2025 - Salter's travels

Jordan

First impressions of Amman were positive. Cooler weather, a better class of car and calmer driving. I did find it a bit disconcerting to be less than 100 km from Gaza. Just a short distance away were many people starving to death while being relentlessly bombed by the Israelis. Syria is a little more stable than a few years ago and was about 40 km up the road. Jordan, at the moment, is a little haven of stability and working hard at attracting tourists.

In the morning, we were collected early and driven north to Jaresh. This city in Northern Jordan is home to one of the best-preserved Greco-Romans in the world (outside of Italy). The pair of us were handed over to a local guide. To be honest, he was a bit difficult to understand. Although we spent the best part of an hour listening to him rattle off names and dates, I don’t think any of it stuck. There was a 300 m diameter elliptical forum surrounded by pillars. Wikipedia tells me that a forum is a public square used as a marketplace and general-purpose meeting place. So, this was a big oval square.

We looked at the temple of Artemis and a nymphaeum. I just learnt this word – it is a monument consecrated to the nymphs, especially those of springs. We found an impressive theatre. Very steep seating. You would certainly get a good view but tripping over a step could really spoil your day. Diane found a millipede.

Our guide left us here. After making it truly clear that he expected a tip. Tipping continues to be a thorn in my side. First of all, you need to work out how much to pay. Too little will cause offence. Too much will buy you a new best friend but leave you out of pocket. Working in different currencies introduces great scope for slipping up in these calculations. Then you need to make sure that you actually have some suitable cash. ATMs that dish out large value notes do not help with this. I don’t think it is good etiquette to ask for change when giving tips. I have always assumed that gratuities were invented by over funded Americans showing off their wealth. Imagine my disappointment to discover that it started in Tudor England. It was taken home by Americans in the 19^th century who wanted to appear aristocratic. America only adopted it reluctantly. Gratuities were made illegal in six states. Today they appear to be enthusiastically exporting it to the rest of the world.

Tipping has been researched. Five motivations have been identified:

Showing off
To supplement the server’s income and make them happy
For improved future service
To avoid disapproval from the server
A sense of duty

Some places add a service charge to the bill. The US courts have asserted that this charge is not mandatory. Tipping is often cited as being associated with good service. Another researcher discovered that attractive waitresses get better tips than less attractive waitresses. Men’s appearance, not so important. Blondes get better tips than brunettes. Slender women get better tips. Large breasted women get better tips. Women in their 30s get better tips than either younger or older women. Tipping is massively discriminatory. The US Supreme Court has ruled that even neutral business practices that are not intended to discriminate, if they have the effect of adversely impacting a protected class, are illegal. Perhaps a class-action lawsuit on the part of ethnic minority waiters and waitresses could result with tipping being declared illegal.

In Egypt, if you were not on the ball, someone would grab your bag, move it 5 m, and then expect a tip. Jordan was less intense, but even so you needed to be careful about letting people “help” you. I sometimes felt like the locals vision of a tourist included dollar notes sticking out of every pocket. Any small favour and you can help yourself. Rather sadly, this tends to make you very wary of anyone being friendly.

By the time I had finished ruminating over the evils of gratuities, we had passed Zeus’ temple and were back at the oval square. We met up with our driver again and set off for lunch at the Dead Sea. This is the lowest lake in the world. It is an endorheic lake – the Jordan River drains into it but no rivers come out. The Dead Sea sits in the Jordan Rift Valley, a geographic feature formed by the fault on the tectonic plate boundary between the African Plate and the Arabian Plate. The relative motion of these two plates, about 2 mm a year, has caused a deep depression. The Dead Sea is 420 m below sea level.

We stopped at a hotel close to the Dead Sea from where we could look across the water to Jericho, one of the oldest cities in the world. We could also see the occupied West Bank. I noticed a cloud of black smoke rising from some buildings and wondered if something had just been blown up. After lunch we walked down to the banks of the Dead Sea. A series of steps took us past the hotel’s swimming pools and then to a beach area. The Dead Sea is dead because it is salty. Really salty. About ten times more salty than the oceans. Water drains into the lake and never leaves. Everything that gets washed into the Dead Sea stays there and gets concentrated. Not just salt but all the other residues, chemicals and whatever. The water is toxic. Nothing can live in it. The lake is the continental bottom of the barrel. Diane risked her feet and paddled for a couple of minutes. Other, more enthusiastic tourists, were covering themselves in lake mud and then washing it off in the water. It is not possible to swim normally in the water. The high concentration of salt makes it very buoyant. Famously, you can lie on your back and read a newspaper. I think an accidental mouthful of water would make you very sick.

It was too hot. In part because of the lack of altitude. The walk back up to the hotel was quite unpleasant. We were both dripping with sweat by the time we arrived. It was nice to sit around in the air-conditioned lobby and cool down for a while. Then we went to the carpet shop. I have explained before that every trip has a carpet shop. This particular one was selling salt and mud-based cosmetics from the Dead Sea. We were hit with a heavy and fast paced sales pitch. However, I was struck with the notion that if the Dead Sea was full of toxic water and mud – why on earth you want to rub on your skin? For some reason it reminded me that the Victorians considered Radium as a miraculous element with a wide variety of health-giving properties.

Next morning we were up very early for the drive to Petra. Famous for its rock-cut architecture and water conduit systems. Petra is also called the “Rose City” because of the colour of the sandstone. The city is one of the New 7 Wonders of the World and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The area has been inhabited since 7000 BC. Petra flourished in the 1^st century AD when the Nabataeans used it for temples and mausoleums. Later the Romans used it as a trade centre although it slowly fell into decline as various sea trade routes became preferred. An earthquake in 360 AD destroyed many structures after which it was abandoned and mostly forgotten. UNESCO has described Petra as “one of the most precious cultural properties of man’s cultural heritage” – so, we thought we should at least have a look.

The main site lies down a long, narrow sandstone gorge. As you walk down there are numerous tombs, temples and mausoleums. The rock formations are fascinating. Deep, water carved channels that reminded me of cave systems except that this was all sandstone. Excavations have demonstrated that it was the ability of the Nabataeans to control the water supply that led to the rise of the desert city, creating an artificial oasis. The area is visited by flash floods, but archaeological evidence shows that the Nabataeans controlled these floods by the use of dams, cisterns, and water conduits. These innovations stored water for prolonged periods of drought and enabled the city to prosper from its sale.

The whole place is interesting. The experience, for me, was greatly enhanced because it was not too hot. The gorge gives good shelter from the sun. It proved to be a very pleasant walk down to the bottom with some amazing sites. The main area, usually called The Treasury, was packed with tourists and locals. Camel rides were on offer. So was coffee and souvenirs of all types. The site was used in an Indiana Jones film which gave a solid theme for the Chinese mass-produced memorabilia. There were people just looking for an opportunity to help you with a photograph – for a tip of course.

Coming back up was a bit harder so Diane elected to use a horse for the last section. A three-hour drive back to Amman and our trip to Jordan was finished. Next stop Dubai.

Cairo

Another day, another museum. This time it was the National Museum of Egyptian Civilisation. This is another grand, spacious museum full of ancient relics. More mummies that we could not photograph. This collection included some of the most famous pharaohs. They all look a bit the same when they are black and shrivelled though. Many artifacts that started to blur together in my head. The world’s first prosthetic. A toe. Big toe with a leather strap to hold it on. And a carpet. I was really hoping this would be the carpet that Cleopatra was rolled up in. Sadly, it wasn’t, although it was a nice carpet.

On to Old Cairo. The Church of Abu Serga is where tradition says the Holy Family, including Jesus, hid during their flight into Egypt. The church was built over a cave where they are believed to have stayed, and a crypt beneath the church contains the original site of their shelter. We went down some stairs to have a look. Seemed a bit small and stuffy to hide in for three months. Perhaps if you were desperate. The rows of vendors outside were selling bibles, scripts, icons, beads, crosses and other Christian paraphernalia.

Next stop was the Salah El-Din Citadel and the grand Mohammed Ali Mosque. We were promised spectacular views over Cairo from here. The reality was far too hazy and dusty. Our guide, Mayo, took us into the mosque and explained the five pillars of Islam. This seemed appropriate. We took our shoes off and sat on the floor. The inside of the mosque was ornately decorated and the ceiling was fabulous. I did pay attention but was still a long way from any sort of religious conversion by the time he finished. After twenty minutes sitting cross legged on the floor, my great revelation was that my legs do not like doing this anymore. We both hobbled a bit leaving the mosque but had recovered by the time we were back at our hotel with a glass of wine and a lovely sunset to watch.

Next morning we went off to look at the Bent Pyramid and Red Pyramid of Dahshur. As we arrived a couple of dozen military helicopters went past. Then some other aircraft and then two wings of fighters. All in proper formation and looking very businesslike. US President Donald Trump was joining more than 20 other world leaders in Sharm El-Sheikh, Egypt that day. The aircraft were maybe connected with this. We let them get on with it and concentrated on walking round the pyramids. Both pyramids were constructed by Pharaoh Sneferu during the Old Kingdom. They represent key stages in pyramid-building evolution. The Bent pyramid was too steep. Having started at 54° they discovered cracks appearing internally. The rock could not stand the weight. So they switched to a more modest 44°. The meant the pyramid would not be so high but at least it would not collapse. The second, Red Pyramid, was done at 43°. This time they had it right. Although a modest 105 m high it was still the first true pyramid with a smooth, straight-sided design. After this one, in 2,500 BC they were ready to get cracking with the big ones at Giza.

As lunchtime approached, we headed off to a farm. We were promised this was a typical working farm. One that welcomes tourists but still a farm. Turned out to be a delightful couple of hours. To reach the farm, we sat on the back of a cart pulled by a donkey. At the farm, we began by sitting in a treehouse and drinking tea. Next was bread making. The bread dough was already made. Our job was to roll out thin round sheets before throwing them into an extremely hot clay oven. After being shown what to do, we both made acceptable attempts. This was as well because the bread ended up being part of our lunch. The oven was an interesting design with a fire pit underneath the cooking area. I may try to make one sometime.

Back in our treehouse, we were shown how to make fig biscuits. Given yet more tea. Then our lunch turned up. Flat bread with vegetables followed by fig biscuits – which had been cooked by then. All very good. After some more tea, we had a short stroll round the farm. Some of the crops and rotations were explained. I experimented with climbing a date palm using a rope. Probably best left to the youngsters. I also found a wicked looking stick insect. Then it was back on the donkey cart, back to our hotel and we were done with Egypt. Next day we would fly to Jordan. Just time for a last glass of wine and a sunset.

Kom Obo

We sailed in the morning. Back north towards Luxor. The prevailing wind was against us and this meant a lovely cool breeze across the upper deck. We sat out there for several hours enjoying watching life on the banks of the Nile. People fishing from small boats, goats grazing, a few birds and many crops. The water from the Nile gives rise to a rich, green land but not far behind this is hard, harsh desert.

We stopped at Kom Obo for another temple. This one is dedicated to the crocodile god, Sorbek and also the falcon god Haroeris. The duality is achieved by way of a unique double temple. It is symmetrical along a line. Half for Sorbek, half for Haroeris. A dual entrance leads to halls, courts and an inner sanctuary for each god. The existing temple was begun by Ptolemy VI, 100 BC, at the beginning of his reign and added to by later Ptolemies. Much of the temple has been destroyed by the Nile, earthquakes, and later builders who used its stones for other projects. Some of the reliefs inside were defaced by Copts, who once used the temple as a church.

Adjacent to the temple is the small crocodile museum. This houses a wonderful collection of mummified crocodiles. One of them is still wrapped in bandages and is presented in a case along with some baby reptiles. I was particularly impressed by the eyes. We slipped as quickly as we could through the inevitable bazaar of vendors. I was almost tempted by a Chinese mass-produced replica mummified crocodile, but resisted.

Back at the river boat we had our final night on board as we sailed to Edfu. In the morning we disembarked and were driven to Luxor. A small change of plan but essential because the river boat had modified its schedule and we had a plane to catch.

We were both just about templed out by now but there was still time to slip a couple more in. The Karnak temple and Luxor temple are joined by the 3 km Sphinx Avenue. A roadway lined by a magnificent row of Sphinx statues on each side. More immense gateways. Several obelixes and more towering columns than you could shake a stick at. It was hot and crowded. We were quite happy to reach the end of the tour.

Back in Cairo, we stayed at a much more western style hotel on the banks of the Nile. This lacked any of the character or charm of our previous hotel in the Arabic Quarter. But it was gloriously quiet at night and we could buy wine. This suited us better.

Next day was the Grand Egyptian Museum. This is brand new and not officially opened yet. None the less it was very crowded although this was offset by the size and grandeur of the place. It is built near the pyramids at Giza. A series of ascending staircases lead you through vast halls of statues to a panoramic window with the pyramids beyond. Here are many of the treasures that have been removed from temples over the years. The Tutankhamen exhibition is here. No photographs allowed. I recalled the great excitement when this collection was brought to London in 1972. The whole country went a bit Tutankhamen mad for a few weeks. There are also mummies here. A lot of them. Again, no photography allowed. It was a bit strange looking at the shrivelled, blackened remains of people from thousands of years ago. They built pyramids, had elaborate burial and mummification rituals to try and ensure their immortality. Which happened, in a sense, but almost certainly not in the way they intended.

In the afternoon we went to the Egyptian museum. A much older establishment but still stacked with statues, treasures, caskets and the Rosetta stone. Not the real one. The British Museum is hanging on to that for “safe keeping”. The stone contains the same script in hieroglyphics, a simplified form of hieroglyphics and ancient Greek. This was key to understanding the ancient Egyptian writings. Since then other translation stones have been found but this was the first and probably most important. It was originally carved around 200 BC in Sais. It was later moved to Rosetta where it was used as building material. A French army officer uncovered it in 1799 during the French invasion of Egypt. In 1802, when the British defeated the French, they took possession of the stone and it has been on display, almost continuously, in the British Museum ever since. It is one of their most visited exhibits so I doubt they will want to give it back any time soon.

Diane and I generally find museums a bit dry and boring. Now we had done two museums in one day. Probably unprecedented in our travels. The significant difference was that we had a very informative young guide, called Mayo. He was full of stories that brought life to the otherwise dull displays. I have often thought that museums should work on presenting stories rather than simple facts and figures.

Aswan

Aswan is the upper limit for the river boats. There is a dam there and no way past. The original dam was built in 1900 by the British at the Nile’s first cataract. Although this was a major construction for the time it was still not enough to fully control such a vast river. It was raised, twice, and then a second dam, the High Dam, was built a short way upstream by the Egyptians in the 1950s. The High Dam also incorporated a hydro-electric power station.

We docked in Aswan late in the evening. Next morning we could get up at a sensible time for breakfast. First trip of the day was to the Unfinished Obelisk. There is a granite quarry close to Aswan where much of the granite used in ancient Egypt was obtained. The massive sarcophagi of Saqqara that we had seen a few days earlier came from here. The quarry also specialised in obelisks. Tall pillars of solid stone that are still seen quite widely. Cleopatra’s needle at Victoria Embankment in London was made here as was the Luxor Obelisk in the Place de la Concorde, Paris. The largest and most ambitious obelisk was begun around 1500 BC but unfortunately it got broken. I like to think some careless craftsman hit it off centre and a crack appeared. Oops. The more mundane reality is probably that the cracks were already there and only became apparent as they worked the rock.

We had a wander around the quarry. It is actually quite interesting, as quarries go. Then we ran the gauntlet of the ever-present vendors and headed for the Temple of Philae. Philae Island was occasionally submerged, along with its temple after the low dam was built. With the advent of the high dam it was destined to vanish underwater forever. An ambitious project was established the move the temple to the nearby Agilkia Island. This was completed in 1980.

The trip began by running a vendor gauntlet down a slipway to a waiting boat. A short trip out to the island gave us a clear view of the British, Low Dam. Reminded me of the dams around Longdendale where we used to live. These were built around the same time. The little boat brought us to the island quay, tightly packed with vendors, from which we emerged in front of the temple.

The first temple building was probably built around 500 BC. Most of the main temple structures were bult in the Ptolemaic era of 100 BC. The site remained a focus for worship through to the Christian era when five of the temples were converted into churches. The Victorians had a bit of a fixation on Egypt. The island was very popular in the 19^th century. Today, after the successful relocation it is absolutely heaving with tourists. We followed our guide round for a while but, well, some guides just can’t keep my attention. So we pottered off on our own and arrived back with the vendors at the appointed time. On our trip back to the mainland a couple of vendors hopped onto the boat. They spread their wares on a table in the centre that was so convenient it could have been made for the purpose.

We enjoyed a couple of vendor free hours back on the river boat and then went off to see a Nubian village. This was on the downstream side of the low dam so to get there we simply went in a smaller boat that docked right next to our river boat. A few young lads on old surf boards grabbed hold as we motored past them. They tried to sell us some essentials before they could hang on no longer. The twenty-minute journey was quite interesting. There were some birds and other wildlife. We stopped at a sandy area called a beach so that we could experience paddling in the Nile. At the same time some handy vendors appeared in case we needed to stock up on plastic replica necklaces or knifes made out of camel bone.

Nubians are a Nilo-Saharan speaking ethnic group indigenous to northern Sudan and southern Egypt. They originate from the early inhabitants of the central Nile valley but differ culturally and ethnically from Egyptians. Near Aswan, they maintain their own villages, culture and society. They welcome tourists as a source of income and to explain something of their culture. Our visit began at a school. I think Diane enjoyed that more than me. We walked through the market at dusk. It was very colourful and noisy. Many camels were being led or ridden down the main street. The tour culminated in a family house where Diane was handed one of the pet crocodiles. After a cup of tea we were led back to our small boat and then sailed, down the Nile, in complete darkness, to our river boat. Time for an early night.

Up long before the sun to clamber into a minibus for the drive south to the Temples of Ramses II at Abu Simbel. Four hours later we were close to the border to Sudan. The Aswan High Dam created a reservoir here, Lake Nasser, one of the largest man-made lakes in the world. Obviously, a lot of land got flooded. Tens of thousands of Nubians were displaced. Not everybody was happy about this. The benefits to the remaining land are immense. We saw hundreds of acres of farm, that would otherwise be desert, rich with crops under large, rotating irrigation systems. The temple was also due to be flooded. A multi-national cooperation headed by Unesco saw the entire building complex being moved to higher ground. The temples were originally carved out of the hillside, so the hills needed to be moved as well. I thought this was quite clever. Not only was it a terrific technical achievement paid for by international funds but it also meant that Egypt could keep charging tourists to visit it.

A short walk from the vendors bazaar brought us to the temples. They are magnificent. The twin temples were originally carved out of the mountainside in the 13th century BC for Ramesses II and his wife, Nefertari. Pictures and carvings inside celebrate their lives and achievements. A few hundred years later, the temples were no longer visited and became buried by sand. At the beginning of the 19^th century, the temples were rediscovered by some of the great explorers of the time. Even so, it was another hundred years before the sand was completely cleared away and the full scope of the monuments revealed. We took our time looking round and taking a few photographs. Guides are not allowed inside the temples. This make them rather pleasantly quiet although there were still crowds of people.

After that came a pleasant stroll back. A quick check to see if there were any Chinese mass-produced souvenirs that we had been avoiding but really wanted. A cup of coffee and the four-hour drive to Aswan. It was a long day but a rather good temple. We have seen enough temples now that we can spot a good one.

Edfu

After a 4am start, a balloon ride and three temples we were ready for a rest. Fortunately, the remainder of the day was just that. Our little river boat, the Dwa, had set sail for Edfu. We could sit on the top deck of our river boat and watch the world drift past. I really enjoyed this. There was plenty to see along the banks of the Nile. A lot of farming. Banana plantations, corn and several other crops that I did not recognise. Cows were grazing, kids were swimming, people were hanging out in the shade. We treated ourselves to a bottle of cold, white wine and settled back. We just managed to stay awake long enough to discover the buffet dinner in the evening.

We woke in Edfu. The boat had passed through the lock system at Esna during the night. A barrage bridge was built here by the British in 1906 to control the flow of water and limit flooding further downstream. A second bridge and hydroelectric scheme was built in the 1990s. Ships passing up and down the river need to use a lock system to get through the 5 m height difference. At Edfu, we had breakfast at a civilised time and then set off to visit the Temple of Horus at Edfu. To get here we needed to go by horse and carriage. We were told that this was the only allowable way. Not sure how true this is because there were plenty of other types of vehicles around. Anyway, it seemed like fun. The two of us were shown to our carriage and off we went. Only a ten-minute ride. It was fun rather than comfortable.

The temple was very impressive. Built around 200 BC, it features a massive entrance way leading into a mass of towering pillars. To each side are rooms for offering and at the end is the inner sanctum. Every surface is decorated with drawings and hieroglyphs. It fell into disuse with the growth of Christianity around 300 AD and eventually became buried by sand and silt from the river. It was rediscovered in 1860 at which time there was 12 m of sand and several houses on top of it. The architecture of the Temple Works in Leeds was inspired by the Edfu Temple. The design of the columns is a close copy. Like all the temples we have seen, it was hot and crowded. Extremely hot in this case. After an hour we were ready to head back.

First job was to find Abdul, our horse man with carriage number 54. In the event, he found us, shouting and furiously gesticulating when we wandered over to the massed waiting horses. We clambered back on and discovered that the Barney effect was strong. Keith, our friend the amazing Yorkshire dog-whisperer, has a horse called Barney. We went with Keith and Barney in a trap to a pub on the River Humber once. That is a whole other story, but on the way back we noticed that Barney went much faster – pushing hard to get back to his nice field and some food. The same thing happens to Diane when we go out for a walk. We now call this the Barney effect – an increase in speed when you know you are going home. Abdul’s horse trotted briskly out into the road, happy to be heading back. Shortly afterwards a second carriage was coming up fast behind us. Game on. To say we were racing would not really be true but there was certainly some one-upmanship happening. Made for a great trip back. A bit of gentle sportsmanship mixed with dodging coaches and tuk-tuks. Of course, when we got back to the boat, Abdul insisted that we not only pay him a tip but also one for his horse.

The rest of the day was glorious, chilled out cruising up the Nile. A whole flotilla of boats were heading the same way. A few of them under sail. The Nile flows north into the Mediterranean Sea. The prevailing wind is from the north. Without too much technology, you can reliably sail up the river and come back down with the current. This was a significant factor in the development of Egyptian civilisation along the banks of the Nile.

Luxor

Ninety minutes on a small, cramped Air Egypt turboprop brought us to Luxor. Here we were introduced to our river boat, the Dwa. Here we also discovered we could buy wine at the bar. This made me very happy. Next morning, before 4am, we were up and wandering around in the darkness in preparation for a balloon flight. A short drive took us to a quayside on the Nile where we clambered into small boats. We were served coffee and Twinkie bars. Twinkies are American junk food invented in the 1930s that famously contain enough preservatives to survive the apocalypse. We were taken across the river in a sort of Harry Potter style and then loaded into more minibuses. At the take-off site I was warned to hide my camera. Anything other than a mobile phone is considered a professional camera for which you must pay extra. We also discovered that we had to pay to use the toilets. Some of our fellow aviators were annoyed about this – by now we have come to expect it.

By the time it was light enough to see what was going on, the balloons were laid out on the ground ready to go. At some sort of signal, the great inflation began with scores of large fans all roaring into life. Then came the burners and in just a few minutes we were being urged to clamber in. The basket was divided in eight compartments with four people in each and the pilot in the centre. We rose rapidly and were soon looking down at the next wave of balloons being prepared for lunch. All those balloons rising at once made a rather magnificent sight. Shortly afterwards the sun rose and we had some spectacular views. Towards the Nile were many fields of lush, green crops and clumps of buildings. In the other direction, past the limits of irrigation, was hard desert and temples. Temples everywhere. And statues, many statues. Luxor is sometimes described as the world’s largest outdoor museum. Further away we could see the valley of the kings where many elaborate burial sites are located. We also spotted the mortuary temple of Hatshepsut. Our pilot took us low over some of the temples. So low that I wondered if they sometimes managed to get tangled up in the stonework.

After about forty-five minutes we landed. A gentle enough touch down but fraught with its own dangers. Before I had managed to get out of the basket, I had met a young lad with a falcon who wanted to photograph me with it sat on my hand. Had he actually passed me the bird I would have been very tempted to let it free. There was also a seller of plastic scarab beetles and a vendor of particularly cheap looking Chinese mass-produced replicas of the Egyptian sun god Ra. We were collected by the minibus even before we were able to check that the other balloonists had landed without being skewered on a statue of Anubis. The jackal headed God has pointy ears that would be very bad for a balloon.

Next stop was the valley of the kings. Our flight had been in the cool of the early morning. By now the sun was properly getting a grip on things and the temperature had risen way up past my comfort limit. And it was crowded. Very crowded. This necropolis was used from 1500 BC for about 500 years and contains 65 tombs ranging from the magnificent to the lowly. It was here that Howard Carter discovered the tomb of Tutankhamun in 1922. 5,000 tourists a day visit the site.

Most of the tombs are kept closed in an attempt to preserve them. We had tickets that allowed us entry to four of the royal tombs. These are all ornately decorated with hieroglyphics and pictures. The largest of the four was the joint resting place of Ramesses V and Ramesses VI. This has been open since antiquity, as can be seen by the graffiti left on its walls by Roman and Coptic visitors. Almost all tombs throughout Egypt have been robbed. It began within a few decades of them being built. The curse of the mummy is likely a matter of hygiene. When a tomb is first opened it contains a lot of bad things. Radon gas can build up but also the by-products of decay over many years can give rise to all sorts of nasties such as airborne fungus, bacteria and so on. Those in the know will wait several days for the air to clear. But, if you rush in, the curse may get you.

We finished looking at tombs but then we still had to get past the vendors. The expression “running the gauntlet” comes from the traditional military punishment of receiving blows while running between two rows of men armed with sticks. In Egypt, the entrance/exit to any tourist attraction is only reached by passing through a bazaar. Two rows of shops with very forthright vendors. During this modern running of the gauntlet, you will be accosted repeatedly. Like a good chat-up line, the opening remark from a potential trader can be decisive. The going price for a Chinese mass-produced plastic replica statue of the Egyptian sun god Ra is about a dollar. Hence the common opener “Three dollars. Very cheap, my friend. Only three dollars”. This is your starting point for the negotiation. A more subtle line is “No hassle, come inside, just looking”. One of my favourites is “You are very lucky man to have such a beautiful daughter”. Today we heard “Everything inside is free, just come look” and yesterday we got “How can I take your money”, which I found refreshingly honest.

The tombs were a bit of an ordeal. They were packed with people so opportunities for photography or to even to see some of the key features were limited. It was hot, 38° and we were tired. By the time we exited the fourth tomb I was ready to quit. My eyes were beginning to blur and I was finding it very hard to be interested.

Still, we were not done yet. Despite getting in all the steps we needed for one day, we were whisked up to the temple of Hatshepsut. This is impressive. Three massive terraces rise above the desert floor supported by statues and stone columns. We wandered around, trying to keep to the shade. Then we slipped out past the vendors as quietly as possible.

By this stage all we really wanted was a nice cup of tea and a little lie down. However, first we had to visit the carpet shop. We discovered in Morocco that every tour has a carpet shop. Go with any guide for just about any purpose and you will inevitably end up in his brother’s carpet shop. The carpet shop is a principle, an idea, a template that can be used to sell anything from chocolates to hats. There are some key characteristics of a carpet shop. First of all, they are genuine. This is where they make the original article. Hand made by artisans. Copied by factories all over the world. If you are lucky, you will see a demonstration. Secondly the ingredients, components or whatever are genuine. They are the real, all natural, all local thing. No imports, synthetics or chemicals here. Finally, the cost will be exceptional value for money. It may seem very expensive but this is genuine article, hand made to the highest standards, feel the quality, will last forever, an investment.

Today’s carpet shop was an alabaster factory. Here they made pots, plaques and little statues. We watched a demonstration. We were served tea. We were invited to look around the shop. I spotted a very familiar looking statue of the sun God Ra but said nothing. A certain demographic in our group came out with a ton of souvenirs to grace their mantlepieces and impress the folks back home. They all seemed very happy with their purchases.

Cairo

The Oxford English Dictionary defines culture shock as the “feeling of disorientation experienced by someone when they are suddenly subjected to an unfamiliar culture, way of life, or set of attitudes”. My princess describes culture shock as “it’s bonkers out there”. Our hotel in Cairo was in the heart of the Arabic quarter. Narrow streets surrounded by many old and magnificent buildings thronged with people and lined with many small shops and cafes. We arrived late afternoon and set off, just after dusk, to find something to eat. Immediately we were stuck by the cacophony of noise. Every other shop was blaring out music. Loud and distorted as the straining amplifiers were pushed to their limits. The narrow, cobbled roads were packed with people, dogs, motorbikes, small trucks and the odd car. There were also street artists, stilt-walkers, dervishes, musicians, beggars, people pushing carts or balancing loads on their head. Occasionally we spot some other tourists but for the most part it was local people out for the evening. Friday night in downtown Cairo is truly bonkers.

It was hot, well over 30°C, sweaty and noisy. We worked our way through the crowds past a myriad of shops, bazars, coffee houses and local artisans. After a good twenty minutes of slow progress, we found a café selling cheese and mushroom patties. These turned out to be two layers of thin bread with a filling. Very tasty but we barely got a moments peace to enjoy them. One of the essential commercial models in Egypt is to stand in front of your mark holding your goods and repeating the price many times while looking pleadingly. We had someone trying to sell henna decorations for Diane’s hand, twice. There were cigarette lighters, t-shirts, fridge magnet, scarves and several types of shawl presented to us all before our order had arrived. I was also offered a genuine Rolex watch – but I didn’t bother because I has already bought one in Morocco several years ago. Even with the patties in front of us there was no relenting. Every few seconds someone else would appear asking for a few dollars and refusing to the believe that we did not want a Chinese mass-produced replica of the sun god Ra.

There is an area of Cairo dominated by western style hotels. There are bars in this area frequented by Europeans. There are licenced liquor stores where you can pick up a bottle for your room. We were a long way from there. In the Arabic quarter they have no use for alcohol. Google assured me that the nearest place we could buy a drink was about five miles away. Given the taxi and traffic situation, this may as well have been on the moon. No Dutch comfort to help us through these challenging times then.

Back in our hotel room there was some blessed relief from the heat. The air conditioning was not great but it did work. Occasionally the fan made an alarming clattering noise as if several important components were about to fall out but then, after some stuttering, it kept going. The noise from outside, however, was showing no hint of abating. Friday night. Party night. We guessed they might turn the music down by midnight. We were wrong. It was at least 2am. Obviously, we deployed ear plugs. They helped, a bit, but with a line of shop speakers directly outside our room, all cranked up to 11, we could feel the noise through our bones.

Next day, Diane was beginning to come to terms with the environment. We had an easy day and in the evening went out for a meal and a show. The meal was at a lovely rooftop restaurant with a view of the pyramids. On the way we had caught our first views of the pyramids and could not help but be a little excited. The food was reasonable. A pot of stewed vegetables with rice. The wine was non-existent. Sparkling water was the most exciting drink they served. Many of the other diners were drinking fizzy sparkling drinks. Bottles of cola or other highly sweetened chemicals. I have always thought of these as kids drinks – although they are unbelievably bad for kids. Quite how the over-sweetened stuff goes with a savoury meal is something that I don’t think my taste buds can stretch to.

The show involved light and sound and the pyramids. Big, coloured lights, an ancient wall used as a projection screen and yet more big speakers. It was fun. The Sphinx turned out to be smaller than I expected. Undeterred by a slightly crackly speaker, it narrated the story of ancient Egypt to us in rich, expansive terms. It also explained how the pyramids were built to stand for eternity and defeat death. The three largest pyramids were illuminated in diverse hues to emphasise the point. It was fun if possibly a bit demeaning to magnificent ancient monuments. That night, Saturday night, the partying went on, again, to 2am.

Next morning we set off to properly get to grips with the pyramids. That they are big is the first and most obvious statement to make. Also, they are a massive tourist pull and locals are clearly embracing that for all it is worth. We had a guide, a young Egyptologist called Mayo, who proved to be very enlightening. Like many historical sites we have visited, you really need a guide. The whole system is set up to encourage this. Without a guide you will save some money but you will have to work out how to get around and what to see. You will also have to live without any explanations or information. Sometimes it is easier to go with the flow. On the Giza plateau are the three great pyramids of Cheops (Khufu), Chephren (Khafre), and Mykerinus (Menkaure). The smallest of these, Mykerinus, at a mere 62m was our first stop. Here we could go inside the structure. There is not a lot see. All the interesting things were stolen centuries ago. Still, it was fun. At the bottom of the tunnel we found a very friendly man who insisted on taking our photograph. Tipping is endemic in Egypt. Anyone who does anything, at all, for you expects to be tipped. Taking a photo, posing for a photo, showing you his camel, lifting or pushing anything, offering advice, helping you across the road – it all needs a tip. Frankly it is a complete pain. I think the tipping culture in general is essentially toxic. When it is ramped up to Egyptian levels it really starts get in the way of doing anything. Tourists are an important cash cow to Egypt, one that they are milking for all it is worth. We paid the man for his services and made our way back out. I had hoped the inside of a pyramid would be cool. It is not. We emerged, blinking in the sunlight, hot and sweaty.

We wandered around the other pyramids but were not allowed inside them. We declined several offers of a camel ride. We did not even buy any of the Chinese mass-produced replica statues of Ra, although there were plenty on offer. Eventually we arrived at the Sphinx. There was some fairly assertive queuing needed to get to the vantage point. I grabbed a couple of photographs and wondered where the speaker was concealed.

Later in the day we visited the Serapeum of Saqqara. This was the ancient Egyptian burial place for sacred bulls of the Apis cult at Memphis. It was believed that the bulls were incarnations of the god Ptah. They would become immortal after death. The animals were incarcerated in granite sarcophagi weighing around 40 tonnes. The lid added a further 25 tonnes. The Serapeum was abandoned at the beginning of the Roman Period. Subsequent looting and desecration left the temple in a sorry state and it later became buried in sand. It was rediscovered by Auguste Mariette in 1850. He found the head of one sphinx sticking out of the shifting desert dunes, cleared the sand and followed the avenue to the site. One of the sarcophagi was still intact so he blew it open with dynamite. This was the enthusiastic way of the Victorians. Sadly, the sarcophagus was empty.

We had a look inside a nearby temple. Nothing really visible at all from the surface but lots of interesting hieroglyphs inside. Finally, we visited the Step Pyramid of Djoser. Another massive structure, this one sits atop a labyrinth of tunnels and chambers 6 km long. We were not allowed inside them but by then we were hot, sweaty and tired. Quite happy to head back to our noisy hotel room. Even on Sunday night the street partying goes on until 2am.

Basilica Cisterns

The next day we were back at the Blue Mosque but with a different guide. Outside the Mosque is an area known as the Hippodrome of Constantinople. By way of compensation for the lack of any evidence of a hippodrome, there are three obelisks. The Obelisk of Theodosius is a massive granite monument originally from the Temple of Karnak in Egypt. It was originally erected by Pharaoh Thutmose III in the 15^th century BC. Several conquests later, it was transported to Constantinople by Emperor Theodosius I in 390 AD. This was a serious technical undertaking. They needed to build a ship especially to carry it. The other two obelisks looked far less interesting. They were smaller and did not have hieroglyphics carved into them.

We moved on to the Hagia Sofia. Possibly the most famous Mosque in the world and certainly a cultural centrepiece of Istanbul. Originally built as a church in the 6^th century it became the world’s largest interior space and among the first to employ a fully pendentive dome. Often considered the epitome of Byzantine architecture, it is said to have “changed the history of architecture”. After over a thousand years as the world’s largest cathedral, the Hagia Sophia was designated a mosque following the fall of Constantinople in 1453. The minarets were built shortly afterwards. In 1935 it became a museum and in 2020 a mosque again. Today it is a little of each. Visitors can access the first floor, for a fee. The ground floor is reserved for religious activity. Elements of the Christian history are still visible. Several mosaics remain and also a picture of the Mother Mary in the main dome. This is hidden behind a veil – no pictures of faces allowed in mosques.

The Sultans palace and museum were next and very conveniently located next door. The Ottoman sultans were revered as God-like figures and led a strangely cloistered existence. The museums started to give me brain fog although the weapons section (no photographs allowed) had some great swords.

Last visit of the day was to the Grand Bazaar. One of the largest covered bazaars on the planet boasting over 4,000 shops. Up to 400,000 visitors daily. In 2014, it was listed first among the world’s most-visited tourist attractions with 91,250,000 annual visitors. I don’t enjoy shopping and I don’t like crowds. The notion of spending a happy hour jostling with thousands of people to look at things you do not want to buy makes little sense to me. Fortunately, Diane is of a similar mindset. So, a quick look round and we escaped for a breath of fresh air.

Done with sightseeing for the day, we wandered off and found a machine for feeding cats. There are an awful lot of cats in Istanbul but, for the most part, they are well cared for. A government program neuters and vaccinates them. If you want to feed the cats you can put some cash in the machine which then deposits some kibble into a dish at the bottom. We also encountered a crowd of Liverpool football fans. They were here for a match at the main Istanbul stadium. There was a lot of drinking and singing going on. We gave this a wide berth although I was quite intrigued by the juxtaposition of the call to prayer with a rowdy rendition of “You’ll Never Walk Alone”.

In the evening, we went off looking for dinner. As you attempt to walk past most restaurants in Istanbul, someone with a menu will leap in front of you and attempt to entice you in. This is fine but on this occasion, we were specifically looking for some pede. Traditional fresh, flatbread stuffed with cheese and vegetables. The restaurant offered wine but no pede. No problem, they explained. Pede would be fetched for us from the pede specialist baker across the road (who did not serve wine). And so, it was. Drinks and starters directly from the restaurant, pedes, still hot, brought by our waiter running across the road.

Next day we looked at some colourful houses, small streets and churches. Then we dived into the Spice Bazaar. Small by comparison to the Grand Bazaar but still very crowded. I like spices. In fact, I’d even say, I was quite interested in them. Also, the displays of spices and herbs were colourful and artistically laid out. This made for some interesting photographic opportunities. Despite this, I had no intention of buying anything, so my attention was held for less than five minutes. I think I would prefer my spices in sealed jars rather than large containers that invite fingers, flies and anything else. Not to mention the fact that much of this stuff will lose its flavour if left out in the open too long.

A boat trip along the Bosphorus was a pleasant way to spend a couple of hours. The weather was nice and we were washed by a cool breeze while sat on the top deck. The Bosporus connects the Black Sea to the Sea of Marmara and forms one of the continental boundaries between Asia and Europe. It also divides Turkey by separating Asia Minor from Thrace. It is the world’s narrowest strait used for international navigation. Most of the shores are heavily populated. In Greek mythology, colossal floating rocks known as the Symplegades guarded both sides of the Bosporus destroying any ship that attempted to pass. They were finally overcome by the Argonaut hero Jason who passed between them unscathed. The rocks became fixed, opening Greek access to the Black Sea. It amused me that some of the tourist buses advertised themselves as BusForUs.

We sailed along the European side up to the second bridge. The Fatih Sultan Mehmet Bridge built in 1988. Then we crossed to the Asian side and came back. Along the way we saw elaborate homes built for sultans and modern homes with panoramic windows built for rich businessmen. We saw a very flashy looking hotel and also a couple of cruise liners, each packing 4,000 or so guests.

Last item of the day was the Basilica Cistern. This is something I have wanted to visit for a while. It is a vast underground water tank. This does not sound very exciting. It was built in the 6^th century underneath a site where a large Roman basilica (multipurpose building) had stood. This remarkable engineering feat was completed when London was just a little village by a river. 360 columns were requisitioned from old Roman buildings and temples. 7,000 slaves were used in the construction. I have pondered how they did this. My best guess is in digging holes and sliding the columns in. Then the roof is built, the surplus soil is removed and finally you can build the walls. The cistern provided a water filtration system for the Great Palace of Constantinople and other buildings on the First Hill. After the Ottoman conquest in 1453 it was mostly forgotten about and only used by locals. They used to fish in it. In 1985 the first major restoration began but not before being used by James Bond in 1963 for the classic “From Russia with love”. He uses the cistern to paddle under the Russian embassy – spoiler, the embassy is not really there, or anywhere close. The last restoration and earthquake proofing was completed in 2022. This included safe flooring and some nice lighting. The result is quite spectacular. Give me a interesting hole in the ground over a crowded ancient mall any day.

Back at our hotel, we went up to the rooftop bar to take photographs. The bar was closed but the views were still pretty good. In the distance we could see the busy Bosphorus. Closer were masses of small flats interspersed with mosques. Apparently there are over 8,000 mosques in Istanbul. The essential story behind many of them involved a rich person attempting to guarantee a good personal outcome in the afterlife.

In the evening we looked at a tower and a tram. Then we drifted aimlessly for a short while before finding a place for dinner. Next morning we would be flying to Cairo.

Todmorden to Istanbul

We arrived back in the UK the day before David’s funeral. My sister’s husband, David, had been battling MND (Motor Neuron Disease) for several years. It is a particularly cruel disease. From being an elite mountain marathon runner, David’s body was reduced, slowly but steadily, until he literally could not lift a finger and struggled to talk. His mind however, was still clear, sharp as a knife and his sense of humour undiminished. It was sad, painful to watch. We tried to help where we could. In particular, we accompanied Dave and Helen on trips to the Swiss Alps, to Morocco, to Italy and elsewhere. Each trip, was harder and more challenging for all of us.

Over two hundred people turned up for his funeral. They could not all fit into the church. Such was the respect he had locally. He had done well. From an apprentice at the local foundry he had gone on to gain a PhD and ended up a lecturer at the university. Along the way, he had three wonderful daughters, made a big muddy splash in the world of fell running and married my sister. He beat off an aggressive cancer but then, when the recovery was not going to plan, he was diagnosed with MND and cast onto its inevitable path. That was a most difficult day. The end of his suffering was a bitter-sweet affair. We were sad to lose him. There was also a sense of relief that his suffering was over.

This is the lovely Ailsa, David’s youngest daughter, she is running in the London marathon next April. She will be running the 26.2 miles (46.2 km) in honour of her father. Also, very importantly, to raise money for the MND Association. Details are here.

While in the UK we also celebrated Diane’s seventieth birthday. She was not very keen on this. It was easy to understand that marking the progress of the unavoidable did not sit well just then. We went off to a lighthouse near Newport for a few days. The West Usk lighthouse on the entrance to the Bristol channel was abandoned by Trinity house a hundred years ago. Since then, it has been wonderfully restored. We stayed in a small keepers cottage with a view straight out onto the channel. Here we could watch the sea washing over the mud flats driven by one of the largest tides in the world. We walked along the shore edge, watched the birds, cooked ourselves some great food and drank wine saved for the occasion. It was peaceful, introspective and a touch melancholic but we left feeling much more settled. The rest of our time in the UK was spent pleasantly visiting friends and helping Helen around the house.

Off again. A night at a Manchester airport hotel then we were flying into Istanbul. First attempt to land did not go well. The pilot aborted the landing a few metres before touchdown. Strong winds were the problem. I was reminded of the old maxim that any landing you can walk away from is a good one. Ten minutes later the second attempt went much better. Istanbul is enormous. 20m people. Istanbul airport is enormous. Twenty-minute taxi in the aircraft before we reached our stand. Quickly through passport control, baggage collection and customs. Forty-minute ride to our hotel, check-in, drop bags in room and head out for some food. Just like that we were travelling again. Felt great.

One of our favourite ways to look around a new city is by motorbike and sidecar. We found a company and met up with them the next day. Our bike was a Russian Ural. Looked like an old BMW with a big, air cooled flat two engine. Sounded great but tended to overheat in traffic. Our driver, Cem, clearly enjoyed his job. We shot off into the crowded Turkish streets and straight into weaving between cars, trucks, pedestrians and the occasional dog. It is a very exciting way to get around although you need to trust your driver. He took us to mosques, churches and other historic buildings. We visited a viewpoint in a park and posed with the bike. We crossed one of the immense bridges that span the Bosphorus to the Asian side of Istanbul. Another terrific viewpoint and then some small streets, too small for cars, before popping out by the docks. A small ferry brought us back to Europe where we drove against the traffic up a one-way road. Our driver had a Eventually we arrived close to the Hagia Sophia and were served pistachio coffee – delicious.

Our driver took a break. We’d been on the go well over three hours, so the lad needed a rest. One of his colleagues offered to walk us over to the Blue Mosque and some other sights. We followed him into the courtyard and he promptly got arrested. The policeman explained that we were being protected from scammers. Back at the coffee shop, it was explained as a big misunderstanding. When our guide returned, twenty minutes later, it was to a severe ribbing from his friends. First day out in Istanbul and we already had excitement and drama.

Hornsund

In the south eastern corner of Svalbard is the multifaceted Hornsund fjord. Considered by many to one of the more spectacular fjords in the archipelago it boasts numerous bays, mountains and glacial valleys. We arrived on a glorious sunny morning. Our boat group was near the end of the list so we had plenty of time for breakfast. Everyone is organised into small groups, approximately a boat full. The groups are called down in turn to the hull opening where we actually board the RHIBs. This keeps things moderately orderly and avoids queues. The order in which groups are called rotates each excursion, so sometimes you get off early and other times you have to wait. Waiting, in this case, involved breakfast so I thought this was ideal. Meals are all served as a buffet. The food is very good. Possibly the best we have ever had on a cruise ship. As vegetarians, we feel that sometimes we get a bit of poor deal. This breakfast was lovely. The man cooked me a cheese and onion omelette which I had with a hash browns. Yogurt on the side with fresh fruit, seeds and nuts. A large cappuccino. Good start for the day.

The landing at Burgerbukta was pleasant. Terrific views of mountains and glaciers. We walked up a small slope to a viewpoint. On the way back down I spotted a seal in the water. Spent a while sneaking up on it to get a better photograph but it made sure I did not get too close. I also stood on a rock almost a meter from the edge of the shore. Much to my surprise, I did not get told off. Perhaps no-one spotted my reckless gymnastics.

In the afternoon we had a second landing, at Gnålodden. There is a large bird cliff here. Many seabirds were soaring and swooping overhead. Mostly kittiwakes and guillemots. Very noisy. We had a gentle walk and spotted a pair of young kittiwakes (I think) nesting on a ledge. Our evening excursion was into an inlet opposite the Gnålodden landing site. Here the Spitzbergen sailed in close to the calving edge of the glacier. A spectacular way to end the day.

By the following day we had left the Hornsund fjord and were heading north again ever closer to Longyearbyen. We landed at Calypsobyen, another failed coal mine. Decrepit huts and rusting metal are all that remain. These still count as historic relics though so strictly no touching.

In the afternoon we landed at Bamsebu and more relics of another way of life. There were bones here. Great piles of bleached white bones from walrus and seal but mostly beluga whales. All left over from the hunting activities of yesteryear. The beluga would come into the shallows of the bay to feed and then get harpooned from a small rowing boat. Wooden winches on the beach were used to drag the bodies ashore for flensing. Even these bones, the rubbish from a way of life that thankfully died out decades ago, are relics and must be carefully sidestepped.

Our final day exploring Svalbard began at Trygghamna and the cliffs of Alkhornethosted. Reputedly home to 10,000 nesting pairs of seabirds. I can confirm that there were certainly a lot of them. We also saw a few reindeer here. Little Svalbard reindeer with thick woolly coats. The afternoon was spent boat cruising at Ymerbukta in front of the grumbling Esmarkbreen glacier. Up close to the glacier you could see some of the incredible complexity built by hundreds of years of snow being laid down to become ice. Though the odd crack, a cross section into a crevasse or an ice cave you could spot the deep, dark intense blue colour of ancient ice. Our guide assured me that the colour comes from refraction in the ice. Actually it comes from absorption, the same effect that makes the sky blue. It did not seem worth arguing the point at the time. Whatever it is caused by, it is spectacular in a rather eerie and menacing way.

We docked at Longyearbyen late in the evening. But before we got there, we sailed up past Barentsburg. The second largest settlement in Svalbard is Russian. A mining settlement established in the 1920s by the Dutch and then sold to the Russians. Svalbard is under Norwegian sovereignty but all signatories to the Svalvard Treaty of 1920 have equal rights over the exploitation of natural resources. Russia has continued mining operations there despite a few incidents such as a major underground fire in 2006. Since the invasion of Ukraine the situation has become increasingly fractious and delicate. Although Barentsburg is only 55 km from Longyearbyen there are no connecting roads and there is only very limited contact. The Spitzbergen did not get very close to the town but we could clearly see the mine buildings, power stations and accommodation units. It all smacked of that soviet era efficiency and purposefulness. We did not see any people. No-one appeared to be walking outside at all.

Next morning, very early , we were bundled onto the plane and before lunch we were back in Oslo collecting the car on a 30°C sweltering summers day. We took a steady drive back to the ferry at Rotterdam over several days. This gave us time to call in on a few friends. The inimitable Lars and Inge are still going strong despite a few health scares. As we left they were surrounded by daughters and grandchildren in a very solid and endearing family scene. We also spent a lovely few hours with Silke and Carston who have a fantastic house on the island of Sylt. We missed Kai in a confusion of dates. Sorry – next time, Kai. At the port border control we had a slightly odd discussion with the passport man who could not understand how we had been in Norway but outside of Schengen. I showed him the stamps in my passport and wondered why I was having to explain how the Schengen border works to a Schengen border official. Eventually he just muttered something and waved us on. A border guard that does not know his borders. Eventually we were on the ferry to Hull toasting the end of another trip and preparing for the dull thud of dropping into reality.

Bråasvellbreenbook

In the night, when it did not get dark, we returned from the ice edge to the islands of Svalbard. Specifically we arrived on the southern side of Chermsideøya. A rough little island that is only visited occasionally. Diane opted to stay near the landing site. I followed the flags across some rocks and a patch of snow to look at some geoglyphs. The walk was interesting, the geoglyphs less so. To me, they looked like some kids had been laying out rocks to spell their names. However, I was assured that these were historic markings from Arctic expeditions back to the 19^th century thus making them historic artifacts. Walking back, I went the wrong way round a boulder and got told off by one of the expedition team whose job was to make sure irresponsible tourists did not stray from the marked path. Fortunately, nothing bad happened and I survived unscathed.

In the afternoon we landed at Isflakbukta on the island of of Phippsøya. I cannot remember any of these names, in fact I cannot even pronounce most of them, but I can copy them from the expedition journal. I hope you are impressed. The weather had come in a bit. A low, sullen cloud settled damply on the hills around us. Here we were shown the most northerly cabin in Svalbard although we were not allowed anywhere near it. We were also encouraged to pick up rubbish. There was a lot of debris washed up on the beach. As far as I could tell it was bits of broken fishing gear – ropes, nets, floats, plastic sacs. I suggested to one of the expedition team that maybe the fishermen should be encouraged to clean up their own rubbish but she was not impressed with this idea. In all, some 90 kg of flotsam was collected and added to the Hx environmental credentials.

Next morning, near the island of Kvitøya, we spotted polar bears. Several of them wandering along the shore. The Svalbard Environmental Protection Act prohibits unnecessary disturbance, attraction, or pursuit of polar bears. It also specifies that ships should keep a minimum distance of 500 m. Even for something as enormous as a polar bear, this is still quite a distance for photography. Pictures tend to end up being a white dot in a grey landscape. There is however, apparently, a glorious exception to the distance rule. This is when a bear swims out to look at your ship. I would guess they are attracted by the smell of food. I am also guessing that manoeuvring a vessel with a bear in close proximity potentially endangers it. So, we just sit there, bobbing around, while the bear comes and inspects us. From the safety of the gunwale I can lean over with my big, news lens and look the bear in its eye. Brilliant. I took a lot of pictures. Here are just a few of them.

We continued sailing down the east coast of Nordaustlandet until, in the evening, we encountered the Bråsvellbreen. This is a massive glacier with about 45 km of ice cliffs calving into the sea. Reminded me of Antarctica and the Brunt ice shelf. I mentioned this to one of the crew but they disagreed. I realised later that their experience of Antarctica was limited to the norther tip of the peninsular. This is as far as most tourist ships ever get. So they had never seen an ice shelf. Whatever, it was all quite spectacular and we spent a very pleasant evening taking in the views, taking and few photographs and taking the occasional glass of wine.

Next day there was another ugly of walruses. A great big blubbery pile of them on the beach. We could get a bit closer this time. We landed at Kapp Lee on the northeastern tip of Edgeøya island. There are some old trappers huts here and we had an excellent walk up a small hill to look at birds. There were a few reindeer around that were keeping their distance. There was also a fox. I did not see it but someone showed me a picture later. Arriving at the ugly of walruses, we kept a respectful distance, aided by a line of barrier flags that had been set up. Occasionally one would lift its head, snort and dribble snot. Very briefly we spotted a couple of walruses having some sort of disagreement in the water. I do like walruses but I cannot help thinking that the save the walrus campaign might be more successful if they smartened themselves up a bit.

Kinnvika

In the evening, we sailed north to the little island of Moffin. Just north of the 80^th parallel, this island hosts a large flock of walruses. Other collective noun for walruses are: herd, huddle, pod and ugly. An ugly of walruses. They can live for 30 years and weigh over 1.5 tonne. Large tusks make them formidable adversaries. They are predated by polar bears and orca but generally just the young or injured walruses. As is often the case in the Arctic, their biggest enemy is humans. Today there are around 5,000 walruses around Svalbard but in the previous two centuries they were nearly hunted into extinction. Blubber and ivory are the major products.

Commercial walrus harvesting is now outlawed, although Chukchi, Yupik and Inuit peoples are permitted to kill small numbers towards the end of each summer. I was thrilled to finally see some walrus. The Spitsbergen kept a good distance from the uglies. The word uglies here could refer to several groups of walruses or it might just hint at the ugliness of the walrus. They lack the cuteness of the polar bear or the sleekness of an orca. They dribble a lot and roll around in the muck. Distance and poor light made photography, even with the new camera, difficult. The sun never set the whole time we were up there. It did however dip towards the horizon in the evening.

Next morning we woke at Kinnvika, a former research station in the high Arctic landscape of Nordaustlandet. The station built during the International Geophysical Year (IGY) 1957-59. This was also when the first base at Halley Bay, Antarctica was built. Halley base is still going strong. I worked there in 1988/9. Kinnvike sadly, has fallen into disrepair. There are still several huts scattered around. One of them I recognised as being built for auroral observations. A rusting amphibious vehicle is parked outside. This looked like it would have been great fun in its day. The base has been used a couple of times since IGY but essentially it is just a historical relic.

Leaving Kinnvike, we spotted a fin whale. Second largest cetacean after the blue whale. Up to 80 tonnes. Like other large whales the population was devastated in the post war whaling boom and they are still only very slowly recovering. A rare privilege to spot one.

It is a common misconception that most whales were killed during the romantic age of whaling. Wooden boats and heroic sailors of the 18^th and 19^th century. This sentimentalised view comes from the literature, art, and popular culture of the age. The exoticism of faraway voyages and the epic battles with giant whales held great popular appeal. The reality is that most whales were killed, after WW2, using explosive harpoons fired from fast motorboats. They were processed in massive factory ships that could handle hundreds of whales at a time. This was a valuable contribution to the post-war economy of many countries. Whaling finally abated when petroleum products became viable alternatives. At the same time, the whaling industry, with the steep decline of global whale populations, became uneconomic.

In the afternoon we reached the bird cliffs of Alkefjellet. From a distance these look like normal cliffs but as we got closer, in the RHIBs, we could see the birds. Thousands of them. Mostly Brünnich’s guillemots with a few other types to add colour. The air was full of birds, the cliffs were covered in nesting birds and the smell was, well, distinctive. Nesting, in this case, means perching on impossibly small ledges and using any lower perching birds as a toilet. The guillemots are also known as thick-billed murres. Their chicks have a harsh start in life. Once big enough, they jump off the cliff and try to make it to the water where a parent is waiting. The dilemma, as I saw it, is that if you nest lower down, the chick has an easier route to the water but you need to put up with all the birds higher up. The rocks, in places are completely white with bird guano. Nesting higher up means the chick bounces more on the way down and so has less chance of arriving intact. Sailing close to the cliffs we found it advisable to wear a hat. The birds took very little notice of us. Even so, we were careful not to get too close. Back on the ship we settled down for the evening while the captain set a course due north.

By the morning, we were considerably further north and surrounded by mist. Lunchtime the mist began to lift as we arrived at the ice edge. At just over 82°N this was the southern limit of the Arctic ice cap. The ice was mostly brash. Loose pieces of broken pack ice that stretched to the horizon. An ice ship could have ploughed straight into this but the Spitsbergen is not built for the rough stuff so we just pottered around the edge. Even so, this was a record, the farthest north ever reached by a ship in the HX fleet.

The north pole was just 550 miles away. We spent the rest of the at the ice edge. There were a few sea birds, mostly guillemots. A few seals. And a terrific view of ice. Ice everywhere.

Gravensodden

First nature landing of the trip. We arrived at Magdalenafjorden in the morning. One of the more spectacular fjords of Svalbard, it is surrounded by rough snowy peaks and glaciers emerging from dark rocky valleys. Gravensodden is a site of significant historical interest. Whaling operations began here back in the 16^th century which is also when the first graves were dug. Since then, many people, whales and walrus have died here. The people, over a hundred of them, got buried while the animals were boiled down in large blubber ovens. The grave site is fenced off and out of bounds. In the past, tourists opened the coffins that had been pushed up to the surface by the action of permafrost. They took bones as souvenirs and even made campfires from the wooden coffin remains. This sort of thing is frowned upon now. Tales from the past talk of many animal remains strewn around although we saw little of this. We did enjoy a short wander around while taking in the scenery and in the far distance spotted a handful of walruses.

Back on board the Spitsbergen, we headed to our next landing site, Smeerenburg, but discovered a polar bear had got there first. This meant no landing. Too dangerous. Polar bears look cute from a distance but they are the apex predator. Powerful and occasionally unpredictable. We watched from a distance and from the safety of the ship. The bear was quite difficult to spot. Using a smartphone as a camera your bear would be just a couple of pixels big. A white dot in the middle of large mountainside. Fortunately, before this trip started, I had upgraded my camera equipment. Started off by selling everything. Over the years I had accumulated a varied selection of lenses and camera bodies. I only took a selection of these travelling but even so it felt like lugging around a lot of gear. So, the whole lot went on ebay and I started again. Began with a Canon EOS R5 MkII. Mirrorless cameras offer a lot of advantages over the traditional SLR. Smaller, lighter, faster. Less moving parts. Battery life is a bit of an issue but manageable if you prepare. The combination of mirrorless with latest generation of lenses is powerful and lightweight. Sensors are now more sensitive. Combined with image stabilisation this means you can use smaller aperture lenses. I went for a 200-800mm for distance work, 70-200mm for general purpose and 24-70mm for wide angles. Three lenses, one body, a handful of batteries and a monopod. So far, this is all working out extremely well. In fact, I am even considering dropping the monopod because the low light performance is so good.

Meanwhile, back at the bear, it was still in the far distance, whatever lens you used. He walked around but never came any closer. The ship is not allowed to go closer. Another, much smaller, ship had arrived with more spectators with long lenses. They also kept a good distance. We watched for the best part of an hour and then spotted that the bear had picked up some sort of large, white plastic bag. I found this a bit sad. The bear was playing with discarded rubbish. We left him to it and sailed round the corner into Fuglefjorden. Another fabulously pretty fjord with glaciers calving directly into the water. Pleasant weather meant a chance for the kayakers to get out for a paddle. Neither Diane nor I are especially interested in kayaking albeit for different reasons. I have, from time to time, kayaked in a range of places but never really found it particularly engaging. Diane is afraid that she would fall in the icy water and die. We watched the paddlers and pondered the glaciers for a while before wandering off to find a cocktail to end the day.

Next day we landed at Jotunkjeldene where there is a hot spring. This was interesting but not as exciting as it might have been because we were not allowed anywhere near it. The water is heated by a geothermal hot spot deep underground. As is seeps out, colourful minerals, carbonates, are deposited in a slowly growing dome. We had a nice walk and found a lot of flowers. Very short growing season here so all the flowers everywhere come out at the same time. I was impressed with how hardy they are. Eight months of freezing cold and snow then they pop up at the first chance to bask in the sun.

In the afternoon we were a little further down Liefdefjorden at an old trapper’s hut called Texas Bar. Nobody could offer a good explanation for the name. It is not in Texas or from Texas and it is definitely not a bar. It is however one of the few names in the area that I can confidently pronounce. Technically it is a historic relic although it could easily be mistaken for an old shed. Apparently some hardy souls still use it in the winter after travelling by snow mobile from Longyearbyen. We walked a short way up the hillside. As far as we were allowed. Then we hung around for a while enjoying the views and trying to spot Beluga whales in the shallows. Somebody claimed they saw an arctic fox – but I am not sure I believed them.

Ny-Ålesund

It was late afternoon when we landed at Longyearbyen. We were, for all intents, a complete ship’s complement of guests. About 80 of us. Once all the luggage had been retrieved, we got herded into a couple of coaches and driven into town. Our hotel was the Funken Lodge. I was slightly disappointed to find nothing funky about it although it is a pleasant hotel. In the evening, we reacquainted ourselves with the town taking care to stay inside the limits. It is actually an offence to leave Longyearbyen without a flare gun and rifle in case of polar bears. We found some geese trotting around with small, fluffy goslings. They seemed harmless.

Next day we had a tour of Longyearbyen. This intrigued me because Longyearbyen is not very big. You can walk right round it in 20 minutes. What actually happened was that we were taken by coach out to a clutch of buildings not far from where we met our sledge dogs last year. Here, in a cosy little hut with a blazing fire we were given a short talk along with coffee and pancakes. I slipped out early to visit the dogs tied up outside and to photograph a rather indignant Arctic Tern. Later we were taken to the museum and eventually to our ship, the MS Spitsbergen.

The ship is a converted car ferry. Just under 100m long. She was refitted by Hurtigruten and went into service in 2016. Although the vessel can carry over 300 passengers, most trips involve fewer. In our case there were about 80 people. MS Spitsbergen is a comfortable ship. Our cabin was compact and well equipped. Meals are served at a buffet restaurant. The large bar at the front of the ship is also used for lectures and presentations. One of the old car decks now holds half a dozen RHIBS for shore landings and cruising.

We spent the evening exploring the ship and the bar. Next morning we woke to find the ship tied up at Ny-Ålesund. The settlement was established to mine coal. This never worked very well. Neither did an attempt to quarry marble. Not recognised officially as a town by the Norwegian Government, it is the northernmost functional civilian settlement in the world. Ny-Ålesund has an all-year permanent population of 30 to 35, with the summer population reaching 114. Most people there are involved in research. Eighteen research institutions from eleven countries have a more or less permanent presence.

It is also the place from where Amundsen and Umberto attempted to reach the North Pole. They used an airship and flew over the pole to Alaska. The discovery of the North Pole is a complex story but this is regarded by some as the first successful expedition to the North Pole. The airship was moored using a 30m steel tower. It is still there.

We wandered around for a while. I got the odd glimpse of some interesting looking science. Naturally, being tourists, we were not allowed anywhere near any of them. In the far distance we could see two large vertically orientated parabolic radio dishes. These are a very-long-baseline interferometer. Part of a global network of devices used to precisely fix the position of the earth in space, monitor its orbit and monitor satellites. We looked at the Zepplin tower, an abandoned mine train and found another bust of Amundsen. The weather started to close in so headed back to the ship.

Miniatur Wunderland

We are going back to Svalbard. Last year we had a brilliant land-based week there doing dog sledding and snowmobiles. This time we were going to sail right around the archipelago with HX (formerly known as Hurtigruten Expeditions) on the converted ferry boat, the MS Spitzbergen.

First, we needed to get to Oslo. We chose to drive. Partly because I liked the idea of a short road trip in the newly repaired Range Rover. Also to visit a few friends along the way. The friends all turned out to be unavailable, so we went to Miniatur Wunderland instead. A converted warehouse in Hamburg is home to what Guinness World Records describes as the world’s largest model railway system. Apparently one of the most popular and visited sights in Germany. 1,230 digitally controlled trains with 12,000+ wagons. 5,280 houses, more than 11,800 vehicles, 52 airplanes and around 290,000 figures.

It is all quite remarkable. The entire train set spans several rooms and two buildings. The scenes are all interconnected. Here and there are glass panels set into the floor where you can see trains travelling between the different areas. Every 15 minutes or so the room lights fade and the models go into night mode. Tiny little lights, thousands of them, switch on everywhere. The first few rooms are areas around Hamburg and then things get progressively ambitious. The airport features planes taking off and landing. Austria has working cable cars. There is real water, with tides, in the North Sea. Antarctica obviously has penguins as well as a detailed model of the wreck of Shackleton’s ship, the Endurance. Elsewhere we could see scenes of Peru and the altiplano being created.

There are numerous scenarios being acted out. Some sort of criminal heist on a bridge. Several buildings on fire. Racing fire trucks. A car crash. A petrol station sign displaying, electronically, real fuel prices. Cars and trucks run on the roads. A model of the Monaca F1 racetrack features a live race. An enormous amount of electronics and computers must be used to control everything.

A sense of humour pervades all the model scenes. I did not expect this in Hamburg. Looking carefully, you can spot kangaroos in unlikely places. The odd dinosaur. Quite a lot of penguins. One of which was jumping in a bouncy castle. There is a crashed spaceship in the mountains and a motorised toilet in Monaco.

We spent about three hours there by which time it was starting to feel a bit stuffy and claustrophobic. Probably a wonderful place for spreading Covid. It was however interesting and quite rewarding – the more time you spent studying the detail, the more you could spot. In some ways Miniature Wunderland, is a testament to what happens if a gang of nerdy types have too much time on their hands. On the other hand, it a great demonstration of just how far you can go with a model train set.

Leaving Hamburg, we drove north to Denmark where we stumbled across sand sculptures in the town of Søndervig. Advertised as “more than just sandcastles”. This is an annual event where artists from around the world create elaborate sand art. I think they must then do something to stabilise the sand. When we arrived, it was drizzling but the sand was not being washed away. The theme for this year was the history of Greenland. The kingdom of Denmark includes Greenland – a fact which has received considerable attention lately since Trump suggested that the US could purchase it. I suspect Denmark is actively trying to draw attention to this.

We chose a beautiful scenic route up the west coast of Denmark. The rain and mist unfortunately made it look like just about everywhere else when it is raining and foggy. Arriving at Hirtshals, we took the ferry to Larvik. About three hours of sailing in the fog and rain. Eventually we arrived at our hotel close to the airport.

Next day we found Oslo airport to be remarkably busy. We arrived at lunchtime and there were long queues at the security check. An hour later, the security woman was complaining at me. We get told not to put electronics and batteries in hold luggage. It goes in the hand luggage and gets checked on a conveyor belt through an x-ray machine. My luggage typically contains a lot of camera gear. Usually this goes straight through the machine. At least nine out of ten trips. In Oslo, the very stern woman declared that it all needed to be unpacked and sent back through the machine separately. I was trying to hold my trousers up at the time because I had been instructed to remove my belt before walking though the machine with a green light. The woman complained that I was wasting her time by putting my belt on before emptying the case. I was not keen on dealing with a grumpy security person with my trousers half down. Thus, we arrived at the interesting situation where she was visibly annoyed with me for wasting her time while I was similarly annoyed at her for wasting my time. I have long since learned that expressing annoyance, or any emotion really, at border officials is to invite extra delays, searching and worse. My face was in the fixed, vacuous smile saved for such occasions. She complained that she had a protracted line of people to check. I thought that maybe if they did not insist on unpacking everything that it might go a bit quicker. And I maintained the smile. Eventually, once all my camera parts had been round at least twice, I got to repack the bag. This caused further annoyance because I needed to use the counter space that she might otherwise have employed for being grumpy at another passenger. Finally packed and ready to leave I was stopped by another border official who wanted to see my passport. It was the sole occupant of my breast pocket. I handed it over and he carefully checked to make sure I was not smuggling anything inside it. Even gave it a little shake. The smile almost slipped.

Four hours later we arrived at the very tiny airport in Longyearbyen, Svalbard. It was still a bit cloudy, so we saw little during the aircraft’s approach. Fortunately, it began to clear just as we landed and I could spot tantalising splashes of snow on the hillsides.

Grossglockner

Austria’s high alpine road, the Großglockner, was purpose built as a tourist attraction in the 1930s. At 2,500 m, it is the highest road in Austria and attracts over 350,000 vehicles each year. The biker hotel Birkenhof served us a great breakfast. They also sold us a discounted ticket for the Grossglockner, which is a toll road. The sun was out and a few clouds scudded around the alpine foothills. The weather was almost perfect. Warm without being hot. Dry and clear.

We were heading north. The road wound up a range of hills with tantalising views of the alps in the distance. Then we dropped down into the Drautal valley, a beautiful area of mountains, forests, waterfalls and rivers. Popular not only because of the road but also for skiing, biking, hiking and climbing. At Dölsach, we left the main valley and started following the Möll river north to the foot of the Grossglockner mountain. Here we could skip the queue at the toll booth with our pre-paid ticket and started the climb up to the Kaiser-Franz-Josefs-Höhe visitors’ centre at 2,369 m.

Apparently, Emperor Franz visited here in 1856 and quite liked the place. I could see why. The views are spectacular although the glacier has mostly melted now. An impressive collection of old cars was coming down the road. They all had badges indicating an organised rally. In fact, the whole place was busy with many drivers out enjoying the weather. After seeing an enthusiastic motorcyclist nearly make a spectacular mess of a corner, we resolutely decided to keep it slow and safe. There are a few places on this road where if you came off it would really spoil your day.

We hung around the observation platform for a while and spotted some marmots. A couple of real, live animals at the bottom of a wall and hundreds of stuffed toys in the enormous souvenir shop. There were many motorbikes parked up in a large parking area exclusively for bikes. The road is particularly popular with bikers. We reckoned we saw more big motorcycles in this one day than we saw in the whole of the rest of our trip.

Heading higher up we passed through a small tunnel which crosses the Alpine divide. On the north side of the Alps we followed a side road up to the Edelweißspitze viewpoint at 2,571 m. This involves a sequence of hairpins bends on a narrow, cobbled road. Care and balance required. With a fully loaded bike and a pillion this can be a bit tricky. We succeeded without embarrassing ourselves and parked up with the other bikes.

More beautiful views. Majestic mountains. Snow and glaciers fuelling the many torrents cascading down precipitous, craggy walls. Far in the distance is a glimpse into the lush valleys. A lovely little mountain hut, the Edelweißhutte, is here. They were doing a roaring trade serving bikers sat around in the sunshine. It was not just bikers up here. But it was mostly bikers. We discovered that you could stay overnight in the Edelweißhutte. An excellent adventure, at 2,571 m, for another time. We needed to press on.

Descending the cobbles was a little easier than getting up. Back on the road we began negotiating the seemingly endless sequence of hairpins that bring you down off the Hochtor pass. The air got warmer. Steep, rocky walls gave way to forested slopes. Amongst fields of cows, we passed the northern toll booth on our way to Bruck in the Salzach valley. We had been in this area last winter for some skiing. It looked hugely different now. The ski runs were green tongues lapping down the hillsides and the frozen lakes were blue and alive with birds. Late afternoon we bade goodbye to the Alps and crossed into a bit of Czechia that sort of protrudes into Austria.

Next day, we started the trek back to the UK. North through Czechia. Pilsen. Carlsbad. Then into Germany near Leipzig. From there, pretty much due west to Rotterdam and the ferry. Five days of steady riding. Each morning, we would breakfast, get our riding gear on, pack the bike and set off down the road. In the evening, we would arrive, relax for a while, have dinner and go to bed. After six weeks on the road, we had totally settled into the rhythm of it. The last few days were thoroughly enjoyable although there was nothing spectacular. We took very few photos. I often find that at the very end of a trip you start looking backwards more than forwards. Reflecting on everything that happened. 14,000 km. 12 countries. It had been a good one.

Lake Balaton

North from Novi Sad to Hungary. At the first border crossing we were denied. “This is a small border, for Europeans, you have to go to the big border”. Since we are no longer part of the EU we can only leave Serbia at major crossing points. Thank you Brexit. Leaving the pleasant, quiet country roads, we slogged up the motorway for over an hour. Spent the next hour baking in the sun while standing in line. Got into Hungary with no problems but then we were a long way off the planned route. The afternoon was four hours of motorway tedium.

We arrived by the eastern end of Lake Balaton hot, dusty, tired and in need of a drink. Lake Balaton is the largest freshwater lake in central Europe and an important tourist destination. In particular, Germans like to come here to do “wellness”. I have never completely fathomed what this is about. It involves, amongst other things, getting hot in a spa and wandering around in white bathrobes. We settled in a shady spot just outside to enjoy a glass of cold, white wine before we did anything else. Two elderly, somewhat overweight men, clad in just speedos, came and started playing table tennis right next to us. I could only guess what nationality they were. We moved round the corner.

Next day was a leisurely ride alongside the lake. Balaton is 170 km long so this is not a trivial ride but it was lovely to relax a bit after the full-on slog of the previous day. Another warm and sunny day gave the place a holiday feel. Cycling is exceedingly popular here. There are dedicated cycle trails right the way around the lake. We took it easy and stopped for several coffee breaks along the way. Our hotel at the far western end of the lake was another “wellness” establishment. It also described itself as “superior”. We have since decided to view the words “wellness” and “superior” a hotel description as a warning. There were indeed many superior people doing wellness – but this is no place for bikers.

Leaving the hordes of white towelling clad Germans in the morning we headed for Croatia. Easy, rolling countryside and slightly cooler weather made for a great ride. We only clipped the corner of Croatia before entering Slovenia. Another lovely country of picturesque rural landscapes and quaint villages. We passed north of the fabulously named capital city of Ljubljana. Not sure why but I really like this name. Was very pleased when I finally learned how to pronounce it. Our hotel was perfect. A stark contract to the night before. Unpretentious, small, friendly, cosy and familiar. A traditional wood and stone building with a sense of an old coaching Inn about it. We were served a basic meal of pasta. No overpriced sparkling water, no carefully ironed linen napkins and absolutely no genuflecting. What we did get was delicious food matched perfectly with a bottle of local wine. We could relax here comfortably without feeling we were being judged.

In the morning, we headed for the lovely town of Bled. A pretty place with views across Lake Bled and overlooked by Castle Bled. Unfortunately, it is a tourist magnet. Even this early in the season it was packed with coaches and gangs of tourist sheep being led around by their guides. We kept going. Not even stopping for a mouthful of cremeschnitte (custard slice) that the area is famous for. Past the lake and south into the mountains. Soon we were far from the madding crowds and winding our way up small, steep roads with glimpses of snow. By the evening, we had crossed two excellent mountain passes to arrive at the town of Tolmin. Here we lucked upon one of the best pizzas of the trip.

I had hoped we could ride the Transfăgărășan highway in Romania but we were thwarted. It does not open until July. No matter, we could at least do the Vršič Pass, also known as the Russian Road in Slovenia. The day dawned bright and clear. We got an early start but it was not to be. No idea why the road was closed. Checking the internet revealed nothing. But there it was. A great big red circle sign erected in the middle of the road. It was was definitely closed. We turned left and went to Italy. This proved to be quite fun. Another, less famous, pass but interesting none the less. Great views. From there we crossed into Austria and a terrific biker hotel in the foothills. Suddenly we were in a different sort of world. Everyone at this hotel was a biker. Everyone had an adventure bike. We were made to feel very welcome. Bikes all went in a secure shed. We sat outside with the others and talked about bike things while dining, Austrian style, on dumplings. Next day we would tackle Austria’s highest mountain pass – the Großglockner-Hochalpenstraße.

Danube

In the morning the cows came down to the lake. A lovely pastoral scene to contemplate over breakfast and the cows found it very refreshing. I did wonder a little about how suitable the lake was for the people swimming there the previous evening.

Back on the bike, we headed north-west towards a Greek national park. The sat nav took us on a wicked short cut through the town of Stavroupoli. It does this occasionally. Instead of the sensible route around a town, it will calculate a slightly faster route through some back roads. This particular one took us up a steep hill on pavement. Vehicles were allowed but it was very narrow. We needed to dodge people, children and dogs on the cobbled, twisty route while working quite hard just to keep the bike upright. We prevailed and emerged intact onto a lovely road that wound though the hills and forests to the city of Drama. From here we went north over some mountains towards the ski town of Volakas. Initially the route was very promising. We descended into a deep valley filled by a lake. After crossing the bridge, the road became substantially smaller and we needed to be careful of the rocks strewn across the tarmac. Eventually the road became a track and then a muddy path. We are not equipped for muddy paths. Especially in a remote area of a Greek national park with nobody around for miles. So, to avoid further drama, we headed back to Drama. Leaving Drama on the main road to Volakas, it began to rain. Heavy, cold, driving rain that covered the road in sheets of water. At least we were not on a muddy track in the mountains. We arrived at Volakas completely sodden and it continued to rain through much of the night.

The morning was bright and sunny. We had an exceptionally good breakfast and set off for Bulgaria. Now we are back in the EU the borders are a complete anti-climax. In fact, occasionally, you need to be on your toes to spot them at all. This border was marked by a “peace tunnel” that connected the two countries. We continued north and climbed into the next range of mountains. The rain caught us again and the temperature dropped. The road climbed higher and then there was snow. It did not actually snow on us but there was plenty of snow on the hills around us and, in places, on the road. All we could do was press on. Fortunately, the route began to descend and the rain eased. Eventually we arrived at the lovely Batak reservoir and parked up just as the sun came out. We had booked a particularly pleasant hotel. A good meal with lashings of Bulgarian wine made a great way to finish a hard and somewhat uncomfortable day.

Sofia next. A comfortable ride of just a few hours and then the usual fun coping with the city centre traffic. Trams and the rails they used added some further interest. Sofia is the capital of Bulgaria and home to a wealth of museums and churches. We stayed at a wonderful hotel right in the centre of the city. It was a little dated but for a very modest cost we had a massive room and got to park the bike safely inside their courtyard. In the evening, we looked at a few of the museums and churches from the outside and then found an excellent Indian restaurant for dinner.

Going north from Sofia brought us to Montana and a lovely lake. The next day was equally uneventful riding that brought us into Romania and the river Danube just north of Vidin. Late morning I got a message from the hotel we had booked to say that their restaurant was closed because it was a national holiday. We would have to sort our own dinner. Buying it was the first problem. National holiday. Everywhere was closed. Eventually, we chanced on a small village shop where we could buy a few basics. When we arrived at the hotel, we found the whole building was closed. No-one else there at all. The cooking facilities proved to be a single microwave oven. Not much use for the pasta and vegetables we had picked up. Outside was a firepit and this turned out to be our culinary saviour. With a plentiful supply of wood, we soon had a blazing fire on which to cook our food and to sit round while enjoying more Bulgarian wine. In the morning, I revived the fire. We breakfasted on toast with cheese, slightly smoked, and a large pot of coffee.

We rode along the banks of the Danube for the entire day. Past the spectacular Iron Gates. Despite the name, they are neither iron or gates but in fact a deep gorge forming the border between Romania and Serbia. The whole section is over 100 km long and, as we discovered, is quite popular with bikers. Eventually we arrived in Moldova – not the east European country, but a town in Romania. Here it was still a national holiday. Fortunately our host for the night, a remarkably friendly man called Fabio, ordered pizza and sat us down with some of his home-made wine.

Next morning we rode north across a small range of hills and crossed into Serbia. At the border, because we were leaving the EU again, we needed to present passports and vehicle documents. Otherwise, it was painless. We pressed on to Novi Sad. Here we stayed in a glorious old building. Some sort of castle converted into a hotel and perched high on a cliff overlooking the Danube and the town. In Serbia it was not a national holiday. We found a restaurant that was open just next to the hotel. Not only open but serving some terrific food involving roasted peppers, mushrooms, garlic and chilli. There was also wine of course and we got to watch the sunset over the Danube.

Black Sea

With two speeding tickets to my name, I needed to up my game if Turkey was not going to become very expensive. The obvious strategy would be to stay below the limit. However, as I had found out to my cost, it is not always easy to know what the limit is for bikes. My satnav was completely useless in this respect. Roads signs only gave limited information. Background reading was often contradictory. I read that the limit on motorways was 80 kph for bikes. With the rest of the traffic doing 130 kph this did not sound at all safe. All the speed radars that I had seen were forward facing. This is good news for bikes because they can’t capture your number plate. It only works when there is someone down the road, watching a live feed, that can flag you down. The set up for this was usually a small temporary warning sign on the hard shoulder. A couple of hundreds of metres later would be a parked police vehicle with the radar mounted on its roof and a similar distance further along the road would be coned down to one lane where the police were waiting. There were also radar and other sensors on gantries over the road. Most of these, at the entrance and exit to towns, were, I think, more to do with ANR. Keeping track of who goes where.

The road north to Hapa on the Black Sea was spectacular. It wound along a series of mountain passes and was virtually deserted. The sun was shining and the air was fresh. We had a relaxed night at a resort type hotel on the coast and then turned west. The coast road was very different but equally enjoyable. Mostly it was tight, twisty roads in and out of the small valleys running down to the sea. Occasionally we dropped into a town and here the road would be dual carriageway interrupted by multiple sets of traffic lights. There was usually a hard shoulder. Separated from the main carriageway by a solid white light. It found far more use that just being for breakdowns. It was also used for parking, for horse drawn vehicles, for filtering at lights (even for cars), for loading and unloading trucks and could also be used if you needed to drive against the main flow of traffic. Very useful.

After three days we turned inland to avoid Istanbul. Far too busy to be an enjoyable ride. We find big cities are better visited on foot. Instead, we headed towards the Dardanelles straits where we could cross to Gelibolu and mainland Europe. This area controls maritime access to the Black Sea and has been the scene of many conflicts over the ages. In WW1 over 300,000 soldiers were killed at Gallipoli in a failed invasion that lasted eight months and badly discredited Winston Churchill. The largest single span suspension bridge in the world is here. Built in 1915, the Çanakkale bridge has a central span of just over two kilometres. We chose the ferry but nearly changed our minds when we saw the queue. Sometimes, however, being on a bike is just wonderful. We were waved though. Past rows of trucks and scores of cars right up to the ship. Here we just had time to buy a ticket before being literally the last vehicle onboard.

A short ride took us the border with Greece. Here I had to pay my speeding fines. Just the two, I had successfully avoided any further trouble. No further checks, so long as the bill was paid I was free to go. So we arrived in Greece and lovely hotel in a quiet village just past Alexandroupoli.

Lake Van

Leaving Göreme we headed off into some lovely wide-open roads that curved up into the hills. Traffic was light. The air was cool. We lent into the curves and let the KTM enjoy a bit of space and freedom. Then, coming round a bend, the traffic police pulled me over and gave me a speeding fine. That smarted a bit. Suitably contrite, we resumed the road at a steadier pace. Then came a textbook example of the sympathetic use of nature. One that completed our transition from joyous freedom to serious intent. It started to rain. The rain got heavier so we took shelter at a petrol station. We didn’t need fuel. Just sat under cover drinking Turkish tea until things improved. Back on the road we got another couple of hours in before another squall hit. This time we did need petrol, so I dived into the next station. A pleasant young lad filled the bike and then invited us for tea while the rain passed. I went out to check the bike while it was parked under the station canopy. Always a good idea to periodically look over the tyres, chain and so on. While I was busy with this, the lad, barely in his mid-twenties, was declaring his love for Diane – via Google Translate. Seriously. She explained that she was nearly seventy to which he replied that she hid her age with her beauty. When the conversation turned to sex my princess decided it was time for a swift exit. Putting her helmet on as she came over to the bike, she explained that she had pulled but it was time to go.

Arriving at our hotel in Mus, which advertised private on-site parking, we were invited to park the bike right outside the hotel entrance. This involved a couple of steep ramps onto a polished marble floor. I was happy that I managed this without dropping the bike. Next day, we headed to Lake Van. This is enormous. We could not see across it. The weather improved enormously and we had a lovely drive along the south side of the lake to the city of Van. Parking arrangements here were similar to Mus. The bike ended up right outside the rotating door to the hotel. We went of to explore the city but did not get much further than a very nice bar where we enjoyed some wine. For dinner we visited a restaurant specialising in pide. A Turkish version of pizza (which came first?). Bread with melted cheese and mushrooms cooked in a wood fired oven. Served with salad and a tomato and garlic salsa.

In the morning, we went to see a sanctuary for Van cats run by the university. Van cats, originating from Lake Van in Turkey often have heterochromia (one eye of each colour) and are known as the swimming cats. They have been observed to swim in Lake Van. The ones we saw in a sanctuary had their own swimming pool but we did not see them swim – and we were not allowed to throw them in the water. They were extremely cute though and we paid extra to feed them. Leaving Lake Van we passed a big blue road sign that posted the speed limits for various vehicles. 110 kph for cars, lower speeds for different categories of truck. Ten minutes later I was pulled over for speeding again. Now I discovered that although it is not posted, anywhere, the speed limit for motorcycles, on the main roads, is 90 kph. I was flabbergasted. A key issue for motorcycling is being able to keep up with the flow of traffic. Forcing motorbikes to be slower than cars and most trucks is simply asking for trouble. And I had another speeding fine.

Pressing on, our route took us off the main road and up into the mountains. The rain arrived and then got heavier. The temperature dropped as we climbed. The road was terrific but we found it increasingly hard to enjoy as we got colder and wetter. By the top of the pass, 2,600 m, it was a mere 4°C. Leaving Van it had been a balmy 26°C. We looked and felt like a pair of drowned rats. My toes were numb. Diane was shivering. Only just higher than us was fresh snow across the mountain tops. Coming down was a dilemma. Crack on and suffer the wind chill or slow down and take longer. The route was spectacular but we were very pleased to reach our hotel in Erzurum. This is one of Turkey’s premier ski resorts. The receptionist told us there had been snow there in the morning.

The next day was one of those when I was really pleased that we were not on an organised trip. The weather forecast was awful. More rain and cold. The following day however was sunny and warm. So, we changed our plans, we stayed put. I did some more planning. We explored the city and caught up with the clothes washing. By the time we left, we were refreshed, relaxed and the weather was lovely. Aiming due north, we set off towards the Black Sea.

Cappadocia

Two days of steady riding bought us to Göreme in the region of Cappadocia. We had a night in a very local hotel on the way, where I am sure we were the only foreigners. Dinner and breakfast were served as a buffet in an enormous and mostly empty restaurant. The translation app on my phone saw heavy service as we attempted to identify the dishes. We mostly enjoyed the food. Diane was not impressed by raw chillis for breakfast, I thought they did a wonderful job of waking you up. Tea, Turkish tea, was ubiquitous. Often prepared in a heated urn with two taps. One for tea, one for hot water. We found we needed to dilute the tea considerably. Coffee was usually the instant, powdered stuff although occasionally we found genuine Turkish coffee. Made using very finely ground coffee beans so you get an espresso sized cup which is about 1/3 coffee sludge. Strong and bit gritty. I am developing a taste for it while my teeth are turning black.

The second day was wet. We arrived in Göreme in the rain. Fortunately, the hotel was lovely and, one of the benefits of visiting a tourist destination, is that we found an Indian restaurant. In stark contrast the last few days, this place was crawling with foreigners. Göreme sits at the heart of a network of valleys filled with astonishing rock formations. Fairy towers are pillars of rock that pop up everywhere. Many of these have been hollowed out inside. Once, they were hiding places for Christians escaping the Romans. Today, many of them have become boutique hotels. Göreme was little visited by tourists until the 1970s but by 2000 had become the tourist capital of Cappadocia. Tourism brought wealth and a better standard of living to the village. It also changed the local agricultural life completely. The town is now packed with shops offering balloon trips, local tours, souvenirs, ATV trips, pony treks, camel rides and photo shooting opportunities. Here you can hire a voluminous red silk dress, an open top American car and a photographer so that, early in the morning, you can pose in front of the balloons. This mostly appeals to young Asian women but I guess it would be open for anyone.

The hot air balloons. I had seen photographs of balloons at Göreme and assumed that the image was from an annual festival. No. Every single morning, weather permitting, over a hundred brightly coloured balloons take to the sky. Hot air ballooning in Cappadocia started in 1991 with a competition of professional hot air ballooners from all over the world. Since then it has blossomed. 25 balloon companies, 250 balloons and up to 165 balloons launched each morning. Cappadocia is considered one of the best places in the world for ballooning. The weather is generally well suited and the area has a unique scenery of magnificent volcanic mountains, natural fairy chimneys, oddly shaped valleys, pigeon houses and stone carved churches. It was going to mean an early start but we steeled ourselves to it and signed up.

4am in the morning we were sat outside waiting for our ride. It was dark and quite chilly. Once in the minibus we were served breakfast – small carton of juice and biscuit bar. Other people were collected and eventually we bounced off along some dirt tracks. Over an hour later we were on an area of green fields above the valleys. Balloons were everywhere. We arrived as ours was in the final stages of being inflated. Hot air comes from a powerful LPG burner mounted about the basket. Strong fans were also being used to drive air into the envelope. Around us, in the first light of dawn, we could see many other balloons inflating on the ground or already taking to the sky.

The basket was divided into eight compartments each holding four people. You jammed yourself in here quite snugly. Seemed like quite a good arrangement. Everyone could see in most directions and it was secure and comfortable. Then we just wafted into the sky. Just like that. No drama or noise, apart from the burner. In just a few minutes we felt part of the great wave of balloons drifting up in the ever-brightening sky. There is no wind when you are in a balloon. Because you drift with the air currents, at the same speed, there is no relative wind at all. Very comfortable and relaxed. Initially we gained height. The world was reduced to little ants running around. It felt very safe. The walls of the basket come up to chest level so there is no chance of falling out. In fact, as we found out later, getting out can be a bit of a challenge.

Then we descended. A wide valley full of fairy chimneys runs north from Göreme and many of the balloons drop right down into this. Crowds had gathered at the overlooking escarpment. We passed within a few metres of them as dropped into the valley. We skirted over bushes and almost touched the ground before climbing again at the far side. I noticed that balloons never collided and never seemed to get caught up on the fairy chimneys. I am guessing that something about the way air currents work helps with this. You cannot steer a balloon, just go up or down to find different airstreams. There seems to be quite a lot of skill involved and our pilot was doing just fine.

Past the valley we crossed into a more level area and then landed, very neatly and gently, in a field. The ground crew of four appeared with their Landrover and trailer within minutes. First job was to inflate the balloon just slightly so that the basket could be manhandled onto the trailer. Then then trailer, complete with basket and passengers was moved to a suitable location for deflating the balloon. Finally, with the balloon now laying across the ground, we were allowed to clamber out of the basket. We were given a glass of champagne, which was not champagne. We listened to a short speech that could have been précised as “please give us a tip”. The minibus took us back to the hotel where we enjoyed a buffet breakfast on the rooftop terrace. Then we went back to bed.

Early next morning we got a view from the hotel of the day’s balloons. Then we went on a day trip. Sometimes these are good but not necessarily. The main advantage for us is that we get round a bunch of interesting places without having to first find them out for ourselves. So, laziness really. First stop was an overlook of pigeon valley. Many small caves carved into the rock formations with the purpose of attracting pigeons. Pigeon guano was used as fertiliser. I imagine the odd bird found its way into a stew pot. The sight was embellished with the usual ways of getting money from tourists. Camel rides, small ponies, souvenir shops and so on. On to the jewellery making shop which was just an excuse to try and sell us jewellery. Fortunately, I am immune and was able to keep a close eye on Diane. Next stop was some carved caves that had been used as a cathedral. Extensive and quite magnificent. The soft stone, actually a compressed volcanic ash, lends itself to digging and carving but also erodes quickly. Preserving these sites can be quite difficult. Then came a walk down a canyon. This was very enjoyable and it made a pleasant change not to be just standing around.

Penultimate stop was an underground city. There are several of these in Cappadocia. They were started two thousand years ago for Christians to hide in and have been used and expanded ever since. Came in very handy when the Mongol hoards crossed from the steppes and many other times as well. Calling the place a city is possibly a bit of an exaggeration. The tunnels are extensive. Apparently 5,000 people could hide in here. They are all quite small and it seemed quite stuffy with just a hundred or so tourists in there. None the less, very impressive and interesting. Final stop was a sweet making shop where they were simply selling sweets and dishing out free samples. That was us done with Göreme. Next day we would go in search of swimming cats.

Ayvalik

The crossing to Türkiye was windy and choppy. It was only a small ferry and our poor bike, strapped onto the rear deck, got thoroughly drenched with sea water. Fortunately, the trip was only 90 minutes. We rode the bike off, parked by a locked gate and were directed into building to get our documentation checked. Everything went fine until the very last moment. I thought I had checked our vehicle insurance for Türkiye but in fact I had only checked the breakdown insurance. We had no insurance and the authorities were not going to let us take the bike until we could prove otherwise. Now usually, on this sort of border, getting vehicle insurance is not a problem. Often there are several insurance offices lined up by the border just desperate to sell you something. On this occasion we had arrived by a rather obscure route, just a handful of vehicles each week and to exacerbate the issue it was labour day, May 1^st, a public holiday.

We walked over to the ferry office and attempted to sort something out. They were very helpful and soon had someone on the phone for us. He explained that it was not possible to buy insurance in Türkiye for a foreign vehicle and that I needed to contact my insurers in the UK. There then followed a surreal conversation with Carol Nash, who insure my bike. First of all, they understood that I was trying to insure an additional bike called a Türkiye . This got escalated to a supervisor who realised that Türkiye was a country but explained that I was covered for the whole of Europe. Up to the next supervisor who recoiled in horror over the notion that I wanted to ride my bike outside of Europe. Why would you do that? Finally, after a long time on hold, I was told that it was quite impossible. Half an hour later, while I was busy trawling the internet for something useful, the ferry office man came back with another phone call. This one worked. Several email exchanges and a trip to an ATM later and we had the necessary document. Eventually collected the bike late afternoon but whatever, we were in, all sorted and legal. We stayed at a local hotel and then picked up the planned trip a day later.

First stop was Kuşadası, a delightful small town packed with tourist shops. We aimed to get there on the main road but got turned around by the police. Some incident had blocked the road. We took to smaller roads and picked a route out through some hills to the north. The proved to be a pleasant ride and probably much more fun. We took an extra day at Kuşadası so that we could visit the Ephesus Archaeological Site. This is the massive, excavated remains of a of a temple, theatre and library in an ancient city taken over by Romans in 129 BC. Although clearly battered by 2,000 years of neglect this place is still impressive. In particular, you can get a sense of what life might have been like for the Romans. The rich Romans obviously. The slaves and servants probably had a horrible time of it. The weather was boiling hot and the crowds fearsome but we eventually managed to get round the whole site and even read some of the noticeboards. If you are into Roman ruins then this place should be on your list. The entrance area to the site is a covered roadway lined by tourist shops. Any kind of replica watch, jewellery, handbag or other accessory at a bargain price.

Back at our hotel the very nice owner invited us to a family barbeque in the evening. I am not at all keen on either meat and children but fortunately Diane is much more polite that me and she stepped in to explain that we were vegetarian. The owner replied that surely her husband was not one. He did not look like a vegetarian. What does that mean? I think he is saying I am fat. And they would be serving salad. Oh joy, the stench of burning meat, the screams of crying children and a bit of lettuce leaf. I attempted to maintain a fixed smile on my face. One that had nothing to do with what was going on inside my head. I nodded in what I hoped was a polite way and we left.

Next day we continued along the coast road as best we could. In places there was not a road near the sea. Even so we managed enough road with bright blue ocean immediately to our right to keep Diane happy. The riding was great. Perfect weather. Sunny but not too hot. Quiet roads that twisted and looped through hidden coves and over small hills. The Rhapsody hotel at Kalkan was all but deserted. It is still early in the season. We’d had a long day. We were quite happy to eat by the pool as the sun set. Then Gillian and Reynaldo turned up. A lovely couple that had a holiday home nearby. We had a pleasant chat with them and picked up some nuggets of interesting local knowledge.

More coastal roads brought us to Antalya, popular amongst British tourists. We kept moving and ended up at a serious holiday hotel an hour or so later. This was an all-inclusive establishment in a gated compound with its own restricted beach area. I’d chosen it as being good value for money. Which it was. Drinks and half board for around £80. On arrival we were tagged with wristbands. The room was lovely. Overlooking swimming pools and the beach. Food was served buffet style with an excellent range of food to choose from. Wine was either red or white and the cocktails were rubbish. Overall, the stay was good fun although we did feel a bit out of place.

In the morning, we had a sobering start when, not five minutes after leaving the hotel, we came across two bodies. They were clearly very dead and had been laid out by the roadside. Not covered. Looked to be a couple in their early twenties. No helmets, dressed for the beach. The police were in attendance and thirty metres down the road was a flipped over ATV. A few other vehicles were parked up and a small crowd was standing well back. We did not see what happened but I am sure the gist of it would include inexperience, exuberant driving and excessive speed. Very sad. We have seen a lot of people on rented ATVs since then and I can’t help thinking how dangerous they are without a bit of training.

Our costal odyssey continued in much the same way as the previous days. The roads became quieter and we eventually arrived at the Kupala beach hotel. Tiny little village at the end of a beach where we were absolutely the only people staying at the hotel. There is something strange and a little disconcerting about staying in an otherwise empty hotel. It was being run by three blokes – none of whom seemed the hotel manager type. We sorted out the check-in and even organised food but they discussed everything amongst themselves, apparently in great detail. Like they were not sure what they were supposed to be doing. I am sure there is a story here. Definitely something a little bit weird. Nothing bad happened. We ate well. No idea where the food came from but it arrived in bags brought by runners. We turned in early ready to leave the coast and start inland.

Lesbos

As we drove off the ferry in Lesbos, I noticed the rear tyre was low. We stopped at the first safe place. This happened to still be inside the port complex and we were accosted by a very ordinary couple wielding ID cards and claiming to be customs officials. So, instead of sorting out the tyre, the first thing we had to do was produce documents and answer some odd questions. They did not like that the V5 is not proof of ownership. Finally, they told us very sternly that we could only keep the bike in Greece for six months. I tried to reply, equally firmly, that we were leaving in two days. Back to the bike. I put some air in the tyre and we wandered into town to find someone to fix it. I do carry everything I need to sort out a nail in the tyre like this, but I have never actually done it. We stumbled across a moto shop after just a few minutes and they very obligingly sorted the tyre with a plug in ever fewer minutes. How long does a plug last? It may be that I will be able to tell you shortly.

Leaving the main road, we struck for the east coast and a delightful short ride to Mythymna and the Seahorse Hotel right in the top right-hand corner of Lesbos. Scenic, winding road with almost no traffic. Hard to beat. The tyre was still full of air when we arrived. I found this very pleasing. I also found the hotel very pleasing. Nice comfy room with balcony. Very friendly host. Restaurant tables on the quayside. Mostly this was lovely, but occasionally you needed to move your table to let a car past. We dumped the heavy bike gear in our room. It is essential for protection but is horribly sweaty and cumbersome at times. Feeling much lighter, we skipped off up the hill to a castle overlooking the town. It was closed. We contented ourselves with walking right the way around it and then drank wine while overlooking the bay.

We elected to stay at the Seahorse another night. This gave us a day to explore the island. We had great fun but forgot the camera so there are no pictures. Imagine quiet, bendy roads. The odd sleepy village where the dogs come out to bark at you. Hills, olive groves, donkeys and goats. We drove to the southern shore. Admired the sea views. Had a coffee and came back over the biggest mountain on the island. Along the way we found ourselves on a dirt track. Not ideal with road tyres but fortunately it was dry and not too rough. My very mediocre off-road skills sufficed, the plug stayed in the tyre and we found a lovely place for coffee not long after regaining the asphalt. In the evening, we had great food and cheap red local wine at our quayside table. Days like this are good.

Next day was also good. We made our way back to Mitilini in preparation for the morning ferry next day. Spent a while wandering around the town and worked out exactly where to go for the ferry. It is not that simple. You need to park by a gate, walk round the other side of the building, do document checks, get your tickets, walk into a yard where, on presenting your tickets, they will open the gate and allow you to drive to the ship. This was all explained to us by a very friendly official and saved a lot of wandering around the next morning. We ended the day in a lovely restaurant. Very basic and only two dishes on the menu. I went over the road to get glasses of wine. Great food and then we got to the paying bit. The restaurant is run to support a charily for refugees. You pay as much as you feel the meal was worth. Lovely idea we thought. And the restaurant seemed to be very popular.

Next day we knew what to do. The other, less well rehearsed, motorcyclists were milling around uncertainly by the locked gate. They followed us as we marched off confidently with our documents. Not long after that we were installed on the little ferry all ready for the short crossing to Turkey.

Athens

Usually on a ferry, you are woken by a rude tannoy announcement to the effect of “get up and go have breakfast”. The first we heard on the Grimaldi ferry to Igoumenitsa was an announcement telling us to vacate the cabin in ten minutes. Sure enough, ten minutes later came a knock on the door. Fortunately, we had risen earlier and were ready for it. Even so we left the ferry without breakfast or even a coffee. It was Easter Monday. I was a bit concerned that we might struggle to find a place for an early morning break. Not a problem. There were many. So less than half an hour after disembarking we were sitting in a lovely café with sea views, coffee and wonderful slice of filo pastry with spinach. Most excellent breakfast.

We were heading for Patra. There is a motorway and there is the coast road. We chose to follow the coast. It was lovely. Quiet winding roads, sea views and plenty of coffee stops. We needed them. It had been a bit of short night’s sleep on the ferry. The weather was perfect. Warm and sunny. So, we took our time, had plenty of breaks and eventually arrived at Patra in the late afternoon. Our hotel had a rooftop bar which was just wonderful. We sat up there ordering some great food, drinking wine and watching the sunset. First day in Greece was good.

Next day was the run into Athens. Not really any alternatives to the motorway for this but should only have taken a couple of hours. Actually, took over five hours. The traffic was terrible. Long, long sections where we were filtering though nearly stationary vehicles. The trip in a car would probably have taken twice as long. Driving in Athens is a bit up close and personal but after Peru, where driving is a contact sport, this did not seem too bad. Drivers are generally quite courteous and aware when it comes to motorbikes. There are a lot of motorbikes and bigger scooters in Athens. Very few cyclists and a fair number of small scooters.

We took a city tour and started off by watching the changing of the guard outside the Parliament building. Imagine two blokes, big lads, each wearing a short skirt, white woollen tights, a tassel at each knee and shoes with large a pom-pom. They move using exaggerated arm and leg movements that could have come directly from the Ministry of Silly Walks. You might be tempted to titter but these guys are deadly serious. They are members of a special unit of the Hellenic Army known as the Evzones and could kill you with their little finger. Take a good look at their steely expressions and intense stares. These are not people to be messed with. You need to pass a rigorous selection process and difficult training to be part of this elite unit.

We moved on to check out the Olympic Stadium, home of the first modern Olympic Games. Then it was up to the Acropolis also known as the Sacred Rock. This is the location of several temples including the magnificent Parthenon. The weather was warm and sunny, in complete defiance of the forecast. We enjoyed pottering around and taking in the views across the city. Then we dropped down into an area called Plaka. This is an interesting jumble of small houses, narrow cobblestone streets, stores selling all imaginable types of souvenirs and tavernas hustling for business. We ended the day with a glass of wine at a rooftop bar with view across the rooftops to the Acropolis.

Next day we went on a trip with motorbike and sidecar. Done this in a few cities now and it is a great way to get around. Our driver, Dimitris, was clearly skilled and familiar with Athenian traffic. Many areas inaccessible to cars are open to motorbikes. We took on cobbled streets, pedestrian areas and the steep road up to Mount Lycabettus. This is the highest hill in Athens and affords some terrific views. Coming back down we passed through Kolonaki, the area where the rich people live. It oozes wealth. Flashy cars, grandiose houses and perfectly kept gardens.

Our original plan for Greece involved some island hopping which would eventually land us in Turkey. This proved to be remarkably difficult. There are plenty of islands and even more ferries but not so many that we could take the motorbike on. Actually getting to Turkey this way was very limited. Our best bet was to get an overnight ferry to Lesbos and from there it was just a short hop to Ayvalik in Turkey. Mt first attempt to book this ended up me in a shared cabin and Diane with a chair on deck. Princess was not happy about this. We eventually got sorted with a cabin to ourselves and then got told that the ferry to Turkey could not take the bike. This took a lot of persistence to resolve. I think it might have been easier to go to the ferry company directly rather than using FerryHoppers. Their website was pretty good but seemed to fail at the final delivery.

We had a ferry booked in the evening from Pieraus, the port area just outside Athens. So we rode south for a while to see the Temple of Poseidon. This is perched prominently on top of the cliffs at Cape Sounion. The temple is quite impressive and we paid €20 each for the short walk up the hill. Photos done we grabbed a coffee and then headed for the port. It took up two laps around the port area until we eventually went down a road marked “trucks only” and found our ship. By six we were comfortably installed in our cabin. The ship sailed at 8pm while we sat out on deck and watched Athens recede into the distance. I usually sleep quiet well on ships. A long time ago I used to work on smaller survey vessels and I find the rocking motion really quite soothing. So, I was a bit perplexed next morning, after a great night’s sleep, to find Diane scowling at me. Apparently, there was a bit of a storm in the night and she hardly slept a wink. According to princess logic this was now my fault. I pacified her, a little, with coffee and a croissant before we disembarked onto the island of Lesbos.

Italy

After a night and a day on the ferry we arrived at Civitavecchia in Italy. It was generally a pleasant crossing despite the best efforts of the disaffected youths running along the corridors in the early hours. Disembarking was the usual semi-organised chaos with every single vehicle trying to be first off the ship. Handling a big bike with a pillion can be a bit worrying on a ship. The painted decks often have patches of water and oil that makes the surface very slippery. With care, we managed to avoid dropping the bike or getting hit by an enthusiastic driver. From the port it was just a short hop up the road to our B&B for the night. I copied the geodetic coordinates from the booking.com app into the Garmin satnav on the bike. This usually works well and gives us an accurate destination without having to worry about the vagaries of postcodes and addresses. In this instance it took us to completely the wrong house. The man looked puzzled when Diane asked if we could stay there the night. After a bit of handwaving in lieu of understanding each other’s language, he leapt into his van and told us to follow. A mile or so down the road we arrived at the correct house. Some people are remarkably kind and helpful at times. Thank you Italian man. We never even got his name.

Next day saw us heading almost directly east an up into the mountains. We arrived, accurately this time, at a tiny B&B in a lovely old house close to L’Aquila. Evening meals are sometimes a bit of a problem. If there is no restaurant close to where we are staying then we often end up nipping out on the bike to buy bread and cheese for dinner. This time, for the first time in several days, there was a wonderful pizza restaurant some 20 minutes walk down the road. Admittedly, pizza is just bread and cheese in another form but this one was hot and very tasty.

In the morning, we headed further into the mountains and discovered snow. Quite a lot of snow. This was fun for a while until we also discovered that our road was closed. It was cold as well, just 5°C and the wind was carrying a light drizzle. On an organised motorbike tour the general rule is to fill up with fuel just before you arrive at the hotel for the night. This way, you have a full tank for the next days ride. We had neglected this and now had the prospect of wandering around the mountains trying to find a way east with only enough petrol for a limited distance. Diane had a small sense of humour failure while I attempted to work out an alternative route. Fortunately, we dropped down into the next valley system and found a small, self-service pump along with a local cheese shop where we could warm up with coffee and a sandwich. We also bought some cheese and then carried on down to the coast where it was warm and sunny again. Our accommodation for the night was a delightful wooden house overlooking the bay. The access track was badly washed out and required a few off-road skills. It all worked out and we enjoyed dinner, bread, cheese and wine, outside watching the sunset.

We followed the coast road out to Vieste. It was a delight. Perfect sunny weather and great ocean views. The road was tight and twisty. A fun challenge that left my shoulders aching. Our room in the Bikini Hotel had an interesting view. No bikinis but there was a spectacular chalk stack jutting out of the sea in front of bright white cliffs. In the evening, we wandered around the old part of town before finding a comfortable restaurant with outdoor seating. Shortly after sitting down an Easter procession came along the road. Many religious types dressed in white robes carrying a cross, a dead Jesus and a Mary. The centred around a man with a loudspeaker on a pole chanting “Ave Maria”. Later, we could hear them all singing in the church.

The road along the south side of the peninsular was equally challenging with the added interest of Easter Saturday traffic. This included a lot of motorbikes some of which were being thrown around the road in quite alarming ways. Back on the main road, we continued south down the coast to Brindisi. Our accommodation was on the far side of the bay from the old town. We walked all the way round and found a remarkably busy restaurant scene packed with Saturday night diners. On the third attempt and after waiting 20 minutes, we got a table with an excellent meal and some particularly good local wine. Puglia is famous for wines.

Next day, we discovered that we could have taken a small ferry across the bay instead of walking all the way round. We were getting a ferry to Greece in the evening so at lunchtime we wandered down to the quayside. Easter Sunday. Not a good day for touristing in Italy because everything is closed. Including the little ferry. In fact, the only place we found open was the coffee shop attached to a filling station. We lingered there for a while drinking coffee and wondering where everyone else had gone. The whole town seemed deserted.

We went down to the ferry terminal early and drank more coffee. Boarding began at 9pm. Not long afterwards we had found our cabin and were sat on deck with a bottle of wine. The ship was docked directly across from the end of the airport runway. In the dark, it was an impressive display of lights. We enjoyed the spectacle of aircraft taking off and landing right in the dark for a while before heading to bed. The ship would dock in Greece at 7:30am but it would feel like an hour earlier because of a time zone change.

Spain

Arriving back in the UK can feel a bit like wading into a swamp. It is wet and cold and difficult to get things done. At every turn you seem to sink a little further in. Working through bureaucracy and chores is tedious and boring. On the first day back, the engine light in our beautiful Range Rover came on. This turned out to be a serious engine problem, the timing chain was stretched. The engine was removed and some substantial fettling took place. Not only were the timing chain and guides replaced but also three injectors and most of the valves. A trapped cooling hose was replaced and several other faults rectified. Finding a garage up to the job and booking the car in took a couple of weeks. The actual repair work took another three. So, for most of our time back in the UK we were driving a hire car. The Landrover garage, A1 Landrovers in Bury, did a particularly good job and the car is driving beautifully now.

For our next trip we are planning to ride to Turkey on our bike. First it needed a full service. This should have taken a day. It also needed a new rear tyre, chain and sprockets. Two or even three days even if they needed to wait for parts. I have used Craig’s Motorcycles in Dewsbury before but probably will not again. It took them over three weeks. What was worse, in my mind, was that they started making up stories about the delays. It does not take a week to get a replacement hose clip. I would have been happier if they had at least been honest with me. Eventually, I had to drive over there and have, what would be described in diplomatic circles as a frank discussion. The bike appeared a few days later. This messed with our schedule. You cannot just jump onto a fully loaded bike with pillion and set off down the road. I had not ridden for over nine months and needed a bit of time to practise and get familiar with the bike again.

Meanwhile we had the usual round of doctors, dentists, opticians and so on. I saw a consultant dermatologist about the rash on my legs. We now have a diagnosis and some cream that appears to be keeping it under control. This is a great result. I also saw a physiotherapist about my neck which had been stiff and sore for several months. Several rather bruising sessions later it is feeling much better and, if I keep doing the exercises, will improve over time. Diane got some new spectacles which she doesn’t like and also arranged some major teeth work for later in the year.

We mostly stayed with my baby sister, Helen, in Todmorden. Her husband, David, is in the latter stages of MND. A particularly cruel degenerative condition that means he has been unable to move at all for a couple of years now. Obviously, the whole household is organised around David’s needs so living there can be a bit fraught. There is a constant progression of carers, other medical professionals, friends and family. We tried to help out where we could but occasionally needed to have a night away on our own.

We keep our belongings in a storage unit. To be honest there is not much. Some kitchen gear, skiing gear, motorcycle gear, two portable fridges and a few cloths. All stacked in boxes apart from the fridges. We would like to get rid of these but, so far, have been unable to sell them. Every time we come back, we end up spending hours organising the stuff in the storage unit. Similarly, whenever we leave we need to pack for the trip and pack everything else into the unit. Occasionally feels like we spend a lot of time packing and unpacking.

There was a mini heatwave. An unprecedented three days of sunshine in Todmorden. We had been doing our best to get organised and, at last, were about ready to drag ourselves out of the swamp. Everything packed we said our goodbyes and set off. Still feeling a bit wobbly on the bike. We took our time and visited a couple of friends as we headed south. Our overall plan is to visit Turkey. To avoid central Europe, which is cold at the moment, we are going to sail to Spain and then catch several ferries across the mediterranean. First step was the Plymouth-Bilbao ferry. Or at least we thought it was. Arriving in Plymouth we discovered a suspiciously deserted dockyard. Closer inspection of the tickets revealed that we should really be in Portsmouth. This was a bit awkward. Best option was to ride to Portsmouth. There might be enough time.

Three and a half hours of flat-out riding. We did not break any rules but I did use everything I had ever learnt about making progress. There were some excellent overtakes, brilliant use of lanes and even some filtering. The single fuel stop was a well-executed splash and dash. Diane was paying for the fuel as I replaced the filler nozzle. Working against us was the time of day. Many people coming home from work. Also, roadworks. There seemed to be temporary traffic lights everywhere. Finally, the motorway to Portsmouth was solid roadworks with speed limits as low as 40mph even on a three-lane carriageway. We were fifteen minutes late. I felt it was a heroic effort. We had been fast while staying safe and were ultimately thwarted by traffic and road repairs.

An hour later, we had booked the next ferry, found accommodation and were sat in a pub with food and drink. Next day we explored Portsmouth. We walked along the sea front. Walked out onto the south pier. Walked back and collected the bike. We could only park it at the hotel until 3pm so we headed round to the dock. Then we waited half an hour for check-in to open and hoped we could get on the ship early. No chance. Once checked in we had to wait three hours for security to open. Then a bit longer to start boarding. We finally got to our small cabin about 9pm, not long before the ferry was scheduled to sail.

The crossing was uneventful. Two nights on board and docking at 7am. We were happy that we had made it to Spain but we were a day late. Instead of three leisurely days through the foothills of the Pyrenees to Barcelona we had just two days to make the next ferry. In the event, this proved to be not much of a problem. We skipped the mountain roads I had planned and used more motorways. These are not like the baren, boring three-lane motorways in the UK where the most interesting part is watching BMWs undertaking the lane hogs in the fast lane. Instead, we had wide open smooth tarmac sweeping through the mountains with barely another vehicle in sight. The morning was cold and wet. Another reason to be happy about avoiding the high mountain roads where snow might still be possible. In the afternoon the sky cleared and the sun came out.

Half way stop was near Jaca in a lovely little village where all the restaurants were closed. We sat outside and ate bread with cheese and some local wine. Still one of my favourite meals. Next day was an easy ride to Barcelona. Again, we arrived a bit early for the ferry but this time was a very different story. It was only a short time before we were allowed onboard. We were settled into our much larger cabin and had eaten dinner even before the ship had sailed. . Next stop, Italy.

Supay Cano

Guess what time we got up in the morning? Unfortunately, despite the ridiculously early start, we did not see so much on this particular morning. The one exception was a small flock of night hawks. Half a dozen of these pretty birds were sitting on a branch. Until we arrived, then they flew off.

Back on the ship I wandered round taking a few pictures of the interior. The air-conditioned cabin was our haven. Spacious and cool with a terrific picture window. After each excursion we would arrive back at the room hot and sweaty. After a shower and, occasionally, a nap, we would be cool and clean and ready for the next episode. The ship was built locally and, for the most part, used local materials. The whole of the inside of the boat is done in some lovely wood. Not sure quite what type of timber but presumably a tropical hardwood. Looked terrific and gave the décor a great feel. The bar was on the open top deck. From here we could watch the river roll past while sipping Pisco Sour cocktails. On the same deck was a lecture room where we had talks about the Amazon and the occasional film. On the deck below was the restaurant. Food was very good on this trip and we felt the chef had really tried hard to provide for vegetarians.

In the afternoon we visited a village. Here they demonstrated making straw goods. We were shown how they prepared the fibres and coloured them with various natural dyes. We also had a bit of a cooking demonstration. Mostly they eat fish from the river. Different sorts of fish are cooked in different ways all of which smell awful to me. Deep fried yuca with a yellow tomato sauce was very nice though. Yellow tomato is not, as it sounds, a tomato that happens to be yellow. It is a whole separate species that looks a little like a yellow version of the familiar red fruit but tastes very different. Sharp, intense and flavoursome. Just chop finely into a bowl to make and instant tasty dip. Later, the ship moved closer to Iquitos. Here we spent the night ready for a quick getaway in the morning.

Next morning there was time for breakfast before we disembarked and headed for the airport. On the way we visited an animal sanctuary. There were some interesting beasts here that we had not seen in the wild. First up were the Paiche. Gigantic fish, up to 3 m long, that swim around in the Amazon. These were almost certainly around in many of the places we visited but were lurking, hidden in the murky waters. Here they were in an enormous, glass walled tank where we could see them very clearly. Paiche are vulnerable to overfishing and a 2014 study found that the fish were depleted or overexploited at 93% of the sites examined. Despite these issues, Paiche had still been served several times on our ship.

The sanctuary served as a general home for unwanted or rescued creatures. There were many sorts of parrot, a sloth, turtles and caimans. I had to look this up, but the plural of caiman is caimans and not caimen. This seems a shame. Several big tanks held young manatees. These lovely “sea cows” are peaceful herbivores that graze the river vegetation. They are another endangered species and again their primary threats are from humans. Often, they are hunted and a large number of manatees get injured or killed from boat strikes. Habitat loss is another problem.

Sanctuary done we went to see a stingless bee project. Bees without stings seem like a good idea to me. They can also be used to provide essential vitamins and minerals for local children.

Amazon done. From Iquitos we back to Lima for the sixth and final time. Night in the airport hotel. Not especially great but eminently practical. Next morning we flew to Bogota. This was not because we especially wanted to visit Bogota but more to split up the trip back. I worked out that Bogota to Madrid was about the shortest cross Atlantic flight. Bogota turned out to be a perfectly nice city with an awful lot of graffiti. The weather was warm and the people friendly. We wandered around on a couple of days and took a cable car to where we could overlook the whole city. All eight million people. Bogota is one of the world’s largest cities. Remarkable to see so many people in one place.

Next stop was Madrid. A lovely city that I visited 30 years ago. We only had a couple of days here but it was nice to explore the old city and experience a little of the night life.

Then we flew to Paris. This is city is quite familiar to us. Bit manic but great fun. We checked out the restoration work at Notre-Dame on the way to a candlelit piano recital at St. Ephrem Church. Next afternoon we had booked a guided wine tasting. Sadly, this did not work out so we simply went out and tasted a few wines by ourselves.

Final leg back to the UK was the Eurostar train to London St. Pancras. This was quite a pleasant way to travel and a lot less hassle than flying. Quite expensive though. In London we only just made our connection to intercity train north. Back in the day they would have served wine and snacks but this time a cup of coffee was as far as it went. We detrained at Mirfield for the very last train leg back to Todmorden. The platform signage was all messed up and we ended up waiting over an hour for our connection on the small, deserted platform. It was dark and cold. Rain was in the air. Welcome back to the UK.

Pacaya River

It was becoming a conditioned reflex. 6am alarm, crawl out of bed, contact lenses, clothes, camera, Diane, hat, sit in boat. Sometime later my brain would catch up and, with a jolt, I would be awake on a small boat in the headwaters of the Amazon. The early morning cacophony was often amazing. The sounds of birds and animals calling, invisibly, from deep in the forest. Occasionally, there were strange noises that I had no idea at all what sort of a creature it might have come from. The drone of the boat engine was an almost comfortably familiar background.

We were traveling up the Pacaya River deep inside the Pacaya Natural Reserve. There are several areas of reserves at the top of the Amazon basin. Their purpose is to protect the natural flora and fauna. Access is restricted, as is hunting and fishing. An education program has been established to help the locals understand why this is necessary. For generations they have hunted in this or that area. Now, at the behest of anonymous officials, they are no longer allowed. You can imagine, this is going to take a lot of explaining. Here we have a group of people that have lived in harmony with their environment for thousands of years. They have done nothing to cause the world’s great problems of climate change and pollution. Nonetheless, those who have caused the problem now require the locals to change their lifestyle. It is not quite this simple, but you get the idea. It is a problem repeated in many places worldwide.

Snapping out of my reverie, I spotted some terns on a sloping log. They were evenly spaced and mostly looking the same way. A very pleasing arrangement. It appealed to my sense of how things should be. There were also a few vultures and cormorants but they were just randomly hanging around looking untidy. Although nominally following the river, we cut across two large lakes. These were not obviously lakes because they were covered with a thick layer of vegetation. A great mass of leaves and flowers. The skiff slipped through this quite easily and we could follow various open water channels. On a lone tree I spotted an owl. It watched us, without comment, as we passed.

There were many egrets here. We had seen a few on previous days but the lakeside was obviously their place. Hundreds of them. Some flying but most perched in trees and bushes. Also, we saw turtles. Mostly yellow headed turtles. Young ones sunning themselves on logs by the side of the river. If we got too close they would quietly slip off their log and vanish into the water.

The linked lakes here gave rise to quite a different environment to the small channels. Much more open. We saw some brown monkeys that defied identification and a black one that was probably a Saki monkey.

Heading back to the ship, I managed to photograph a dolphin. It was a grey river dolphin. Not as exotic as a pink dolphin but a dolphin nonetheless. A fine addition to my large collection of pictures of ripples on the river where a dolphin has just dived.

After lunch we moved back downriver so as to take the skiffs up the Zapote River (I think). Here there were many types of birds. Egrets were still in abundance along with kingfishers, wood peckers, parrots and toucans. Diane and the rest of the boat tried their hand at fishing. I wanted nothing to do with it. Fortunately, she did not catch anything. Something, probably piranhas, nibbled all the meat off her hook. Twice. Sometimes it is best to keep your hands out of the water while fishing.

Yarapa

Another 6am and we were up a creek without a name. Well, I am sure it has a name but it is not marked on my map so I have no idea. The creek was small, meandering and choked with weeds. We spotted a nose looking at us from a hole in a tree trunk. Probably a Nutria (coypu) a type of Amazonian rat. He watched us carefully as we drifted past but showed no sign of coming out. There was a brightly coloured tanager bird and then, at the base of the tree, some proboscis bats. This time we got close enough to see detail. Although only a couple of centimetres long, they are cute and furry. And they do have big noses. All bats are covered in fur, except for Batman. He wears a bat suit, to look bat like, but it has no fur.

We passed some kingfishers and a heron then someone spotted a monkey. Turned out to be a tamarin monkey although it looked to me like a stuffed cat hanging in the tree. There were some colourful aracari birds and sleeping sloth. The sloth was just a big ball of fur in the top of a tree. It never moved in all the time we watched it. At the end of the navigable part of the creek we saw some black-headed night monkeys. They were huddled together in a large tree hole. Each monkey was about the size of a squirrel. They peered out at us nervously. Amongst monkeys, these are the only truly nocturnal species. They are also particularly susceptible to malaria. Apparently, the presence of night monkeys is a good indicator that there is no malaria around. Still plenty of mosquitoes though and we had both applied a good layer of chemical warfare before we came out.

On the way back to the ship, we passed a fisherman who showed off the armoured catfish he had caught. These are not good eating. The locals occasionally make a soup. We saw some soup the following day and everyone thought it looked horribly unappetising. Quite possibly he threw it back into the river after we had passed.

After the first shower of the day and breakfast we went out for a hike. This was in a cultivated area with many fruit trees, yucca and banana trees. Bananas are not really trees. They are in fact, herbs, and the fruit are berries. There were also grapefruit trees. Not so remarkable but I had never seen one before. The real reason we were here was a troop of Pygmy Marmosets. Tiniest of all monkeys and a native of the rainforests of the upper Amazon basin. They are remarkably cute but also very shy. They feed on the gum from trees. With sharp little teeth, they bite a hole in the bark. The gum pools in the hole from where they lap it up. After half an hour of trying to photograph the little blighters, I had a collection of pictures of part of a marmoset. The rest of the photograph being the tree, branch or leaves that it was hiding behind. We were not allowed to shake them out of the tree and pin them to the ground to get a good photograph – so this was going to have to do.

Early afternoon the ship moved quite a way upriver and in the evening, we went out in the skiffs to hunt caimans. The plural of caiman is not caimen. We drove out past a small settlement and were greeted by a small girl. She was showing off the piranha fish she had caught. These are not so dangerous as the films project. Unless you are bleeding, they are unlikely to attack. Even so, it is a special sort of young girl that handles one like a toy.

Into the small channel and the first things we saw were several types of monkeys. Again, photography was difficult. For a start there is not much light. It was early evening but even during the day, the thick canopy is remarkably effective at blocking the sun. The birds and animals tend to stay in the distance. Using a long lens, in low light from a small boat is not a good recipe for success. A while ago, I invested in a Canon 500mm f4 lens. This is a bit of a beast and heavy. An hour spent hoisting it around can get to feel like an upper body workout. Fortunately, it handles the conditions quite well. Even so, I often found that the light so low that I had to turn the camera sensitivity right up. This makes the images very grainy. Our guides were very good at identifying all creatures we saw but I could not remember all the names. I have resorted to Google so quite possibly some of the names of birds and animals are wrong.

Dark fell and our guide produced a powerful spotlight. Apparently, the way to hunt caimans is by looking for the light reflecting from their eyes. Like cat’s eyes, they appear to shine in the dark. Round a corner in a particularly weed clogged channel we came across several. Bright eyes on a small face lurking motionless in the water. We all looked at each other for a few minutes and the headed back to the ship for dinner.

Yanayacu

The sun rose to find us bobbing around on the main river on our pre-breakfast skiff ride. Early in the morning is as cool as it gets and the mosquitoes are not too bad. Evening is the mosquito happy hour when you really need to cover up. Except in some places, deep in the forest which appear to be thick with mosquitoes any time of the day. Our morning ritual, before breakfast, now included mosquito repellent and sunscreen. Out on the river, the trick is to keep moving. Stay in one place too long and the little biters will arrive. Keep moving, every few minutes and everything is fine.

We met a raft drifting down the river. Three guys on a home-made construction of logs tied together. They were on their way to Iquitos. Tied at the front of the raft was a large net full of catfish that they had caught. A small motor on the back was to stop them drifting into a bank. After several days drifting down the river with their catch, they would be able to sell the fish and sell the wood they built the raft from. Then they would take their net and other possessions, head back upriver on the ferry, and start again. For now, they were sitting on the raft watching the world drift by.

After breakfast, we were back in the skiffs and heading up a small creek. First thing we saw was an iguana. This was a green iguana, amazonian cousin to all the iguanas we saw in the Galapagos. Further on we spotted some tree houses. Apparently, these are available for rent. This looked wholesome fun. A room high in the treetops. For me, however, on balance, I’ll stick with the air-conditioned cabin. Next, we saw some brown titi monkeys. This is not what our guide called them. Unfortunately, I cannot recall what he said so I used Google. This is what Google calls them.

There was a group of Kiskadee nests hanging from a tree and a sloth doing some sort of slow, strange early morning sloth exercises. Our guide shouted to stop the boat and back up. There was an anteater. This surprised me on two counts. First, I never expected an anteater to be up a tree. Secondly, I could not see it. Eventually, I took several photos in the indicated direction and then zoomed into them on the camera screen. Sure enough, there was an anteater, up a tree, in a dark corner. It looked to be asleep. How our guide spotted it is beyond me. Amazing. On the way back we saw a classic green parakeet and some more proboscis bats. These look like so many little scabs on a tree trunk until you get really close to them.

In the afternoon, we went to visit a village. First, we went to a pond with giant lily pads on it. Victoria Amazonica can grow leaves up 3 m in diameter. This impressed me and also brought back a memory. I had seen this sort of lily before. After pondering where I might have encountered a bit of Amazonian jungle previously, I recalled looking at giant lilies with my mother. This was many years ago at Chatsworth House, a historic stately home in the Peak District. The lilies date back to Victorian times when people cared little about invasive species but were very keen on impressing their nobility friends with the exotic plants they could grow.

In the village came the inevitable presentation of craft goods which we looked at politely. We also looked at a partially built canoe, sugar cane press made from a tree trunk and some macaws. Very brightly coloured birds which, we were assured, were not pets but simply chose to hang out round the village. We also found an annatto tree. Locals use the bright red colour from the seeds of this tree to paint themselves so that they will look fierce. As well as a strong colour, the seeds also have a slightly nutty taste. This is why they are used, in the UK, as the colouring agent in Red Leicester cheese.

Pahuachiro

Up at dawn again for another short boat trip before breakfast. This time we visited the Pahuachiro Creek. The water here is very dark, a result of tannins from the vegetation along the bank. It is the start of the rainy season. This close to the equator it is hot and humid all the time. There are only really two seasons: wet and dry. At the peak of the wet season much of the forest is flooded. We could clearly see the high-water mark on the trees. A good two or three metres above the current level. This makes the jungle almost impenetrable. With a small canoe you can travel a short distance from the river course but it is slow and difficult.

The water in the main river is a chocolate brown colour because of all the silt it is carrying. Where the black water from the creek meets the main river the two types of water do not mix immediately but swirl around each other in intricate patterns. This is the place for the river dolphins. They hunt fish that have been confused in the merging currents. The dolphins use their echo location to hide in the murky, silt laden water and then dart out to catch the hapless fish. The Amazon River Dolphins are pink and have a bulbous head that is part of their echo location system. Slightly smaller are the Tucuxi dolphins which are grey and look a little like Bottlenose Dolphins. We saw both types but they are very hard to photograph. You need some sort of precognition to guess where they are going to pop up next.

After breakfast, we went for a walk. Every time we walked in the jungle, we were warned not to casually touch things, not to lean on the trees and to be careful where we placed our hands and feet. This is seriously important advice. Shortly after setting off, we were shown a judgement tree. This is a tree that has become infested by fire ants. The trunk is riddled with holes and few ants can be seen running around. However, if you bang the tree then loads of ants come out. Traditionally, bad people would be stripped and tied to the tree. The village shaman would then hit the tree with a big stick. This “judgement” could be fatal. Shortly after pondering this lethal tree I came across a fuzzy blob on another tree trunk. This turned out to be a mass of caterpillars. What I didn’t realise at the time is that these can be equally fatal. The caterpillars of the Lonomia obliqua moth possess a uniquely potent anticoagulant venom. Wikipedia says “A typical envenomation incident involves a person unknowingly leaning against, placing their hand on, or rubbing their arm against a group of these caterpillars that are gathered on the trunk of a tree. The effects of a dose from multiple caterpillars can be dramatic and severe, including massive internal hemorrhaging, kidney failure, and hemolysis. The resulting medical syndrome is sometimes called lonomiasis. Death may result, either rapidly or after many days following envenomation”.

At the end of the walk, we spotted a sloth. In typically sloth fashion it was hanging from a tree looked like an abandoned bag of wet fur. Photographing sloths requires patience. They do not move very much and it sometimes hard to determine where the sloth ends and the tree begins. Eventually this one did move and not only did I managed to get a picture of its face but I could also spot that it was carrying a baby.

After lunch, while we were all snoozing, the boat moved further up the river. Here was a small village where we had been invited to see the release of some turtles. The yellow-spotted river turtle is one of the largest turtles and has been on the endangered list for a while. It has been hunted for food and was also exceedingly popular as a pet in the USA. Fortunately, now some work is being done to protect the turtles. The villagers collect turtle eggs and then protect them while they hatch. Once the baby turtles’ shells have hardened, they can be released into the wild with a much better chance of survival. We arrived at the riverbank by the village to find buckets full of baby turtles, all ready to be set free. Diane loved this. She carefully carried a bucket to a marked area by the water and tipped them out. The turtles knew exactly what to do and headed straight down the slope for the water. It was great to watch.

Nauta

From Arequipa we flew back to Lima, yet again, for the New Year celebrations. The party was typically Peruvian and involved a massive and completely unorganised firework display on the clifftops of Miraflores. It was rather magnificent and chaotic. The park area was packed with people and colourful ordnance exploded all around us. Great fun. Two days later we flew to Iquitos to join an Amazon River trip. From the plane we could see the vast tracts of jungle with the river winding its way through it.

The Amazon basin is huge. Seven million square kilometres. The Amazon River is the largest in the world by discharge volume. It is also the longest, depending on how you measure these things. Near the head of the river, in north-east Peru, is the city of Iquitos, population 50,000. This is the world’s largest city that cannot be reached by road or rail. Average temperature 32°C with 80% humidity. Hot and sweaty. Not really my favourite environment but we wanted to experience a rainforest, or at least, I did, so we just had to put up with it. One of the selling points of the river boat we were joining was air-conditioned cabins. At least would have a cool refuge.

From Iquitos we were driven, on the only road, to the small town of Nauta, population 2,000. Nauta is located on the north bank of the Marañón River, a few miles from its confluence of the Río Ucayali. On maps, the point where the rivers join is the highest place that is named the Amazon River.

The river boat, called the Delfin II, operates several long, narrow, steel hulled boats that they call skiffs. Each of these has two rows of seats for a dozen people and two outboard engines on the back. The boats have to be quite tough because there is a lot of wood and other debris floating in the river. We were collected and taken to the Delfin which was holding station just offshore. Here we were introduced to our cabin. The accommodation was rather nice. A large picture window, good sized bed, nice bathroom and the all-important air-conditioning. It seemed like a significant part of the design of the river boat was to support the generators and heat exchangers necessary to run all the cooling systems. I was struck by the same contradiction that we experienced in Thailand. The general approach to dealing with global warming is to try and use less energy. But the way to deal with living in hot places is to use more energy so that you can keep cool. We had an excellent dinner and then went straight to bed with the warning that we were going to be up before sunrise the next day.

The best time to explore the jungle is early in the morning. I had to reluctantly admit this. Neither of us are really morning people but the advantages are clear. It is a bit cooler but perhaps more importantly this is when most of the birds and animals are active. By lunchtime the rainforest is relatively quiet. Earlier it is buzzing with creatures all going about their business. So, up early, before breakfast and off in the skiffs. We saw many birds including Red-capped cardinal, Kiskadees and some hawks. We also saw a pair of Hoatzin birds. These are unusual amongst birds in that they only eat plants. To consume the vegetation, they have unique digestive system, which contains specialized bacteria in the front part of the gut. This ferments the food, mostly leaves, a process that produces a lot of ripe methane. Locally they are known as “stinkbirds” and are generally avoided by hunters. Apparently, they not only smell bad but also taste bad. Clever birds. Another clever aspect is that the chicks have claws on their wings. This allows them to climb around the tree where they nest. If attacked by predators such as great black hawks, the chicks will jump into the water and hide under the nest while the parents distract the attackers. Later, they can use their claws to clamber back into the nest.

After breakfast, we went for a walk. Walking in the rainforest is not entirely straightforward. We were equipped with Wellington boots, waterproofs and bottles of water. We also applied mosquito repellent and suns screen. It was hot and sweaty. Within a few minutes my shirt was soaked and after an hour my hands were going wrinkly as if I had been in a swimming pool. The forest was dense and reached high above us. So much so that there was not much light. Taking photographs was difficult. No just because of the low light but also because of condensation forming on the lens. We had a local guide who tended to wander off into the forest and then reappear with interesting things. First up was a red backed poison frog. These secrete poison through their skin to deter predators. The frogs are only small but the poison is nasty. Not necessarily fatal to humans but it will kill smaller mammals. Our man was careful to just hold the frog by its leg. Next up was a tarantula spider. Not sure exactly what type but it was enormous, for a spider. Maybe 12 cm long. Then we were shown a Boa constrictor which hissed at me and finally an Anaconda. This looks a little strange in the picture because it had just eaten something. After a couple of hours of walking we were more than happy to get back to our lovely cool cabin for a shower before lunch and an afternoon siesta.

Early evening, we were out again in the skiffs. This is the happy hour for mosquitoes, so we applied extra repellent. Even so, they munched on Diane quite a lot and she came up with many lumps and bumps. We saw Black-capped donacobius, several hawks and a few White-eared jacamar. There were bats on trees. These were a little hard to see. Proboscis bats are only small and blend into the tree bark. From any distance they look like leaves but get closer and you spot the details. Finally, there were monkeys. Squirrel monkeys. A big troop of them. Tricky to photograph because they are small, tend to stay far away and also like to stay hidden behind the leaves and branches. Terrific to watch as they leap around in the canopy. As dusk fell, we headed back to the Delfin II for another excellent dinner and another early night.