The road to Istanbul is pretty direct from Thessaloniki and we were confident there would be plenty of traffic. After a couple of lifts in a row we found ourselves on the eastern side of Xanthi where the first of our troubles began. We were taken to Alexandroupoli where the driver and his mate expected us to stay in a motel with them and we had to virtually fight our way out of the car (remember the tent mallet?) Our first warning about accepting a lift with two males.
It wasn’t our day as the next lift was equally problematical. Although there was only the driver in the car, he took us off road and through woods to a place where he met up with some friends. No friends of ours though. Once again the mallet proved a deterrent. And we were left in the middle of nowhere with only a couple of houses and a petrol station nearby. We slept at the petrol station feeling very vulnerable and upset.
The next day however was much better, we got several good lifts including one in a Land Rover driven by an American accompanied by his young daughter who took us quite a distance into Turkey. The countryside was quite pretty before we entered Turkey, but from there it was quite barren and the road was dead straight so you could see for miles ahead. It was quite boring, but at least it was a safe ride.
When they dropped us off after buying us a meal in Tekirdağ we got a lift with a very eccentric lorry driver whose load was watermelons. He was very hands on should we say, and not always on the steering wheel. Once again the trusty mallet came to our rescue. I’m not sure who had the most bruises though. We called a halt to the abuse as we neared Istanbul and got out close to a camp site with one very large watermelon for our troubles!
After an exhausting couple of days we remained in the camp that afternoon and night happily sharing the watermelon with other backpackers. And on the following day we headed into the city by bus. It was busy. So many people of so many nationalities. We were soon approached by a young Turkish lad, about sixteen I’d say, who decided to be our guide and took us around the Blue Mosque, Hagia Sophia and then the Grand Bazaar where we bought sandals and a kaftan.
He expertly protected us from all the older men who tried to harass us. We enjoyed sipping ice cold real lemonade and eating sweet cakes and visiting the infamous Pudding Shop where travellers placed adverts looking for a partner. Many were American draft dodgers heading for India. Handing our young guide a tip we happily returned to the campsite to spend our last evening there.
The evening was spent in the company of a lad from Leicester who was with a Eurobus expedition. He joined us and played his guitar for a while and he was also a musician who played in a band back home. There seemed to be a lot of them on the road at this time.
The next day we were back on the road and got a lift almost immediately with a man in a rather beautiful car (I was not at all au fait with the different makes and models at the time, but I knew this one looked expensive.) He said he’d take us as far as Tekirdağ, but on reaching the crossroads outside the city instead of heading straight ahead towards the Greek border he turned right onto the road to Sofia in Bulgaria. It took some not too gentle persuasion – and yes the use of the mallet – to get him to pull over and let us out. It was the threat of me smashing his rear window that helped to change his mind.
It wouldn’t be the last of our difficulties in getting back to the Greek border. By 4pm we were roughly 50km from the border at Ipsala and we were stuck. It looked as though we’d be there for the night when we got a lift together – it was amazing how many people (men) stopped and offered to give one of us a lift. This was from another two Germans who looked harmless enough and we had had several good lifts from Germans – remember Harry and Ben? They took us to Alexandroupoli where we stayed the night close to the sea and then continued with them the following day to within 100 kms to Thessaloniki.
We rested for a while by the side of the road in the heat of the day. It was quiet. We relaxed in the sweet scent of some unknown flowers nearby and picked ripe blackberries, glad at last to be out in the fresh air after being cooped up in cars for so long. The decision to head to Istanbul had proved to be both traumatic and exhausting.
Not our best idea.
We eventually arrived in Thess around 3pm and made our way back to the previous campsite at Agias Triados which almost felt like home.
(for some reason I have hardly any photos of Istanbul from this journey – maybe I was out of camera film)
We were thankful to still be in one piece, not to mention alive or be sex slaves in Bulgaria!
Time to reflect.
TRAVEL WORDS 
Oh my word, you guys had guts to ride with strangers! And here I thought it was safe to hitchhike years ago (compared to today), but it turns out it was quite the challenge! I wonder now: How does one decide if the person you ride with is harmless? If it were me, I would, after the first bad experience, have walked all the way back to my house (or use my last money and take a bus) and never got into a car with strangers again😧.
And a year later I went hitchhiking on my own! But not to Turkey.
What trials you had – wow! Your mallet certainly came in handy: tool, weapon and shield, it sounds like. Having to fight your way out of these situations – yikes. You were lucky nothing worse happened. Years later when I was in the military and on leave from Cyprus, Istanbul was still a problem for women. By then though I was a combat veteran who wasn’t going to take crap from anyone and I put a couple of men in their place. They were so persistent.
Looking back, we were undeniably lucky. But we stuck together and were also not going to take crap from anyone.
Definitely a pause for thought! These days you don’t see many hitchhikers. Maybe because Flixbus is so cheap and it’s easy to get around. I was a shy kid and I don’t know how I’d have coped with these experiences. Certainly toughened you up, though! xx
Yes. Maybe. Now there are buses and cheap trains through Europe, but then not so much. And we’d hitchhiked in England a fair bit to get back from gigs.
Goodness, you two were brave. Only on one holiday did I experience the joys of hitching, and it was with my then boyfriend (and it didn’t convert me to hitching. Not one bit). Not sure I’d have been brave enough as part of a two-girl set up. It makes for good stories though!
I even hitchhiked to Zurich on my own a year later. It was something a lot of youngsters were doing in those days. I hitchhiked in Norway on my days off, and of course there was the India trip.
We’re the same generation Jude. But I’m just a wimp!
I was very curious and eager to get away from the north of England.
Blimey! I do remember the mallet and the hint that it would be used for something other than camping. Glad you had it to hand.
Well worth the pain of having to carry it.
Thank goodness for that mallet! I do admire your youthful courage and sense of adventure – I would have been far too timid to attempt anything like this at any age! Your young guide in Istanbul does sound like a bit of a star however 🙂
That wasn’t our best decision. Two years later, travelling with a male friend, we gave up on this road and caught a very cheap bus ride into the city.