Day 9 saw us homeward bound. It was planned to be a leisurely drive as we didn’t need to be at the Tunnel until 4 p.m. Given the traffic carnage of the past couple of days, we were a little apprehensive, but as it transpired, it was an uneventful journey, and we got there a couple of hours early. There was a little rain on the way back, but nothing too difficult, and we stayed dry inside the MG.
At the Motorway services stop, the occupants of a coach tour came over to talk about our car.
At the tunnel, we ended up parked next to a classic 1960s BMW. Surprise, surprise, it turned out to belong to someone known by my business partner!
For once, I didn’t ground the exhaust boarding and exiting the shuttler; I must be getting better at this driving malarky!
Now back in the UK and homeward bound, we again start to compare the quality of road surfaces we have come across on our travels through Europe. We agreed that UK roads are as bad as anything we encountered in Bulgaria. Perhaps the UK should take some lessons in road maintenance from Serbia and Turkey!
Our support vehicle, the camper van, nearly ran out of fuel. We can manage a 56-year-old MG across most of Europe, but a VW camper that can do 600 miles to a tank – well, it got to within its final 5 miles of range!
We stopped near Tenterden so we could get the Camper fuelled up before making our final leg home to enjoy an enthusiastic reception from our friends, family and neighbours.
And that was that. We’ve done it! We met some challenges and learned some lessons, and even though our stops in each country were mostly brief, we learned something about each of them and were pleasantly surprised by many.
After the stressful journey of the day before, the morning drive to Stuttgart was, thankfully, uneventful, and as planned, we met up for breakfast with our friends from the German MG Drivers Club (MG Drivers Club Deutschland e.V.)
It was a good start to the day and a great breakfast with Guido and Neil, who presented us with some very considerate gifts. Once again, we encountered the anti-camera sentiment; the café staff would not allow any filming inside their premises and asked us to blank their business name from the film taken outside. Of course, we were keen on taking pictures of the cars our friends had brought alongside our MG and so we agreed to comply.
All too soon, it was time to move on – the new route plan was to travel via Luxembourg. We waved goodbye to the German MG Drivers Club members and set off. We stopped for fuel in Schengen (we all recognise that name!) and started to explore possible locations to stop overnight. As we checked our route north, we discovered massive traffic jams ahead. At that point, we decided to detour back towards Reims.
It turned out there were huge delays on this route, too, and it was clear that we were not going to make Reims by a sensible time, so we booked something en route in the small town of Etain. It looked perfectly OK on Booking.com, but when got there… hotel from hell.
It was closed! There was no door access code, no staff, no restaurant, and no bar! We couldn’t even lock our hotel room, so we left!
I am still arguing with Booking.com, who have charged us for this fiasco. Is this the worst hotel in France?
So, we headed towards the nearest town in search of somewhere to sleep and opted for an Ibis Budget in Verdun. There, we could talk to someone, find our room and get dinner at an Italian restaurant just over the road.
At this point, we were so nearly home – we had an idea for celebratory drinkies when we got there!
Safe to say, we were looking forward to getting back.
Augsberg to Verdun, Via Luxembourg and Etain. 341 miles
Before heading off to Stuttgart, we started our morning filming at Lake Bled, outside of the restaurant we had eaten at the previous evening. The staff at the restaurant was so interested in what we were doing they plied us with free coffees. As we had come to expect now, the hotel staff and their kids were keen to get the obligatory selfies in the car, and of course, we obliged. The rest of our team checked out of the accommodation and met us for breakfast a little later, where we were looking out onto this wonderful view. It was all very relaxing. Little did we suspect the day of awful traffic, closed motorways, etc., that was ahead.
Our plans were to be in Stuttgart for late afternoon where we had arranged to meet up with members of the MG owners club, but this soon went wrong. Traffic was horrendous as we came into Austria, and it went from bad to worse with major congestion, motorway closures and diversions. We spent hours nose-to-tail in traffic, crawling along frustratingly slowly, which was incredibly frustrating. However, the leisurely pace did allow us ample opportunity to appreciate the scenery between Bled and Salzburg, and it was stunning!
We developed brake problems with the pedal taking on that worryingly spongey feel, and the issue became increasingly apparent with the constant stop-start traffic. The one thing we weren’t carrying was brake fluid, as we understood that the system had been fully overhauled quite recently. Our mistake.
We stopped at garage for fuel and added brake fluid. It was low, but not cause for major concern. At most stops, garage staff has been happy for us to film but not here. After all, this was Austria, the land where dash cams are not permitted.
Setting off again, we saw signs for a Porsche Museum only a short distance away, so we headed there for a brief photo opportunity.
Getting back to our planned route, we experienced more delays, so we abandoned our plans to make Stuttgart that night. We contacted our German friends and rearranged our get together for the following morning for a late breakfast. We had been defeated: There was no way we were going to be there that night. More traffic chaos around Munich and more road closures and diversions meant that the furthest we could make would be Augsburg. We found a simple but acceptable hotel in the southern part of the town, and we arrived at about 8pm. At least we found a nice Mustang to admire whilse we were caught up in the congestion!
Hungry and tired, we parked up, dropped our things in our rooms and took a tram into the middle of the city for a much-needed evening meal and even more needed beers!
Lake Bled in Slovenia to Augsburg, Germany. This had only been 276 miles but it was exhausting.
Belgrade to Lake Bled was the agenda, but after a late night, the day started at a leisurely pace. Milos wanted us to see a little more of Belgrade, so we travelled to breakfast with Milos at a lake-side location before setting off for the day. But first, Milos “needed” a bit of posing time in the car!
Off we set for the border with Croatia. We thought we were hard done by with long crossing queues costing us around 30 minutes, but the wait was even longer for truck drivers; we measured more than 3 kilometres of parked trucks going both ways! One has to ask whether anyone appreciates the commercial damage caused by these delays.
Once in Croatia, we were back in the EU with no borders until Calais – or so we thought. We did experience a short queue at the border with Slovenia, but this was merely the police conducting a quick check of driving licenses. They looked at Dad’s this time but not mine. Slightly bizarre as he was in the passenger seat. Maybe they just wanted to see the car.
Some of the roads became really awful as we continued north.
Our target for the night was Bled in Slovenia, and we arrived at our accomodation at 7.30 pm. This time, it was a 3-bed apartment – booked through Booking.com whilst travelling that day!
The biggest problem of this leg of the trip was speed humps and rough roads around Bled, grounding the MG exhaust several times. How we missed the quality of Turkish and Serbian roads!
The apartment’s owner was a classic car enthusiast from Ukraine, and he was quite taken with the MGC: he even offered to empty out his garage so it could safely sit in a protected covered environment. A lovely thought but we declined.
More conversation about cars and then back down to Lake Bled for photos and, more importantly, dinner and a couple of beers.
We started the day with a leisurely breakfast at the aptly named Hotel Happy. As usual, we followed that up with the usual photo shoot with the staff. Then, after employing some elbow grease to remove the acquired and rather sticky bugs from the windscreen, we set off for Belgrade.
We were pleased (and rather grateful) to see the high standard of roads, particularly the motorways in Serbia, similar to our experience in Turkey and a refreshing surprise after the appalling state of them in Bulgaria.
We fuelled up at a Gazprom service Station where we got 100 octane Ethanol free. Never thought we would become such connoisseurs on petrol types and qualities. Trust the Russians to supply the only decent fuel for this sort of car.
By now, we were finding that our speedometer was pretty much useless; it was the sticking at 50 miles per hour while we were stationary that gave us a clue. We were glad we had fitted the Brantz rally metre as a speedo backup as now it was our only speed measure! Another job to add to the developing list of things to be done when it gets back to the UK.
We did find a rather lovely BMW to park alongside at the services. Sadly, the owner was nowhere to be seen when we wanted to compare classic cars.
Day 5 was due to be a short and relaxing drive, and it gave us the opportunity to appreciate the true benefits of having a support vehicle behind us and two-way radio communications with them. They frequently reminded us that we had left our indicators on. We knew they would add value to the trip.
In Belgrade, we had arranged to meet up and stay the night with a long-standing friend of Dad’s, a lovely chap called Milos. He gave us secure parking for the MG and then espoused a potted version of his family history in Belgrade. Dad knew him firstly as a neighbour when they both lived in Ealing West London fifteen years ago, and they have worked together on consultancy projects since. Milos lives in London now but has retained the family home in Belgrade where he was raised.
On our drive towards Belgrade, there had been signs for Milos the Great. We commented to Milos, our host that we hadn’t appreciated his degree of fame and that we were suitably humbled in his presence. Even more so as we saw roads also named after him.
Our host took us by taxi into the city where we enjoyed some beers on a terrace on the Belgrade Fortress ramparts with the most beautiful views overlooking the confluence of the Danube and Sava rivers.
After beers, we walked into the cultural heart of Belgrade and were amazed at its vibrancy and beauty. Apparently, the Chinese premier had visited only two days before, and the streets were still decorated with Chinese and Serbian flags.
We were treated to a traditional Serbian meal in a wonderful restaurant with traditional music played at our table. This was followed by a brief walk through the city centre, although by now, it was past midnight, and we were all feeling the effects of our journey. So, it was time for taxis back to our accommodation and a well-earned sleep. We reflected that without our host, we could have visited Serbia and appreciated none of its hospitality and beauty.
This was by far our easiest and most relaxing day of the trip.
Dimitrovgrad to Belgrade all in Serbia, and only a mere 205 miles covered.
I don’t think either of us have ever been so relieved to enter (or leave!) a country. The border control getting out of Turkey was stressful.
It seems that the Turkish Border control in the southern town of Tasuçu had forgotten to stamp Dad’s passport. As a result, the border staff in Edirne seemed to think he might be an illegal immigrant. They repeatedly wanted to know if he had a second passport and why we weren’t showing it to them. They asked numerous times how we had entered Turkey – and seemed not to believe us. Various staff members were involved, and the entire conversation was held using Google translate.
Eventually, we were able to persuade them, using the paperwork for the car, that he had entered via the port of Tasuçu with me and the car. As soon as we’d achieved this, he jumped in the car and said “let’s get out of here before they change their mind!” and with that we left. Quickly.
Living in the UK and having spent much of my life in the EU, I’ve never been through land border crossings before this trip. But in a few seconds we were in “no mans land” between Turkey and Bulgaria and waiting to enter an EU country where we we’d feel safer.
We were back in an area where some people spoke English. Somewhere we could communicate a little better. In the queue, a lovely lady walked up to us to tell us in fluent English what a lovely car the MG was and how she loved Roadsters. We talked whilst waiting and she explained she lived between Turkey and Bulgaria. She suggested we take great care in Bulgaria. It seems already that Turkey might have been a safer place to be than Bulgaria.
One of the great things about Turkey was it’s roads. The motorways were amongst the best I’ve ever driven on. Four lane highways with little or no traffic. The investment into infrastructure in Turkey is phenomenal. I would not be surprised to find Turkey as an economic powerhouse in the next few years. They are investing in a way that we in the UK simply are not.
We entered the EU at Bulgaria to find a massive lack of investment. The roads were awful. We learned when we entered Turkey we had an exhaust problem – and every pothole and speedbump hurt as the exhaust scraped. I sometimes wonder how we made it back without losing that exhaust. But luckily we did.
But back in the EU in the country of Bulgaria we needed to learn a new skill – pothole dodging! The motorway was so bad in places we found ourselves in the ruts left by heavy lorries so deep the exhaust would scrape the road. This was not a pleasant place to drive.
We did finally have our phones and data working again though. So we made contact with Pete and Lauren who had flown into Sofia that morning and arranged to meet them for lunch in the ancient city of Plovdiv. As we got there and approached the city, we quickly realised the local roads were no place for our classic MG. if we thought the motorways were bad, we’d seen nothing yet. The local roads were so bad we quickly concluded it would do too much damage to the car – we turned round and got back on the motorway.
We found a motorway services and met Lauren and Pete for some lunch. Finally, we were able to empty the luggage we had squeezed into the small MG into the VW Camper – we suddenly had space! After the woman at the border’s words of advice, we parked the car where we could see it, and enjoyed a nice break. I was so pleased to see Lauren and Pete. Turkey had been great, but hard.
We decided to clear Bulgaria as fast as we could. The roads were poor and it was about to rain. It seems a 1968 MGC Roadster isn’t ideal for the rain. For the first time we would have to test our windscreen wipers and they weren’t great.
We booked a stop just inside the Serbian border in the town of Dimitrovgrad. The Happy Hotel – yes it really is called that – lived up to it’s name. This may not have been a cultural experience like our previous night in the Turkish town of Düzce, but it was a relaxing welcome break. The cultural experience of Serbia would have to come tomorrow in the city of Belgrade.
But the happy Hotel did offer some stunning views, good food & Serbian beer and the opportunity to catch up with Lauren and Pete on the first on the first week of our journey.
We had a lovely evening in Düzce – and this place had changed our thinking about Turkey. Entering the country had been a horrible experience at the port, but as we spent time with people here and seeing the towns and culture, we liked what we saw. But we were behind schedule and had a plane to meet in Bulgaria.
At the beginning of this trip we decided to have a support vehicle and Pete & Lauren were flying out to Sofia to meet us and film the trip. And they landed today – so we had to get motoring out of Turkey to meet them.
To do this we needed an early start – we got up at 4:30am – relieved not to have been woken by the prayers from the local mosque. It seems they started here at 4:45am so at least they didn’t wake us. As we left the Quars Garden Hotel, I was surprised to find the night porter watching our videos on Instagram and keen to show me! This could mean only one thing – he also wanted his photo in the car too. He did.
After the obligatory photo shoot, we were on the road by 5.40 am with a lot of miles to cover. Roof up as it was early and a cool start. Visibility is a little limited particularly for motorway overtaking though.
We thought we’d mastered the petrol situation and with our limited mobile data access were searching google maps for Shell petrol stations as soon as we were down to half a tank. But then when you think you’ve cracked it you find only half the Shell petrol stations sell V-Power Benzine (or petrol as we brits call it) We managed to keep the car topped up and it was running so much better on V-Power fuel.
Turkey is the country that keeps on surprising. The climate did this for us today, as we approached Istanbul, we found ourselves in a fog worthy of a November day in England. And our MG was just not equipped for such weather. We headed on with care and our lights on hoping we could be seen but at times visibility was very poor.
We did the wide route around Istanbul for speed and crossed the Bosporus straights – an impressive bridge allowed us to look Northeast to the Black Sea and South West towards the Sea of Marmara in the direction of the Mediterranean. It’s at this point you realise why Turkey is such a dominant power with control of the only sea routes in and out of Russia, below the Arctic, and Ukraine through the Black Sea. A few thoughts towards the troubles of Ukraine give us pause for thought.
By mid-day we were at Erdine and had found our last fuel stop of Turkey, and suddenly feeling like we were heading for a more westernised culture. This last petrol station sold Cappuccinos and Croissants – I had not seen this anywhere else in Turkey. We didn’t yet know, but this might be our last chance to find Shell V-Power fuel for a while. It turned out that it only had it in diesel, so we had to backtrack a little way to find V-Power Benzine again.
Just a couple of hundred yards past the petrol station we’d cross the border… Or so we thought.
When we entered Turkey, we saw total chaos at customs and border control. It took hours to get in and process all the paperwork. We thought getting out would be so much simpler. But no. It seems the chaotic border entry point of Tasuçu had failed to stamp my father’s passport, and at our point of exit in Edirne they wanted to know how he had entered, and why he had no passport stamp.
As a result, the border staff in Edirne seemed to think he might be an illegal immigrant. They repeatedly wanted to know if he had a second passport and why we weren’t showing it to them. They asked numerous times how we had entered Turkey – and seemed not to believe us. Various staff members were involved, and the entire conversation was held using Google translate.
I was left outside with the car it was only dad they were concerned about. I did wonder if this was far as our shared road trip would go and I should continue alone leaving him in the hands of the Turkish authorities.
We felt like suspects or criminals, and they took my father off to be interviewed. The whole saga probably took half an hour, and it was only the car insurance in his name issued at the port of Tasucu that persuaded them it must have been a border crossing error.
As soon as we’d achieved this, he jumped in the car and said, “let’s get out of here before they change their mind!” and with that we left. Quickly.
Overall, Turkey was a great place to be, and the people and culture was warm, friendly and welcoming. But the point of entry and exit does nothing to encourage tourism of visitors. I’d have to think long and hard about trying to enter again like this. The whole process of dealing with their official process was incredibly stressful. But we were out… And Bulgaria had to be better, right?
After an interesting stay at the 5-star Grand Hotel of Karaman, we were woken at around 4:20am by prayers being broadcast on loudspeakers from the local Mosque. Something we have now learned is normal throughout Turkey. We even at one point found prayers being broadcast on a speaker at a petrol station!
We asked the concierge to take some pictures of us outside the hotel. He then wanted a picture of himself with the car. But he didn’t just want one… We spent about 10 minutes taking pictures from different angles, with different filters.
It’s almost like being a celebrity… but it’s not us who’s famous, It’s the car!
Petrol Panic
While dad was packing the car, I (ran!) over to the nearest petrol station to ask for help on finding the right fuels for the car. We knew we needed 98 octane fuel and ideally, no ethanol. Yet all we seemed to find in Turkey was 95 octane with 5% ethanol.
We knew this could damage the engine.
I was looking for petrol additives to help with this or boost the octane.
One of the challenges in Turkey is that our data roaming doesn’t work as we are used to. So I was trying to use google translate on the hotel Wi-Fi, to save the phrases as pictures to show the people at the petrol station.
ScreenshotScreenshot
Having got to the petrol station and the staff repeatedly asking another colleague to help me who might know more… I eventually concluded; they’ve never heard of petrol additives in Turkey.
They just didn’t understand what I was taking about and told me I needed to buy Shell petrol. I (ran again!) to the Shell petrol station, another few hundred yards down the road. We went through the same communication saga, only to be told they also hadn’t heard of petrol additives, and I should only use Shell V Power fuel. They assured me this was 97 octane, despite being labelled as 95. What else could we do?
Our onward journey consisted of stopping at Shell petrol stations wherever we found one, and hoping they sold V Power fuel. Most did, but not all…
I don’t usually take photos of toilets, but at one such Shell station, I felt it was necessary. This really isn’t a shower!
As we went on towards Ankara, and Istanbul, we still had overheating problems. And at one point, decided we needed to stop and check coolant levels. It gave a good opportunity for a driving break, whilst we waited for the engine to cool enough to check coolant levels.
We discovered, or dad did, that the expansion tank had filled up but as the coolant was cooling there was not sufficient vacuum to draw the coolant back up to the radiator and engine. Later we were advised, back in the UK that the expansion tank had a small leak and that the pressure cap was not the correct one.
The Incredible City of Ankara
We were amazed at a number of things in Turkey: one was the quality of the motorways and the incredibly low toll charges. The country had clearly invested massively in its road network infrastructure. This became particularly apparent as we came close to Ankara.
We were surprised that so much of central Anatolia is on a plateau of around 3,000 feet above sea level. Having climbed up this early on the ground level seemed to remain constant for hundreds of miles.
Being aware that Ankara is the capital city and has a population of more than 5million we were nonetheless amazed at the size of the city, the motorway looping around it could easily be compared with the scale of the M25. Only of a much higher quality. We were also shocked to see the scale of development of housing (high-rise and 2 story) and industrial commercial areas. This development seemed to continue for many, many miles. This left us the impression that Turkey has been investing enormous sums in housing its people and creating an infrastructure to support it.
It will be interesting to see how well that inward investment pays off in the coming years.
We stopped for fuel at one service station where a conversation with a lady who taught English enabled us to have a useful conversation with her father. He taught mechanics at a local college and told us that we were right to use Shell V Power only whilst in Turkey
We headed onward to Düzce for our overnight stop and arrived at the Quars Garden Hotel at around 6:45.
We were a little disappointed that the dedicated parking at this hotel was on a main street in the middle of the town and the MG was not going to be the most secure vehicle. We managed to arrange parking right outside the front door under a streetlamp where the receptionist would have a clear view of the car all night. Being cautious the steering lock went on and the batteries isolated and hoped that would be sufficient.
The receptionist recommended a restaurant and we walked into town to find dinner at around 8:30 in the evening, to find that the town was still buzzing. Almost like daytime in the UK.
It was vibrant and welcoming. The people were lovely, but we just could not understand the menu and almost no one spoke English. Very different from the tourist southwest of Turkey. We ended up ordering a cheeseburger and chips – The only thing we could understand on the menu.
And then we found the worst possible news…
There is no beer in Turkish restaurants! At least in this town.
So, our day ended with a couple of Coca Colas and a return to our hotel before a very early start the next day.
After a restful night, and a slow start, and after taking a quick stop to look at the hotel receptionist’s Fiat 124 Sport, being introduced to the hotels neighbours who had a Chevrolet Impala, the obligatory selfies with the car for our newfound friends and a quick bit of route planning. we were about ready to hit the road again.
We were concerned that we had done damage to the exhaust the previous night getting off the ferry and I spent some time trying, via google translate, to email local exhaust repair garages to have it checked out. Whilst I had helpful responses, we would have had to travel several miles in the wrong direction for this. Dad checked the oil and coolant, had a brief crawl underneath and seeing no obvious damage at 11.20am we set off along the Turkish coast towards Antalya.
We were graced with some incredible scenery! We were also graced with some tappet noises from the car which turned out to be pinking, pre ignition, as we climbed the mountainous coastal roads. This led to overheating and caused us to make a few unscheduled stops to let the car cool down. This is when we began to realise that the 98-octane fuel bought in the North may not be what it was posted as.
We were somewhat shocked at at the old cars, whole families riding motorbikes, lots of Renault 9/11/12 – and more fiat Mirafioris than I’ve seen since the 1980s!
We experienced the first sign of difficulty buying fuel – all has ethanol and 95 octane. We stopped at an old shop and coffee bar in a beautiful location, where no one spoke English. It was a struggle, but we google translated our way. When in Turkey you surely have to stop for a proper Turkish Coffee.
3 hours, 85 miles, into our journey, I received a call to say we’d left our walkie talkies in the hotel at Tasucu. We had brought these especially for when we’d be traveling in convoy later in the trip and would need them, so yet again with another knock to our spirits we headed back to collect them.
We arrived back at the hotel around 3pm in the afternoon, right back at the start of our journey again. We thought about staying another night. We were both getting pretty despondent and wondering whether we had taken on too much and whether we could complete this. We also considered staying another night at this hotel and starting again tomorrow but decided instead to change route and head north towards Ankara via Konya.
We also found ourselves in a difficult situation regarding fuel. It became clear Turkish fuel stations don’t sell 98 octane petrol. They have 95 Octane which we knew would not be good for the MG. They also don’t sell octane booster. This meant we had to buy 95 fuel and nurse the car carefully on the hills to avoid excessive overheating. Keeping the speed up on level ground was fine but there were inevitably hills on this journey, but less on the motorways than we would have faced on the coastal route.
We were also getting concerned at the accuracy of the rev counter, although its faceplate stated 6 cylinders, it was overstating revs by 50% showing 4,500 when we knew from our speed it should be 3,000. We managed to find a hotel in Karaman that we could book at just an hour’s notice. We found we had booked a 5 star hotel! For just £80. A welcome break given our journey so far.
We had a lovely evening with some great food and very luxurious bedrooms. Much to my surprise the waiter even escorted people to the toilets! That’s far enough thank you – I can find my own way from here!
A good dinner and some superb Turkish beer were followed by a very good night’s sleep – right until 4:20am when prayers started at the nearby Mosque.
From Tasucu to Karaman, via and interesting and abortive deviation along the coast. 7 hours of driving and 275 miles covered.
Seeing other classics is always exciting, but going to the Cyprus Historic and Classic Motor Museum in Limassol was really something else.
Opened just for us, we were able to take our time looking at *most* of the hundreds of cars. Finding cars we used to drive, busses we used to travel on, and cars we forgot existed! They even had Mr Bean’s original green Mini!
A huge thank you to the owners, Dimi and Tsveta for allowing us this opportunity to come in and film (on one of the 3 days a year that they close!). It was truly an incredible experience, and we will definitely be returning next time we’re in Cyprus.
We had a lovely lunch in the one restaurant that was open (on Easter Sunday) on the one table they had spare! Then we returned to the house to pack the car ready for the beginning of the trip tomorrow!!!
