Category: Europe

After the peace and quiet of Ios Athens was almost unbearable. Noisy, polluted, busy. We badly wanted to turn round and go back to the islands, but of course we couldn’t. Being rather dishevelled and dusty – hot showers weren’t in abundance on the island – we decided to head to the Youth Hostel No 1. It took us a while to get there and when we did, at 7:30am we found that we needed to leave at 9am. So no chance of sleeping, but at least we could get a shower and change our clothes.

We headed back into the city and decided to visit the Acropolis again and the museum. It was another hot day and we were struggling by the afternoon when we decided to head back to the hostel and have a nap. It was also my 18^th birthday so we celebrated that night with our favourite Gyros meal.

Early Monday morning we had another shower and got our gear together ready to set off home. We had very little money by then so went via the hospital to donate blood for which we got paid a few quid, enough to get us home. It was a lovely sunny day and by 11am we were on the road hoping for our first lift. We soon got one as far as Larissa where we were stuck. We went to the loos at a rather nice looking petrol station and somehow got talking to a Greek-American older man who said he was driving all the way to Bremerhaven in north Germany and was happy to take us with him. We were dubious about that, but decided we would chance it. By the end of the day we were back in Skopje. It was a huge American car with so much space and we became navigators and conversationalists in return for the lift and food, just like it was with Harry!

Instead of the coastal route this time we went through the centre of Yugoslavia which was a complete contrast. It was dull, the weather was dreary and everything looked so grey. We even saw fields still being ploughed by oxen. The towns we stopped in appeared quite poor. It all looked very bleak. We passed Beograd, Zagreb and Ljubljana and eventually stopped to spend the night in Austria. The driver (whose name I unfortunately did not record) went to stay in a motel, but Cathy and I decided to sleep in the car, the seats were wide enough for us to stretch out. I say sleep, but it was so cold we really only dozed. A loo break at dawn and then we continued until 8:30am when we stopped at yet another pretty Austrian inn where we had a substantial continental breakfast.

At this point we decided that if we did get to Bremerhaven we could possibly have a few days in Amsterdam on our way home. So we continued through Munich through Nuremberg and Kassel, where we decided to hop out and find the youth hostel as we were desperately tired. It was too cold to camp now and we really needed a proper night’s sleep and a decent meal. It was a lovely clean welcoming hostel.

The following day we hitched towards Hannover. It was a slow day of travel, frequent, but short hops and spending more time waiting than actually travelling, but we had no choice, we had to keep some money back for the ferry over the channel. We eventually reached Hannover and then headed towards Osnabruck using a mix of autobahn and other main roads. As the sun was setting we had reached Melle and it was becoming very cold – we weren’t dressed for the cold having left in the summer and spending the last couple of months in the south – luckily there was a youth hostel nearby, a rather beautiful timber framed building and we had the whole female dormitory to ourselves. Another piece of luck was that a group from West Berlin were playing at the hostel that night “Ton Steine Scherber” a political German language rock band who were very much into the works of Marx and Lenin. The songs were mostly protest songs and actually rather good though our linguistic skills were definitely not up to the after show discusions so we opted for our beds.

The morning after another good shower and breakfast we were back on the road to Osnabruck and the Dutch border where we got a lift by a lovely Dutch airman to Utrecht and from there  a couple of lifts to Amsterdam where once again we headed to a very popular youth hostel. The journey north had been a lot easier than our southern route, but maybe that was because it was now autumn and there weren’t so many people hitchhiking.

And no need for the mallet.

So a week after arriving in Athens we were at Piraeus looking for a boat to Ios which we’d heard was very nice. Unfortunately there wasn’t a ferry until the following day and not wanting to hang around the port we opted for one to Mykonos instead.

The crossing was perfect and we arrived around 2pm. Without much cash and realising it was a Sunday and banks would be closed we settled on the old favourite, a loaf of bread. On discovering there was a bus to the other side of the island where there was a lovely beach named Heaven we took it. It was a rough ride, but on getting there we bumped into some English lads we’d spoken with at Dafni and ended up staying with them, reading, talking and playing cards. We slept in a sort of rough rock shelter, a bit like a cave, as we couldn’t be bothered to pitch the tent and awoke to another perfect day.

Now to find that ferry to Ios.

There wasn’t a ferry until the Tuesday so we spent the rest of the time sunbathing and swimming and on the Monday evening we built a beach bonfire which was quite a disaster as the lads got very drunk.

We finally departed Mykonos around 4:15pm, an hour late due to the windy weather, so we only arrived on Ios at 7:45pm where we went for a meal at the harbour front and camped on the harbour beach for the night. I slept badly as it was cold and windy and we hadn’t pitched the tent, just using our sleeping bags which ended up coated in sand. After fortifying ourselves with bread and honey and a milky Nescafé we set off up the hill to the town of Chora the main town or capital of many Greek islands and regions, typically characterized by traditional Cycladic architecture, white-washed houses, narrow streets, and elevated, defensive locations. There were a lot of steps!

We stopped for a drink at Yannis café before continuing along the rough track to an unspoiled beach ‘Mylopotas’  that we had heard was a popular place for camping. The views from the top were stunningly beautiful. Blue sky, blue sea (nothing like our usually brown North Sea) and a wide curving sandy beach.

The route down to the beach was rather precarious, basically clambering down the cliff and one we would find even more difficult in the dark. There were already several tents pitched alongside the rough stone with olive trees which ran alongside the beach and which provided some shelter.

We found a space and pitched our tent and went for a swim, this island looked like it was going to be a lovely relaxing place for the rest of the week which was when the next ferry back to Piraeus was due.

That evening we went back to Chora and discovered Homer’s Cave – a disco with the tiniest dance floor heaving with crowded sunburned, sweaty bodies – all frantically dancing to The Who, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, Poco, the Rolling Stones etc. We had a great time. Homer’s Cave became a regular evening event, the days spent sunbathing and swimming, drinking Nescafé and socialising.

There were two small cafés to choose from, one at either end of the curved bay, where we had breakfasts of honey and thick Greek yoghurt, or fried eggs! Even octopus stew one evening – we saw that one being caught! We met lots of lovely people from the USA, Canada, Europe, and a couple of Spanish guys who were – you guessed – musicians! So some evenings were spent around a fire on the beach listening to the guitars. And everyone joined in singing to the popular songs.

We were offered a lift all the way back to Munich by the English guys who had joined us from Mykonos, but we were undecided. We really didn’t want to leave this idyllic place. On Friday evening we were back at Homer’s having fun and we were escorted back to our camp by Major who was a very interesting character. He was a Canadian and a definite fruit loop – but so very cheerful all the time.

Anyway Saturday came and went, and we decided to stay on for another few days enjoying the weather and the company. Sunday was very quiet. Apparently some dope had arrived on the island brought in by someone on the ferry and everyone seemed to be sleeping off the effects. Everyone except us it seemed.

We bumped into another couple we’d met in Dafni, Terri and Richard from London, who had arrived on yesterday’s ferry and took them to Homer’s. Terri wasn’t feeling so well though so instead of camping they took a room at Yannis café. We joined them for a meal on the Tuesday where we learned that because of the windy weather there would be no more ferries until the following Saturday when we decided we had to leave.

Money was getting quite short and it was time to head north.

After breakfast the next day we wandered along the beach where it was very windy and there were very few people about. Later back at our tent we met two German guys who had pitched their tent next to ours. They made us a cup of tea (although I don’t actually drink the stuff, but it would have been impolite to refuse) and then took us out in their boat. The sea was full of jelly-fish which explained why no-one was swimming and apparently there had been quite a storm whilst we had been in Turkey. Later they bought us an ice-cream. In the evening we went to a disco, wearing our one and only dresses, and finished the night having coffee with a couple of Swiss guys who were pitched opposite us listening to Woodstock (again) and Led Zeppelin on their cassette recorder.

We didn’t do a lot for the rest of the week. Went into Thess a few times, visited the White Tower, bought food. Sunbathed, swam. Got picked up by several lads, including a couple of American air force men who took us for a beer. There wasn’t a shortage of men on this trip that’s for sure! Not sure where to go next. We needed an incentive to move.

Then along came Barney. A student teacher from Solihull who had us in stitches talking about his teaching practice – something I ought to have remembered in future years – he made us coffee and talked so enthusiastically about Athens, where he’d just come from, our decision was made. Athens next.

Departing early the next morning by the time we had got through Thess it was almost noon. A few lifts later and we reached Pydna where we met up with another three Brits. This time they were from our own county of Yorkshire! Welcome to Steve, John and Charlie! We spent an hilarious evening with them at a campsite near Volos. Drinking retsina (disgusting stuff) and being thrown in the sea fully clothed! The sea was warm though and perhaps our clothes did need washing by then.

They were staying on for a few days, but we wanted to get moving as money was tight and we were lucky to get a lift with a Greek couple and their young son all the way to Athens arriving at noon. It was unbelievably hot. We spent a long time trying to find a bus going to Dafni as we had been told there was a campsite there. It also happened to be next to a wine festival which was no bad thing, although neither of us were particularly wine drinkers. Our usual tipple would be half a pint of Tetley’s Mild. The only wine available in the northern cities was some horrid sweet Australian stuff from Yates Wine Lodge with its sticky sawdust floors!

We were so hot by the time we arrived we just flopped into some shade, too tired to even put the tent up. And just people watched. When we did pitch the tent we ended up bending half the pegs because the ground was rock hard. Showered and fed we popped round to the wine festival where we met quite a lot of English travellers – some very drunk.

We ended up staying at this campsite for a week. Bussing into Athens several times to visit the Acropolis (of course) and the Plaka district where we bought more sandals and learned to love Gyros – slivers of meat sliced from a giant roasting spit served with salad and pita. We lived off it and it was so very cheap. We also discovered yoghurt and honey for breakfast, spaghetti with meatballs (we were from the north you know, and the only spaghetti we knew came from a can) and lovely stuffed tomatoes and peppers. We had never eaten so well.

We learned to ask for Nescafé for coffee and not just coffee as that was the thick Turkish drink with the dregs that you do not want to enter your mouth. We had many conversations with people who had just returned from the islands and decided that we would like to see them too.

Next stop: The Cyclades

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.

The following day we set off after breakfast on what we thought would be the most difficult part of our journey to Greece. We needed to get across the mountains up into the central part of Yugoslavia and Skopje which was the closest major city to the Greek border. We got a lift quite quickly with a German couple, Ben and his girlfriend Utie in a lovely VW campervan. They also had a huge Great Dane, Sara. We stayed with them all day and continued down to Ulcinje which is the southernmost point of the country, bordering Albania which at that time was closed off to westerners. We ended up staying the night with them as they were so friendly. Drinking wine and listening to radio Luxembourg around a fire pit. We had a shock though when we woke up the following morning to find we were on a nudist beach! For two innocent lasses from Yorkshire this was fairly mind boggling!

We left Ben in the afternoon to find out about buses to Skopje and discovered that the next one was at 6pm. Whilst waiting for the bus we hunted for a bank (more difficult than you’d imagine) to get some currency for the journey. It was around £5 for the two of us. We came across some young locals who were keen to practice their English with us and stayed with us all afternoon even waving us off when the bus departed .

The bus journey was hell (though a couple of years later I would discover an even more hellish journey). We kept being badgered to give up our seats, but we took no notice. We’d paid for seats and we were keeping them. It was an 11 hour journey and although it was a luxury coach, sitting all that time was not fun. We arrived stiff and cramped and tired at 5:30am on a very dull, grey day. A fortnight after leaving home.

After finding a bakery open and buying fresh bread (the only time to eat it as later it became as hard as hell), we followed signposts to the road leading to the Greek border. It was a fair distance and we got a few odd looks from people on the way. We did manage to get a lift quite quickly though he wasn’t going all the way to the border and traffic on that road was very light with pretty much only an odd tractor every half hour. We eventually reached the border 6 hours later where we took advantage of the facilities to get washed and comb our hair after the unsettled night, find biscuits and milk before crossing the ‘no-mans land’ to reach the other border post.

With luck we spotted a car with a GB sticker so quickly raced ahead to try and get through the border before them so we could try and get a lift. And with more luck it stopped for us. Three lads from one of the home counties who happily agreed to take us to Thessaloniki and a camp site there. It was actually so nice to have someone to speak English with after two weeks. We pitched our tent close to the boys and spent several days there. It was a lively camp site with fire pits and lots of music (Woodstock mainly – this was 1971 after all) and we spent our days on the beach or going into Thess and walking around. There was an International Fair on whilst we were there so it was very busy. One downside was that I got very badly bitten by mosquitos which made me feel quite ill.

For some reason we made the (bad) decision to head over to Istanbul rather than down to the Greek islands. So after saying our farewells to the Brits who were heading homewards we continued our hitchhiking journey on the road to Kavala.

And this is when the “fun” began.