Day 14: The Day of the Gates of Persia

Sunday 31st July

Similar to what we had seen in Georgia, the Armenian countryside was just as beautiful. Upon waking in our cars we visited the Khor Virap Monastery situated in the foreground of Mount Ararat, the tallest mountain over the border in Turkey. The convoy continued on towards the Iran border, anxious to make it in time for the start of the guided tour early the following day. 

The Khor Virap Monastery in the foreground of Mount Ararat

Mountain road through Armenia to the border with Iran at Norduz

Its head is sellotaped on

We stopped off in town called Meghri for lunch and a re-fuel. The Armenians proved to be very interested in our cars as many wandered over to sign the bonnet and wish us good luck. Although they weren’t particularly impressed when we had the nerve to try and pay for fuel in American dollars. One cause for amusement however was the high street shops we found in many towns en route to the border. A personal favourite was Armenian Topshop’s attempt to entice customers in with its mannequins .....

In good time we made it to the Iran border and decided it would be best to camp on the other side. Although slow, customs at the border was relatively painless thanks to the most laissez-faire baggage checker. Through gritted teeth we pretended to support Manchester United after learning that one of the Armenia guards was a die-hard fan. It was touch and go when we didn’t know their new Armenian signing. Like the majority of Armenians though he gladly posed for a selfie, signed our car and sent us on our merry way. 

On the Iran side of the border we set about ridding our car of contraband not allowed in a heavily Islamic country. Alcohol, radio equipment and shorts had to be disposed of through tear-streaked eyes. It was trousers from now on in probably the hottest country on the trip. It’s like the UK imposing a ban on waterproofs.

Iran border on the left hand side

Posted by: Rich

Day 13: The Day of Marigold's First Injury

Saturday 30th July

Waking up naturally due to the searing heat has become commonplace on this trip so far but it gets us up and on the road in good time. We marched on towards the Armenian border and encountered easily the worst roads (loose term) on the trip so far. More like trying to traverse Emmental cheese, this so-called “main road” was a gravel track at best and proved to be very slow going. With craters, piles of rock and axle shattering ridges dotted throughout, it was only a matter of time until it claimed its first victim. Much to the delight of the other two teams, that was us. 

We should’ve known; the basilisk had just petrified Mrs Norris on the audiobook - it was an omen.

A stray rock missed by Caleb (strike!) caught the underside of our exhaust pipe, splitting it in half. Marigold let out an almighty howl in pain and we trundled to a stop. For a brief while the exhaust hung on for dear life and we made it to the Armenian border with it still just about intact. Praying for buttery smooth tarmac, we were dismayed to see the road leading out from the Armenian border hadn’t even been built yet. Oh excellent.

It's hardly surprising given how low we were riding ...

After trading pleasantries with the border guards and polishing off their bread and tomato supplies, we kicked on. It was only a few kilometres however until the exhaust finally gave way and started to drag along the floor, kicking up sparks. As if by magic, at that moment the heavens opened for only the second time on the trip, almost mocking us for packing the waterproofs at the bottom of the bath tub.

Once ripped off, the Micra was reborn into an Impreza boy racer. We felt it only right to lower our seats slightly, face our snapbacks backwards and blast out some Chamillionaire to fit the stereotype. Thanks to the roads of Georgia, our exhaust pipe was now strapped to the roof of our tub in the thick of a vicious thunderstorm. The spectacular lightning strikes coincided spookily with the heir to Salazar Slytherin opening the Chamber of Secrets on our audiobook. In our minds this confirmed magic is real.

We arrived in Yerevan late in the evening to the news that the city centre streets were lined with hundreds of protestors after a sniper had shot a policeman there only a few hours before. Much of the city was cordoned and our experience was somewhat tainted by the sound of sirens echoing through the streets. No matter, they had a good KFC and that’s all that counts really. A little way out of town we found a quiet corner to stay the night, but the thundering rain forced us to sleep in our cars. Queue the second most uncomfortable night of the trip so far.

Posted by: Rich

Day 12: The Day We Thought the Queen Was the Head of Georgia

Friday 29th July

Setting off from Batumi, the convoy continued to head east to the Georgian capital of Tbilisi. On the way we stopped at a local café for lunch and had an authentic chicken/pork/veal dish (still not really sure). Though initially hesitant about the hygiene of the place, it turned out to be very nice. The same can’t be said for their lavatory facilities, which even rivalled the squalor of 9 Stuart Place’s bathrooms. Its luxury extended to a hole in the floor housed in a urine soaked shack and taps that were labelled cholera and dysentery rather than hot or cold. They even had the cheek to charge 2 Lari for usage.   

To a great fanfare, we began the Chamber of Secrets audiobook on the way to Tbilisi. Once in the city itself, we soon realised there are no rules on the road. None at all. No one has right of way, there’s no set number of lanes and cars decide to park in the middle of the road.  The pressure got too much for Rich who in a lapse of concentration stalled, much to the delight of the other two. Strike number 7 for him. 

Before sunset we took a cable car up to the castle on top of the hill and were treated to a fantastic view over the entire city. A nice evening meal followed by some drinking games (cheers Guv'nor) in the evening capped off a terrific day of rallying. 

View over Tbilisi

Posted by: Rich

Day 11: The Day with the Cheeky Bus Driver

Thursday 28th July

In good time on the 11^th day we made it to the border crossing between Turkey and Georgia. Up until this point our experience passing between countries had been easier than convincing Caleb to take his shirt off, however our luck was about to change. About a kilometre from the border itself we encountered the first lorry in what was a bumper-to-bumper line all the way to Georgia. “Oh balls” we all said in unison. 

The wait at the border ended up taking 7 hours which although sounds long, didn’t feel it. We were too busy playing two-touch, word brain and listening to Harry Potter slay Professor Quirrell whilst clutching the Philosopher’s Stone. Half time entertainment was in the form of an audacious local bus driver who, upon spotting a gap, seized his chance to complete a 180° handbrake turn cutting into the line. Whilst we were frankly quite impressed by this manoeuvre, the Turkish locals were not. Needless to say he was lambasted with horns and angry shouting. One man was so enraged I thought he was going to hurl his doner kebab at the windscreen.

Queuing at the border

Realising this was against our queuing DNA; the rally teams all joined in the mob mentality and gave him a piece of our minds. After being severely bullied by the entire queue, the bus driver eventually conceded defeat, spun round and joined the back but not before flashing us with a cheesy grin as he drove past. Cheeky git.

Over the border and into Georgia we went in search of a hostel. Upon reaching the city of Batumi we stumbled across a random house, which so happened to have 8 beds for the night. Sorted. Quote of the day came from Rich who wondered, “why does a time lapse not have any sound?”. It’s a collection of photos mate. 

Posted by: Rich

Day 10: The Day of Potter

Wednesday 27th July

The alarms were reluctantly set for 4am so we could drag ourselves out of bed to watch the sunrise over Cappadocia. On the advice of hotel host Sadir we reached the hilltop at 4.25am even though sunrise wasn’t until 5.35am. Thanks Sadir, we didn’t want an extra hour in bed anyway. The bassy hum of hot air balloon pumps was enough to inflate our excitement further despite being underdressed for the chilly conditions. Through sleep dust filled eyes, the view was undeniably spectacular as colourful hot air balloons filled the skies above the city. Glistening sunlight then burst over the distant ridge and the famous postcard scene was well and truly set.

Cappadoccia at dawn

We then embarked on a monster 700 km drive from Cappadocia to Trabzon through the Pontic Mountains. More amazing views of dams, reservoirs, canyons and the pink spotted ford fiesta of another rally team could be seen along the mountainous drive. It proved to be a real test for Marigold but like the tenacious terrier that she is, we made it up and down without a sweat. Wall to wall sunshine and blistering heat had for the first time been punctuated by rainfall as we descended the mountains. This, along with listening to Stephen Fry read Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone audiobook, served more to relieve our homesickness than anything else. Keen to show he’d have made a good quaffel chaser in Quidditch, Caleb, sat at sign slinger, scored the first direct hit with his spent apple core. Wild celebrations ensued. We’re pretty simple folk in our car.

Pontic Mountains

Posted by: Rich

Day 9: The Day with the Car Wars

Tuesday 26th July

The convoy pressed on early out of Istanbul aiming to reach Cappadocia before dusk.

On the way we stumbled upon expansive salt flats that extended for miles on end. The searing heat and shimmering haze on the horizon appeared to completely conceal the mountain range in the distance. It was a mesmerising sight. 

Turkey's hottest new boyband

By this point positions within the car had become well established. We had the driver or “sign slinger” whose primary role was to hurl spent apple cores and banana skins at the nearest road sign hoping for a direct hit. The smaller the sign, the more points gained. Then we have “DJ Dobby” who is sat to his left. His high-pressure role is not to bottle the music selection and to act as house elf to the sign slinger, offering his services to any of his needs. If either of these two roles were to be abused, the hammer of void will land on his arse and he is demoted to the BBB. The BBB, or Backseat Bag Bitch, must sit in the back, only speak when spoken to and must ferry items to and from the boot of the car. Rich has proven to be the most effective Triple B, hence why he is writing this blog – it’s his only voice.

Caleb was losing caps quicker than he can retract mid-piss at the sight of two females walking towards him (see Day 5 if interested). First he lost his beloved khaki cap that has stuck by him through many late nights at uni by leaving it on the roof. As if the heartache of losing that wasn’t enough, his replacement cap blew off his head when leaning out the window like a dog needing air. Sorry Caleb, but that’s a strike.

Unrest and boredom got the better of our long drive to Cappadocia causing a civil war to break out within the three-team convoy. Banana skins, apple cores and even sunglasses could be seen hurtling towards open windows. With a direct hit to the driver’s side windscreen of Team Two and a Half Men, Rub-a-dub-dub claimed victory in what was later coined, Car Wars Episode III: The Revenge of the Granny Smith.

We arrived in Cappadocia in the evening to a wonderful sight of a city sculpted entirely of stone. Our accommodation for the night was Caravanserai Cave Hotel, perfectly located near the centre of the city with a 360 view from the roof terrace. 

View over Cappadocia from the hotel

We also went for a traditional kebab, however pitta, salad and garlic sauce were nowhere to be seen. Instead the waiter came out wielding a machete and we had to forcefully hack our way into a clay pot housing the kebab.

Traditional Turkish kebab

Posted by: Rich