Turkey & The Balkans
Return Journey

As far as I know, this article was never published

We left Persia to cross into Turkey and the climb up into the mountains. As we climbed higher and higher, along our original route again we remembered how, in March, we had toiled through the ice-covered roads, with the snow piled high on either side, and how bitterly cold we had been. Now the sun shone, and all around us was a carpet of wild flowers. It was unrecognisable as the same landscape. Undoubtedly, the scenery in Turkey is every bit as beautiful as in Persia, though we had not appreciated this previously.

One night we slept beside a lake, hidden away in the mountains. We persuaded the owner of the lakeside cafe to give us supper of fish caught fresh from the lake. It was fried very crisp, and served with a salad, was remarkably cheap, and a welcome change from tinned food. Although the days were warm, we were so high up, that, after a swim, we were glad to put on sweaters and huddle into sleeping bags for the night. The following night was not such a success. Having washed most of our clothes and hung them up to dry on hangers outside the van, which was my usual practice, we found, the next morning , that everything had vanished. This left us with very little other than the garments we stood up in, which, at that time of the morning was one pair of torn pyjamas, and one very faded nightdress; this presented problems. We were reduced to renovating garments that had been relegated to the rag-bag, but with the aid of mends and patches, we set off, belatedly, but reasonably respectably clothed, though rather more shabby than before. Though somewhat annoyed at the picture of some fortunate Turk sauntering around in Peter’s one and only drip-dry shirt, we could not but laugh as we speculated as to who had snapped up my scarlet bikini-type pants – hardly suitable, we felt, for decorous wear beneath the shapeless black dress and yashmak.

We stayed on our original route through central Turkey, along the mountain range, as far as Sivas. Here we found our friend Jerry, sitting by the side of the road waiting for a bus to take him to Istanbul. I think he was surprised, as we came to a noisy halt beside him, that we were still on the road. Here we restocked our wardrobes and provisions. Fruit and vegetables were unbelievably cheap throughout Turkey, and we lived on the luxuries of life – peaches, melons, peppers, courgettes and aubergines – for next to nothing. Our supply of dried milk had run out, and we found that it was impossible to buy fresh milk – only yoghurt was available, and there was no type of dried milk to be obtained either. We bought the cheapest Turkish wine at 10d a bottle, and limited ourselves to half a bottle a night for economy’s sake – it was probably just as well, as we invariably woke with a headache the following morning, in spite of the strict rationing . My Virginia cigarettes had long since run out, and I was reduced to a Turkish brand at 6d for twenty. Even the poorest Turks refused my generous offer when I handed them round, but could usually be relied upon to produce a better quality one, which I accepted gratefully.

In Sivas we left the direct route to Istanbul, and turned south to look at the Mediterranean and the many historical ruins that abound in that region. We drove via Kaseri and Tarsus, travelling, after Mersin, along the Sacred Way where Corinthian Columns still line the old Greek road. The blue of the sea was unbelievable, merging into the deeper blue of the sky. It was a perfect tourist ground – but not another soul to be seen, though this was high summer.

We drove beside the coast, heading west towards Silifke, visiting the ruins of Kanlividane, an ancient town covering a vast area, and at Cennet, a C13 church built at the bottom of a cavern and approached by thousands of steps, leading us into the bowels of the earth. The climb up nearly finished us both off, as we had found, very early on, that driving all day and sleeping it off at night, had gradually caused us to lose the use of our legs. However, the Turks, never slow to miss a trick, had a little stall at the top selling ice-cold beer, with which we revived ourselves. Turkish beer, we found, was good, if somewhat expensive , and fairly potent.

We spent five days travelling along the coast, heading slowly west, stopping where we found a particularly good swimming beach, and remaining there for as long as we wished. We became so attached to one cove that We could hardly tear ourselves away. We rattled the van on to a shingly beach, and stayed there for three days. We were sunbathing by 7.30 a.m. each morning and only emerged from our paradise to replenish stocks of food and water. Eventually we had to move reluctantly on, and the further west we drove, the more we found that the tourist industry was beginning to infiltrate. Caravan sites and “Mo-camps” were being built, and we wondered how long it would be before our end of the coast became a tourist playground.

We turned north at Antalya, for Istanbul, but Istanbul was to prove an elusive goal, as our mechanical troubles really began at this juncture. The winding mountainous road proved too much for the already faulty gears, and the synchromesh broke. After the pieces had been removed from the gear box, we taught ourselves to double-de-clutch, and pressed on. In Izmit, a busy town about fifty miles from Istanbul, we felt the van judder and then followed a shattering crash. Always a little vague as to what actually “made the wheels go round”, my knowledge of mechanics was considerably increased when I found that the wheels had ceased to revolve and the reason being the propeller shaft lying in the road beneath us. All traffic came to a standstill while the onlookers decided what was to be done with us, and we finally suffered the indignity of being towed by a wheezing horse and ancient cart to the nearest garage, our shaft lodged in the back of the cart and threatening to break through our windscreen if the driver wasn't quick enough with the brake. We were patched up with a new universal joint and sent on our way, noisily, and not very optimistic that we would last long before the next mishap.

We did eventually reach Istanbul, where we headed for the G.P.O. As we had wanted to be free to wander on our way home, this was the only Poste Restante address we had given the family, and we picked up a pile of very welcome letters, which we stored away to read once we were out of the city and back to the countryside.

From Turkey we travelled on into Bulgaria, heading for Sofia, via Haskovo, Plovdiv and Pazardzik – the names rolled off our tongues with a Tolstoyan ring as we chanted the name of the next town. It is illegal to camp in the open in Bulgaria, and although we had risked it on the way out, hiding in a wood which we entered in the dark evening and leaving before daylight, with the lighter evenings now offering no security from detection, we decided to comply with the law. We spent the night, not with many facilities, but very cheaply (the entire cost being the equivalent of 4/-) in a campsite, but both agreed how wise we had been, throughout the journey, to choose our own solitary pitches whenever possible.

Throughout Yugoslavia our transmission troubles really halted our progress. The propeller shaft came adrift again at Svetozarevo, but at long last we had the motherly arm of the AA on which to lean, and they towed us on a trailer the eighty miles into Belgrade. Here we were patched up again, but the language problem and lack of spares for our make of vehicle made it impossible for us to be properly overhauled, and frankly, they were glad to see the back of us.

Our financial position was worrying; so much of our money had been eaten up by previous repairs. Even had we had unlimited resources at home on which to draw, it would have been difficult to obtain it, as we were now back in the non-sterling area, and our year’s allowance already drawn. I am fortunate, however, to have chosen the kindest Bank manager on the Island, and I know that he would have rescued us, somehow, from behind the Iron Curtain, had we really been in danger of involuntary defection. We could now, however, fall back on the AA coupons for our repair bills, and without these we should not have reached home with the van, as we still, unknown to us, had another £100 worth of repairs to be met. Our main concern was in keeping sufficient money for petrol, and this we put on one side. We cut down on our food consumption, making one small tin of meat last for two nights instead of one, and tightened our belts a little each day.