My bags are packed, it's early morn ..

Dear Motley Crew,

Those of us incarcerated in the UK since the beginning of 2020 had been, for some time now, watching enviously as the population of Europe moved with apparent ease from place to place without limitations. Indeed, the Artillery Officer, whose current abode is Turkey, had been, much to our chagrin, travelling unconstrained for many months past. The arrival of the annual UK summer holidays had, however, brought a much-anticipated lessening of restrictions and eager travellers were now streaming out of the country in droves.

Since we had last used our passports, travel had become just a tad more complex. Now, in addition to the “100 mls-of-liquid-only-take-off-your-belt-and-shoes-turn-on-your-computer” rules, was added the requirement for a pre-travel Covid test (72 hours prior to travel - that will be $160 each please), and the need to have the results, along with your vaccination record and Passenger Locator Form, all stored on your phone for scrutiny by airline staff.

All possible destinations had been assigned to either a green, amber or red list, with each category requiring different conditions for re-entry to the UK. These lists are updated every three weeks so you need to keep yourself well-informed when choosing your place to laze in the sun.

Pity the green ones won’t let you in, or, in some cases, out!

We had submitted our nasal cavities to a good drubbing and our gag reflexes had been challenged by a swab inserted a good distance down our throats.

I’m just going to see how far up your nose I can shunt this thing before your eyes pop out!

Test results negative, bags packed, and boat secured – time to hit the frog and toad, or, in this case, the tracks.

It feels rather odd to be on the move by means other than our boat

Manchester Airport was disconcertingly empty of passengers. Perhaps the crowds were at Heathrow?

Rain, fog and 15° in England were about to be replaced with sunshine, clear skies and 33° in Turkey

This was almost as exciting as our first ever flight!

We were heading for Alaçati, on the Çeşme Peninsula, a much-loved (by us) Turkish village with an unusual and poignant Greek history. In 1923, in the aftermath of the Greco-Turkish war, The Convention Concerning the Exchange of Greek and Turkish Populations, or The Lausanne Convention, forced a simultaneous expulsion of orthodox Christians from Turkey to Greece, and of Muslims from Greece to Turkey. This “transfer”, which affected almost two million people, meant that the population of Alaçati changed completely within a 10-year period.

Sadly, the conditions of the convention forbade those evicted to return to what they saw as their homes, and it has been only since the 1990’s that these “exchangees” and their families have been permitted to visit their ancestral villages in Greece and Turkey.

These days, Alaçati is “party central” during the summer months with thousands of mainly Turkish tourists swarming along its cobbled streets. We prefer the quieter winter months when the crowds disperse, the streets return to the locals and farmers trundle along the narrow thoroughfares in their tractors.

We happily spent time re-discovering the village, both by day

And by night.

The weekly markets provided us with fresh, seasonal food for our cooking pleasure,

and when we tired of cooking for ourselves, there was always someone willing to do it for us.

You can’t get much closer to the water than this. Dinner came with its own background entertainment – a fire-fighting helicopter repeatedly filling its bucket.

Setting sun, rising moon – the view from our table just kept getting better and better.

A better-groomed Captain enjoying a Turkish breakfast after visiting his favourite Turkish barber

Our original plan had been to fly to Toulouse from Turkey for a week or so, and then spend a few days in Paris before heading back to the UK. We needed to be in an amber country for 10 days before re-entering the UK to evade hotel quarantine, so this was a perfect solution. The Artillery Officer then offered us an enticing alternative which we couldn’t refuse. How about a road trip with him to Toulouse in his campervan? Now that was indeed tempting.

WARNING TO ALL IN FORTRESS STRALYA. THE FOLLOWING ACCOUNT CONTAINS TRAVEL DETAILS THAT MAY CAUSE DISCONTENT AND RESTLESSNESS. YOU CAN CALL THOMAS COOK OR LIFELINE AS YOU SEE FIT

Maps were produced and planning commenced. Perhaps an island hop to begin with – a ferry to Greece, working north to Serbia, Croatia, Italy, and then France? Or how about a Grand Tour through Moldovia, Slovakia, Germany, and then south to France? After much discussion, the final route was settled upon; north to Istanbul, and then on into Bulgaria, Serbia, Croatia, Slovenia, Italy, and then France.

We hadn’t done the “Europe Thing” in the ’60s but now found ourselves doing the “Europe Thing” in our sixties

Not quite a VW campervan, but it will do the job perfectly

This was going to be such an adventure. Little did we know then just how much of an adventure it was going to be.

The first day’s travel would see us leaving Turkey – every day from now on would obviate our need to quarantine in the UK. We approached the Turkish-Bulgarian border and were stunned by the sight of hundreds and hundreds of semi-trailers all waiting to be processed.

The queue for cars was shorter, but still, it took us over three hours to be searched, questioned, and finally stamped.

Another day, another border. The next day brought us to the Bulgarian-Serbian border, where we passed up the promised delights of duty-free shopping, even though it seemed that it would be the best we’d find anywhere.

About the same time as we were planning that night’s accommodation, the annoying mechanical whine that had accompanied us for some time now, became more high-pitched and was followed, almost immediately, and alarmingly, by an ear-splitting bang. We rolled into the emergency lane and all looked at each other. I’m no mechanic but even I knew that this was not good.

It seems that the big thingamabob that attaches to the other bit and makes us travel in a forward motion at any decent speed, was fatally injured

Belgrade, which was 20 kms away, had a Mercedes dealership and workshop. The decision was made to limp into town, leave the van at the garage, and then retire to an Airbnb to consider our options. A G&T and a beer, we decided, would also aid this considering significantly.

We had last been in Belgrade at the end of 2019 – a brief one-night stay that had left us wanting to see more. Now, it seems, we were being given that chance. The van was going to require some serious surgery, so over the next few days, the repair details were finalised and we took the time to take in the city and sample its delights.

Food, of course, featured highly on the list of delights

Clearly, you don’t have to go to Austria to add inches to your waistline!

And the ice-cream. In the interests of “it’s-not-fair-she-got-more-than-I-did”, this place actually weighs the amount that goes into the cones and buckets. We rated it 10 out of 10.

Two old hands who still find pleasure in sitting in the street eating ice cream

We spoke to the garage. It seemed that complications had arisen regarding the chariot and so it was decided that Four would move on and Two would return for her when repairs were complete.

Toulouse was now off, and Paris was on, so once again, we took to the air, but separately this time. Two arrived in good time with all their belongings. Two arrived very late to discover that their bag had decided on an extended stay in Geneva rather than continuing on to Paris. What was it thinking when this awaited it at journey’s end?

Paris now had to be explored by Two in well-worn travelling clothes and boots whilst all around us, stylishly-clad Parisians enjoyed 30° degrees and took advantage of these last days of summer.

How do they do it?

We may have been in the City of Lights, but it was becoming increasingly difficult not to be distracted by the next leg of our voyage. Ahead of us now, was the Eurostar back to London and then a further train journey back to the marina. And so, we subjected our nasal cavities and tonsils to another exploration in the interests of quarantine-free travel. Again negative.

Just a short trundle now and we'll be back from whence we came. Well, back in the UK at any rate. The other, longer trip is still in the lap of the gods.

The Captain, The Commodore, and Mrs Chippy