Overland, Sydney to London, March 6, 1980. Part 19. Trips end, London

Part 19. Trips end, London

  The morning of 24^th July, 1980 brought us to our last day onboard Casper, sad for some, but a relief for most of us, we had come a long way and were nearly there. As at the end of every trip, there was a lot of work to be done. Casper needed a thorough cleaning, that meant everything had to be taken out and the interior scrubbed. This was done quickly in conjunction with the final packing of our bags. I was a little surprised by Peter and Robyn, they had asked if they could help themselves to the leftover packets of dehyds. I had no problems with that and they were given the green light to help themselves, which they did.

Casper getting an internal scrub and packing punters. 

Jean was very upset, her relationship with Neil was over. She had been under the impression that when they reached London the friendship would continue, but as it happened Neil had other plans and he had just let her know about them. Unfortunately a few of the passengers looked upon Neil as a bit of a cad. But, as I well knew, that was the way it happened in the travel game, possibly I would be labeled the same in a couple of days.

We left the camping ground just after 10am and headed for Calais. On this last leg the passengers were still busy with their packing, they were amazed themselves how much extra they had picked up on route. The other ongoing activity were the farewells, exchange of addresses and the apprehension of being dropped off in London and left to their own devices. We took the smaller National Route, we had plenty of time, it provided better scenery and it was free. We stopped for lunch near Amiens, where we had last meal on board Casper.
Hilde and Johannes prepared a truly National French meal, soup, baguettes (french bread) and a selection of French cheeses. After lunch we continued onto Calais, all round it was a somber mood, but relaxed as the French countryside passed by, it was pretty as a picture. The smaller towns slowed us down a little but it gave us a closer look at the locals and they at us in our very distinctive orange and white double decker bus.

Our final meal on board Casper.

We pulled into the vast ferry terminal at Calais, here we would say goodbye to our home for the past 10 weeks. Loxley was to take Casper onto the ferry and to the Top Deck farm at Woking, just outside of London where the Top Deck buses were stored and maintained. We were to travel on the same ferry to Dover then the train to London and go our separate ways at Victoria Station. Top Deck had quite a few difficulties carrying passengers on the buses in England, this was the alternative.

We locked up Casper and went into the truck park restaurant/bar, everybody settled in for a few drinks and I arranged a last meal for us all. I still had to collect our ferry and train tickets from the sea link office, hopefully they would be there.

The Top Deck office in London was to have made all of the necessary arrangements, fortunately all was in order. I was soon back for a drink, happily clutching our tickets. I had planned to use up all the remaining food kitty money on the final National Meal, this would square away my accounts. We sat down to a pleasant meal of soup, salad, fish and a Camembert cheese platter. The meal turned into a farewell party, with French beer, wine and lots singing led again by the Pynes.

Click the link for a song that was considered by many of us as our theme. 

Last night, went out with a song, from left Terry, Larry, Lynne, Neil, Ian, Peter and myself.

 Nobody slept much that night, we were all up at 5am, off the bus with all of our worldly possessions and straight onto the ferry while Loxley drove Casper into the ships bowels.

Today, the 25^th of July, 1980 was the end of the trip, we were only a week late. It was also Larry Michel's birthday, this we celebrated briefly aboard our cross channel ferry. 
I handed out the obligatory trip questionnaires, these were a requirement by Top Deck’s management to obtain positive feedback on the trip. This would enable the better planning and possible alteration of trip routes if required. But, most importantly it was an indicator on the services provided by the crews. It was also a tool used to ascertain the crews negative aspects and gauge the trip bonuses paid to the drivers and couriers, a supplement to our meager wages. 
The passengers went off in different directions, some were at the bar with some early morning duty free drinks while others picked up some duty free alcohol and cigarettes. I joined Loxley in the restaurant for breakfast.

The dawn on the English channel, me on the right.

The crossing was simple as was the transfer onto the train, a short walk from the gangplank straight to the platform.
We arrived at Victoria Station at 9.30am, this gave us all with plenty of time to get ourselves sorted. It was here at Victoria Station that I commenced this trip, London-Sydney-London on the 1^st of October 1979. I had been on the road for ten months, basically working 24 hours per day, seven days a week. I was soon to be just another person, no responsibility, no questions and no schedule. 

Those who travelled all the way from Sydney to London, paid AUD$2,583 for all services other than food from St Leonards Station, Sydney to Victoria Station, London. Of those who started in Sydney, Terry, Johannes, Debbie, Lyne, Anne, Hilde, Louise & Neil were still with me, as were Larry, Peter & Robyn who all joined in Singapore. 

This mammoth journey of around 37,000 kilometres used various modes of transport, the punters travelled on two Top Deck buses for around 23,500 kilometres across three continents traveling on some of the same routes as did the Persian armies, Roman legions and later the Crusader princes. We took six international flights, seven train journeys, six ferries, eight charter coaches and a number of short trips aboard trucks, taxis, boats, rickshaws, bicycles and elephants covering a further 13,500 kilometres.

Along that long winding track they would stay in either of the Top Deck buses, free camps and at twenty-six camping grounds, thirteen hotels of differing standards while in South East Asia. Hopefully by now at the end of the trip they would feel that they received value for their money.

Our entire route, Sydney, Kathmandu to London 

The goodbyes were warm and genuine as some of us had been through a lot together over the past 22 weeks. My last job was to remind everybody about our reunion to be held at the ‘Cock’ pub in Fulham for the evening of the 28^th. The reunions were a part and parcel of each and every Top Deck trip, they were very informal and was a final catch up of the passengers and crew. The last kisses, hugs and handshakes dealt with, this motley crowd of true world travelers went their own way carrying in various forms their belongings and souvenirs. I was a little teary eyed myself, I had made a lot of friends and it was also for me a big relief that we had all made it unscathed.

I still had some with me, Hilde, Terry, Larry and Johannes, the three lads had decided to stick together and Hilde would travel back to the Netherlands with Johannes after a couple of days in London. While we were at Victoria Station, they booked their tickets home. Hilde and I took a black cab from the Station to the Top Deck offices in Earls Court, we dumped our gear and I completed the last details and submitted my accounts and the questionnaires. 

Top Decks office, Kenway Road, Earls Court, London.

Mick Carroll was running the show at the time, there were never any problems with the accounts or the questionnaires with Mick, unlike some of the others including Screw who was ruthless when it came to money. Mick needed a couple of hours before he could pay me out, so Hilde and I went for a walk, we picked up some sandwiches and had lunch in a small park just off of Earls Court Road.

True to his word, Mick paid me out all wages and bonuses owed, he also reimbursed Hilde 175 pounds, money I had borrowed in Paris. Hilde and I headed to my cousins flat in Putney with our gear. I hoped that they would still be there, as I hadn’t heard from them and they not from me since October the year before. On that day, they and I were under the impression that I was going Morocco for six weeks, but as it happens with Top Deck, plans changed at the last moment and I had to turn left towards Italy instead of right to Spain.

Luck was with us, Ray and Pin still lived there and the timing was perfect, they arrived home from work at the same time we lobbed, it was a time for introductions, story telling and what better place to do it but in the pub across the road, ‘The Arab Boy’. After a few pints and a pub meal, Ray and Pin were brought up to date on my experiences, they also filled me in on their travels, they had been to the United states to visit mutual relatives and had no plans at that stage to head home. 
These were to be my final days spent with Hilde and they were as nice as we could expect. The days were so unlike our past months continually on the move, we now had privacy sleeping in, long baths, shopping and no other people.

The Cock, Fulham

The trip reunion at the Cock went well, Loxley couldn’t make it, he already was on the road again, a three-week European tour. The turnout was big, it wasn’t just the passengers from Casper, but most from all three buses. The time, date and place had been agreed upon some three weeks beforehand. Just about everybody had settled into the colonial lifestyle of London, work, a place to stay and having a great time. It was strange to see the group back together again, especially the South East Asian crowd. I think I missed them a little over the past few days, it was now so strange after living in each other’s pockets for so long and all of a sudden, virtually alone again. 
As was our custom in English pubs, I drank too much lager and wasn’t much good for anything by the end of the night, in fact I remember very little. I must have not been too bad, I did make it home intact, but that was more than likely the influence of being chaperoned by Hilde.

In London, Johannes and I. 

We met Terry, Larry and Johannes at Victoria coach station, again it was hugs and kisses, It was sad to see off Johannes as he was a really nice bloke, I was especially sorry to see off Hilde as we had done and spent so much time together, I liked her and I believed that the feeling was mutual. 
But, there was little choice. Hilde had her family, home and career in the Netherlands and I was virtually homeless. My job saw me heading anywhere in the world at anytime and like my last outing, I was away sometimes up to ten months at a time. These combination of lifestyles was wide of the mark for any long-term relationship, something that wasn’t meant to be.

Johannes and Hilde finally back in the Netherlands.

 Hilde and Johannes left on the last leg of their journey home that took them half way around the world overland. I went to a pub with Larry and Terry and spoke about their futures, they were both keen to seek work with Top Deck, it wasn’t long before they were both on the road pushing double deckers around Europe. As for me, the next morning I kept an appointment with Mick Carroll at the Top Deck office regarding my future. Not long after that I was on a plane headed to Kathmandu.

Photo credits to Mathilde Weykamp, Kitty Vestbo, Peter Jeucken, Louise Pyne, Norm Miller, Loxley Secker & Steven McAleer.

Overland, Sydney to London, March 6, 1980. Part 18. France

Part 18. France

Late that afternoon we crossed into France, the passport control was the fastest that we had had so far on the whole trip. Long that far past the French border we entered the Principality of Monaco, this frontier was but a sign only.

Monte Carlo the primary municipality of the principality of Monaco boasted a large harbour that catered for pleasure craft owned by the rich and famous, we parked  Casper's right on the harbours edge, for a brief visit. 
Hilde and I took a walk in the marina, there were very few other people about and we strolled along the wharfs checking out the assembled boats. I recognized a man walking towards us, Roger Moore, alias James Bond, he was with a very attractive woman, as I was. The most noticeable thing about him was his face and neck; he was the most wrinkled person I had ever seen, for man aged around 50, he could have easily have passed for 70.

Hilde 

We had dinner aboard Casper right on the edge of one of the most sought after marina’s in the world, the meal was reasonable, but the view was breathtaking. We were lucky that we were not disturb during our meal, as it was customary for the Monaco Police to arrive and move the bus on. The good folk of Monaco were not appreciative of the Top Deck style, especially scruffy Australians practically camping in their streets dumping their dish washing water wherever they parked and using any available facilities without payment. Hilde accompanied me again while I drove out of Monaco back onto the freeway, I drove on until about 1.30am when Loxley took over. We intended to drive right through the night to Paris, it was freeway all of the way and everybody, other than Loxley would get a good nights sleep.

Loxley woke me at 6.30am, he had stopped at the Freeway Services near Lyon and was buggered, I wasn’t feeling that bright myself, but he had driven the worst of it and after a wash I was bright eyed and bushy tailed. But, a couple of young girls had found Loxley, they were looking for a ride, both were very young, 16 years of age would have been an overstatement. 
I managed to talk Loxley out of it and they were let loose, poor bugger it had been a long time between drinks, he was caught in a drought with no end in sight. 

Rob and Neil Russell snoozing upstairs

I drove while Loxley slept, around midday he again took over taking us straight to the Gare Du Nord Railway Station in Paris. There we dropped Steven off as he needed to be in London before the weekend. We had nowhere to stop, Steven jumped and I chucked his canvas bag off after him. I think he got away Ok, oops, I forgot to give him a Top Deck Questionnaire for comments on the trip. Loxley took us straight to the camping ground ‘Tour de France’ at Joinville, just outside Paris. 
Dinger was already there, Mike told us about Tadpoles, a sleeping truck driver had run up its rear end on the freeway about twenty kilometres out of Paris. Tadpoles had been limping along in the slow lane with Mick Schwieger driving, Two Sheds was sound asleep. A truck drove straight into the back of Tadpoles, the impact sent the elder Gwen Barr from her bottom bunk straight down the stairwell into a twisted the stairs and mangled bus. 
The whole rear end, including the stairs and kitchen area were wrecked. Michael did not hold any sort of drivers licence, (this was pretty common at the time) he went to Two Sheds to get him into the drivers seat (Two Sheds had a licence). But, Two Sheds slept through the whole thing. Michael had to shake him awake and put him in the drivers seat. It had been very lucky that nobody was either on the stairs or in the rear area. A couple of the passengers had been injured but none seriously. The crew thought Tadpoles was totalled, but a few weeks later they drove Tadpoles to Leeds to a Bristol Lodekka graveyard and welded on a whole new rear from the top window to the wheel wells.

Sally Wallis and Tadpoles

Apparently Two Sheds had previously written a letter to Screw and the office telling of that he was fearful of driving Tadpoles on the freeways of Europe on only 5 cylinders and the resulting depleted power. He also said that it was likely a truck would collect them, his premonition was correct. It turned into a quiet somber night at the camping ground, the party atmosphere was now gone, our mood was depressive, a combination of the long drive, the tragic news about Tadpoles and the end of the trip..

Crumpled Tadpoles, Chris Stevens, Unknown in rear, Marianne Cartwright (front) Mrs  Gwen Barr  and Walter   Leichfried.

The trip was coming to an end and I found that the trip funds were badly depleted, I was nearly broke, the travelers cheques had all but run out. I had been responsible for the payments of everything, fuel, tolls, camping fees, repairs, food and advances on wages for Loxley and myself. I needed a little more to see the food kitty out, pay the camping ground bill and another tank of fuel. The ferry and train tickets were paid for and would be waiting for us at Calais. 
I had hoped that I could make it with what I was carrying. I tried to hit Sam up for some cash, but he couldn’t help as he was running on money borrowed from a passenger. It so happened that Hilde and Johannes were on cooking duty again, they were the first and last for that job, for them it was the bad luck of the draw. They made up a very nice chilli con carne using some of the Dehyds, it turned out to be a reasonable meal, but then again I wasn’t going to risk any criticism of meals at this stage of the game.  But Loxley didn’t need to impress anybody, he wasn’t having any of it and took off looking for a meal elsewhere. Later, with the meal finished I accompanied most of the others and caught up with him in the camping ground bar, where we spent the evening over a few beers.

It was a late start for our tour of Paris, while driving into the city, I used the microphone to read off my spiel, Paris was first settled near the end of the 3rd century BC by a tribe of Celtic Gauls and so on. Our first stop was at 9.30am, Sacre Coeur the dominant church overlooking all of Paris, nearby is the artist’s quarter of Montmartre a small square where portraits could be obtained and works purchased. Hilde and Johannes who had both been to Paris went off to get the shopping done for our final meals aboard Casper. 

Lunchtime on Casper  beneath a well tower in Paris.

We moved along to the Eiffel tower, a must when visiting Paris, built for the World Fair of 1889 and named after its designer, Gustave Eiffel. It is 320metres high and was the world's tallest structure until 1930. It was only meant to be temporary and was nearly torn down in 1909. It survived due to the need of an antenna for the new technology of radiotelegraphy. The three public levels for viewing can be accessed by lifts for a fee or stairs for free.

Johannes and Hilde preparing pancakes beneath the Eiffel Tower.

Hilde and Johannes had no desire to climb the tower again, they got to work making lunch, pancakes cooked in the bus. They made over 100 pancakes, a simple meal with simple ingredients, we had even managed to buy some more honey. We were parked on the roadway immediately below the tower, it wasn’t surprising that some tourists hopped on the bus ready to place an order. A thought crossed my mind, but only for a second.

Lunch in Paris

The passengers had their lunch of pancakes, seated either inside the bus, or outside on the grass beneath the Eye full of Tower in the beautiful sunshine. Straight after lunch we drove the short distance to the Arc de Triumph, an enormous archway to commemorate the fallen in the many French wars. The Arch is located on an enormous roundabout, it is the hub for twelve avenues and is a motorist’s nightmare, not so for Casper as it appears that the biggest gets the right of way. It would be suicide to attempt to walk across to the Arc de Triumph, some do, but most take one of the two tunnels. 

As I was in a fix for funding to complete the trip, it was an easier proposition to borrow from one of the passengers, the other option was to attempt to have money transferred from London, but with Tadpoles spare parts still in my short-term memory. I asked Hilde for a loan and she cashed US$400 into French Francs for me, it would be enough to keep us afloat and get Casper to London. The visit to the Arc de Triumph and the bank didn’t take long before we were off again, this time Casper took us down the Champs-Élysées to the Musée du Louvre where our tourists had 4 hours to take in all of the art contained within. This was the first time I had seen the glass pyramid entrance, some 21 metres high. It was different, in my opinion a bit out of place with the surroundings. It would be an impossible task to see the lot in 8 hours, let alone 4 hours.
Everybody made it back on time to the bus for our planned departure, at this stage of the game I wouldn’t have left anybody, in that regards the trip had been very successful, never any tardiness by the passengers, only one person ever left behind. We didn’t move that far, just the short distance to the rear of Notre Dam Cathedral, a small bus park. The evening meal was prepared while everyone had a look at and through Notre Dam. Immediately after the meal was tidied away we headed on foot to the Latin Quarter.

Rear of Notre Dame from our parking spot.

The Latin quarter, is a large area stacked with bars and restaurants. It is on the opposite side of the river Seine from where we had Casper parked, but an easy 15 minute walk. I took everybody to a café that I liked, Café de Arts, the punters could either join Loxley and myself here, or meet us here later for our planned midnight departure. The café was owned and run by a Greek bloke, the menu also offered Greek food, my favourite. It was a great place to sit back, enjoy a few beers and watch life in the Latin Quarter walk past. A few of the passengers stayed with us and most made it back before we left, everybody was at the bus before we headed to the camping ground. 
I wasn’t alone in looking forward to a good nights sleep, but that wasn’t to be as Terry and Johannes stayed up chatting for most of the night. We knew all about it as the bus is a small place and anything that happened on the bus was everybody’s business.


Photo credits to Mathilde Weykamp, Peter Jeucken, Louise Pyne, Norm Miller, Loxley Secker & Steven McAleer.

Overland, Sydney to London, March 6, 1980. Part 17. Italy.

Part 17. Italy

We woke to a cold morning, the coldest that we had experienced on the entire trip, 16c. Loxley was driving at 6am and we passed through Rijeka and Trieste with most of us still cuddled up in our beds. We had another first that day, our first traffic jam leading up to the border and everybody had to get up for the border crossing. It became very busy upstairs, warmer clothes were the order for the day and they had to be dug out of cupboards, bags and beneath mattresses and seats. 

Steven and Debbie rugged up in bed while on the go.

Finally we were all comfortable and breakfast was taken at a slow crawl headed towards the Italian border crossing. It was around 9.30am by the time we reached the border, with an hour added for the time difference, two hours at the border and the last 180 kilometres on the first freeway of the trip we arrived at camping Fusina, just outside Venice by 4pm.

The border in the the republic of Fusina, otherwise know as camping Fusina

It had become a tradition for London bound Top Deck overland buses to let their hair down when at Fusina, it was a known party camping ground in Europe and used by all of the Camping tour companies catering for colonials. As soon as we entered the gates we knew we were in for it that night, there were around 15 to 20 coaches and buses, Dinger and another Top Deck bus on a European trip were there, as were Contiki, Sundowners, CCT and Autotours coaches. All told around 500 Australians and New Zealanders were on hand for the nightly event at Fusina.
The word had spread that we were another Top Deck overland bus and at first the Top Deck people cheered and greeted us. I was driving at the time and even before I had parked the bus, Loxley was in the bar. It was still cold, windy and the rain had just started. I filled the passengers in on the location of the toilets and showers and a brief rundown on our movements for the coming day. I also reminded them about the trip Tee Shirts and that a design was needed to be submitted the next morning.

I headed to the bar and joined Loxley, Sam, Mike the guys from the other Top Deck bus, it was there that I learnt that Tadpoles had left not that long before our arrival as the going had been and would continue to be very slow for them. It wasn’t long before we were really letting our hair down, the owner of the camping ground, Renaldo joined us, he was an enormous man who, like us liked to party hard. He brought out the sambucca and kept our glasses full, the sambucca was drunk with a couple of coffee beans, the sambucca had to be sculled. As the night wore on with the sambucca glasses being emptied and refilled in rapid succession combined with a few beers, a few more sambucca’s and no meal it wasn’t that long before I felt myself being enveloped by that all too familiar cloud. But there was no stopping me as the shackles were off, Renaldo was blowing a spray of Sambucca from his mouth and lighting it. It was his favourite party trick, at one stage he set some curtains alight, he wasn’t at all bothered but his employees, the bar staff scampered about to tidy up his mess.

The Fusina bar, a place where anything can happen. Here Goose from Gooses T Shirts playing with a few chicks. 

The bar, verandah and adjoining restaurant were packed with people, just about everybody from the campsite were jammed in together. Loxley and I left for a short time and staggered to our bus, Loxley still had a few bungers and small rockets left over from Varanasi. About three rockets were lit and sent into the bar from the roadway, they bounced off people harmlessly. Renaldo came bounding towards us from the bar, I thought that we had overstepped the mark, but that wasn't his problem, he just wanted a turn, so we gave him the remaining rockets and bungers and sat back to watch the fun. Renaldo wasn’t one to hold back, he got much closer and let fly with everything causing a people to scatter in all directions.

By this time it was raining heavily and we were once again all jammed in the bar, I could feel my time was up as I was as pissed as a lizard and sneaked away and made my way back to Casper. I don’t know how I got there, but some of my passengers found me lying asleep in water in a drain just to the back of the bus. They suggested to Hilde that she help me inside, but it appears I wasn’t her best friend at that time and she was far from being impressed, I was left to my own devices.

I managed to sleep in and woke with a heavy head, some of the passengers had been busy and they designed two Tee shirts, one for the Sydney to London crowd and the other the Kathmandu to London. The Sydney London Tee shirt was a map outlining the locations and route, showing the Top Deck logo and the date. It was for those who traveled the entire distance. They and the others who started from Kathmandu had a second shirt with the Top Deck motif with Kathmandu London, Casper May 1980.  I took the designs and orders to ‘Goose’ an Australian who owned and ran ‘Gooses T shirts’ a thriving business that catered for all of the camping tour companies.
Loxley took us into Venice and dropped us off at Lido, it was the only accessible point to Venice by land. It was a bright sunny day of about 20c, much better than the day before, on the way to Lido, I put a proposition to the passengers. We had time up our sleeves and Loxley and I decided to offer the passengers a visit to Florence only slightly off of our intended route.

 It was only a six hour drive out of our way and if need be we would make up a day by doing a night drive. The passengers were all happy with the idea and I made the necessary changes to the itinerary. I gave a short historical spiel on Venice, yet again straight from my notes.

It took us a half hour to get to Lido, I told everybody that boat number one would take us into Piazza San Marco and that if they wanted they could accompany me on a walking tour, those who preferred to go off on their own or got lost should use the Piazza as a meeting point. The return trip to the campsite was to be by boat, they should make their way to Zatlere and catch Boat 16, that boat would take them to Fusina, as Casper wouldn’t be returning to Lido. 
Lido was a very busy place buses, taxis, ferries and trains all terminated or left from here, it was like a large turning circle. There wasn’t anywhere to park at Lido and the nearest parking area located some two kilometres away and would cost a small fortune.

Public transport in Venice

We joined the crowds at the little ferry terminal, it was very busy with people, boats rocking and moving about. The ferry was lust like a bus, we moved up the canal towards Piazza San Marco, taking in the other boats and the homes of the Venetians, some appeared very shabby and others very opulent. The subsidence of the buildings was also very obvious, with some doors and windows just below the surface of the water. The Piazza was also a hive of activity, here our thoroughfare opened up to a large expanse of water, this leading off to the other outer islands. The waterway was also lively with passenger boats, pleasure craft, freight craft and gondola’s plying the waterways.

Tour guide leads Caspers crown through Venice, myself, Brian, Neil Pyne, Peter, Louise,  Lyne, Pat, Debbie and Johannes.

At first I took the group to the Basilica San Marco, the most prominent building in the Piazza, while they were in there I spoke to our old friends at Marano glass and arranged for a glass blowing demonstration, they gave me a cold can of coke in an attempt to settle my hangover. The look at the Basilica didn’t take long and we filed into the Marano glassworks for the demo, it was short and sweet and then the sales pitch started. My passengers were by now seasoned travelers, they were not to be taken in by clever salesmen and knew a bargain when they saw it, and there were none to be had here. I managed a couple more cans of coke courtesy of the glass factory before we all left with our wallets still intact.

Basilica San Marco

The passengers decided to go their own way after the glass factory, I wandered about the side alleys with Hilde and shouted her a lunch of Calamari and prawns in a small out of the way café. It was a good 50% cheaper than the restaurants in the tourist haunts and it was in my eyes getting me back in the good books with Hilde after the night before. After our lunch we continued on our wanderings of Venice, it wasn’t long before I realized I was lost, I think I was lost before lunch also, but didn’t want to admit to it. We found our way back to the Piazza San Marco via the ‘bridge of sighs’.  Hilde had been to Venice before so it didn’t bother her when we returned to the Camping ground at 4pm by ferry.

I went around to see Goose about the tee shirts; they were all ready and cost around 7,000 lira each that equated at the time to about $7 each. Reasonably priced printed shirts of our design. Goose, who had in his previous life been a Policeman in Melbourne successfully operated the T Shirt business out of Fusina for the past five years, I had been dealing with him since 1977. I had also on one occasion carried his shirts as freight to Munchen for the beer fest as he had been having customs troubles, something I was well compensated for. 
Hilde helped me load our new T-shirts into the bus, she took and paid for hers, as did I, took them that is as Goose always shouted the crew. I also confirmed our booking for a group Ribs meal at the camping ground restaurant, another ‘National Meal’.

As it was still early, most of the people staying at the camping ground were still out and about, I took advantage of the showers and the still available hot water. Through past experience I found that when everybody returned, the lines for the showers became long and the water quickly became cold. Hilde joined me in one of the large open aired cubicles, built I think specifically for two, that was the story most of us spun. The passengers were all back on deck by dinner time and we managed to enjoy one of the nicest meals yet. It was a packaged deal, barbecued ribs, salad, bread and wine, simple but nice. The group bookings were fast and furious, as one group finished they were replaced on time by another, the cooking of the ribs was also ongoing throughout the afternoon and evening.

It was party night at the camp bar again that night, as it probably was every night with the party goers being replaced daily with the coming and going of tours. I took it easy as I had a big next day planned. But still we had another late night and again the Varanasi bungers and rockets made their appearance, I thought we had used the lot up, but the guys on the other bus dug some out. Finally Hilde and I went to bed, we had the forward downstairs bed as always and were just getting off to sleep, as it happened there was always movement on the bus throughout the night. People returning home, others leaving for the toilets and yet again others who had the mistaken belief that they could quietly make love without anybody else detecting them. Then there were the others who didn’t give a hoot and got stuck into it without caring who saw or heard them.

On this night it was Terry, he had fallen in love for the night with a girl at the bar and brought her back to the bus and snuggled up with her on the downstairs bed next to ours. Terry and the girl didn’t give a shit, they were at it without holding back the physical or the vocal action, it was full volume with the noise and he was on full throttle. Not only were we only 6 ft away, other passengers were entering and leaving the bus with Terry oblivious to us all. It was a relief when the girl loudly announced that she was coming and it appeared that Terry joined her, everything went quiet. The bus was rocking so much it would have been impossible to hold a cup of tea without spilling it, that was downstairs, upstairs people could have been thrown out of their beds, perhaps that’s an exaggeration. 

It was an early start as we wanted to be on the road by 8am, the showers were crowded and the water cold, some of our group missed out, straight after breakfast we were off on the ‘autostrada’, the Italian freeways were immaculate, great surfaces, good signposting, opulent service stations equipped with supermarkets, restaurants, bars and bottle shops everything a motorist could want. The downside was that all ‘autostradas’ were toll ways, for us it was flat, quicker and saved us fuel so we used them. These were the first real freeways we had seen since the trip started, there had been several short sections in Australia, but nothing like these. We had just under 2,000 kilometres to go before we reached London and it would be freeway all of the way.

On the drive down to Florence it was overcast and not a lot could be seen from the freeway, the Italians preferred to tunnel through a hill other than going over or around it. Peter and Robyn were on their last stint of cooking duty, while on the move they prepared sandwiches, a standard lunch, fresh bread, lettuce tomato’s, sliced tinned meat tarted up with pickles. After lunch some of the passengers were still hungry and the ever-obliging Robyn continued to prepare additional honey sandwiches using up the last of the honey. In Europe food was expensive compared to where we had been, the food kitty was depleted. I hinted to Robyn that she should take it easy with the honey as there wouldn’t be any more, meaning we couldn’t afford another bucket. Well, Robyn let me have it with both barrels, she yelled and raved and after a few minutes calmed down, I still don’t know what burred her up, either the usual culprit, her husband Peter or me. But it was I who just happened to be there playing the part of kicking boy allowing Robyn to vent her spleen. It had been a long trip confined as we were, it was amazing that these flare ups were as rare as they were.

We went straight to Camping Michelangelo, a beautiful but crowded spot, not that far from the centre of Florence. The camping ground was set on the side of a steep timbered hill overlooking the beautiful old city of Florence and the river Arno. The double deckers, or for that matter any coach had difficulties with the sharp bends and lack of space at this campsite. A narrow winding road serviced the camping ground; it had many hairpin bends where Casper would need three attempts just to get around. Loxley parked Casper on a flat section not that far from the office, showers, pool and bar restaurant.

Apart from this section of the road, there was barely any place that was level, including the tent sites.  Dinner was had on the bus at the camping ground, Casper was locked up and we all started the walk down the mountain to the river Arno, across a bridge and into the old city. This walking tour was a short one, one way to the  ‘The Red Garter’ a Florentine nightclub frequented by all of the Camping Tour companies. The walk down allowed everybody to get their bearings and afterwards would surely know their way home. It was a good two kilometre walk, but worth it at the end. 
The Red Garter disco catered for people like us, we all gained free entry and the drivers and couriers had free drinks. The Red Garter was also a magnet for the local Casanova’s who sought easy pickings amongst the Australian and New Zealand girls. It was the case on most trips that many of the passengers, male and female let their hair down. As they were far from their homes they didn’t have reputations to protect and there was nobody to spread gossip, so they did what they wanted and when they returned home, whatever happened while on their travels stayed where it happened.

A couple of zombie's

The favoured crew drink at the Red Garter was the ‘zombie’, a tall glass, half filled with ice, a shot of vodka, pineapple juice and topped off with Galliano. It was one of those drinks that went down very easily, but crept up and knocked you for six near the end of the night. I had an easy night, only sipping zombies from 9.30pm to 12.30am before heading back up the hill. It was the same for over half of our group, but some of the diehards didn’t make it home until just before dawn. We managed to complete breakfast by 8am and I started our walking tour of Florence immediately afterward. We walked from the camping ground as Loxley was staying there with Casper, just to keep up with some maintenance and sleep off his heavy head, as he was one of the late returnees.

I walked the group down the winding forest path to a small park across from the river; here I gave a brief history of Florence and a rundown on that day’s activity. A bit of culture in the morning and a free afternoon. 

We walked right down the river to Pont de Vechio; this famous 14th-century bridge is lined with shops selling gold and silver jewellery. The pedestrian only bridge is unique in its structure; basically an ancient elevated walkway, come shopping precinct. The group followed me to Walter Gelli’s silver shop and Paolo Fortini’s leather works for various demonstrations. A walk past the San Lorenzo Basilica and through the Medici Chapels decorated with precious marble and semiprecious stones. As we passed the San Lorenzo Basilica we came across the central market, here bargains with woolens and leather goods were all on offer. From there we took in the Piazza del Duomo, the remarkable Duomo, with its pink, white and green marble façade and dome, dominates the city's skyline and no building in town is taller. The building took almost two centuries to build and is the fourth-largest cathedral in the world. After the Duomo we trekked to the Accademia Gallery where we saw Michelangelo’s statue of David in all his glory.  This would have to be the most remarkable statue ever created, indescribably lifelike. David was something that could be studied for the better part of a day. 

Dave

That was it for the walking tour, everybody had picked up city maps at the silver shop and I left most of them with Michelangelo’s David, most were entranced. I headed to the ‘Red Garter’ where I met Loxley, we had a lunch appointment with Michael the owner for lunch.  I had been with him for lunches before and they were always something to remember, or rather by the time lunch finished it was something that would be hard to remember. 
It was a warmer day averaging 25c and by the time Lox and I settled into the restaurant with our host and a couple of other Australian guys from a C.C.T camping tour we were really looking forward to a cold beer. After a couple of beers the wine flowed, followed by various dishes including seafood, meats, rice and salads.
 Before I knew it the afternoon was finished, or better put, Loxley and I were finished.

I couldn’t take anymore and escaped with Loxley back to the camping ground, we weren’t in any shape to walk back up the hill so we shouted ourselves a taxi. I had a siesta and afterwards a shower, I was all ready to go back to work, that is dinner on the bus and back down the hill to the Red Garter again with our crowd. 
It was another night of festivity with the plentiful drink, dancing and each other’s company we had a good time. I steered clear of the zombies as they would have sent me downhill fast. Hilde and I made it back to the bus by midnight, I saw that Loxley was tying one on and somebody had to drive in the morning. 
At 8am I took Casper out of the camping ground after paying the fees and collecting the last few who, like most decided on an early morning shower. We were not going to visit another camping ground until Paris. 
The drive was mostly freeway and Hilde sat with me in the cab. I drove until about midday and Loxley took over, he had a fantastic section of autostrada along the northwest Italian coastline, the road was through the coastal mountains high above the sea.

A coastal autostada view near Genoa

 The autostrada passed into tunnels and over bridges repetitively through the mountains and provided elevated views to the sea and over the port city of Genoa.


Photo credits to Mathilde Weykamp, Peter Jeucken, Louise Pyne, Norm Miller, Loxley Secker & Steven McAleer.

Overland, Sydney to London, March 6, 1980. Part 16. Greece & Yugoslavia

 Part 16. Greece & Yugoslavia

Everybody was woken and had to get up to pass through the border formalities, it was a lot quicker than normal. Previously I had always came through this crossing during the day, each time taking several hours, it was always very busy 24 hours a day with T.I.R semi trailers.

The old facilities on the Turkish side of the border.

There is a bridge across no-man s land, during daylight you can easily see the positions of the opposing armies facing each other. The Greeks and Turks have never been that friendly. as soon as we were through Loxley went to bed and I started to drive, first thing was to fill up with Greek diesel, as we were nearly out. I enjoyed this section from the border to Kavala, there was very little traffic and I knew the road well, only a few small hills. I had a couple of tapes to keep me company, I played Santana continuously right through to dawn, it was the end of Santana when I pulled into the small Mediterranean port of Keramati at 7am.

I had gone to Keramati for a short ferry ride to Thassos, the only Greek Island covered in forest. It was off of our itinerary, but everybody was happy with an ‘extra’. The punters were up early and breakfast was quick, by 8am Loxley had backed Casper onto the ferry, it had the appearance of a military landing craft with a large ramp at the front. We had to reverse on like the other vehicles, it made it easier to drive straight off. 

Loxley backing onto the Thassos ferry. I'm at his front guiding.

Once on board the passengers scattered in all different directions and I got away with paying for 12 only, we were off on our Mediterranean cruise by 8.30 and the crossing took only a ½ hour.

            It was a beautiful morning for the crossing to Thassos, the sea was fantastic, flat as a billiard table, the views as we entered the harbour of the township of Thassos was like a picture postcard. The town and island were obviously a well-patronized tourist destination, as there were people, shops and stalls everywhere. We spent a few hours in the town and then took the coastal road around the island to the beach camping ground at Ioannidis. That afternoon was an easy one, spent by everybody just lazing about and swimming. 
That evening Hilde and I accompanied a few others for a walk along the beach about a kilometre to Primos, a small coastal village. It had the usual bunch of cafes near the waterfront, we sat at a small café taking in a few ouzo’s, the Greeks drink of choice. It has a strong aniseed taste and takes some getting used to. We drank in the Greek style shouting ‘Yamos’ and down the hatch placing the empty glass upside down on the head. It was a good night and the ouzo warmed us up, Hilde had a little too much, she doesn’t normally have much more than two glasses of wine, but she was in a happy mood and we spent the night sleeping on the beach.

            We woke with the sun and it was a little damp from the dew, a swim roused us to the start of another beautiful day of around 33C. After a late breakfast, another swim and a shower we left the camping ground in Casper for another ferry trip, this time directly to Kavalla embarking at Primos. This trip took us an hour and a half, but a problem arose as we were getting on, the ferry bloke counted my passengers, I was caught out. 

Hilde headed towards Kavalla.

It was on one of those rare occasions that we paid full freight, Screw wouldn’t be happy with that. The crossing to Kavala was just like the day before, but even better, Kavala from the sea is a beautiful sight, situated in a series of bays with the buildings cascading down to the waters edge from the surrounding hills. The port itself is littered with fishing boats of all sizes, obviously fishing and tourism are the main industries. The ferry drove straight up to the wharf at 90 degrees, lowered the ramp and all of the vehicles, including Casper drove off.

National meal in Kavala, from left Anne, Steven, Ron, Loxley and Ian at the head of the table

            Kavala’s shopping and restaurant area was spread right down to the waters edge, Casper was parked right there alongside the fishing boats. While the fishermen were tending to their nets and catch, we sat directly opposite them and their boats to a ‘national lunch’. Greek food is my favourite, I ordered for everybody, as it was the best way to attract a good group discount.

Same lunch different shot from left Anne, Steven, myself,  jean, Louise, Neil, Larry, Terry and Johannes

 We had a long table and were served, moussaka, calamari, chips, bread, Greek salad with the black olives and goat cheese and to wash that down a common Greek wine, retsina. After lunch, while everybody either sat about the harbour’s edge or wandered about the nearby shops, I took off with the cooks and bought meat for a BBQ that night, but most importantly we picked up the makings for another sangria. 

Downtown Kavalla

          Loxley
Loxley parked Casper at the western end of the beach right alongside the cliff face and the waters edge. First thing on the agenda, was a swim in the clear waters of the Aegean Sea, it was absolute bliss. Now that we were away from the constraints of the Islamic world we were again blessed with some of the women swimming topless.

Neil, Louise and Robyn on the beach at Kavala

            The best worker on the bus, Larry got to work cleaning out the bin for the sangria, once it was clean I worked with him cutting up, combining and mixing the ingredients, a quick taste test revealed another masterpiece. The cooks made up a salad and wrapped a pile of potatoes in foil and we were ready for our beach BBQ. The evening started with a few sangria’s on the beach around our fire in the sand, once we had enough hot ash, the potatoes went in. The meat was cooked over the coals on the oven racks from Casper’s ‘modern’ kitchen. By the time the food was cooked, it was hard to form an opinion of it’s quality as most of us were pissed as lizards, the sangria was a little stronger than anticipated and did it’s job well. I remember at the end of the night the sangria was finished, there were the same desperadoes eating the fruit from the bottom of the bin. That night most of us slept on the beach.

Beach BBQ at Kavala, Louise, Anne, Pat, Lynne, Steven and Chris

            Saturday the 12^th of July, 1980 was to be another lazy day, I woke late in the full morning sun of around 33c, not feeling 100%. The nearest and best fix was a swim and then breakfast, this seemed to be the cure for us all. That morning the bus was tidied up and we went into Kavalla for an hour to get some shopping done as we expected to be on the road for the next two days. Lunch and more swims at the camping ground did a bit to ease the fuzzy head that I still carried with me. At 4pm that afternoon, I fixed up the camping ground bill for the bus and 12 passengers and we departed, headed toward Thessaloniki, from there north into Yugoslavia. We crossed the border after dark and parked for the night 10 kilometres north of the frontier.

            A 4.30am start and a cooler day took us via Skoptje and Titograd and eventually reached the Adriatic coast south of Dubrovnik. 
The road was through some of the most rugged landscape in the world, it was continuously up, down, through and around the mountainous terrain for most of the 620 kilometres that we covered that day. It was a relief that Casper was running cool once again, thanks to that unknown Turkish truck driver, who incidentally was never properly thanked. 
The road surface itself was remarkably smooth; we encountered many tunnels, all roughly cut through the mountainsides. Loxley and I took turns with the driving, as it was exhausting work, the passengers were all wide eyed at the panorama as it passed by us. It was just on dark when we reached the coast and stopped for the night, just past the coastal town of Kotor only a 100 kilometres short of Dubrovnik, it had been a long day.

Looking down on Kotor on our arrival.

 The night stop was on the waters edge of Kotor Bay, opposite a café on the coastal highway. We could well have made Dubrovnik that evening, but it would have been a pity to miss the coastal views of the Adriatic as we headed north. Loxley was up early and at 5am headed towards Dubrovnik, it was light and just about everybody was awake still wrapped in their sleeping bags looking at the Adriatic Sea as it passed by.

The view from our spot back towards Kotor

 This coastal road is unique as it is carved from the mountainside that runs down from its peaks into the sea, most of the time the road is running above or along the waters edge giving us an uninterrupted view.

Myself and Loxley taking in the view of Dubrovnik

 We managed to stop just before and above Dubrovnik, it was an amazing outlook, the ancient port and city with a backdrop of the Adriatic Sea. By 8am we were entering Dubrovnik, for our buses there is only one way into the city and that is under a low bridge. On past visits we found the only way was for the Lodekka to cross to the incorrect side of the road to fit through the tight squeeze, on this visit we noticed that roadway had recently been resurfaced. I hopped out and climbed halfway up the bridge, Larry went further up the road and blocked off the oncoming traffic, some of the others got out to take photos. 
When all was clear and the traffic jammed up in both directions I motioned Loxley through and he passed under the bridge on the incorrect side of the road. It was very tight as the vents on Casper’s roof could be heard scraping the underside of the bridge.

Casper sneaking beneath the low bridge into Dubrovnik,  me on the left guiding.

            Dubrovnik has an old city centre, this is surrounded by a ancient city wall, we parked near the main entrance to the city, even if we had wanted Casper would never fit through the low archway into the old city. Before we all took off, I gave one of my spiels just about straight out of the book. Dubrovnik was a successful maritime and merchant centre due mainly to its location, being at the entrance to the Adriatic Sea blah blah blah.

Dubrovnik , me standing on the wall to the left.

It was a free morning for us all to wander through the narrow cobbled streets of this ancient city. At first we came to the formidable fortified wall that entirely surrounds the old city, we as a group passed through and beneath the wall by the arched gateway where we came upon a small square and then a wide marble street that led straight into the city itself. 

The marble street leading to the old city entrance

The marble street was very smooth and likely to be slippery when wet. On the right stood a line of houses, all nearly identical, originally it was law that all houses in Dubrovnik were to be built the same so that residents could not compete against one another. The street is about 8 metres wide and from both sides smaller streets lead off every 12 to 15 metres. These cobbled streets are less than two metres wide and are dotted with cosy cafes, bars and souvenir shops.

The narrow alleyways of Dubrovnik

 The punters all went their own way, Hilde and I returned to the wall, we found the stairway to the barricades on top of the wall and started our walk around the old city from it's best viewing platform. The wall has a wide walkway on it’s top, the entire old city can be encircled and toured on foot by the path on the wall.

Hilde in Dubrovnik

After that hot walk, we found an outdoor café where we had coffee with Chris. I met up with Ian, Terry and Larry and without too much difficulty talked them into a swim, I knew of a place nearby.

 Hilde came with us for the short walk back past the bus to a point on the roadway that looked down shear cliffs to the sea, from there we followed a path that ran down to the waters edge. The path had taken us to an area with a natural rock landing into the sea. There were several other people swimming, but the most amazing thing was the view into the water, it gave uninterrupted view through to the seas bottom, some 15 metres deep.

Neil Russell, myself and Terry Dwyer on the cliffs at Dubrovnik

There were two spots from where we could dive, the first about 5 metres from the waters surface and the other about 15 metres up. We started with a dive each from the 5 metre mark, Hilde was watching and asking us to stop as she considered it too dangerous. That spurred us to move onto the 15 metre spot, we were all being very brave and trying to outdo one another, I managed to execute the most perfect of dives, in my mind anyway, I survived unharmed so it must have been perfect. The water, sun and atmosphere was perfect, a bloke wouldn’t be dead for quid’s.

Me taking the big dive from the cliff face.

            That amazing afternoons spell was broken with the realization that I had to return to work, we headed back to the bus and made it just in time for our planned 2pm departure, I wondered if Loxley would have left me if I had been late, it was handy having control of the purse strings. We made it out under the bridge and traveled north along the Adriatic, like before there was just a small strip of cliff face between the sea and us. 

The coastal outlook on the coast near Dubrovnik

                That afternoon the sea was truly a most magnificent colour, we could see a number of islands just off the coast adding to our stunning view. A small coastal steamer was running in our direction parallel with the coastline in between the islands and us. The ships bow wave, the islands and the colour of the sea combined with the music box dancer playing on the cassette player brought shivers to my skin, it was a most serene moment. 

A youtube of the Music Box Dancer. Click arrow to listen and continue reading.

At first, I though I was the only one, but I soon noticed everybody was glued to the left side of the bus that is except Loxley who was driving. The music topped off the moment until Loxley reached back, ejected the tape and put on one of his favourite hard rock tapes. A few dirty looks from the passengers and only seconds later I had the music box dancer back on and tranquility returned.                    

            That enchanting drive to Camping Rudine only lasted 20 kilometres, but to me it was the most memorable drive of the entire trip. I had driven this road numerous times before without feeling the way I felt that day, that combination of special ingredients made it special for many aboard Casper that day. 
The camping ground sat right between the highway and the coast, it was chock a block full of European tourists, nearly all swimming in the sea from a series of rock platforms set at the waters edge within the campsite. I made the necessary arrangements with the Camp Restaurant for another National meal for that night and spent the afternoon with the passengers laying about in the sun and swimming in that most beautiful and clear sea from the rocks. One thing that was definitely noticeable was the Europeans, most were sunning and swimming nude, and a few of our passengers did the ‘when in Rome’ and joined them, another great way to watch the world go by.

Campers at the camp swimming spot

            That great day was topped off with our ‘national meal’, tomato soup and ‘cordon bleu’ it wasn’t the best meal that I had had, but it was better than what the cooks would have been able to produce. The evening was a quiet one, some us of sat with a few drinks on a high rock platform overlooking the sea lit by beautiful moonlight, others read, wrote or slept aboard the bus.

Sunset on the coast

 Most of us slept in to 8am and after the bus was squared away, we had breakfast, mostly outside seated on the large rocks that bordered the car park or on grass along those rocks. Most of the punters went for a swim and laid about in the sun, but others had jobs to attend to, such as cleaning the bus, topping up the water tanks and preparing the next meal. I had to get my accounts in some sort of order, I got stuck into those in between swims, chats and coffees. That was it for that day until about 3pm when we packed up and left the campsite headed north along the coast road.

            The drive again gave us some great views, but it couldn’t reproduce the euphoria of the previous day. We stopped in the late afternoon for a quick swim at a place where the road ran right along the waters edge, I also went in and as I was entering the water I stepped on a sea urchin, the spines were stuck in my foot. It was extremely painful, I felt very foolish after warning the others about the same thing. Loxley continued the driving onto the coastal tourist town of Makarska. The coast road through the town was lined with large hotels, tourists spilled from them, mostly they were German and Dutch, the harbour was also filled to the brim with boats of all types. We spent the evening walking along the waterfront and had a few drinks in one of the bars. We free camped on the harbour’s edge in the centre of town.

Waterfront at Makarska

            Loxley kicked off at 6am and headed north again towards Split, just about everybody was up taking in the everlasting scenic drive, Lox found us a nice spot at about 7.30am just outside of Split for a loo stop, it turned into a longer leisurely breakfast stop. At around 8.30am we entered Split and had great difficulty finding somewhere to park, it was market day. 

Town centre and waterfront at Split

In our travels while searching for a spot to park we came across the two harbours, one commercial and the other leisure and the ancient wall surrounded this old part of the city, it had within it many beautiful old buildings. Finally we found a place to park near the markets, it wasn’t the best as half the bus was on the main road, but as usual we got away with it. I gave the current cooks, Chris and Ian some food kitty money to stock up, I remained with Loxley on the bus, just in case we were moved on. We were lucky and everybody was back at the appointed time, Casper again headed north.

I assisted the cooks with their purchases, they were so happy with themselves they had bought two large fresh chickens all ready to roast in the oven. They were big all right, not chickens but turkeys and so big that one by itself would not fit into our little oven let alone both. The cooks joy turned to disappointment, as that was where they had planned to stick them. They needed a plan B, I was hopeless at cooking and really had no idea, but a few of the other passengers, led by Larry came to their rescue. The Turkeys were chopped up and cooked piece by piece. The turkey saga carried on while we were headed north, it was still a beautiful day and we managed another lunch stop alongside the sea for yet another relaxing swim.

A small harbour near Zadar

The afternoon drive took as via Zadar, the coast road still gave us excellent views of countless islands for the 300 kilometres until we reached Senj, a small coastal village where we spent the night, right alongside the small harbour. The village itself was as the others on this coastline, a mecca for tourists. We consumed our meal of fresh turkey meat, in the end the meal was palatable but mediocre. Loxley was not that impressed, he asked me for an advance on his pay and took off on his own seeking a restaurant. 
I felt sorry for the cooks as they had really tried hard and had wanted to please everybody with a nice meal, they didn’t want to revert to the dehydrated meat we still carried. The dehyds as they were known were carried on all Top Deck trips, packets of dehydrated meat of various dishes was the answer to the lack of fresh meat or lack of funds to buy more fresh meat. The dry granules had to be soaked for a few hours at least, giving off a not so pleasant odour, this caused it to expand and when mixed with many spices and fresh vegetables or rice it became edible, so they say. It had been a new concept to our passengers and once tried it was considered to be the last resort, to those who cared that is. As they were used minimally it is more than likely that they passed from trip to trip and could well have been a few years old by the time they came into use. As the courier I never bought them, there were always a lot left on each bus after it’s previous trips. 

The small harbour town of Senj

We spent another quiet night having a wander about the harbour and village, reading, writing and an early night.


Photo credits to Mathilde Weykamp, Peter Jeucken, Louise Pyne, Norm Miller, Loxley Secker & Steven McAleer.