see up to the sky and after 20 metres you can’t go any further. It appears that the majority of these “Tourist Attractions” are just crap. We don’t give up, and head to “The Sand Dune” which is well, a sand dune. After traveling across Saudi Arabia I am seriously uninspired. The last attraction is “The Map”. This is a carving on a stone of the Wadi Rum area that was clearly done by a three year old.

Now these cheap attempts at creating things of interest are totally shadowed by the absolute beauty of Wadi Rum itself. The area is amazing (See pictures) and a reminder of just what Mother Nature is capable of when she puts her mind to it. The sand is an amazing red colour and the mountains and escarpments are surreal. We finish our tour and head back to the main highway to get to Petra. We follow the signs for Amman and after 45 minutes see a sign for Petra the has been hit by a vehicle. This causes confusion and we ask a local for directions. He directs us left and we are on a road with two way traffic. Initially, I am not convinced we have gone in the right direction but soon enough we are seeing sign posts for Petra. The road is winding and we spend about 45 minutes in what seems to be wilderness. We round a corner and see a major town in the distance. Descending further we are in Petra and, as I tell Charles to look out for the Mussa Springs Hotel, it appears on our right. Immediately the alarm bells are ringing. The place I booked, and paid a $12 deposit on, had pictures of a pool. This place definitely has no pool and looks lucky to have electricity. I ask if there is another Mussa Springs Hotel and receive a negative response. They have no record of the reservation or the deposit and ask to see the e-mail confirmation. I fetch it from the car and they are baffled that they have no record of it. They have rooms and immediately double the price. Apparently the deposit does not go to them but is kept by the online booking company despite the e-mail saying the contrary. I try to reason with them to no avail. I tell them to shove the hotel and we leave. We head deeper into Petra and see the Crown Plaza Resort. They have rooms and a pool and tell the truth. We check in. Tomorrow we will visit the “Treasury” and see what else is around the area.

23rd May 2010 - Cairo to Aqaba

We say goodbye to Jenny and take a car from the hotel heading to Nuweiba. After the experience earlier in the week, the coach is not an option. We are in a rush and behind schedule, mainly because I didn’t receive my alarm call at 5AM and more so because the hotel have under charged me by US$ 170 on the bill and I want to get away before they realise their mistake. Jenny will take a flight from Cairo to Doha at 7PM. I have welcomed hers and Charles’ company while there.

We have seen the pyramids at Giza and Sakkara, visited the Egyptian Museum (Rip off that it is) and encountered Chuck and Betty. Chuck and Betty are from Oklahoma. They think they are in Mexico and believe that the “Egyptites” were not very clever as all the buildings in Oklahoma have windows. They must mean before Timothy McVeigh visited. In two recent surveys it was found that 27% of Americans own passports and that 31% of the people surveyed confessed to anal sex. So anytime an American ask if you fancy going somewhere “new”; they don’t mean you should go home and get your passport.

We depart at 6.15 AM and after half an hour and a coffee stop we clear the city. We use a road that is forbidden to foreigners but takes 250 KM off the journey. We are stopped at several checkpoints and questioned. When told by the driver we are British, we are waved straight through. We navigate the tunnel under the Suez Canal and we’re into the Sinai Desert. 4 hours later we reach Taba and the mountainous area leading us in into Nuweiba. Our driver Ahmed has never been to Nuweiba before and comments that he can’t believe he is in Egypt, such is the natural beauty of the area. We reach the port at 12.15PM. We pay US$ 80 each for the one way trip and head to an open air coffee shop for some drinks before we board the ferry. The official departure time is 3 PM. At 1.30 PM we move into the immigration building, complete our departure cards and get our passports stamped. We are ushered to the foreigner waiting area and settle down until the ferry is due to leave. At this point I notice there is something wrong with Charles.

Knowing we would be leaving too early to eat breakfast, Charles had bought a big bag of sweets. During the drive, he had managed to consume nearly all of them. Having drunk 2 regular cokes on top of the sweets, he is now in a sugar rush. I first noticed the problem when he couldn’t sit still and was wandering all over the terminal building talking to people abot subjects they have no interest in. Soon he sits down and is gibbering incomprehensibly and talking complete bollocks. I figure he is planning on becoming an internal auditor. I take the remainder of any sugary substances away from him.

The 3PM departure time passes, as does 4PM then 5PM. I start to wonder whether the ferry might be cancelled today. Then at 5.45 PM we are ushered onto buses and rushed to the ferry, which leaves at 6 PM. Only a 3 hour delay. We arrive at Aqaba at 8 PM and, after a short cab ride, reach the Marina Plaza Hotel, where the Range Rover is parked. Tomorrow we will head North for Wadi Rum and Petra.

May 17th - 23rd 2010 - Cairo

The Cateract Pyramid Resort is a scummy hotel where, for the staff, everything is too much trouble. But it has a bed, shower and air conditioning which meets immediate needs. I am two days early in checking in and the down time is most welcome for catching up with sleep,laundry and writing this blog. A couple of hours a day at the pool is helping get a base tan and collection of mosquito bites.

On Tuesday, Charles (the real one) and Jenny arrived in Cairo. It is great to have company. We visit the pyramids at Giza and Sakkara on Wednesday and the Egyptian museum on Thursday. The Egyptian museum is as big a disappointment as it was 10 years ago. There was talk back then of building a new museum at Giza to house the many artifacts in storage and still being discovered. Now, 10 years later, it is still being talked about. The museum is old and the exhibits badly labelled, if labelled at all. In 2000 you could bring cameras into the museum and photograph whatever you liked. Now they are banned. To add insult to injury, the death mask of Tutankhamun is not on display as it is on tour. This museum was a rip off 10 years ago and hasn’t improved since.

On Sunday, Jenny will return to Doha and Charles and myself will head back across the Sinai to Nuweiba. This time it will be by car and we expect to make the 4PM ferry back to Aqaba. From there the drive to Petra will be about 100 KM.

Country Summary - Saudi Arabia

I am humbled by the sheer expanse of this country. I will not publish pictures of Saudi Arabia. There are large areas of this country unspoiled, particularly in the north, and I would like to see them stay that way. This is a country of amazing natural beauty and, regardless of the man made issues that the country might face, has a lot to offer. The Makkah - Jeddah road was the highlight of the trip and I am privileged to have made the journey. Whatever the reasons behind the governments unwillingness to open the country up, they are guaranteed to preserve these areas. Whenever man and nature meet, man exploits for financial gain. With the way the planet is being destroyed right now, I hope Saudi stays shut. In generations to come this may become the only country on the planet with unspoiled wilderness still remaining. Long may it continue.