Bristol to Bosphorus challenge

Our Director General, Nick Lomas, of the Caravan and Motorhome Club, has recently taken part in six days of the Bristol to Bosphorus challenge. Read all about his adventures below: 

Touring has always had its adventurers, in fact our pastime began with one – the Club’s first Vice-President Dr William Gordon-Stables. He took his first of a kind, custom-made leisure caravan, The Wanderer, on a horse drawn trip from Newbury to Inverness in 1886.

Since then many expeditions have been organised by intrepid caravanners and motorhome owners to whet the appetite of people to take up our pastime and have their own inspiring adventures. US Airstream inventor Wally Byam had adventures such as the Cape Town to Cairo Expedition which saw his iconic silver bullet tourer in front of the pyramids in Egypt. And in the UK Sam Alper the charismatic owner of Caravans International towed his Sprite ‘vans up the Alps with a mini! Club member Ralph Lee, whose collection of remarkable touring photographs is now in the Club Archive at Beaulieu, showed that you can literally go anywhere if you have willpower.

And it’s in this spirit that I set out with Bailey of Bristol on their Bristol to Bosphorous Expedition. The plan was to cover 21 countries in 21 days taking a southerly route reaching Istanbul and crossing into Asia, before returning through the northern part of Central Europe. It follows on from their previous expedition from the UK, across the Arctic Circle to northern Finland, and back.

I joined the trip for just six days starting at Dubrovnik in Croatia and my first duty was to help set-up camp on our sea-view pitches at Camping Solitudo which is part of the Club’s overseas site network. The plan was to have a barbeque for everyone on what was on a rest day after travelling for six days from the UK.

Early the following morning I was raring to go on the major leg of our trip. A route of 270 miles which involved us passing through Bosnia, Montenegro, Albania and into Macedonia.

My purpose in joining this part of the tour was to help get the team all the way to Asia in Istanbul. Also my knowledge of Europe conveniently stopped at Croatia. I had previously visited both Pula and Rovinj in the country and knew it to be a tourist gem. But Bosnia and beyond was very truly unknown territory. A part of the continent of Europe that is so well known for all the wrong reasons – the Bosnian War of the 1990’s and part of the Balkan States which have an unfortunate reputation for their role in shaping World and European history over the past century since the outbreak of World War I.

As a seasoned caravanner my job for the day was a change – I was allocated to the motorhome with Bill Coleman from Caravan Times who were documenting and filming the trip and Marcus Leach, endurance cyclist, and chef, and all-round charmer.   

As we pulled up to the Bosnian border the security team were friendly and the queue looked reassuringly short. However, we had to buy the compulsory third party motor insurance at the border (it’s not easily obtainable elsewhere beforehand). Sadly the insurance agent was ill so we had to wait 30 minutes for a colleague to drive up from the local town. He was helpful and gave us tourist tips including visiting the famous bridge at Mostar. Sadly that’s one for next time as it would have meant a diversion from our route to Montenegro. (I think it’s best done solo in a car, from Dubrovnik, or on a pre-booked trip if you are in a motorhome).

Our problems began when the customs people looked at our vehicle documentation. Unlike most people whose car, caravan and passport documents all match. We had two Skoda UK- owned vehicles, one Mercedes UK-owned support vehicle and a motorhome owned by Bailey as a company not a named individual. The drivers all had different surnames, and of course none of us were related to one another. Even Simon Howard the Marketing Director of Bailey of Bristol and mastermind of the trip, couldn’t obviously prove that Bailey was his family’s business. This became a recurring theme. I’m sure if you can create a clear paper trail for the passport and registration documents for all the vehicles with a common name and address, the custom officers would be a good deal less suspicious.

Eventually our passports were stamped, and the border team duly thanked (politeness is the best and only way to keep everyone happy in these stressful situations). So we headed off into Bosnia and up into beautiful mountains. A lunch break was taken overlooking a deep gorge and Marcus served the meal from the front hatch of one of the caravans.

We transited through to Montenegro and once again had to wait for the insurance and to explain our documents, but this time, we were prepared so it was much simpler. We travelled to a high mountain plateau with spectacular vistas. By late afternoon were were nearing the mysterious, even menacing Albania. A reputation I can only put down to it being the most politically isolated country in Europe.

In fact at the border, which is set in stunning countryside by a lake, the admission process followed much the same pattern as the previous crossings. A spell of negotiation and explanation followed by the requirement to buy the compulsory motor insurance, but as we had arrived at the end of the working day there were dozens of cars queued with returning groups of workers (all male), who were clearly hardened and practised at the border process. They tried to jostle to overtake our rather orderly queue of British Leisure Vehicles. We staved off most of the advances keeping to our orderly formation and a cup of coffee bought in ‘no man’s land’ eased the wait (about an hour again).

So then into Albania. Here we followed a road through reasonably well-populated countryside, all the way towards the capital city of Tirana. The roadside scene was of an agricultural plain dotted with a strange mix of grandiose family houses with pools and elaborate gardens on often three or four stories with pools and elaborate gardens, interspersed by low rise farmsteads.

There seemed to be far far too many bars, petrol stations and car washes (often in an integrated site or business) for the level of population or passing trade. About 50% of cars were Mercedes. I will leave the reader to make of this what they will.

By Tirana it was dark and we had to buy dinner. One of the team bought the takeaway pizza whilst we pressed on through the main city boulevards in the dark. The city certainly came alive and could have been the night life area of any European capital, though the veneer only lasted a block or two from the main routes.  As we left the city and climbed up the mountains we had a radio call from the Skoda Octavia/Bailey Pursuit outfit piloted by Lee Davey, Club Magazine writer and Club Council member. They had hit a pothole and got a flat tyre. We pulled into an adjacent roadside restaurant parking area and in a few minutes the boot was open, the spare extracted, jacked and the tyre changed. Without doubt far quicker than I could have done it. We ate the pizza at this point, using the empty pizza boxes as the wheel bolt store to save losing them in the dark on the grey gravel all about.

After a flawless performance the Avtex Sat Nav, which we were clearly warned had no guarantee of accuracy for mapping in Albania or Turkey, we suffered one small loss of accuracy with a new route not showing on the map. In fact, we re-joined the old route a few miles further on, so really we had no complaints despite Avtex’s caution.

We arrived at the Macedonian border well after most people’s bedtime. All was pretty quiet with the odd truck progressing through so we were feeling confident by now that we had the measure of the customs processes, and how to lubricate the bureaucracy with apparent British efficiency and politeness!

As time was getting on the helpful team at our Macedonian site, Camping Rino, on the shores of Lake Ohrid had said they would be happy to see us safely in as midnight approached. But we hit an immovable obstacle in the shape of a closed insurance office. Without cover we could not progress. A chink of light appeared with an instruction to take the motorhome for a full search in a building with lights on floors, walls and ceiling. But despite a wait for the coach in front, and an embarrassing grounding of the motorhome on a rather unfriendly entrance ramp, (it damaged our pride and nothing else), we passed the search only to return to the barriers to be met with a flat refusal without insurance cover. Not relishing the thought of a return to Tirana, with an uncertain welcome being so late and un-announced at an un-researched campsite without a booking, there was nothing for it but to make the camp in no-man’s land between the customs posts.

To be fair everyone helped. We made vehicles, bikes and filming equipment locked and safe and set up every bunk and bed in the three vehicles. It proved that with 12 places for 11 people, plus a support Mercedes Vito, we were able to keep everyone dry, warm, fed, watered, and to some degree rested by the time day broke the following morning. Sunrise revealed a fairly humdrum border with a derelict duty-free shop, but our film crew and photographers managed to make that look quite attractive too.

I have to say the border process was quite bizarre, as I crossed it unchallenged on foot twice to go to the insurance office, returning twice with completed documents so that each of the four vehicles could get on its way just as soon as the computer printed out each certificate. In the early morning light a thoroughly sunny, green and rural view of Macedonia awaited. A steep and beautiful mountain pass on a broad sweeping road with turns and twists, made for a glorious and easy drive, I pondered that the roads on the trip so far had been surprisingly good on the whole. Bosnia was fine. Yes in Montenegro there were rough patches with some potholes, but on the whole there were only a few short stretches with slabs of crumbling tarmac.  In Albania it was a bit more mixed, but then again only in short sections.

By Lake Ohrid the sun was high and the heat was building at a lakeside seating area. It was certainly a welcome sight, and coupled with free coffee from the owners made us feel very satisfied despite the trials of the previous evening.

We received a great deal of interest from the dozen or so other outfits (mainly German) who were enjoying the stunning lakeside spot. After a quick fortification of honey cake we celebrated 2000 miles with barista-etched numbers on each coffee foam topping. We thanked the owner with an impromptu photoshoot of his campsite. Then it was an emptying of our tanks and refill of the screen wash of the motorhome, and we were on our way to our next country stop – Greece.

The return into the EU and recognition of our EU driving cover made the whole process easier, just like Calais really. And then the greenery and uncannily smooth tarmac of Greece was a treat.

Our lunch stop in a hillside layby a short distance away from the motorway, provided another excellent opportunity for Marcus to create an outstanding lunch for the team in the caravan kitchen. Meanwhile some of the crew carried out a layby street-clean to remove rubbish from the spot – doing their bit by bagging up two sacks of rubbish from an otherwise scenically delightful spot.

We needed to press on following a smooth Greek motorway (with modest tolls) till we reached Camping Neo Karvala by the beach as the light faded. We quickly set up camp, enjoyed an evening of reminiscing about the last day and slept soundly on site.

The morning revealed a beachside plot which was certainly pleasant enough for a short stay, though not perhaps enough to satisfy a family of four on a two-week beach break.

Of course this trip was not about rest and relaxation but about reaching our goal of Istanbul and the Bosphorus – that stretch of water which separates East and West, Europe and Asia. So off we set.Today was my day to let others experience the motorhome so I was pleased to drive the Skoda Kodiaq, the Club’s reigning Champion Towcar of the Year. The Greek motorways here are as good as any I’ve used and traffic was pleasantly light. We made good time to the border. And there it was, Turkey.

The Kodiaq proved to be a thoroughly capable machine. Quiet, refined, effortless towing at its best. The interior was a thoroughly pleasant place to sit with easy controls and supportive seats. What’s not to like? Competent, yes; capable, definitely.

We got into Turkey in a few minutes and then after passport control; the visa all worked fine – the customs team decided to have fun at our expense. Again suspicious of the mis-matching paperwork on drivers and vehicle ownership they decided first the motorhome should be x-rayed. This meant removing all luggage from the vehicle and then taking it to a giant x-ray machine. After a further delay and discussion, the extra paperwork emailed from the UK by the vehicle owners provided reassurance, but nonetheless the Skoda Octavia/Pursuit outfit as a whole had to be x-rayed in the lorry scanning area. Same requirement to remove all luggage from car and caravan … a team of 10 made light work of it,  and then Mercedes Vito support vehicle suffered the same fate. Inexplicably, I was spared the ordeal for my outfit, just a request to reverse into an unused lane of the customs zone between two fairly narrow kerbs, but slowly does it and there it sat patiently whilst all the action unfolded around me.

After a laborious 2½ hours we were clear and joined the highway towards Camping Kum on the Gallipoli Peninsula and an evening rendezvous with the representatives from Bailey Australia to see the Anzac and Allied landing memorials at Helles Point.

Marcus delivered a fantastic Malay chicken curry on site and we returned humbled from visiting the memorial to appreciate how insignificant our adventure was; a mere caper compared to the brave sacrifice of the troops of all nations in the conflict of World War I.

Our mission the next morning was to get three outfits with a combined shipping length of over 30 metres, through the traffic and medieval streets of the former Constantinople, gateway to the East, and onto the famous fisherman’s bridge of Galata. We had to have the proof we’d made it and the whole team wanted the badge of honour of knowing the Caravan Times video team and photographer Alan Bond could document the highlight of our mission.

Istanbul is a clash of opposites – ancient and modern, eastern and western, grand boulevards and narrows souks, teaming with a population of 20 million citizens drawn from the countryside to a seething mega-city.

The traffic was horrendous, as heavy as any city you could imagine, the navigation challenging with such a convoy and the patience became stretched a little at times. But even in the narrow streets where no rational person would take such vehicles, traders in the shops and cafes as well as the local shoppers and tourists were curious and good humoured as they peered through the windows asking where we’d travelled from and where we were heading as we crept forward literally inch by inch, towards the Galata Bridge.

The picture in the Club’s Magazine will be the proof that we made it. In a peculiar quirk of fate the bridge was almost free of traffic and we were able to linger for 10 minutes to get the pictures we all wanted and to savour the moment. A’int a leisure vehicle a great way to see the world? An inspiring adventure indeed.