After a few long hauls in the last 18 months, and looking at various ancient places, it dawned on us that there were big chunks of history and adventure closer to home that we had not explored yet. In particular, we were thinking of Jordan and Egypt, but with old Trumpy encouraging people the lob missiles around we decided Turkey was a safer bet this year. In fact Turkey has some of the most interesting history of anywhere. At the crossroads to Europe and Asia it has been a cradle of history and hosted most of the empires that shaped our European culture, where the Greeks met the Persian, where the Mongolians raided from the east, where the Crusaders from England came with their religious fervous and the Silk Road runs straight through, it even has it’s own continent, Asia Minor. The original plan was to try out an organised tour, but when I showed Wooksie the various itineraries she pointed out that we were supposed to having a holiday not some of archaeological expedition, so once again we ended up travelling independently and organising the whole thing ourselves. As with other trips our plan is to got to the key centres, then organise visiting the places of interest using Tripadvisor or Get Your Guide, which has worked well in the past. We had been to Turkey 32 years ago, and remembered it being a very cheap place to live, travel and it was full of cheap, rip off, designer goods so we could get our Xmas shopping in early, We decided to start in Istanbul, otherwise known and Constantinople and Byzantium, with all those names, Sultans and invaders it was bound to be fun, where east meets west and all that. I was intrigued by the stories of underground cities where ancient people hid underground from invading armies. So this was top of my list of things to do, a lot of them are built around Goreme in the Cappadocia region, fortunately this was also the place famous for balloon rides, to Cappadocia was added to the list. To keep Wooksie happy, we included a 7 day holiday break in the seaside resort of Antalya. It also had the benefit of having a lot of history in it’s own right, with various relics of the Roman and other empires, it meant we could keep up our historical theme, as well as finding a nice place to settle for a week.
So, all the flights and hotels are booked, Turkey here we come, show us what you’ve got!
After waiting 8 years to visit the Alps, I was giving it my best shot to make sure she had a good time. It started badly when we went on a more arduous trek than I’d intended, but I’d got my house points back with the leisurely day out in the beautiful town of Evian, the place that invented bottled water.
The big event of the week was Mt Blanc, and we decided to let the gondola take the strain to get to the top of Mt Blanc, ahead of my suggestion that we walk up to the mid station. L’Aiguille du Midi is a giant gondola that runs from the centre of Chamonix to a peak that provides amazing views of the mountain, as long as it’s not cloudy, of course. To get the view, you have to go to the Panoramic top station; the mid station just gives you a nice view of Chamonix.
As it was Wooksie’s week, I thought it was probably time we went to see one of the most famous mountains in the world. I went online a week early and booked ourselves a 10:30 gondola so we would be overlooking the peak before the afternoon clouds arrived.
Wooksie was almost excited with the treat, as it promised little walking and a nice lunch in our old stomping ground of Chamonix, where we learned to snowboard many years ago.
We were up early and drove to Chamonix with plenty of time for coffee overlooking the mountain before our slot. All was going well until we actually arrived in Chamonix and realised that Google Maps had done too good a job and dropped us in the centre rather than at the big car park. We managed to squeeze into a small car park and agreed to say no more about the £35 per day charge.
The sky was clear and the view of the Mt Blanc peak was stunning as we supped our coffee and looked forward to the trip. Before we knew it, the time to join the queue arrived, and after 30 minutes we reached the departure gate with the QR code tickets dinging as they were presented. When we presented ours, there was an alarming buzz. Obviously, there was a problem with the gate.
The steward came along and checked our tickets and, to our horror, the date on them was 1 week later. I had chosen the wrong Wednesday on the portal, and we were promptly kicked out of the queue. Wooksie didn’t look pleased.
At this point, I have to admit this is beginning to become a trend. It isn’t the first time I’ve mis-booked in the last 18 months. I am not sure if this is a characteristic of making so many online bookings that the odd error is bound to happen, or if it is a characteristic of the onset of my dotage.
I ran around to the ticket booth to try to exchange the tickets. “Non” was the answer from the scary lady behind the glass. We had two options: come back next week, which was out of the question, or buy tickets for today and write off the £100 worth of tickets we already had.
Wooksie wasn’t particularly communicative, so I made an executive decision and bought more tickets, but unfortunately the next lift wasn’t until 15:30, so we had four hours to kill. “Cheer up,” I said. “We will go and have a smashing lunch in a beautiful town in a wonderful location,” and we headed into town.
Killing two hours is one thing; four is something else, especially if all the shops shut for lunch. We had a nice lunch and, when we ran out of things to do, we sat in the shade and I fell asleep. It didn’t help my popularity, to be honest.
At 15:30 we were back at the gate and started queuing again, and for the next three hours it felt like the only thing we did was queue. We queued to get to the mid station gondola, then we queued again to get to the top station.
The Panoramic station at the top is an incredible construction with an amazing history. The views across into Italy are stunning. Unfortunately for us, it was now late afternoon and the clouds had amassed around the peak, so we did not have the view we had hoped for.
We weren’t at the end of the queues even at the top. We had to queue for the photo in the glass window, which involves stepping out over a vertical drop that needed a leap of faith and hoping the glass didn’t break. Just to be safe, they gave us slippers so we didn’t crack the glass with our boots.
On arrival at the top, we were given a return schedule on an allocated gondola. So, we queued to get each of the gondolas back down.
By the time we got back to Chamonix, we were exhausted from queuing, it felt like we had climbed the mountain itself.
We were glad to be back sitting down in our air-conditioned Passat.
The fun wasn’t over, though. That night we returned to our lake and watched the biggest eclipse of the sun for 90 years from our bar, in the company of our Brit pack friends.
I hadn’t covered myself in glory on this trip, but it ended well when I contacted the gondola online helpdesk and explained my error, and they immediately gave me a refund.
Wooksie insisted on doing nothing the next day, so I went for a mountain bike ride to join in the spirit of the Worrld Enduro championships that were happening in Morillon, unfortunately I had a bad fall, resulting in a badly sprained wrist and cracked ribs.
I didn’t get much sympathy to be honest, so next day we went for a walk and things really took a bad turn.
We saw lots of cars and people heading along a nice-looking trail into the woods. Unfortunately, the trail through the valley turned into a trail up a cliff.
We followed it for 30 minutes, with Wooksie getting redder and angrier and inferring that I had planned to kill or injure her.
It seemed appropriate to call a halt to our trekking, and we went back into Samoëns for lunch and a beer. Unfortunately I lost the keys to the car for a while as well, it wasn’t a good day.
Even after 35 wonderful years together, she still thinks I actually plan to do things to cause her pain and make her annoyed.
They are all honest efforts to have a good time; they just don’t all work out well.
I got the distinct impression she was glad to head home, a bit like the Apprentice with his broken arm and The Mechanic with his broken fingers.
It took me eight years to persuade one of my best mates, The Apprentice, that he should come mountain biking in the Alps and that we would have a great time, riding in the sun during the day and drinking beer by the lake at night – what was there not to love.
Massive storms, floods, diverted flights, broken bones and a long lost son.
Over the last couple of years, we have established an annual boys event on the bikes, 2 years ago we did the North to South Devon bike trail, a 100 mile ride across Dartmoor, with a night in a country pub with a lot of cans of beer on the train home to celebrate our achievement.
Last year the plan was to ride my 50km route around North Somerset, checking out the pubs as we went, but this was sabotaged by VW Festival, which was taking place exactly halfway round the route on the day of our ride. So, we included it in the schedule, camped overnight, and made a video blog of the chaos of that day.
So it was with some trepidation that my mate agreed to come on the trip, and to be fair things did not start too well. I arrived the day before on a 7pm flight into Genevea and tried to make the trip to our apartment on public transport, but was sabotaged, I was caught in a huge thunder and lightning storm that shut down the entire train system in South West France and left me stranded with a £70 taxi bill.
When The Apprentice flew the next day things got significantly worse. The region had another huge lightning storm in the evening. It shut down Geneva airport, created torrential rain, as well as the train network. His flight was heading for the Geneva until 30 minutes from landing. I was poised in the apartment preparing to leave to pick him up when his Easyjet flight path suddenly changed towards Lyon, and then even worse diverted again towards Nice, basically he was going on a tour of the airports in South West France. Luckily he stocked up with beer in the flight.
After refuelling at Nice, they took off and flew back to Geneva now the storm was over, but no, they went to Lyon because they were now too late to land in Geneva. After sitting on the Lyon runway for 90 minutes waiting to be unloaded, he finally got on a bus and finally at 5:15 am, 10 hours late and he had been to 3 airports.
By the time I picked him up we arrived back in the apartment at 7am, and the enjoyed a beer on the balcony watching the sunrise, “welcome to France mate”.
So, after only a couple of hours kip, we decided due to tiredness, to skip mountain biking for the day and go for a walk in Cirque de Fer a Cheval, an amazing canyon with waterfalls everywhere. Unfortunately, the storm from the night before had caused the floods down through the valley and surge had washed the roads away and it was all closed, in fact, even worse a woman had been killed when a bridge was washed away but the surge.
Undeterred, we ignored the roadblocks, parked near the Cirque, reviewed the damage created by the storm surge and did the walk anyway, leaving my mate amazed at the beauty of the Alps at it’s best, even though bits had been washed away the night before. In hindsight and having recently watched the scenes from the water surges in Nepal, I’m not sure that this was one of my better ideas.
That evening I introduced my mate to the “Morillon Massive”, the group of Brits with homes in the village that gather for beers, by the lake in the summer or by the gondola in the winter. My mate got to enjoy sitting in the sun, watching the sunset looking west, and looking east towards the orange glow on the mountains from the setting sun. The Apprentice was falling in love with the Alps.
We had our evening BBQ on our balcony, investigated the booze cupboard and I presented him with a Rare Adventures T Shirt as a memento of that moment. Unfortunately, he has put on a bit of weight lately so the T Shirt wasn’t big enough, this list of bad luck was getting longer.
The thing is, when you have been friends with someone for 40 years, and have managed to get up to all sort of mischief, there is a never ending list of stories to reminisce on, all of which get funnier the more you have to drink.
In our block there is a little bar called the Tetras, and in the winter it is a major distraction when trying to get back home, as it is difficult to pass it after a good day on the piste, especially with the Morillon Massive are gathered discussing the day. It has been noted by other friends that the landlord, indomitable Flo. has a striking similar to The Apprentice. So this was the first opportunity to put them side by side, I will leave you to form an opinion but the word “love child” does come to mind, and Flo did actually smile and look happy, or maybe he was just bemised at the attention of the latest member of the Britpack.
Next day, we headed off to Avoriaz to show him around the spectacular scenery before doing the incredible bike trails in La Chatel. We made it safely to the peak on the French and Swiss border with some of the most stunning views in the region.
In one of those amazing coincidences that only seem to happen to me, I heard someone shout “Hello Rod”, in this remote corner of France, one of my pals from walking football just happened to get off a lift at the split second I was putting on my helmet, 30 seconds later he wouldn’t have seen me, an unbelievable coincidence.
The Apprentice and I headed down the trail, stopping for photos, and then into the last section into the Avoriaz valley for coffee when disaster struck. On the very first trail of the day he managed to go over the handlebars on one of the gravel access roads.
I had stopped to wait for him and was looking at the view when I heard a scream and a crash, the two Frenchie riders stood beside me ran towards the accident. I turned around and genuinely could not believe my eyes, there was my mate on the ground, covered in dirt with the bike wrapped around him.
I was so disbelieving I actually nudged him with my toe to check it was him, which got an unappreciative response, as did my enquiry as to where was all his protective gear I had given him. Luckily, he had a full face helmet on, but we was clearly badly shaken up.
Sadly, a trip that had 3 days of mountain biking in beautiful scenery ended right there, he never got to see the bike parks. We got him down to the village, where he had a couple of recovery beers that did him good but didn’t solve the problem of his smashed up body what turned out to be a broken wrist. Examination of the GoPro footage still hasn’t really solved the mystery of why he fell off.
So we headed back to the bar by the lake, downed a few more beers, shared his story with the Morillon Massive, one of who was a medic and diagnosed the broken wrist, one for A&E when he got back.
I offered to take him for a hike across the mountains on the last day, but he opted for a day of watching Indiana Jones films in the apartment followed by a pub crawl along the river and a final sunset beer by the lake.
It had been quite a trip, it hadn’t gone anything like it was supposed to but we really had a great time with plans being put into place for next years adventure. In fact, it had been even more eventful than the visit from my mate The Mechanic in June, which was hardly dull.
So it’s not only me that has these misadventures it rubs off from my friends as well.
As I often say what’s the worst thing that could happen?
As he still carries the scars from Thailand in 1992, I guess he knew what to expect !
Rally driving, road rage, a singing chef and a dip in the fountain
This was the day when the fun and laughs did not stop from the moment to set off to collapsing into bed at 2am.
Screenshot
At this point we had reached the halfway point of our tour, and we were up and ready, I was determined to follow the group this time and see what it was like in the convoy. We had a wonderful route over moors planned by the OTR guys.
So, I tucked into the convoy determined to enjoy it. For the first hour I followed one of the little Yaris GR rally cars through the mountains, The owner, Simon, had to do all the work watching for dangers ahead as we headed across the cliffs, I momentarily looked around and enjoyed the scenery and when I looked back, he was gone, you can’t relax for a second with these guys.
We came along a beautiful coast road and the OTR guys found a little coffee van in the middle of nowhere on top of the cliffs. To our surprise, in this wind torn wilderness, there was a museum to the worlds oldest farming settlement from some 5000bc, I did find this at little bit of an incredible claim, but as I couldn’t prove it wrong, I guess we have to accept it, but by far the most interesting thing about the Failte museum was the toilets, that we needed after our coffee!
As we headed through the next town the group got split up and I found myself out in front setting the pace, whilst and knowing the cars behind me would overtake if I didn’t put my foot down, I really pushed myself as we flew across the moorland roads, it was absolutely exhilarating pushing the Porsche in a way that I had never done before. Having Sandy and Mr Blowey behind me itching to overtake if I gave them a chance, I kept me foot to the floor.
Arms locked on the steering wheel like Colin McRae the rally driver, the manual gearbox being pushed to the limit, the roar of the engine to keep revs in the middle range, eyes firmly fixed on the road ahead I had absolutely no idea what the scenery was like because I was firmly fixed on the road ahead and determined to make up distance in the bends so that the supercharged Jag of Sandy wouldn’t overtake me on the straight. As Wooksie said, it was like being in a rally car, at the end of it we pulled into the little coastal town of Mallaranny to give us chance to calm down.
My friend Mr Blowey pulled in behind me and opened with the words “Thank god you took that cork out of your ass mate”, which I took to mean well done. Then things really kicked off, there wasn’t much space in the road, Mr Blowey was stood beside his car, but another car driven by a pensioner insisted on pushing through as he stood there.
At this point there was a loud howling noise coming from Mr Blowey, basically the car had driven over his foot, and he was not happy. The car stopped and was pursued by Mr Blowey hurling abuse. It bought back memories of our younger days where such things had turned into quite major incidents as punishment for stupidity was administered, but now in his older and calmer years, he noticed the driver was about 80 so limped back to the car after handing out some obscenities as punishment.
This wasn’t the end of it though, because he had to put the roof up on his convertible. Daz’s mate Pompey Ian was stood close by and was given instructions on what he had to do to help. To be fair, after a long drive, Ian had other things on his mind and didn’t quite follow the instructions about putting all his weight on the boot lid. Ian, unfortunately, took his weight off the boot lid too soon and before we knew it, the boot lid was jammed with all sorts of bits poking out in the wrong places.
This was now all getting too much for Mr Blowey and he cracked, lots of rude words and he pretty much blamed Ian for wrecking his holiday, wrecking his car, and the Iranian war. To be honest I could see he was holding back his violent tendencies as best he could, bearing in mind his foot was throbbing like a good un as well.
Luckily Aston Martin Stuart turned up, with a calm disposition and his excellent toolkit, and before we knew it the damage had been recovered, so we all sat down for a nice lunch on the seafront in the sun prepared for the next escapade.
After the excitement I was only too glad to settle into a drive along the coast, enjoy the scenery as we followed the Sky Road along the cliffs and into our hotel for the night, a genuine castle called Abbeyglen Castle with the promise of a great night out, but not before another trauma for Mr Blowey.
After we had all checked in, Mr Blowey had to pop up to our room to collect his stuff. Fortunately for us we had been given the best room, not only did we have fabulous view of the coast, but we also had a patio door out on to a turret that acted as a balcony.
Mr Blowey looked at our room, stomped around the balcony in silence, checked the bathroom, let out a fearsome growl and stormed out of the room. It transpired he had a room with a lovely view in the rear of 2 trees, and he managed his frustration by stamping down the corridor back to his room, refusing to speak to me again. This was the 3rd consecutive night that we had a better room, and he was struggling with the unfairness, his throbbing foot and the burgeoning repair bill for his car.
Saturday night dinner was a grand affair and even Mr Blowey cheered up. The owner of the castle gave a wonderful speech about the history of the hotel, and then we moved on to dinner where he became the centre piece of entertainment, even sharing his Irish version of Bohemian Rhapsody.
Not only that, but we also had the services of the Singing Chef, who sang Irish ditties between courses, it was a truly fun experience and we had a wonderful time. The food and service also fantastic, life couldn’t be better.
But it didn’t stop there, England were playing Norway in the World Cup, so we all headed to the bar to watch the game. Strangely, the Scots were having a great time when England were 1 0 down, so much so that Sandy’s daughter, the vivacious Louise who had already been lots of fun up to now, stepped up a gear and bought a round of Baby Gunnesses, which inspired others to do the same and before we knew it everyone was singing and laughing.
Not so much when England scored their second goal, but that didn’t stop the banter with more Scots in the shape of father and son team Cam and Fraser getting in on the act as well, booing every England move and cheering Norway wildly, so much so that a couple of genuine Norwegians couldn’t stand the noise and went back to their rooms. The Scots even decided to wear their own football shirts as an declaration of war.
Even better, Wookie’s (who had also gone to bed by now) won the sweepstake with the time of England’s second goal, so we won a pot of about £40. The next morning, we realised that the money had disappeared overnight, did the barman take it, but we then came up with the most likely explanation,
I’d used it to buy a round. This round, amongst many others, pushed Pompey Ian over the top and he collapsed with bout of Guiness poisoning.
Things deteriorated further at the end, for some reason I’d promised to jump in the fountain if England won, so I did. Cam and Fraser were too drunk to get a photo, and I started to suffer from exposure waiting for this photo to be taken. I headed back to our posh bedroom and couldn’t sleep, because every time I rolled over, I started giggling again, which didn’t please Claire very much.
The next day we were all rather subdued at breakfast, armed with sore heads we headed off on the longest day of the tour, 280 miles to Cork, with the only aspiration being to get to the next hotel without any more incidents.
Visiting Anker Wat had been one my ambitions for many years, so we detoured from Vietnam for a short stay in Siem Reip to take in the temples. We weren’t’ the only ones, as everyone who comes here is heading for Anker Wat, which is a shame but Siem Reip is a really nice place and Cambodia has a lot to offer.
The city leaders are a clever lot, and to keep us hanging around the created Pub Street, which is another good reason to come here. They have created a long street full of bars, that keeps the rowdy tourists in one place, having fun while the citizens carry on with their lives uninterrupted.
The highlight of this trip was the HeroRats that are covered later in the blog, they were incredible and, in many ways, the highlight of the trip. A creature that the whole world regards as vermin is at the core of saving lives and removing the landmines that still remain from the war with the US.
To be honest, Pub Street is overhyped, all the bars are doing beer deals and food, there is the odd night club or live music venue scattered around but the best bit, is most of the bars are airconditioned. As with many things in this part of the world, Pub Street gives you great Instagram photos to share, which of course makes it even more popular.
Everything was geared towards the travellers so we ended up eating there every night because it was nice and easy, and the beer and food was cheap, but by the 3rd night it we definitely time for a change of scenery.
To get a better perspective of town, we found a tuk tuk tour called Hidden Treasures and had a great guide called Lux, (you can find him on Facebook as Lux Lux). He had great knowledge of the history and spoke fantastic English, he also had a real passion for his country and he made the tour extra special for us.
Psar Chaa – Old Market. Local food market was the first stop and it was jaw dropping. The region is full of markets and things but this one had the most incredible variety of fresh food. Most of it was fish from a giant lake the size of a small sea a few miles away that seem to feed the entire region. All the farmers carted their products into this central area and the place was packed with locals doing their daily shop from the amazing it display of vegetables and meat; it makes our weekly trip to Lidl look particularly dull!
Wat Preah Prom Rath. Everyone comes here Anker Wat, but there are temples spread around the whole city. The temples are unique as they blend Buddhism with Hinduism, historically the religion is Buddhism but one of their kings changed the religion to Hindu and this lasted for a couple of centuries, before another king changed it back, so this means the temples have artifacts from both religions.
It isn’t a visit to a temple unless they have a sleeping Buddhu, and this one had a beauty.
Satcha – Cambodian Handicraft Cente. Another really interesting place where the locals maintain ancient crafts, it was a bit like an apprentice college. This isn’t really my sort of thing, I couldn’t help but be intrigued watching the delicacy of the stone or wood engraving, and how the pottery and painting studios. After 30 minutes we got on to the good bit, they make cracking coffee.
APOPO Visitor Center, otherwise known as the HeroRats. This was absolutely incredible. Rats are trained to sniff out landmines. APOPO is the charity that trains the rats in Cambodia and in parts of Africa as well. Apparently, rats are intelligent and sensitive creatures and watching the affection that the staff at the visitor centre show them is quite moving. They take years to domestic and train to do the minesweeping, but they have saving hundreds of lives.
I hadn’t realised that their rural countryside is still littered with landmines and children are still being killed and maimed, they rats are not only saving lives, but they also open up more land for cultivation as there are vast areas that are still too dangerous to inhabit, which is an incredible tragedy.
We took in another temple where there was some celebration going on, with people having a good time but it was all getting a bit hot by then and we could feel the swimming pool and cocktails calling.
Lux had rather impressively taken us on a route that actually left outside our hotel, so the call of the pool was even louder.
