Europe
Outward Journey
This article was pubished in Jersey Life, vol 6, no 41, February 1970
Travelling overland from U.K. to Asia is rapidly becoming one of Britain’s national sports, but when we started planning our expedition from Jersey to Malaysia and back again, my son and I were under the impression that we came into the category of pioneers. We knew it had been done before, but only, we thought, by a few daring souls.
Our main reason for setting forth on the journey was to add to our existing, but embryonic, collection of Malaysian butterflies, started while we were living in Singapore. These are some of the most exotic and interesting in the world, with the added attraction that there are still new and unknown species to be found. Already we could see ourselves proudly presenting the British Museum with a hitherto undiscovered butterfly, which would then be named after us, scientifically.
When we first spread our Daily Telegraph map of the world on the floor and started mulling over possible routes, my family indulged in a little mild jeering, secure in the knowledge that this was purely a pipe dream and that we would, in fact, never set off. When we made a start on the many formalities necessary for the journey, they happily told us we were mad, and would never reach our destination. When, however, a firm order was finally placed for a Bedford van, converted into a two-berth Dormobile, they readily gave us all help and advice, accepted it as inevitable, and gave us an enthusiastic send-off at the airport, from where we departed for Saint Malo, the Dormobile having gone over earlier to Dinard by sea. As my husband kissed me a fond farewell, my elder son’s parting words were ‘Don’t worry Dad, they’ll be back in a fortnight’. Far from being dampening, this was an added spur.
The duration of our expedition was somewhat limited from the outset. Financially we were sailing very close to the wind, and we had to remember that the longer we stayed away, the more we should spend, so we planned to stick to our original goal, which was Malaysia and ‘The Elusive Butterfly’, and, according to how our time and finances lasted out, to deviate from the direct route and do some sight-seeing on the homeward journey.
Domestically we were short of time. Peter was between leaving school and going to University, and I felt bound to return before too long to relieve my elder son’s fiancée who had nobly agreed to run the house in my absence, as well as cope with a full-time secretarial job.
The weeks of planning beforehand were exhausting. Peter dealt with most of the paperwork and formalities, appearing occasionally to demand my signature, before disappearing again to deal with the next item on the ever-growing agenda. Our first move was to apply to the AA for a route, as direct as possible, and this they supplied in four sections made up into booklets, with a lot of helpful advice, the scenery we should be passing through, and suggestions for alternative routes. As their information was limited east of Europe, we agreed to supply them with notes, on our return, regarding the state of roads, signposting, and any possible better routes etc. The Jersey branch of the AA took care of all the formalities regarding the van and supplied us with maps of the countries we should pass through, and town plan maps – in fact there appeared to be nothing with which they could not supply us upon request.
For my part I dealt with the catering and medical side. At one point it looked as if the currency regulations for non-sterling areas would defeat us, as our allowance had to last for the homeward, as well as the outward, journey, through some 5,000 miles of non-sterling countries before we reached Pakistan, the first of the sterling areas where there is no currency restriction. A plea on my part to the Bank of England for an increase to help, us on our way in the interests of entomological research was met with a polite, but firm, refusal. Nothing daunted, we put our heads together, and decided that if the money would stretch for the cost of petrol, we should be able to make it, with a little ingenuity. This, in fact, proved to be the case, and we arrived at the Pakistan border with just over half our non-sterling currency intact, thereby ensuring sufficient funds for petrol for the homeward journey through the non-sterling areas. It meant, however, that we had to be entirely self-sufficient in every other respect, and I set about laying in stocks of tinned and dried foods and everyday requirements to last us for a month or more. I have often wondered since whether Le Riches Stores noticed a vast depletion in their stocks of tinned foods early last March. If so, I hope they will appreciate how far it travelled, and how good it tasted after twelve to fourteen hours driving!
For medical supplies I talked to my doctor, who, in between puncturing us at regular intervals for practically every known tropical disease, very kindly furnished me with a list of prescriptions to cover almost every contingency. The only thing we looked into and could not guard against was snake-bite, but we let it go, on Peter’s insistence that any snake I came face to face with would be more frightened of me than I would of it. My only reply was, and always has been, ‘That’s what you think’. Another visit to Mr. Phipps, the chemist at Five Oaks, produced many more helpful suggestions, and a most efficiently stocked first-aid box.
Our departure was set for mid-March, and, in fact, we left on the 15th. ‘Beware the Ides of March’. I felt that Shakespeare would not have considered this a propitious date to set forth, but time and tide, and shipping and airline schedules, wait for no man, so the 15th it had to be.
We had ordered the Dormobile through Mr. Bill Jones of Five Oaks Garage, but as we had left a rather bare margin of time, we had only three days after its arrival in which to run it in and have it serviced before setting off. It arrived in Jersey with 100 miles on the clock, and with all the family lending a hand we ran it in along St. Ouen’s five mile road until it reached its 500 miles, at which point we returned it thankfully to Mr. Jones, who not only gave it a thorough servicing, but also gave Peter a lot of useful hints on how to give it minor servicing and general nursing on the journey. He also advised on, and supplied, a host of spare parts that we might require, and the Dormobile was duly despatched to St. Malo, packed to the hilt with these, two spare tyres, cans of oil, chains, a tow-rope, and tool-kit, together with our food, cooking utensils, butterfly equipment, reading matter, petrol cans, bedding, etc., and the minimum amount of clothing with which we felt we could manage. We followed on, two days later, with a large black portmanteau containing all our travel documents, and a paper carrier with our meagre allowance of alcohol and cigarettes in it.
Our first night’s camping taught us a few lessons which we were not to forget. We had turned off the main road about six miles out of Mayenne, in France, down a disused side road. The night was cold and clear, and the ground hard and frosty, and we lit our little paraffin lamp for warmth. Cooking dinner on our Calor gas stove was an acrobatic feat as the stew ended up in my lap and the wine, with which we were celebrating our first night on the loose, slid gently to the floor. Peter spent a miserable night falling continuously on to the floor between our two bunks. We woke early, cold, and made a mental note that at all times we must ensure that the van was parked on level ground.
Our third night out taught us an even more important lesson. Always test the ground before venturing on to it. The weather was getting steadily colder, and although the roads were kept clear throughout Germany, there was still a lot of snow about. Having hidden ourselves, as we thought, from the public eye, in a pine wood, we were disturbed from our slumbers by a kindly soul who informed us in a mixture of German and halting English, that the wind was getting up and we stood in danger of being smothered overnight by a barrage of falling pine trees. Reluctantly we roused ourselves and, in our night-clothes proceeded to move out of the shelter of our wood, only to find that the van was stuck fast in quite deep snow. After a great deal of pushing, shoving and hard swearing, during which time I was trying to console myself that snow was good for chilblains, we had to resort to the chains. This was, in fact, the only time we had to use them, but were we glad of them that night. We were somewhat annoyed the following morning to find our wood still intact.
From then on our lives formed a pattern. We found we woke early, usually due to the cold, so set off in the half dark at about 5.0 a.m., after a cup of coffee. Once the engine was running the heater soon warmed the van up and we thawed out. After 100 miles or so, we stopped for breakfast-porridge, followed by bacon and eggs, and more coffee. A sandwich lunch was prepared by whichever one was not driving, and we came to roost, whenever possible, before dark, and had a good evening meal accompanied by music from Peter’s tape recorder. Then early to bed in readiness for the next day’s early start.
Our route took us through France, Germany (where we made good time on their fast, but rather soul-destroying autobahns), on to Austria, Yugoslavia, Bulgaria, Turkey, Persia, and into Pakistan and India. Throughout Europe we camped in fields or woods, hidden away from the road, and each time I filled my hot-water bottle and we climbed into our sleeping bags and pulled the blankets up over our ears, we consoled ourselves with the thought that we were steadily heading south-east towards the warmth and the sun. Little did we know what was still in store for us.
We were travelling fairly fast at this point, and, in fact, were well ahead of our roughly drawn up schedule. We were usually extremely hazy as to the correct time as we invariably forgot to check our watches at each border, and happily drove along for days on end still running on British time. What did it matter? We were living in a little world of our own anyway. We had our first taste of the sun in Yugoslavia, and were most impressed by the scenery. Having found the customs officials somewhat discourteous, we were pleased to find that the country folk always had a greeting and a wave as we drove past them, working in the fields, or in the many logging camps we passed. It appeared to us, on our rather hurried passage through, to be a hard-working, but not very prosperous, country.
The roads were, for the most part, good, until we reached Bulgaria where we had to get used to the bumpy riding on their cobbled surfaces. We had our first brush with the police in Sofia, the capital of Bulgaria, and one of the most difficult of all the towns to get through. Signposting was almost negligible, and there appeared to be no traffic rules as far as we could see. At any rate, to our consternation one policeman blew a shrill blast on his whistle and flagged us to the side of the road. We still do not know what rule we violated, as none of us had any common language, and to our relief he took the line of least resistance, and let us go on.
