All Roads Lead to Trieste

I was up early in our cosy little camp site bit by the time I had blogged and emailed, Trauma and Nightmare were on their way and just about everything on our van was packed. I drove us along the windy coast road heading north, through Rijeka towards Trieste airport. I was enjoying the feeling of having proper working brakes as we swooped around the corners. Eileen was navigating, using both bloody Garmin and Tom Tom, trying to convince us that his infernal machine was trustworthy after all. 

Having been through Trieste to get to the airport, Eileen kindly offered to set the Tom Tom to our next destination, Predjama Castle. He set it then left us to fly back home to London, wife, work and sleeping in the same country every night. We'll miss him, but not his navigational skills. 

I followed the sat nav instructions out of the airport. After 15 minutes I saw we were travelling back towards Trieste. Like a fool I trusted it until we were approaching the outskirts of Trieste. I pulled over and checked the sat nav. Bloody Priddy. He had set it to central Trieste. I turned around and set it for Predjama, avoiding all motorways. We got on the main road towards Slovenia until I realised that it was just about to take us on to the motorway and I was going to have to buy a vignette. Damn sat nav. I pulled off, only to find that the road was heading towards......Trieste. 

It took a fair bit of effort to avoid Trieste, but we finally crossed in to Slovenia and found the back roads to Predjama. 

It's a fascinating castle, it's sticking out of a cave. 

If you are wondering why there is a hairbrush in the photo, it's because my dear wife Jo is always asking where her hairbrush is. I haven't used a hairbrush in about 20 years. Rather kindly (foolishly) she has left her hairbrush on the van. Her hairbrush is now sending her photos back from around Europe. It has asked me to set up a Facebook account (it's a hair brush, it can't type). 

As we left Predjama, Teams Nightmare and Trauma rolled in to town. They had been caving apparently. We left them to view the castle whilst we lunched on burgers the size of dinner plates. 

Camping Pivka Jama is hidden away in the Slovakian woods near Postojna. It's a surprisingly large camp site. It has pools, shop, volleyball courts and extensive wooded camping areas. We found a large gravelly area (great for camper vans, not quite so good for camping on) and found that Red 5 and Chameleon were already in residence. We were soon joined by Trauma, Nightmare, Team Terras, then The Mobster and Trigger. Team Lotus and the Swannies were in bungalows. Milly drifted in then the Swedes in something sounding like a tractor. A hole in the exhaust was causing a few issues. Nothing that a tin can couldn't fix. 

And so, an evening of boule, cards, reading and banter in the Slovenian forest. 

Tomorrow we are off early to find another truly iconic European destination. Venice. Would a trip around Europe be complete without it ? 

Aye Aye Aye Pad

I'm afraid I don't speak any Croatian. There are however some words, phrases and sayings that take no translation though, such as the comment made by the Croatian mechanic in the garage we had pulled in to just south of Split. He had just removed the front wheel of Jezebel and was looking at the brake disc and pad. His comment, which I understood, was "AYE,AYE,AYE". Well, that'll be a new pair of brake pads then.
Now, the more tricky part. Croatia is just about to go in to shut down for a long weekend as they celebrate joining the EU. With Saturday lunchtime rapidly approaching, the manager of the garage was desperately phoning around to find spare parts for a 32 year old VW Camper van. He spoke very little English, so conversed with me in German. After I had told him to look out for wombats (it's the only German I know. That and apple juice, but I didn't think that was appropriate in the circumstances), he reverted to sign language. I gestured at my watch, he, rather worryingly, gestured at the calendar. July 2nd ? Oh hell.
Finally, he packed us off to a restaurant for an hour. As we returned, I was a little surprised to see Jezebel being driven down the road. I had mixed feelings about this. Good that she was now apparently fixed, bad that she was apparently being stolen. He brought her back 5 minutes later, so all was well in the world. 80 euros later and we were heading north once more to collect Evil Kev from Split airport.

We had already traversed one country by breakfast time. If you travel up the main road from Dubrovnik, there is a 10km section of Bosnia, forming it's only piece of coastline. This was going to be one of our 23 countries, albeit a brief one. We got out of Croatia without any issues. The border guards didn't even want to see our passports. I then looked out for the entry barriers and checkpoint for Bosnia. Now, sometimes these can be within a few metres, sometimes a few miles of no man's land separate the two. This was obviously going to be a long no man's land. We skirted around the resort of Neum. I recognised it from photos when I had been researching the area. Still no entry checkpoint or insurance office. A few minutes later, we spotted a checkpoint. On arriving it was the exit checkpoint for Bosnia. We had crossed the country (well, the little corridor) without being able to buy any insurance.
A border guard who spoke very good English pulled us over. He asked to see the insurance document. He pointed out that we had no insurance for Bosnia. It seemed a bit pointless to buy it now that nothing untoward had happened. He let us off with a verbal spanking. Now, I would normally buy insurance where possible, even if it isn't going to be checked, however with insurance companies in England refusing to insure vehicles travelling to non EU countries and nowhere to be found to buy insurance in the country, we were a bit stuck. Add this to the fact that there was no indication to say that we had entered Bosnia until we were leaving Bosnia....
Anyway, we survived and continued up the stunning Croatian coastline. Whilst the main group were heading for Plitvice Lakes, about 2/3 of the way up the country, after collecting Kev and fixing brakes, I was concerned that we would be getting to the lakes a bit late. Coupled with the fact that Eileen had a date with Ryanair at lunchtime the following day, so an early start was required, I announced that we would be heading to a beach resort further up the country instead of the lakes. Others followed suit.

The Gentlemen of Trauma and Team Nightmare found Camp Ujca, close to Senj. A compact little camp site nestling in a rocky cove. No idea why but the water was Baltic.
Team Red 5 and Doris had also pushed on, past the turning to Senj and were looking for camp sites near Rijeka.
Team 41 reported in from a hotel at the northern tip, watching fireworks to celebrate the arrival of the vast EU subsidies heading Croatia's way.
Team 19, eager as always, got the e-mail for the following day and arrived at the destination a day early, to allow them to find a bar showing the British Grand Prix.
Team 48, The Wham Boys or Team Hire Car, desperate to throw off one of their titles, had pushed on towards Austria to trade in the hire car for the trusty(?) old Supra. They'll see us tomorrow. So, spread out over 3 countries and about 6 locations. That is the beauty of the event though. It doesn't really matter. Each team is independent but can link up with any one or more of the other teams. They can chose the recommended destination, or find something that suits them better.
That saying, I'm hoping we shall all meet up tomorrow in Postojna, Slovenia. It's a beautiful little country and Predjama Castle is a funky little castle sticking out of a cave. That's where I want to go. Sarah however has plans to visit Lipica. They have a large glue farm there, full of dancing ponies. Pure white Lipisana Horses are bred and trained here. Ghastly, horrible place that I was subjected to last time I came to Slovenia. Please, please, please, don't put me through that dancing pony show again.....

The Frog Chorus

Paul McCartney I'm guessing has never been to Lake Shkodra Resort. It's a fairly new camp site on the bank of the lake. Swimming is quite possible (as I demonstrated this morning) having been rudely awakened by the rampant frog population of the area. Gee, there must be thousands, if not millions of them.
I was in up to my neck by 7am. Needless to say the frogs had scarpered and couldn't be seen. It was pleasantly warm though.

A full English breakfast, Albanian style. All for under 4 euros, as the warm sun rose and started to make it pleasantly hot. We hit the road at the crack of mid morning with Eileen driving. He soon ran in to trouble when he was pulled over by the Albanian police. They had obviously heard about the abuse he had put poor Jezebel through yesterday. They shook our hands, warned Eileen to turn his lights on when driving, then sent him on his way with a warning.
We arrived at the border to find a long row of lorries patiently waiting and a small Morris Minor. Doris it seemed was a bit of a celebrity. Even the police there were taking photos.
The road took us towards the capital of Montenegro, Podgorica, before winding through the mountains (they are more grey or green than black, despite the name of the country). Finally we emerged out above Bhudva on the coast.

We had a luncheon appointment at Kotor, on the banks of the fjord. Alas, we missed Kotor and found our way to Tivat for our lunch. Must have been Eileen navigating again. At least it wasn't an Albanian goat track this time, but a pleasant harbour with tall ships and gin palaces and views across the fjord.
Time waits for no man though, we were off again, heading for our third country that day. The brakes on Jezebel were grating worryingly and pulling to one side. As we queued at customs in the hot sun, with the air cooled engine not getting any through air, I turned off the engine. She didn't want to start again. The alternator has always caused me a few issues, but with the engine heat evaporating the fuel, she was very reluctant and now had not one, but two flat batteries. Ralph was just behind us, we had to encourage the queue to go around us so I could bump start her in reverse, then try to force my way back in to the queue. We got there in the end.
Dubrovnik is a beautiful old city. Big, creamy coloured walls, crystal clear water, elaborate carvings and oodles of history. Marred perhaps by over commercialisation and over charging. The car park cost us 23 euros for 4 hours, even though we were only there for one.
We pushed on north to the camp site at Tresteno. Less than half the price of the one close to Dubrovnik. The teams are all closely parked near the entrance and after a fine meal from our ration pack supply, everything in the world is rosy. The coastline of southern Croatia is phenomenal. Islands clutter the sea and the cliffs and turquoise waters and setting sun just set them off perfectly. I was driving alas, so the others may have some good photos.
Team Nightmare got searched at the border for drugs. None were found. Several teams have chosen to stay in Dubrovnik. Personally, I prefer the peace and tranquility and getting back to nature. Mind you, I said that last night and found myself in the middle of a frog orgy.

The Albanian Highway

It's been a funny day. An experience for sure. Seems we aren't the only team to have had an unusual day. Reports coming in of child abduction, off roading, cars being followed by the mafia and me, well, I've been crapped on by a tortoise. But we should talk about Macedonia and even Greece before. 

Meteora. A windy road up through the arid Greek landscape revealed a stunning scenery of granite outcrops. 

On top of several of these are monasteries. Breathtaking scenery. 

Well worth the two hour, 100 mile detour. It meant that we were the last team to encounter our first non EU border. 

On our way, having viewed the stunning scenery of Meteora and the wonderful little Greek villages on the route, Marc treated us to a stop for lunch in a BP filling station next to a power station. Ice creams. We didn't stop for long. 

The road north was getting ropier and ropier and our fuel situation was getting a little desperate but with a top up of a couple of gallons we cruised to the border. 55 euros for 2 weeks worth of insurance. Pricey, which ever way you look at it. Still, this was going to be the most expensive border crossing from an insurance point of view. 

Sarah made up for the cost by buying 400 fags for 20 euros. 

And so, in to the wine making region of Macedonia. Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia to give it it's proper title. The roads were a little ropey but adequate and we pushed on through the mountains towards Lake Ohrid. 

Teams Trauma and Nightmare had already settled in to an apartment in Ohrid, paying 35 euros for an apartment for 6. We pushed on to Struga to link up with the main party. 

Campsite Hotel Drim was difficult to find for at least 2 reasons. Firstly, it wasn't at Hotel Drim. Secondly it wasn't called Campsite Hotel Drim. However we finally located it. The reception gave some idea of what we were letting ourselves in for. 

Damn. No guns allowed. 

The camp site was straight out of the 1950s. 

Those funny  round sort of caravans from 'Carry on Camping'. The grass ( well, curly weeds) was long. There was a severe lack of meat in the local supermarkets, so we were cooking mackerel and prawns. 

Later, Jim and Eileen dragged me reluctantly along to a local bar for a few beers. 9 drinks, 9 euros. Not too bad. With the sound of the lake water lapping on the shore we discussed future Windy plans and formulated the possible route for the next one. 

The campsite is infested with dogs. Large, brown, mangy looking dogs. Apparently they barked all night. I couldn't tell you, I was asleep upstairs. There were however several taking shelter under Milly's canopy and one squeezing out from under the van in the morning. 

Not the best camp site we had found but nonetheless interesting. 

By 9-15 we were on the road. Eileen driving using Eileen's Garmin. A mistake surely. There was a plan to meet up just before the border. We missed that as the Garmin took us via some more rural parts of Macedonia. Pretty scenery but poor roads. The way we were hitting pot holes  and rough patches was concerning me. This was the first country that we had no breakdown recovery for. 

I suggested finding and following the rest of the group, just in case we had issues. The Garmin and its despicable owner had other ideas though. After the dodgy border crossing (little moustachioed man in portacabin issuing expensive sheets of paper proporting to be insurance cover ) we plunged deeper and deeper in to rural Albania. 

I came to Albania in 2006 with Jo. She hated it. We only visited the port of Durres and the capital, Tirana. Neither are that special or pretty. The parts of Albania we were seeing were entirely different though. Lakes, tree covered mountain slopes, winding roads and small villages. We were making slow progress but the Garmin assured us that this was the route to Kruja. 

I was quite looking forward to lunch in Kruja. A leisurely browse through the bazaar. A short drive to the camp site along pristine Tarmac. Messers Garmin and Priddy however chose otherwise. 

I'd better add at this point an amusing little interlude. As we came around a bend there was a rock in the road. Strangely this rock was making progress across the road. A tortoise ! Obviously a photo opportunity, especially as I was wearing my Weymouth football shirt. The tortoise chose this special moment to empty it's bowels over my trousers. 

We continued towards lunch. Over patches of road with no Tarmac. Through  a town devoid of Tarmac, but mainly on semi-decent roads. Until we passed through Burrel. The road went uphill but then the Tarmac ran out. After about half a mile of no Tarmac, Jezebel cut out. It had been a bit of a hot, slow climb. Still the Garmin urged us onward. It's evil partner Eileen also suggested it was only 6 miles to Kruja. I offered to drive. The road got worse. 

Still, with only 5 miles or so to go and an alternative of 55 miles around if we went back, we pushed on, slowly and steadily over the rocky, lumpy track. This was proper off roading. Ruts, gravel and mud. Surely not a sensible place to be taking an elderly, 2 wheel drive camper van with no roadside recovery. 

By the side of the road (just this side of the sheer drops) were occasional bunches of plastic flowers and monuments to less fortunate travellers. Still we pushed on as the Garmin directed. 

Hair pins and rough bridges, crumbling sections of track. 

After 90 minutes of driving and approximately 15 miles we re-evaluated. We were about half way. The ruts were getting deeper. Really not good camper van territory. 

We took the decision to turn back. 

It was a little easier on the way back down. We encountered another tortoise (luckily an empty one).

A large stone made a decent sized dent in the number plate. 

After 2 1/2 hours we made it back to Tarmac. Reports were flooding in from other teams about the pleasant conditions they had found at the camp site. We were still 100 km away, tired, sweaty and fed up of Albanian Roads and Mr Garmin. 

Eileen returns home in a few days. I expect he will be setting off the airport metal detectors and he may need a trip to Harley Street to remove the offending article. Hopefully he will then send it back to Mr Garmin for a refund. 

Anyway, other teams had also had an eventful day. Team Like A Swede had a coming together with a lorry. No major damage caused, no injuries. 

Team Newlywed found themselves wedged up a narrow lane. Some locals offered them some directions and then offered them a child to act as a guide. With child on board, they then grounded Olly. With the Mowlam Mob and others following, they passed the child on to the Mowlems to direct them. I don't know if the young Albanian has made it home yet or is still in residence in the Mobster. 

On the subject of being followed, Robin was getting concerned as he was being followed by a sinister looking black Lexus. For about an hour he struggled to shake it off. Meanwhile, Richard, driving his sinister looking black Lexus was hoping Trigger would take him to the camp site. 

So, finally, as the sun was beginning to set over Lake Shkodra, we pulled in to the camp site. With the frogs welcoming us, we joined the gang at the lakeside bar. 

Eileen has been relieved of navigational duties tomorrow as we try to find Montenegro and then Dubrovnik. It's been a long day. 

The Penthouse

Well, i finally did it. Well alright I may have had a bit of assistance, but the hinges on the roof are now attached and not still stored in the cupboard. 

Mark Twain once wrote about Tom Sawyer, who was tasked with painting a fence one day. However, by showing some enthusiasm and making it look like he was enjoying it, all of his friends begged and pleaded to be allowed to help. 

So, at 6-30, in a sudden fit of sobriety and enthusiasm, I grabbed some random tools (screw driver, cheese grater, hack saw and dental monkey wrench) and started to size up the task in hand. Deano was the first to bite, coming over to eye up the roof of the van and offer his advice.

Steve and Jim soon followed and with some more appropriate tools and a cup or two of Pimms, before we knew it, we ( ok, they) had the roof back on properly rather than sitting at a jaunty angle like a beret. 

A night in my own room in the penthouse was wonderful. Topping and tailing with Eileen has been an experience ( then again being savaged by a shark could be called an experience). I perhaps do him a little disservice. I'm sure in Arctic conditions, Eileen would be a fine addition to most people's fold down beds. Greece however is just outside the Arctic Circle. 

The camp site, Olympus Beach Camping, had proven a little difficult to find for some. Don claimed to have gone via Olympus Beach in Crete but I'm not convinced. Others found Olympus Beach 20 km up the coast and also Olympic Beach Camping. We rounded up all of the stragglers eventually and pointed them towards the sea food restaurant and bar, rather conveniently right by the beach. A bit like Ralph's interesting local wine, the water was tepid. Just how sea water should be. Just about cool enough to refresh but not so cold to wither a gentleman's necessities. 

Set amongst pine trees, the site had some shade but it was still 36 degrees. Plenty warm enough to dry washing, if suitable drying locations could be found. At this point the washing line was still holding the roof on, so I was able to employ the tow rope and, much to Lucy's indignation, Milly's hanging basket. 

I won't get invited on the next Windy 500 at this rate. 

The lure of my own room encouraged me off to bed early. I think Eileen may have been equally pleased with the new sleeping arrangements. I did hear rumours of some midnight swimming by Team Trauma and the easily led Team Nightmare. The gentlemen of Trauma still buzzing from their appearance in the Dorset Echo earlier. 

So today, we are off again and voluntarily adding about an extra 100 miles to the trip to take in Meteora. It is a mountain top monastery at the top of a rocky pinnacle which was shown in a James Bond film (For Your Eyes Only I think). After that we are off to tackle our first more troublesome border in to Macedonia. Could be insurance issues and it will give us a chance to show off our international driving licences. We've done nearly 100 miles today and the roof is still on. Bargain. 

Olives

Should you ever find yourself in Jerusalem, which I would recommend, but not on this trip, up on the Mount of Olives are the Gardens of Gethsemane. In the gardens, unsurprisingly, are a number of olive trees, twisted and gnarled and misshapen but definitely olive trees. As the local guides will tell you, some of these olive trees are over 2000 years old. That takes you back to the time of Brian of Nazareth and when Messers Iscariot and Christ had their falling out. 

I like olives. Not sure why, they are just salty berries after all. They remind me of sunshine and Mediterranean destinations. As we pulled out of Bansko I was looking out for olive groves as the countryside changed from lush green to something a bit more arid. I figured that the appearance of olive trees would really show that we were entering Greece. Well, that or a big sign saying 'Welcome to Greece'. 

These borders are definitely getting more formal. Going back a few countries, the borders consisted of nothing more than a sign by the side of the road that we shot past without slowing. Here though we found barriers, vehicle lanes and a female border guard who looked like Jimmy Krankie wearing a Kevin Keegan wig. She smiled as she waved us out of Bulgaria. I wish she hadn't, she looked like she had bitten on some foil. 

The Greek border guard insisted on seeing the registration document for Jezebel. Come on, do you really think we would steal something without a properly attached roof ? We got past him though and ploughed on south. Fields of sunflowers littered the landscape as we dropped out of the hills on to the plains. 

There were also olive groves, however I was driving and Eileen was taking the photos and it seems he prefers sunflowers to olive groves. 

We finally found the sea. The first glimpse of the sea since Calais all those days ago. This looked much more inviting so we pulled over for a paddle. 

We had the beach to ourselves, apart from a brown, withered looking naked chap. Oh good, our first Greek beach and its a nudist beach. I hadn't put suncream on my gentleman's regions, so we satisfied ourselves with a quick paddle and scarpered. 

Bansko last night just wasn't how I remembered it. I've been there out of the skiing season in November 2006. It was a lively, vibrant place with many bars and restaurants, live music and crowds of people. We were wandering the streets at 11pm looking for somewhere to celebrate Eileen's birthday but failed miserably. Everything was shut. I don't know if it was the time of year or the collapsed economy of the town but it certainly gave the dismal impression of a ghost town. Apartment prices have fallen through the floor since the massive building programmes of 5-10 years ago. This might also explain the ridiculously cheap hotel accomodation that the teams were finding. 35 euros for a double room in a 4 star hotel with several swimming pools, spa, sauna, breakfast, yoga and climbing walls. Marc got dragged off for an hour of yoga by Vicky and was walking around in the evening like he was auditioning for the part of Richard III. Still, it must be good for you. 

Team Milly were last in, having solved some sheared bolt issues in Ruse. The Swedes have taken a break from the tour for a few days to sort out Anna's back problem but are hoping to link up again in a few days. 

The Newlyweds have a dodgy differential that they are nursing. Doris is suffering a bit in the heat but is soldiering on. The windows on Trigger now go up and down correctly. As for Jezebel, the trim inside the cab is still dropping down frequently and really needs gluing but until we find a dry country that won't serve us beer as soon as we stop, I really can't see it happening. 

God I need a cold drink and some olives. 

Yellow polka dot bikini

Cat has been singing about polka dot bikinis at breakfast. As she was last night as she fell out of the restaurant. It was apparently the only song that the band knew in English. They should have stuck to the good old Bulgarian folk music that had many of us up on the dance floor learning the moves. It's amazing how well and how quickly we managed to pick it up. You don't really need years of practice to be a great dancer. You just need plenty of Bulgarian red wine and an overinflated idea of how good you are. We certainly showed the locals how to do it. 

Now, I've promised not to reveal the identity of a certain Windy participant who may have done something a little foolish yesterday. So, I shall tell the tale without naming them to save any unnecessary embarrassment. 

This unknown person arrived in Ruse with his wife Sam and daughter Tasha. The passenger side window was down and refused to go up. In the rain he was forced to strip down the whole door to get to the electrics. He missed dinner as he tried in vain to find the problem over several hours before giving up and putting some plastic sheet over the window. He got a promise of assistance from the Newlyweds to help fix it the next day. In the mean time he Googled the issue to seek some advice. Turns out he had pressed the window lock button and it had locked the window. Trigger is fine now and the miscreant, whoever he or she was, is feeling a little silly. 

Another small boo boo was made by Ralph. He arrived at the Romania/Bulgaria border and was asked to produce his passport. This gave him a small problem. It was still in reception at the camp site in Brasov. Ralph and Dean have now seen a bit more of Romania than the rest of us and added a few more miles to their total driving distance. 

Poor old Milly is having some more problems. A couple of bolts securing the power steering unit have sheared. This morning she is being fixed in a local garage. Lucy and Jim will have to set off late and play catch up. 

Team Lotus, the Swannies, Team Swanners and even the newly christened Team Hire Car, Billy and Sam,managed to link up with the main group last night to enjoy the traditional Bulgarian fare. 

So, at the end of the night, we stayed at Hotel Anna Palace. A classy affair on the banks of the (not so) Blue Danube. With the air con on full blast, I reckon we got the room temperature down by nothing at all. I relied on more traditional methods of cooling, like sweating profusely all night. Nice. 

So, Happy Birthday Eileen and happy wedding anniversary to the Mowlams. We shall no doubt link up in down town Bansko for another Windy knees up. Well, we have to use the newly learnt Bulgarian dance steps before we move on to a fresh country tomorrow. 

Pants

I feel like I have let someone down. I was given some advice a few days ago and I haven't taken it. It was back in the campsite in Goslar in Germany. Just as we were saying our goodbyes, Lucas spoke to me. "Dad," he said, with a solemn look in his eye, "Dad", he said with an all knowing nod of his head, "Dad, you must change your pants every day". Such wisdom in a five year old. Such good, solid personal hygiene advice. But, how do you explain to someone of his age about the unwritten rules of when you are a man ? You never ask for directions (though Tom Toms are allowed as they are gadgets), when shopping for a barbeque you always buy three times as much meat as you actually need and finally, when wild camping, even if the opportunity presents itself, you do not change your pants. I'll do it in the next country. 

That next country happens to be Bulgaria and we are hurtling towards it at a rapid rate of knots. 

Morning up on the mountain was pleasantly cool and refreshing after the last week or so of very hot weather. The storm had wreaked some minor devastation. The barbeque was full of grey sludge and my sandals were soggy. 

I watched a bright red Ferrari set off down from the top at speed, screaming around the bends and accelerating hard on the short straights before it got held up behind a van. How I wished I could be driving that van. Bloody Ferrari drivers.  

I got Eileen out of bed and let him drive first. Poor Jezebel struggled up the damp grassy slope but with some excessive revving he managed to get her back on the road. The southern side of the pass is possibly not quite as stunning as the northern side, but still beautiful scenery. 

Still a lot of hard packed snow around despite the warm weather and last nights heavy rain. 

The winding, pitted road finally led us out at the dam at the southern end of Lake  Vidraru. I just managed to get some shots of Team Chameleon, Doris and Milly as they crossed the dam. 

Lunch 15 miles further in a small roadside restaurant showed the Top Gear influence around here. Apparently the team had a meal there in 2009 and their photos adorn the wall. 

And so, we are belting down the motorway towards Bucharest. It's a city I spent a dismal day in back in 1996 on a 12 hour stop over from Bangkok. I recall people looking at me strangely in my sandals, brightly coloured Thai baggies and vest top in the 4 degree heat. It seems to have warmed up a bit since 1996.

We shall be staying in Ruse tonight, just over the border in to Bulgaria and on the banks of the Danube. I would say Blue Danube, but I am reliably informed that it isn't. 

As for the other teams, most are ahead. The Lotus boys, the Swannies, Nightmares and Traumas are quite possibly there already and revelling in their fresh underwear. I shall just have to get another couple of hours worth out of mine. 

Top of the World

Alright, not strictly true, but it feels like it. What an amazing place to be staying tonight and to be blogging from. What an astounding day. If you have any interest at all in driving, I would thoroughly recommend coming to this place.

I am lying in the van. It is now raining hard but it's been dry and not really that cold all evening. There is snow on the ground in patches, despite it being late June. There was until recently some spectacular lightning down in the valley, but it is now up here. It's like a topical storm. Spectacular. No. Beyond that. I've never seen lightning quite like this. 

We are at the top of the Transfagarasan Highway in Romania. Top Gear voted this the best road in existence. It is a winding, twisting, snake of a road. The view down the valley just looks like a long string of spaghetti.

The Transfagarasan Highway

The drive up here took a while for us in Jezebel. Some teams took less time. Team Lotus for a start. They had apparently been up and down 3 times by the time I summited. John, by the time we got up, had a broad cheesy grin on his face. He had told me before that ever since he got his first Lotus as a teenager he had dreamed of driving one around Europe, especially to experience roads like this. All 3 of them had taken their turn to hoof it up and down the mountain. They had boiled it twice in the process. 

Mark of Team Chameleon had a similar silly grin. He said he had been dreaming about this road for some time. 

After admiring the view for a while and awaiting a few stragglers ( Team Trauma were fairly easy to spot in their bright yellow ambulance snaking up the hill)

we dropped a few hundred metres from the summit to a relatively flat bit of grass. Marc took Jezebel for a quick trip down and up the mountain and Craig took Olly down again.

Team Milly had experienced a snapped fan belt in Brasov and despite having a new one to hand, had struggled to get much assistance from the AA. Due to garages being shut over the three day weekend, they were informed that it might be Tuesday before they were fixed again. A nice chap from the RAC came to the rescue though and fixed it. They finally summited at about 8pm. By then the party was in full swing. Barbeques were going, snow had been gathered to chill beer and wine.

 As darkness fell, clouds rolled in and the wind picked up. This was when we were sat around a fire, watching the lightning below us.

Suddenly, at around 11pm, the weather called last orders and everyone scurried off to their accommodation.

Well, since having seen this road featured on Top Gear several years back, it's been an ambition to come here and drive it. But, to bring a group of 30+ to this road and to see them scale it in such a variety of weird and wonderful vehicles is just mind blowing. This experience has definitely been a highlight of the trip so far despite a number of fantastic sights as competition. 

So, in the morning, should I subject the poor old, long suffering Jezebel to yet another punishing hill climb from the bottom or do I just admire the stunning view in the early morning sunshine ? 

When in Rome....

Brasov, as we arrived by late evening, was a bit of a disappointment. It's a bit industrial with a large power plant and huge blue pipelines criss crossing the industrial estate. I must admit I was concerned that we may end up camping in the shadow of an incinerator or large factory. When we finally found Camping Darste though, it was a haven of tranquility. Pointy wooden huts and a decent looking camping ground. The team contemplated putting up tents, but then the heavens opened and lightening flashed around the sky, so we sat in the van and had a beer instead.
It was Holly's birthday. Mark, her husband, had perhaps foolishly put all of her presents on our van for safe keeping. It meant Holly had to wait until 8pm for her presents, which we had bolstered with a group Windy card and some flowers and a vase. They'll just have to gaffer tape the flowers to the dashboard for the rest of the journey.

It had been a long day of driving. I had two airport appointments. Firstly dropping Jo off at Debrecen Airport at 8-30. It's a very military looking airport. I walked Jo to the terminal building for our goodbyes. As I walked back to the van, I was wiping a small tear from my eye and some goat poo from my sandal. Now that wouldn't happen at Terminal 5 at Heathrow.
I was at this time the only insured driver on the van, so my driving duties extended to 5 hours as we crossed the border, avoided the speed trap that the Mobster had fallen foul of and hoofed it through the villages and tatty road system of western Romania.
The Romanian police held Steve up for 20 minutes for his driving faux pas. I was wondering if they were real Romany police officers, and if so, would the telling off he received be a gypsy's warning ? Anyway, the driving standards of the locals left a lot to be desired. They are very skilled at overtaking, or very lucky. As I was held up by a slow moving tanker, with traffic pouring past me, preventing me pulling out to go past it, I suffered the ultimate Windy 500 embarrassment. Team Red 5, Doris the 52 year old Morris, with Martin and Harvey grinning like two Cheshire cats, swooped past me and overtook. Oh God Jezebel, how would I live that one down tonight ?
The Lotus boys, Jedward, texted to say they were at Turgu Mures airport. We weren't yet, by a few hours. They managed to collect a third team member, link up with Eileen (guessing a white Lotus with Windy 500 stickers was a bit of a giveaway) and depart for Brasov well before we got there.
I got Eileen to drive soon after he joined us. After the luxury of a relatively modern car with decent brakes and the peaceful tranquility of London roads, Romanian driving in a 32 year old camper may have been a little surprising for him. Much crunching of gears and expressions of concern over braking distances.

He got us to Sighisohara ok though, where we met Team Milly and went to peruse the medieval town centre. This is one of the 15 or so birth places of Count Dracula if the Romanian tourist board have got their history correct. The tat shop owners will back up this fact.

Marc took over for the final leg, as I had now managed to put him on the insurance. Now, there is a man with experience of dodgy vans and dodgy brakes.
And so, to Camping Darste. They tempted us in to the local restaurant with the promise of 'local music'. Mmmm. The local 'Champagne' was also interesting.

23 of us sat down to celebrate Holly's birthday and to make plans for the following day. The Transfagarasan Highway. Described by Jeremy Clarkson as THE best road in the World. And we shall be camping wild.
The irony hasn't really struck any of the others yet. We are in Romania, famed as the origin of the Romany gypsy race. And today, our plan is to travel in a convoy of vehicles, find a place to pitch up by the roadside and make it our home for the night. When in Rome....

Come on Eileen

My wife is leaving me. Fear not, it's only a temporary thing. Although she would love to do more of the trip ( it's getting hard to lever her out of the drivers seat at times), young Lucas will be wanting his mum back at home. Luckily, we happen to be camping within a couple of miles of Debrecen airport, so we can throw Jo out before we continue.

It's currently 6am and beginning to warm up again. Team Red 5 are up and about. They were hoping to get an early start, Doris the Morris is finding the stifling heat to be a little wearing. Her fuel pump coughs and splutters when she has been stopped at traffic lights and they are aware that the Carpathian Mountains may be a little hilly. Alas though, Harvey has promised to cast an eye over another vehicle and after their 35 hour trip, I'm guessing Team Trauma won't be up at the crack of dawn. Amba apparently made it in to camp last night but then dumped a load of fluid from the power steering. This might prove to make driving a little harder, with a 3.5 tonne vehicle and a few twists and turns in the mountains. 

Team Supid have also run in to problems. Billy and Sam had decided to pop in at Switzerland on their way over (why ???? It's not exactly a direct route, UK to Switzerland to Hungary. It seems their Supra didn't appreciate being ragged for 2 solid days. They are currently holed up in a hotel in Linz, Austria awaiting a recovery firm to assess their vehicle, but it's looking like a blown gear box. They may have to consider plan B. 

Team Like A Sweed have fallen foul of the law in Slovakia. They accidentally drifted on to a motorway without a vignette and got pulled over. They were told to leave the country that day. They were planning on doing so anyway. 

Our day yesterday was a pleasant one. The drive through a rustic looking Slovakia was pleasant. 

Winding roads, huge swathes of greenery. Tress and fields with the odd lake. We made good progress to Dobsinska, only to link up with Milly and the Nightmares to find out the caves we were looking for we're 25 miles back the other way. We took in the hills and the scenery once more to find the Swannies, Mowlam Mob and Team Terras vehicles already in the car park. 

A 20 minute hill climb through the heat of late morning led us to the entrance. It was odd. An extremely hot day but every so often you would get a chilly blast of air swirling around your legs. 

From 30+ degrees outside, it seemed strange seeing a build up of ice around the cave entrance. Inside was a refreshing minus 2. 

Wow. What a stunning location. It's a World Heritage site and you could see why. 

Ice formations, stalagmites and stalagtites making amazing displays. 

We returned to the sweltering heat for lunch. 

Now I'm occasionally known to try something unusual on a menu. Jim and Jo however took this to a new level. Chicken stuffed with ham in cream with fruit. It was exactly how it was described. Squirty cream from an aerosol, small cocktail sticks with olives and strawberries on, all with chicken and ham. And chips. 

I did quite fancy the 'Cornish style pies'. Aren't they pasties ?

And so on to the camp site in Debrecen. The thermal spa was a disconcerting brown colour but it was a pleasant spot to chill out after a long drive. The Windy travelling community had formed up and had been enjoying the cheap draught lager and trying to converse with the completely non English speaking owner and her voluptuous daughter. 

Today we are off again. Could be a long one, especially for those of us with no power steering. Transylvania beckons after we tackle the Carpathian Mountains. Eileen arrives too, at the airport of Turgu Meres. Real name of Steve, but we have so many, he'll just have to be called by his nickname. 

Onward !

The Coming of the Traumas

Well, they are well on their way to link up with us in Hungary. Team Trauma, Ben, Mark, Darin and Roy in their converted Ambulance Amba have reported in from Nuremburg in Eastern Germany having survived a wild storm in France. They are expecting to see us around 5pm poolside  . I made contact as I wandered back from the Stalinist toilet facilities of the campsite. It was the Eastern Block. 

Team Supid, brothers Billy and Sam, have also begun their long journey. Strangely they are travelling to Hungary via Switzerland. 

The now defunct Team Mobile Brothel who have merged with the Jezebels arrived by hire car at 8pm to the camp site to be showered by offers of wine, sausages and cold Polish lager. They soon settled back in to the group after their traumatic 36 hours of being detached. 

The camp site, with spectacular views of the Tatras Mountains in the background, was only 12 euros. The drive to get here was also stunning. The chalet style buildings, strange little haystacks, farmers harvesting and cutting hay. Truly idyllic part of the world and yet again somewhere I'd love to spend more time exploring. 

Jo wouldn't let me drive on the relatively short hop from Krakow. I think she's keener on driving Jezebel than she makes out. 

At the campsite we found John and Eddie, the Lotus boys, or Jedward as they are now christened. They sound like they are enjoying the trip in a non camping sort of way. They link up with us when they feel like. 

Ralph and Dean of Team Terras and Richard and Mark of Team Chameleon had also made it and were enjoying some leathery sausages and clothes washing respectively. 

Team Red 5 were, as usual, last to roll in having visited the salt mines near Krakow before a leisurely Morris Minor paced drive through the mountains. 

Very oddly, Jo woke me up at 6-30. Naturally I flinched, knowing what she is like at that time of the morning, but she was just waking me up to show me the fantastic view of the mountains. Oh, and to make her a cup of tea. 

And so, we are off to Dobsinska Ice cave complete with our two new team members stuffed in the back of the van with the baggage. Another beautiful day beckons. 

Fresh Meat

Wednesday morning and we are just moving on from Krakow. We have been arguing which is better, Krakow or Prague. Personally I'd be happy to revisit either for a long weekend. Plenty to see at both and amazing architecture. 

Many of the group, including us Jezebels wanted to visit Auschwitz. It's odd turning up in these car parks and spotting familiar, brightly decorated vehicles. Seems the Nightmares, team Lotus and Team Wessex Properties were there already. 

It's a sobering place Auschwitz, as I'm sure you can imagine. The piles of clothes, specs and human hair began to give you some impression of the sheer numbers of people involved. Horrifying and deeply thought provoking. Chilling despite the blistering heat of the day. 

Camping Smok was the expected meeting point that evening. We arrived around 6 and found the Mobster already checked in. Better still, the Swannies, Peter and Richard were also there in a room above reception. Despite the fact they had been to Amsterdam, Goslar and Prague, this was the first time we had met since the leaving do. Richard had been let down by his co driver at the last minute, so grabbed his father, bundled him in to the car and whisked him off to see Europe. We'll see them again at the next destination I'm sure. 

Throughout the day I had been getting updates from our two missing teams. The Newlyweds with their new alternator were cock a hoop to be back in play. By cruising fast on the Autobahns and avoiding Czech Republic they made it to Camping Smok by evening to be met by a crate a cool Polish lager. 

Not such great news from the Mobile Brothel. It seems master cylinders for Bedford vans are a bit of a rarity in the Czech Republic. After roughing it for the night in the 3 star air conditioned hotel, Marc was reporting that it seemed likely to be the end of the road for the Brothel. So, Plan B. with their van being repatriated and with Jezebel having 2 spare seats, Team Jezebel shall have 2 stowaways from tomorrow. That double bed just got a bit cosier. Those jolly nice folk at the AA are providing a hire car for them to get to Poprad whilst the disgraced pink thing gets shipped home. 

Jezebel is now sporting a new yellow stripe of 'super deluxe' gaffer tape. Provided by Team Lotus to replace the standard black stuff that has been melting in the heat. It's good stuff apparently, it's what scuba divers use, I assume when they have problems with their camper van roofs. Jo even used some to gaffer tape her foot which has a sore patch from her sandals. 

And so a progress report from each team. 

Team 3. Just set off from Weymouth. Will see them tomorrow. 

Team 5. Slow, steady progress. Suspension in the Morris Minor is a bit low but she is coping. 

Team 6. Found a nice chap in Prague to fix their missing alternator bolt and fans. Kitchen functioning well. Got overtaken by disabled nun yesterday. 

Team 7. Hotelling their way across the continent. No issues reported. 

Team 12. Van returning home from Prague, Marc and Sarah joining Team Jezebel. 

Team 14. LaDiva still running well, a few sleeping issues due to James snoring. 

Team 19. Richard and Marc taking lots of photos. Minor issue on exhaust sorted with a hack saw this morning. 

Team 23. Mobster going well. Steve got dragged home by his ear after excessive socialising last night. 

Team 25. Wimped out by staying in a stupidly cheap hotel in Krakow last night. 

Team 27. Newlyweds back in the fold with rejuvenated Olly. Big grins all round. 

Team 31. Last seen cursing the idea of camping in Prague. They touch in occasionally but enjoying themselves. 

Team 38. Left fridge door ajar last night. Nice cool van but flat leisure battery today. New pair of sunglasses too. 

Team 41. The Swannies raving about Goslar, Prague and Krakow. Complaining of aching legs from walking on cobbles. 

Team 42. The action packed Swedes. Up early, do lots, drink beer at night. No vehicle issues reported. 

Team 46. Sucking much of Eastern Europe dry of fuel. Robin giggling like a schoolgirl at the prospect of the next destination. 

Team 48. Setting off this afternoon from Weymouth. 

So, as we approach Zakopane in the High Tatras mountains for a spot of lunch on our way to Poprad in Slovakia, all is well in the world of Jezebel. 

Bouncing Czechs

Sorry, had to be done. You can't write a blog about the Czech Republic without a corny pun. Now we have got that out of the way,  on with the story. 

We were making good progress with our dodgy, strapped down roof. I'm actually thinking that the gaffer tape is increasing our fuel economy as there is no longer a howling gale screaming through the roof. Just need to work out how to retrieve the tea towel that is stuffed in the gap without removing the gaffer tape. 

We crossed the Czech border in the early afternoon and the sat nav started to encourage us off the main road. It led us through a small town then up a country road. As Jo directed us up a very rustic looking lane, i wasn't sure if it was the sat nav demonstrating a sense of humour or Jo having a lustful moment. Alas, it was the sat nav. As soon as we pulled over, we found a couple of Mowlams with similar issues.

Pretty soon we were joined by the Swanners in a rustic Windy convoy. We followed the mobster on a largely circular tour of local villages, a road construction site and some beautiful  forest.

Before I knew it we were back on the motorway, albeit heading back towards Germany. 10 miles further on, Steve led us off and back on the motorway this time in the correct direction. I drew the line when he tried to take us back off to do the rustic tour for a second time though. 

And so, at about 5pm we rolled in to Camping Zizkov. A compact, urban camp site close to central Prague. The beer was cold and under £1 a pint. I needed a shower but that cold, refreshing, stupidly cheap beer wouldn't let me. Everyone was ready to hit down by the time I had finished my third pint. 

Got to say, Prague is a beautiful city. The square and all the buildings around are lit up and are very photogenic. The bridge, the castle. Fantastic sights and well worth a visit. Shame almost that we were in and out within hours, but that is the nature of the event. It is providing a taster session of Europe.

It was a very warm, sweltering night in the van. Over 21 degrees according to my phone. By all accounts, that is a fair bit warmer than Weymouth by day at the moment. 

And so, following a fairly early get away, we are on the main road towards Brno. It's not the greatest of surfaces. We are being bounced around a fair bit. But, we are making good time as we progress ever further east. Another new country for me coming up in 200 miles or so. Poland. Auschwitz and Krakow beckon.  

The Unhinged Traveller

We were having a lazy start to the day. Lucas and his grandma had an afternoon flight from Hannover and Jo's friend Pam was kindly dropping them off but they didn't want to get to the airport too early. Other teams had got going as soon as the barrier opened at 7, but we were soaking up the early sunshine and drinking tea. 

I went to put the pop top down and heard some creaking noises. You come to expect it with the old girl. It was only when I went to secure the top buckles that I realised the roof was unaligned. A quick trip around to the hinge side revealed the problem. Rust. Two of the hinges had just rotted and were no longer attached to the van. 

Oh joy. I think we have problems. 

I scrabbled around in the van and used all my ingenuity to find a clothes line and gaffer tape. With Pam's assistance we tied the front down as best we could then she gaffer taped the front to stop the wind lifting it. I've got to say her army training has made her a great gaffer taper. 

So, the niggly problems have started for a few teams. The electrical issues for Team Newlywed and the fuel tank issues of Team Freedomscaping (I do prefer the name Team Mobile Brothel but Marc gets narky). 

So, we are back on the road heading to Prague. Just the two of us now. My main concern now is that if I don't get the roof fixed, I'll be forced to share a double bed with Eileen next week and Evil Kev the week after. My heart is sinking at the prospect.