Cave Men

Having returned to the UK for 48 hours to see my son Ben pass out from the course he has been on, one of the things I was asked quite a lot is “what’s your favourite …….?”  In the dots you could put “place”, “food”, “experience” or “thing” and probably more. 

To which I’ve been answering that I don’t really have a favourite and for me it’s more been about the experience as a whole. 

However there are some things that stick more than others possibly because they are more unusual. 

Driving west from Georgia along the Black Sea coast of Turkey we decided to take a detour inland to see the mountains around Rize as we had heard they are good. We’d also found some caves that looked interesting and thought that a small tour would be in order.

Heading south to Uzungöl, we stopped for the night on the edge of a beautiful lake surrounded by mountains. Very touristy and fairly well developed. Somewhat surprising as we had been travelling in an area where we have seen few other non Turkish tourists and little evidence of tourism. The shores of the lake lined with hotels and pansyions.

We camped in a carpark along with another Turkish couple. In our vintage van these places feel like being in a goldfish bowl. The van is small and we generally end up cooking under the skies. And this evening was no different, except that we were in a carpark, with people walking through. After a while I talk to a man from Bahrain on holiday.

Early in the morning the place deserted, we consulted Waze and Google maps as to the best way to the caves, which on the map looked not that far away. Waze played it safe, Google Maps came up with two routes. One safe and the same as Waze – the other more direct and edgy. As we travelled further east we found Waze often threw its’ toys out of the pram claiming there wasn’t a route to where we wanted to go. Google on the other had had a tendency to send us down anything that had a right of way, regardless of the suitability for driving and on occasion we had found ourselves doing long stretches of gravel, or even passing through tracks so narrow they surely weren’t meant for vehicles.

Opting for Google’s edgy route, we were soon climbing, the lake below us as the road wound upwards, deteriorating as quickly as it rose. In situations like these you can get a measure of whether a 54 year old van, made in Luton back in 1970, will cope, by looking at the other cars. On this morning there were no other cars, so we drove on, in hope that all would be alright. Soon the road changed, the smooth tarmac surface giving way to gravel.

Upwards we continued, through the tree line at somewhere around 1800/1900M. In places the road so steep we resorted to first gear. At times like these always touch and go, Juliet and I tense wondering if Google Maps had injected just too much edge, for our old van with a very small engine. Starting to worry whether we had enough fuel – we only have a range of about 200/250 miles and that can be reduced when we have mile after mile of up hill in low gear.

Finally we reached the col at 2,500M, the highest we thing we have done so far and we breathed a sigh of relief. Still not knowing what was to come, but at least the climb was done. Spectacular views all around. Going down isn’t all plain sailing as we have to nurse the brakes carefully. Jenifer’s braking system only has a single master cylinder, that means if one thing fails the whole system fails, add to that the fact that the brakes are all drum based we are acutely aware as we descend that we must use the engine and periodically prod the brakes as and when the hum from the top of the engine becomes too loud. Slowly does it.

We pass a grave yard high up and wonder why it’s there. The road improves the lower we decend and eventually after 50 miles we are reacquainted with tarmac. Google, wanting to remain edgy, gets it very wrong a little way down the road and tries to direct us through the middle of a military base. Nearing the gates, the guards eye us suspiciously. A 1970 Bedford isn’t something they expect to see on a Sunday afternoon. Hands on their guns they direct us, with stern faces, to turn around. As we drive back we are rewarded with a Golden Eagle flying alongside the road.

Eventually we climb up to the caves we’ve come to see. Recently discovered they are spectacular.

As we leave, given that the the previous night was full of people I suggest to Juliet that we try and find a wild campsite high up in the peace of the beautiful mountains. We task Google Maps with directions. This time there’s only one option. Direct. We retrace our route for a few minutes, until Google instructs us to turn left down a narrow winding lane. At first the incline slight, slowing down to turn a sharp corner, we are confronted with a very steep incline. 50M up the hill I’m forced to change into first. Much of the momentum lost, Jenifer complains and eventually stalls. I slam the brakes on with as much force as we start to slide back down the hill. We are in a precarious position. We need to start the engine, and in order to do that I have to take my foot of the brake and just rely on the hand-brake which operates only on two wheels. We try to start the engine, Jenifer sliding back down. There’s a danger she picks up momentum and with out the engine running there will be no vacum assist for the brakes and it will become increasingly hard to stop. We give up with trying to restart the engine and opt for a slow and barely controlled slide back down the hill to the corner where the road incline lessens to a more manageable level.

While this is going on we are watched by a local man, who we later find out lives in one of the houses on the hill. We decide that the best thing is to give up and turn round. Struggling to turn the van in the small space we have to work in, the local man intervenes and says we can use his neighbour’s drive. He opens the gate and we reverse in.

Regaining our composure we are introduced to the man who’s drive we are now parked on. His wife comes out and they insist that we join them for tea in their beautiful garden under the roses with a spectacular view of the valley below. Being very British, we don’t want them to go to too much trouble. But in the end we succumb and allow Turkish hospitality and kindness to take us on a ride. Delicious home made cake, biscuits and coffee are laid out in front of us.

Within a few minutes we discover that the wife has a brother called Ali who lives in East Ham. Things take a turn for the bizarre as we make a WhatsApp call to Ali who’s was currently in a car boot sale in Romford. He was surprised as we were to find a couple of British tourists, in his sister’s garden on a Sunday afternoon in a remote Turkish village where tourists don’t generally venture.

He asks “What are you doing in my village? I can’t believe it”.

We try and explain how we arrived in is sister’s back garden in a 54 year old Bedford van with an Ikea bed strapped to some home made drawers.

While I can’t say this was my favourite day, experience or what ever. I do know that it’s one that will stick in my mind for a long time. It will stick there, because it was edgy, unexpected and above all out of the ordinary, with a bit of Turkish magic sprinkled over the top.