6132 miles, 16 countries, Qatar to the UK

[jeepstertim]

Day 10, 26 Apr

Amazingly, by the light of the morning, almost all the earwigs had gone from the tent (although the last one wasn’t discovered until I was back in Dorset) and we collapsed camp to experience one of the most awe inspiring and memorable days of the trip. The Jabal Abyad (derived from the Arabic for white) volcano is the tallest in Saudi at 2093m and its pale rock contrasts strongly with the surrounding black lava flows from the Jabal Qidr volcano, giving the area its unofficial name of the black and white volcanos. These 2 are just part of a 100km vent system running north - south and in total covering 14,000km2.

We drove around the base of the white volcano from the south, mesmerised by the scale and sense of total remoteness. In my preparatory reading I had seen that it was possible to drive up the side of the volcano and then around the 1.1km rim on a narrow track with a capable 4x4. We started to look for a suitable climb and as we neared the western end, there was evidence of tracks up the volcano. My biggest concern wasn’t the climb but whether at the top there would be the room to turn the long Jeep onto the narrow track around the rim. The surface was very loose and it was evident in places that other vehicles had become cross axled and dug deep, uneven ruts in their attempts to climb up. The Jeep, as unbelievably capable as always, with both axle locks engaged (it was a straight climb) and low range, took the long and steep ascent in her stride and much to my relief, there was room at the top to turn onto the rim track. I am not sure I would have got up (or even tried as the outcome could have been trip ending) in one of Solihull’s products and later met a Dutch traveller who had tried and failed in their Defender and another who had broken a drive shaft on their Duro 6x6.

Mind blown…….over 2000m high on the lip of a volcano, visibility for tens, if not hundreds, of miles, no other human presence and surrounded by hills and volcanos for as far as we could see. Sorely tempted to drive down into the bowl of the volcano, we restrained ourselves to a circuit of the rim, stopping frequently to soak up the amazing vista, film and take numerous photos. Pointing the Jeep’s nose over the edge, we made our way slowly down from the rim, retraced our steps around the base and once again continued the journey North in the direction of Al Ula.

By 1130hrs we were descending from the volcano, retracing our steps for a while before resuming the journey north over the lava flows along tracks that seemed like powdered coal. Herat Kyhber had been unbelievable and a brilliant introduction for Nick to Saudi, the adventure and the ability of the Jeep to keep going regardless of what it faced. Gradually working our towards tarmac, we stopped in the town of Al Hait at about 1500hrs in search of a hot meal. The wind had picked up considerably and Al Hait was a dusty, litter strewn town where the locals peered at us as we drove slowly through. We stopped for provisions and then again for food in a ramshackle roadside café devoid of customers for something grilled and hopefully delicious before continuing north towards the sand and stunning rocks of Hail Province. After 189 miles and six and half hours of driving we had left the volcanoes behind and were once again on the soft sand that was such a joy to drive over after the jarring volcanic rocks. As dusk was drawing in, we stopped near a couple of spiky bushes in a small depression and set up camp, miles from anywhere and free from light pollution. The wind that had been a feature of the day increased after dark and in the small hours, fearing my tent may come apart, I woke a delighted Nick to help me reorientate the Jeep to take the wind against the back of the tent’s hardshell.

Day 11, 27 Apr

The morning arrived bright and windless, we breakfasted, took the opportunity to shower and ablute and struck camp at 0930hrs. Today’s main destination was Elephant Rock, a short 30 minute drive through deep, soft sand, forging our way up and down dunes and through gulleys where the rocks towered on either side. Arriving at Elephant Rock we were slightly disappointed to not to have it to ourselves, 2 brown Toyota pick-ups were parked close by and in the arch formed by the trunk and front legs, 2 Saudis were reclining on carpets, a stove bubbling beside them. Nick immediately set off to scale the elephant while I took some photos and wandered over to the incumbent locals. The bid us join them but It soon came apparent that understanding would be limited, both of us happy to chat away in our own tongues but neither side comprehending the other without hand gesticulations and some guess work. We were offered and gratefully accepted tea and dates, the dates being dipped into a clear, sweet sticky substance I think they explained was a by-product of cheese. We also had a tea made of a local herb, a most delicious brew that was, he explained with much patting and rubbing, was good for the stomach. We spent about an hour in their company and declining their offer for lunch, continued on our way.

Slightly winging our route out, we followed a rough compass bearing west, goofing up and down rises in the sand until it came apparent that heading west was going to require a rather steep, very challenging climb over the range that seemed to run on forever pushing us south of where we needed to be. Now the Jeep is good in the sand and with momentum had been able to climb almost any dune I had pointed it at in the last 3 years but this was a facer as there was little momentum to be had and the soft sand between the rocks on the climb up needed to be driven carefully to prevent any damage to the Jeep. We stopped, walked the route under a mid-day sun and tried to work out the best approach. The top was a little better with rocky shale mixed in with the sand and with the traction mats prepositioned in areas I knew I’d need traction at slower speeds; the tyres reduced to 10psi to increase my footprint, I took a cautious run up with Nick electing to guide through tighter areas. The Jeep didn’t let us down and we scaled the climb relived and unscathed, stopping at the top to recover our kit and look out on Saudi stretching away ahead of us. The route ahead was more beautiful sand and we fair flew down the other side heading west again towards Tabuk province and the next planned waypoint.

The Al Naslaa rock (split rock) is a feature some 30 miles south of the Tayma oasis. It is a large sandstone rock split perfectly down the middle into two parts, each balanced precariously on small pedestals. The journey, off tarmac, to split rock was all rocks and short step sandy climbs with the Jeep’s fans constantly cutting in to keep cool. Standing about 8m tall, split rock is impressive and unusually for Saudi, completely fenced off so we couldn’t get within 10m of it. The rock was etched with drawings of birds, reptiles and with inscriptions (describing valleys and plains, which were used as navigation landmarks by ancient caravans – so says Google). Leaving Split rock we continued on and by 1700hrs we had pulled off, set up camp for the night (or so we thought) and started prepping a supper of spag boll as the clouds on the horizon grew progressively darker……The rain came, hard and unrelenting accompanied by vivid shocks of lightning and claps of thunder, supper was hurriedly eaten under a billowing tarpaulin and with my tent wet from the downpour it was time to scan booking.com and find alternative quarters for the night. We found lodgings at Hegre, a farm that advertised rooms and by 2200hrs after a 62 mile, 2 hour night drive through epic rain, dodging lumbering poorly lit trucks and the infernal invisible ninja speed humps that threatened to break the Jeep with every launch, we rolled in to a tatty, tired farm and gladly to bed, Nick volunteering to take the tented room.

Sponsored

 

[smlobx]

What an amazing adventure! Having traversed the Sahara last year really whet my appetite for more desert adventure. One of our group was from Oman and really made me long to explore the Middle East.

Can‘t wait for more!

Would also like to see some more details of your half canopy!

 

[BourbonRunner]

Outstanding read thus far. This is my bookmark for more!

 

[jeepstertim]

Day 12, 28 Apr

The morning was still and warm, we opened the tents and set about drying our stuff out. We took advantage of showers, recharged the fridge fully and had a leisurely breakfast and looked at the plan for the day. At 1000hrs we left the farm, tipping our Indian gate opener and headed south to Al Ula, we did a quick provision restock and parked up to visit the heritage village. Al Ula (also known as Al-Dīrah) dates back to 5000BC as an oasis in the desert valley, built on the incense trade route and later became the southernmost end of the Roman empire.

We walked through the renovated Souq, stopping at a very untraditional Costa for Nick to get his caffeine fix before we headed North from Al Ula to Hegra (26.77004426954833, 37.945384979422656), the sister settlement to Petra in Jordan with its houses and temples carved into the soft sandstone. While I had researched most of the trip in detail, I hadn’t realised that to access the Hegra reserve, one has to book the day before and with no booking, there was no entry. It was in Al Ula/ Hegra that I came across the first fellow overlanders and while not busy, there were a couple of BMW GS bikes and 2 French registered Toyotas, one of which with no roof, towing a trailer and with its family of 2 fair parents and 3 very blond children, I couldn’t help but wonder how they were surviving the scorching mid-day sun?

Slightly taken aback by failure at Hegra, I then completely forgot to visit the Maraya Concert Hall, the largest mirrored building in the world and lost an outstanding Jeep reflection photo opportunity!

We left Hegra heading North towards the Rainbow arch (27.049372, 37.76613), our next planned stop and after a detour through a sprawling village arrived at 1300hrs to find the place deserted but for a Dutch couple in a Defender 110. Rainbow arch is a huge sandstone arch with a span of 135 feet and a height of 67 feet, dwarfing the Jeep as I stopped for a photo underneath.

Saudi is absolutely a land of the most incredible natural marvels. With Nick driving we detoured around a large camel racetrack, bounced around off road for a bit and began to retrace our steps in the direction of Hegra to pick up the road north. We travelled north a fair way on tarmac, heading towards Wadi Disah to find our route barred by a sign and barricade claiming the road closed. Like most things in the Middle East, the attempt to close the road was half hearted and after a moment’s decision-making, we steered around the obstacle and continued stealthily on. The views as we dropped down towards Wadi Disah were spell binding, a mad zigzagged descent framed by towering pinnacles of rock out to the horizon. Dusk was approaching as we came out into the wadi, enticing with its camels, trees, colourful bushes and greenery. At 1840hrs we elected, in fear of trespass reprisals, to camp out of sight and tucked ourselves away, dousing the light whenever there was noise. We weren’t alone and the sounds of conversation and occasional engine punctuated the silence, assuming them to be wardens or farmers, we turned in for the night.

Day 13, 29 Apr

We were sitting in the sun taking breakfast and Nick’s obligatory morning caffeine dose when a beaten up, dusty white Toyota pick-up heralded into view, struggling in the soft sand, progressively getting slower and slower until it ground to a halt 50 yards away. The single occupant jumped out, scooped the sand from in front of the tyres and continued another 10 yards before stopping. This was repeated 3 or 4 times before we left our morning sustenance and walked over, shovel and traction boards in arms to offer help.

Our struggling Saudi didn’t appear overly enthused by our arrival but we chipped in and with digging, boards, pushing, screaming engine and spinning wheels we moved, with a series of resets to slightly harder ground where he took his leave without so much as a wave. As we trudged back to the Jeep, I happened a look at the traction boards, the raised cleats to provide grip worm smooth by the heat and friction of his spinning wheels, his tyres must have been trashed and I doubt he got to where he was going with any air in them!

More relaxed this morning as no one had objected to our being in the wadi, we packed up and continued along our route through the length of wadi Disah and what a journey it was. The wadi is an oasis of colour, wildlife and beauty, lush green vegetation giving way to large sandstone rocks and then to towering canyon walls hundreds of meters high all the while a glittering thread of water running the length of it. During the wet season it would have been impassable but now it was a tranquil haven from the heat and dust of the rest of the country.

Several hours later we aired up and continued on tarmac, heading to the Duba, the coast and the night’s camp. We pitched on the beach in a brisk breeze and went for our first swim on the west coast. The sea was jagged rock for the first 30m then a sudden drop into coral, rocks and a world of amazing colour, fish and seaweeds. This was the most stunning sea I had swum in so far.

 

[jeepstertim]

Day 14, 30 Apr

I awoke and peered out of the tent window to see lines of people, men and women, jogging (the less enthusiastic walking) along the seafront promenade that ran behind the beach. Today was another day of long tarmac miles and after a blissful breakfast on the beach, we headed north.

Saudi slipped past the windows as we drove, dusty and non-descript, dotted with little farms that were being bought up (some forcibly) to make way for the sprawling Neom project. We stopped at a service station and sampled the legendary Al Baik fast food establishment, vying with hordes of Neom contractors for service. The air was orange with dust and sand as hundreds of trucks moved sand around the desert.

I had arranged to meet an old work colleague who was now working on the Neom project, but he couldn’t escape meetings so we carried on to another landmark I’d been keen to visit, the site of a derelict WW2 Catalina aircraft. Shortly after 1400hrs we made the Catalina (28.090821, 34.608564), where the Gulf of Aqaba meets the Red Sea. The aircraft has been there since 1960 when the Los Angeles industrialist Thom Kendall, while taking his family on an around the world voyage, was forced to abandon it after being mistaken for Israeli by the locals! The plane was shot at and hit over 300 times by small arms fire and while Thom and his family were unscathed, the Catalina was no longer airworthy and they were forced to leave it on the beach at Ras Al-Sheikh Humaid to succumb to the ravages of locals, weather and time.

We moved half a mile from the plane and set up camp next to the sea (the tidal range in the Middle East is limited so it’s possible to pitch within a couple of metres from the sea). We swam, explored, prepared supper and with a strengthening breeze, turned in. The brisk winds became a gale through the night and I could feel the tent trying to close, clam-like, with me in it, the canvas was flapping fit to tear and for the second time, closing the tent up, I took refuge in the driver’s seat of the Jeep. Sleep was intermittent but as the dawn arrived I looked out of the window to see how my brother in the ground tent was surviving, he wasn’t, the glass fibre poles has been flattened by the wind and the outline of Nick, wrapped in canvas and dusted with sand, was all that remained. Dozing off again, by the time I awoke the wind had dropped and the elasticity of the poles had reasserted itself.

Day 15, 1 May

We had packed up and left by 0700hrs, trying to distance the previous night. At 0900 we pulled off the flowing, smooth tarmac in the lea of a wizened tree for breakfast and a clean-up. By 1000hrs we were close to the Jordanian border and after a quick fuel stop, pulled up to the border at 1030hrs. Saudi was efficient and brief, Jordan wasn’t.

As we approached the Jordanian side we joined a scruffy jumble of cars and waited. After 10 minutes with no movement, I got out to see if the crossing could be expedited. The usual endless shuffle from booth to booth to stamp various bits of paper ensued but 20 minutes later I was edging the Jeep through the haphazardly parked/ abandoned Toyotas. At the vehicle inspection area, I was relentless asked about having a drone and the customs team set about searching the Jeep. Every box, drawer and bag was inspected, the officer only waving aside my dirty laundry bag. I knew Jordan didn’t allow drones (every other country was fine) so had thought long and hard about where to stash it, it turned out my dirty laundry bag was inspired!

We emerged into Jordan an hour later and headed into Aqaba, the capital, for lunch and a drink.

Our next pitstop was Wadi Rum and its famous red sands that have featured in The Martian, Dune, Lawrence of Arabia and various Star Wars movies. We headed to Planet Rum camp (29.64942, 35.47988) Rum Planet Camp – Unlike any other camp in the desert of Wadi Rum tipped off by iOverlander that they let overlanders eat and use the facilities (while sleeping in your own vehicle) for $10 per day. We pitched camp beside a large sandstone rock, showered in endless hot water and joined the night’s activities, a delicious supper of lamb cooked in an oven underground and a guided talk through the constellations as seen by the Arabs.

 

[jeepstertim]

Day 16, 2 May

We planned to do a second night in Wadi Rum so today was a day of exploring the Wadi. Wadi Rum is well known globally and so it was the first time we’d run into tourists, coming across trains of camels or battered pick-ups with Caucasian travellers seeing the Wadi’s highlights, all going a crispy red colour under the hot desert sun. We stopped for a couple of hours, stretching our legs to climb up to the Burdah Rock Bridge and then on to Mushroom rock, Lawrence’s (of Arabia) house and many other of the Wadi’s spectacles.

We drove into the local village of Ad Disah, stocking up on water and finding a laundry who could turn dhobi around d overnight. We were dragged, by a stooped, wizened old man to his house for tea and some local cakes, only feeling free to leave when Nick bought some of the trinkets his wife had made and bid farewell with handfuls of lemons from his trees.

While undoubtedly spectacular in bits, Wadi Rum is really a pale imitation of some of the places we’d seen in Saudi, it felt commercial, set up to capture the tourist and lacked the unadulterated wildness we’d enjoyed going through Saudi.

Day 17, 3 May

Nick’s Birthday. We left Wadi Rum, making the road as coach loads of school children began spilling out and headed north towards Petra. We came down the hill into Petra at midday and acting on advice we’d had a Planet Rum, parked the Jeep and caught a taxi to Little Petra.

Petra covers an area of 264km2 and the walk from Petra to the Monastery is an 11km round trip with a climb up of 850 stone steps. By taking a taxi to Little Petra (close to the monastery) and walking back to Petra, one goes down 850 steps and only covers 5.5km. If Wadi Rum had fallen short of amazing, Petra didn’t. Advertising focusses on the Monastery (Ad Deir), the Treasury, the Great Temple or the Tombs, what it doesn’t do is show the massive scale. Petra is vast, all 5.5km of the walk was dwellings carved into the rock, an entire city, 2300 years old. Every turn, every step revealed some new excavation or carving to marvel at, it really is awe-inspiring. Dodging the fleet-footed donkey taxis and their jockeys (who seem to have taken their dress inspiration from Capt Jack Sparrow complete with booties, ringlets in the hair and eye shadow) became quite a sport as they appeared at a brisk trot, scaling the stone steps as assured as a mountain goat.

About halfway and close to the cave used in Raiders ot the Lost Ark we found something far better than the Holy Grail, a delicious, ice-cold beer, the first in sometime. We continued through Petra for the next couple of hours with the wind picking up and sand beginning to sting the eyes, particularly near the end as the wind is channelled by the high bluff sides of sandstone. We emerged and celebrated with a kebab from a small restaurant near the entrance, this turned out to be a mistake for me as it played havoc with my insides for weeks following.

We left Petra, picking up a last minute overnight stop at the 7 Caves hotel at about 1800hrs. The hotel is curious, built into the rock, the rooms are caves and although owned by a Jordanian, it is run by a great Kenyan husband and wife team who prepared Caribbean style food.

 

[jeepstertim]

Day 18, 4 May

We had a leisurely start at 1000 after a good breakfast and as we loaded the Jeep, I noticed a tired, sun bleached 1964 VW Beetle by the roadside, proudly displaying a sign for the world’s smallest hotel, the inside had been stripped and now held a tired looking bed! Jordan’s unusual and smallest hotel – a Volkswagen Beetle | Roufan Nahhas | AW .

Our drive continued north, pausing at the impressive and intact 12th century Kerak castle for an explore, a quick lunch and then on, handrailing the shores of the Dead Sea. Days didn’t matter and the only indication it was a weekend were the families enjoying the beaches along the coast. We picked the most up-market hotel of the journey, the chic O Beach Hotel and resort, pulling in at 1540hrs and heading straight for the pool bar.

I knew about the buoyancy of the Dead Sea but it is a very surreal experience to actually float in it. The whole of the Middle East is saltier than other seas I have swum in, perhaps the constant desalination is exacerbating the saltiness as the excess salt is put back into the sea? Floating on ones back was fun but trying to swim normally, my body’s buoyancy had the effect of pushing my face down into the water and stopping my access to oxygen! Once out of the water, the salt clings to the body, covering you in an invisible velvety layer.

Later in the afternoon I rang Rosenfeldt shipping as we were due to ship the Jeep from Israel to Turkey in 3 days’ time. I received a shock; my boat had been cancelled and might come in a week later. That wouldn’t do, I needed to carry on so asked what else was available, “Greece, it sails Monday and you’ll need to be here by 1200 latest”. That changed things, I was going to have make Haifa tomorrow.

Day 19, 5 May

We left our hotel at 1200hrs, heading for the most Northern crossing to steer clear of Gaza and the West Bank. After a couple of hours, we were close to the border crossing and unsure how an Arabic registered Jeep would be taken in Israel, we pulled over to ‘doctor’ the numberplates that currently displayed ‘Qatar’ and numbers in Arabic. Black nasty was stuck over the numbers and Union Jacks over the Qatar; disguise complete we drove to the Jordanian border post. Jordan held us for about 20 minutes as they struggled to comprehend 2 Brits in a Qatari car trying to enter Israel and then, suddenly bored, they let us go.

We stopped as indicated by the efficient looking young man with an AR15 slung over his shoulder and crossed to the booth. The typically attractive Israeli girl had trouble with our story and summoned a senior who proceeded to question us for 45 minutes. It hadn’t helped that my brother was an exponent of holidaying in the less well-known holiday destinations…such as Beirut. Nick, a cabinet maker by trade, was quizzed on types of carpentry joints, glues and construction techniques while I, as retired British Army and ex tanker, was quizzed on the merits of armour and my views on the Merkava tank. Satisfied, we were released and the Jeep went for Xray. After 3 hours we were free to drive into Israel.

The conflict going on in Israel had an unexpected effect, GPSs were being spoofed and during the entire time I was in Israel, my GPS and satnav only ever displayed me on the runway at Beirut airport or in the centre of Cairo, clever people the Israelis. My immediate problem, as the darkness came in, was I had no map so trusting to road signs and the Jeep’s compass we skited the top of the West Bank and headed for Haifa, asking directions in the city for our night’s accommodation. We arrived at 2300hrs and went for fruitless search for supper.

 

[Jteakus]

Incredible

 

[smlobx]

A true adventure!

 

[jeepstertim]

Day 20, 6 May

We left the AirB&B early to find the shipping agents, stopping frequently to ask directions. We found them and Nick disappeared to scour the record shops of Haifa while I paid and completed the paperwork to ship the Jeep. By 1200 hrs I was waiting at the port gates when sirens rang out across the city, with the conflict and thinking this was a warning, but noting nobody moved, I asked my guide. It was holocaust day and on the sound of the alarms the city came to a complete halt, all traffic and all movement stopped. As I stood there in silent respect with the population, I had visions on Nick, uninformed, diving for cover under a café table.

I left the Jeep, to be reunited in Greece 3 days later and headed for the train station to meet Nick and the trip to Tel Aviv.

Tel Aviv was the colourful, busy and fun city I had visited 4 years previously and I like it. We stayed in an excellent hostel on the beach, wandered the city, the markets and the sea, later heading into Jaffa Old Town for supper. The promenade was bustling in the early evening, couple and families relaxing and picnicking on the banks, couple having their photos taken in the surf and a pervading waft of marijuana. On the way back after supper and suitably lubricated, we hired an electric scooter and took our lives in our hands, two-up, in the traffic.

Day 21-23, 7-9 May

I took an afternoon flight to Thessaloniki, Greece, leaving Nick to enjoy Tel Aviv for a couple of days before flying home. It did feel as if the adventure was over, what was next was Europe, I knew Europe and I knew the trip would be more road focussed and wild camping was no longer allowed. The rest was likely to be quite different.

I spent 3 days in Thessaloniki, walking about, lounging by the pool, drinking beer and trying various pills from the chemist to try to sort out my insides that were still revolting against the Petra kebab.

Day 24,10 May

I could track the Jeep through the GPS and although it arrived in the morning, I didn’t get to pick it up until about 1600hrs. I was out of the port and on the road within 5 minutes heading south west towards Mt Olympus. After 4 hours I was looking for somewhere to stay, the first wanted me to park on the road which I refused from a security point of view (strange it didn’t bother me once in the Middle East but back in Europe, not a chance!) The owner took me to one of his unopened hotels (it was still out of season) , I parked up and took a 10 minute wander into town to a very local but bustling restaurant where I had the finest fish stew ever washed down by my favourite Greek beer, Mamos.

 

[jeepstertim]

Day 25, 11 May

Another leisurely start and I began to wind myself uphill towards Mt Olympus, dodging the wild tortoise mobile (albeit slowly) speed humps. The temptation to pick one up and bring it back to the UK was immense but I resisted, they’d spent their lives in the lazy warm of Greece, the relative damp and cold of Dorset would be too rude a shock. I continued to zigzag uphill, reaching a car park at 3480ft and finding the actual peak was a further day’s hike, came back downhill.

I reached Meteora, the world heritage site, home of the 6 orthodox elevated monasteries at 1530hrs, stopping to walk about this incredible feat of building and engineering. Built in the 14th century there were originally 24 monasteries balance precariously on the rock needles, the site staring in the 1981 Bond movie, for your eyes only.

I left, continuing west to the coast, finding ‘Camping Drepanofor’ near Ampelia and pitching at the end of the headland with sea on 3 sides, relaxed with a cold beer and watched the ships go past.

Day 26, 12 May

Nothing, just chilling by the beach and enjoying the May sun.

Day 27 - 13 May

I’d had grand plans of an elongated stay in Greece, drifting around the coast, going out for a spell to Zakynthos, meeting up with family and generally soaking up Greece in May. In the interests of domestic harmony and a joyous welcome on my return, I cut Greece short. After a very relaxing 48hrs at the beach campsite I headed north, ready to tackle Albania. I arrived at Albanian customs at lunchtime and within 6 minutes, I was driving into Albania, heading towards the Butrint National Archaeological Park and a river crossing.

The river was serviced by an aging chain ferry and realising with horror I didn’t have any local Albanian Lek to cover the fare, I went over the beckoning old bastard who offered to exchange my euros for Lek at an appalling rate. Suitably fleeced, I took my place on the raft and crossed, stopping shortly afterwards at a viewing spot to take stock. I was unprepared, no local currency (and I was to discover that bank cards are only accepted at 1 in 10 petrol stations), I had no phone signal, no comms and no words of Albanian. In all, Albania was the county I felt least prepared for. I carried onto the next major town, Ksmail, to start rectifying my issues. Vodaphone solved my comms issues selling me a decent value ‘Balkans’ Sim (that didn’t seem to work in other Balkan countries), I found an ATM and somewhere to fill up that took cards.

Almost immediately I began to notice UK registered cars, potentially as many as 1 in every 10 cars was driving on UK plates, RHD and a quick VRN check revealed all had expired MOTs (UK roadworthiness test) and were uninsured in the UK, in short, they were stolen. I’m not sure why the Albanians have such a penchant for UK cars, but they ranged from the mundane to the ridiculous with Brabus G Wagens and even an Audi R8 I saw parked high in the hills on a farm. Albanian roads are also terrible, tarmac stops abruptly without warning and the sensible 50-ish MPH I was doing, suddenly threatens to ruin the Jeep as we bounce, pitch and crash violently on the rough, potholed off road. Today was also my only run-in with the police. I was pulled over for overtaking (quite safely I must add) and a protracted conversation, that included the calling of a second police car, ensued while they worked what the penalty should be. In the end I lost 45 minutes of my adventure and was fined 11 euros!

I picked up the SH99 road still keen to be remote as possible and handrailed the most amazing clear river, by clear, it was glass-like, I have never seen water like it. The road continued winding up into the hills and by 1900hrs I had reached my planned stop at Camping Cajupi, a working sheep farm costing £22 per night, high in the mountains where accommodation was in wooden huts and a supper of roasted mutton was served, without ceremony, in the farm’s kitchen. Also staying were a group of 14 Dutch men with 3 small cars on a stag do (I have no idea why they selected this austere site) and a young Aussie/UK couple who were walking the mountains. The hut was a very spartan and taking up 2/3rds of the room, the bed was a hard wooden affair designed for communal family sleeping with just a sheepskin rug to sleep under, I grabbed my bedding from the Jeep and slept well.

 

[jeepstertim]

Day 28 - 14 May

Keen to stay off-road, I spoke to the farmer and he pointed a track I could take to continue my trip North. After a steep gravel descent, the track began to contour the mountains giving stunning views around each bend. It was reminiscent of my time in Bosnia, coming across soviet style and feeling buildings, fortifications, memorials and barracks beside the tracks. At Konke I came up to a dead end and retraced my steps until I found another spur north. The track, often just the faintest impression in a sea of grass, wound back uphill taking onto a vast plateau and with visibility for miles it was hard to resist bursting into the sound of music! A very worn and damaged Bailey-style bridge helped me cross the Vjosa and then after Vokopole the tracks became much rougher with some short, sharp descents that in the wet season would have been challenging.

I came up to the river Uje and with no apparent bridge nearby, elected to drive across the muddy banks and wade the shallow river using some old tyre tracks. Within a couple of yards, I realised this could be an error, I felt the jeep sinking into the mud quickly, sapping the power and considered briefly reversing but stopping would have been a mistake. I had the difflocks in already so there wasn’t much to do other than apply more power and hope, it worked. Out in the middle I could see the far shore was similar so hit that expanse of bank with more momentum and again the jeep got me through and onto the gravel.

I rejoined the road heading to Tirana and a rendez-vous to collect middle brother, James, from the airport.

Darkness and heavy rain began to close in and I battled the Tirana traffic on dark, unlit streets collecting James at 2030hrs. To give him a gentle introduction to this Jeep-life we stopped at a new hotel, Lahuta e Vjeter Agroturizem (46 euros for 2), ate a couple of excellent schnitzels downed with beer and retired for the night.

Day 29 - 15 May

I had planned a trip on the Fierze-Koman ferry and after an excellent breakfast we set off northeast into the hills. The condition of the roads began to deteriorate and what I’d planned as a relaxing meander through the hills on snaking ribbons of tarmac became a battle with disintegrating roads and a rapidly approaching deadline. Bounced, bumped and slightly battered we made the ferry at 1335 hrs and settled back for a couple of hour’s cruise on the Drin and down into Koman lake. The river was stunning, a deep green colour blending seamlessly into the fir laden banks, only the clusters of rubbish passing beside the ferry spoiling the remoteness. We drove off at Koman into a tight stone tunnel and then out onto possibly the worst Albanian roads of the trip so far. By 1930 we had reached Velipoje and stopped to camp at a campsite, enjoying a good supper and beer.

Day 30 - 16 May

Today we continued North, leaving Albania at 1400hrs and heading into the unknown Montenegro. Montenegro was a delight, beautiful, relaxed and with improved roads! By 1700hrs we stopped at the camping Maslina.

Day 31 - 17 May

Today was a drive along the spectacular Montenegrin coast, passing picture perfect coastal villages such as Sveti Stefan, Budva and onto Kotor. We stopped in Kotor to find lunch but also to walk around the stunning Kotor castle. Castle may be a misnomer as it’s more of a walled city and now, in mid-May, it was fairly full of tourists. We had a late lunch on the banks of the lake and headed to the night’s stop, camping high above lake Kotor, in the wilds.

We arrived at our night’s stop, 600m above the bay, just after 1800hrs and had just started to set up camp when another Jeep came storming up the grassy track and pulled into our clearing. 4 people, 2 men and 2 women, piling out. We started talking and shared some beers, one of the men, a riverboat captain by profession, lived nearby and talked to us about the Celtic graveyard (42.45014, 18.60996) we had chosen as a campsite. In the adjacent trees he showed us gravestones and crosses supposed to date back 2000 years. The views were spectacular, the sun warm and we sat and ate marvelling at the panorama ahead of us.

 

[jeepstertim]

Day 32 - 18 May

There were no hauntings during the night and in the morning we had a relaxed breakfast, struck camp and continued around the bay, very shortly afterwards crossing for the 1st time into Croatia. By lunch we had reached Dubrovnik and stopped for the obligatory walk around the spectacular old walled city. Mid-May and the old town was teeming with tourists, we stopped for a delicious pizza and cold beer in the square, surrounded by pigeons. Cutting short our exploration of the old town, we struck out continuing northwest along the coast to Split and then on to our night’s accommodation at a yacht club in Trogir.

Day 33 - 19 May

The following morning, refreshed, we tried to gain access to the lakes at Lozovac but had not prebooked so continued crossing the border into Bosnia and onto our lunch spot at Drvar.

Bosnia holds many memories, having been there in 1997 as part of the NATO Stabilisation Force, so visits to the old metal factory, our basic accommodation 29 years ago and Miele, the boar hunter we befriended, were planned. Bosnia has changed considerably in the intervening years, the roads are immaculate, the woods and countryside beautiful and the towns bustling, colourful and modern. My tour in ’97 had been a winter one and I remember it a depressed, drab and grey country but now it seemed bright and vibrant. We headed into Banja Luka (a privilege the Military Police in ’97 denied us), took a hotel at 1830hrs and went in search of food and alcohol dodging the heavy showers that had come in during the late afternoon.

 

[jeepstertim]

Day 34 - 20 May

We woke to bright skies and made for the metal factory which now sits, memorial-like, in the middle of a modern industrial park, fenced off but intact and devoid of all the ISO containers that used to be our accommodation or the dodgy CD sellers at the gate. From the metal factory we headed North avoiding the new highway, instead travelling along the old roads we used to patrol in our Spartan armoured vehicles. Happening on a Jeep dealership and workshop, I took the opportunity to pop in and top up the power steering fluid which was sitting on the minimum. At Novo Topola, we took to the tiny back roads and made for Miele’s farm in the hills. After a couple of false starts, we found a local who directed us to the correct, familiar, track and winding uphill, 29 years fell away and I was back in my Spartan, dropped low in the cupola behind my improvised Perspex windscreen to avoid the bite of the winter wind, my troop Corporal following. At midday we were pulling into the familiar farmyard that hadn’t changed in nearly 30 years, I went in search of Miele.

Miele hadn’t changed either and after a slight pause, recognised me as the 27 year old troop leader who used to come up to visit. His near total lack of English hadn’t changed either and without the luxury of my interpreter, Predrag, that I’d had in 1997, arm gesticulations and the odd German word his wife knew were enough to converse. The Slivovitz came out (a particularly potent plum brandy home brew) and we spent a happy hour waving hands around and talking over each other as the slivo took its hold.

We took our leave of Miele and his wife, having been given a 2l plastic bottle of slivo and headed to the northern most town of Gradiška, a traffic jam, the bridge over the Sava and the border with Croatia.

The day’s next destination was the Željava Air Base (44.83675, 15.75744, Aerodrom Zeljava), under the Gola Plješevica mountain. Work started on the now deserted Base in 1948 and was completed in 1968. The project cost approximately $6 bn and designed to withstand a direct hit from a 20-kiloton nuclear bomb! It’s the most fascinating site with 3.5 km (2.2 mi) of aircraft-width subterranean tunnels visitors can drive through (watch out for the holes in the floor) and 4 entrances protected by 100-ton pressurized doors. Driving through was an eerie experience and my bravery faltered long before I got anywhere near the end. It’s a must on any European overlander’s visit list.

We had crammed a lot into today, but we still had many miles to cover to Pula, the journey slipped passed with little event, punctuated with relics of the cold war, memorials and the odd WW2 T34 tank by the side of the road. We arrived in the dark and driving rain at 2319hrs at our AirB&B, crashing out quickly.

 

[madfish]

Now this is a trip of a lifetime. Following along with your adventure and living through your pictures.

Sponsored