Adventures with Aimile

  Congratulatons Joanna - no she hasn't broken her arm, she's just showing us the jewellery she won for the closest guess for our Valentines day kilometres! Her guess was 3089 kilometres. Although the closest guess she was around 500 kilometres out - we'll leave you to guess whether it was over or under... So start looking at Google maps - calculate our final distance. Remember prize one for the closest to our final kilometre count is for five days for two in our Kini Cat Cottage, with a celebratory dinner one night at a seafront taverna, transfers from the port in Syros and a two day stopover in an hotel in Athens, so you can explore the sights. Dates to be decided by mutual arrangement. All you have to do is donate 20 Euros to our cat cause and send a message to syroscats.com detailing your guesses. there will be consolation prizes for the highest altitude we reached and the amount we spent on fuel for the trip. For those of you who have already donated, you just need to

  Apparently there were wild boar in the hills - but we didn't see any! Aimile gingerly made her way down the mountain and back to the main road and we bore off left heading for the distant hills. We had to traverse the serious mountains indicated by the blank patch on the road atlas. It was steady climbing and the houses and farms were thinning out and reflecting the tough living conditions up at this altitude and distance from civilisation. I made sure we had a full tank of petrol as the stations were getting fewer and farther apart and this was not place to run out. The border, when we reached it, was pretty small.  No questions, we were waved to a bay with a table and ordered to empty the car. we never found out what they thought they were looking for, but poked into everything and their dog sniffed everything and moved on to the next victim.  One remaining hurdle, would Greek customs take us apart. Since Brexit any parcels coming into Greece had been held up and scrutinised an

  Guess the top fort was how it used to be!  Montenegro, while not disappointing, didn't quite live up to what we expected. maybe it was a victim of its own marketing hype. It was not far  to the border with Albania. We were a little apprehensive at crossing into Albania, or more correctly, Jacky was, having been refused entry 50 years earlier. There was a considerable queue, pretty much the first we encountered. It wasn't until we got our turn and more hassle about our papers, that we realised it was the Montenegro side and not Albania. Clearly we had entered with them, so eventually they gave in and waved us to the customs guards.  By contrast the Albanian officials were polite and smiling, checked our passports were in date and waved us into their country.  No phone data put an end to navigating by google, it was back to a 20 year old motoring atlas of Europe. Not too much of a problem as there aren't too many roads to choose from. Agriculture is the main activity in Alb

   10 a.m. we were outside and ready to make the most of a sunny warm morning. Our hosts wanted photos for their web site and neighbours assisted taking group shots. Two hours later we were entering the built up area around Dubrovnic. What doesn't show on a road map is the terrain. This was all on the side of a mountain, with houses piled on top of each other and narrow medieval roads. To cope with modern traffic an extensive one-way system had developed. I had this naieve idea that we would park the car and saunter to pleasant restaurant and have a leisurely meal before heading on. Not possible. We tried various turnings indicating parking to find them chock solid and had to back out into traffic, that let us know in no uncertain terms we were performing a dangerous maneover and being classic 2CV was no excuse. At this point I made an executive decsion and we gave Dubrovnic a miss.    Saddened, and after about 10 kilometres down the road, we turned right in search of a beach front

  Makarska, Croatia Refreshed, we took to the helter-skelter switch-back for the following few hours, until the terrain eased and we started coming on to the port towns that Croatia is famous for. We had climbed quite considerably and as we topped the hill, Split was spread out before us as a huge industrial sprawl. The thought of negotiating all that urban traffic was not appealing and since we had no specific destination, we elected to by-pass it and push on. The rugged barren rocky coast-line north of Split gave way to an easier wider road that swung around sheltered harboured villages hanging from the hillsides, mostly only supporting the odd small fishing boat. Late in the afternoon, Jacky picked out Makarska as a likely place to spend the night. A delightful thriving harbour opened up, with a developed waterfront boasting bars and cafes. Still no hotels, Jacky contacted an apartment holder who agreed to take us for one night, but was an hour and a half away in Split having return

  The Alps behind us was bitter sweet. Aimile had coped superbly, hauling us up and over the mountain passes and shared some of the most breath-taking scenery in the world. The run down the Italian valleys past Bolzano to Trieste was more mundane. We didn't attempt to enter Trieste's  industrial sprawl and skirted round, fumbling our way to engage with the coast road that runs all the way down the Adriatic.  After a couple of missed turns, we were heading for the Croatian border. There was no  discernible  difference between the two countries as we exited Italy and entered Croatia. Even the currency stayed the same, as Croatia had obligingly adopted the Euro on January 1st. What changed was the scenery. The mountains came down to the sea and the road clung to the edge of the cliffs and followed all the contours. That is, all the contours up and down. No gracefully curving Italian sculpted concrete bridges. It was a fun drive to start with, but it had been a long day and it bega

  Cafe at the top of the world... Google put in an appearance in the morning, but we still couldn't work out, which route to take through the mountains. We skipped breakfast in the hotel and got a coffee and croissant, when we filled up with petrol. The attendant, asked if we should go left or right out of Davos for Italy, sucked his teeth and suggested the "ferry". That was back down the mountain we crawled up the night before. I hate back-tracking, but we had become intrigued by the thought of a 20 kilometre ferry across the Alps. Not an easy job going down the mountain. The brakes soon started to over-heat and get spongy and I had to pull over and let them cool down. On the second occasion I pulled over opposite 'The Ferry ", which turned out to a train for cars, similar to the Channel Tunnel, but wider and ran every half hour. We could skip 2 mountain passes and emerge on the other side. 37 Swiss Francs for a trip of a life-time. 20km and 20 minutes later we

  Jacky as navigator had another role of finding accommodation each night. Smart-phones and the internet have taken the stress out of what used to be rifling through directories and a search of a neighbourhood. Accommodation generally is also pin-pointed on Google Maps. What could go wrong? We followed the blue line off the Peage into a town and off a roundabout and into the hotel. Got our bags out of the car and went to reception, which was grungier than we hoped for, only to be told we were in the wrong hotel. The concierge pointed to the other side of the roundabout. Somewhat relieved and a little bemused we drove over. It high-lighted a problem with Google Maps , a truly wonderful free service, but not always 100% accurate. It has other eccentricities, which were going to emerge the following day.  We awoke to a blanket of snow, not a lot, but enough to send us scurrying off to the south before it got worse. We were heading into Switzerland and the Alps. After circumnavigating Ba

  Annie lent us her Smart car to explore - some difference! We waited until the Monday morning traffic had died down and set off, skirting Paris towards Charles de Gaulle airport, in the general direction of Belfort on the Swiss border. That whole area of France is relatively flat and uninteresting and we ate up the kilometres on the Peage toll roads. We also ate up the fuel in the little 20 litre tank and had to exit the motorway in search of petrol. We entered an almost surreal modern town of large blocks of apartments with no shops and particularly no petrol stations. Things were starting to get tense as Aimile existed on the last fumes from her tank when a huge Costco emerged behind the apartment blocks. On a vast forecourt sporting some 20 double pumps atop a wind-swept hill, we stopped and breathed a sigh of relief. We were used to automated pumps by now, but this place was a different level. No sign of a human anywhere. I tried my Greek card, the machine spat it out. This was no

  Chris introduces Aimile to Olivier and Gallopine North of Paris... Annie has owned her VW Beetle for 35 years and Olivier has just purchased a very smart maroon and black Charleston 2CV. It's a joy to stay with them, the visit passes very quickly, and it's time to make a decision. Are we going to retrace our route or go for the longer, more interesting adventure of driving all the way back through Slovenia, Croatia, Montenegro, Albania  and into northern Greece. There had been much wistful speculation regarding the Adriatic coast and for Jacky, unfinished business, as she got turned away from the Albanian border more than fifty years ago. The discussion revolves around two issues. Will Aimile cope and do I want to do that much driving. From the very beginning there was always a "suck it and see", aspect to this trip.  Aimile is a very simple car easy to maintain, but he is almost forty years old and you really don't  know what gremlins are lurking under his bonn

  We’re not sure yet what Aimile can do on the mountain roads, but want a bit of adventure – and we do have snow shoes – but there’s not much snow this year and most roads are open. So we plan to head towards Davos; an upmarket and expensive ski resort, we don’t plan to stay there. The map shows a road out, that is clear of snow and it is obvious too that there’s a tunnel through the mountains as well. It’s a puzzle that google maps is giving us a ferry possibility! It's a hard day of driving, arriving near Davos as it’s getting dark and we're both tired. We don’t find the tunnel and have no alternative but to stay in the ski resort.   It’s a steep climb and I make an abortive attempt to book accommodation further down the road – but google maps is spinning – it has no idea where we are and having come down the mountain, now we have to grind our way back up. I feel really incompetent and stressed – Chris is still calm! He drops me in the village to find the elusive room I’v

  Congratulations to Joanna Laver for winning the Valentine's day distance guess... Silver jewellery coming shortly. Now it's nearly time for everyone to start calculating. Just a reminder - only kilometres that Aimile travelled on his own will count. That is not on ferries, trains or when being towed. The kilometres that Chris did without me should be included. Total journey is from Hermoupolis Port on Syros, to The Black Pig - the long way round. It's a fifty day trip! Your entry fee of 20 Euros buys you three more guesses to win prizes for the closest entrant. We will ask you to guess the total kilometres Aimile travelled, the maximum altitude we reached and the amount we spent on petrol. Deadlines will be published shortly. Entry is by donation to Syroscats@hotmail.co.uk via PayPal - or to UK or Greek bank accounts through our website syroscats.com  Be sure to write 'Aimile' as a reference. Good luck everyone!

The 21.00 departure from Rosslare ferry terminal is very straight-forward and well sign-posted, quite unlike some others I could mention and we join the queue only to be told the departure is delayed by one and a half hours. 1/2 hours.  Ah well no change there then. This doesn't actually materialise and we are ushered onto the boat.  Aimile scrambles up the steep ramps and we emerge onto the open top deck. It feels very vulnerable up there and I park tight next to the funnel for shelter and security. I hope the deck hands strap Aimile down well. I don't want him sliding off mid-channel. We are set to arrive at 16.00 in Cherbourg the following day and we have a cabin booked. It proves very comfortable and we sleep well We see the last of the English coast slip by as we head across towards France. Arrival is on time and we spend three quarters of an hour watching truck after truck of live cattle exiting, before we can go back down through the boat to take our leave.  The steering

  Soon we get our first glimpse of the mountains. There hasn’t been a lot of snow this year, but the peaks are stunning and there’s a bit of sun. On the early part of the Swiss roads, although efficient, with lots of tunnels and bridges and fast moving traffic, we were ploughing through heavy industrial landscape alongside the River Rhine, which forms the boundary between Switzerland and Germany. We were pleased when we had passed through this ugly area of smoking chimneys and dense building. We looked for a lakeside spot to enjoy our lunch, but all attempts to get across railway lines failed us and we gave up until we got our first exciting glimpse of the mountains. Aimile is a happy car. His bright yellow paintwork and cute chunky look have a feel-good factor, that is recognised by many people we meet along the way. As I’m freezing my fingers off trying to eat my tuna and salad roll, a couple of locals stroll over. I try to tell them where we’ve been – not sure they understand, b

  It’s a white world this morning. The car park is slippery and Aimile has a covering of snow. We hope the roads will soon be clear. And it’s very cold, I’ve got layers of clothes, thick socks, fleecy pants, boots and gloves. Chris goes on a mission to check on Aimile and find something for breakfast – in France you’re never too far from a bakery. He finds some interesting, very tasty cinnamon buns and a small bottle of milk. Good news, because now we can fill our vacuum flask with hot water and make tea and coffee on the move. It hasn’t been that easy to find places for snacks in France and many of the motorway rest areas are soulless places with a bank of machines, no staff and no seating! Soon we crossed into Switzerland, buying our Carnet of passage at the border. We’re out of the EU now and technically the currency is Swiss francs, but it is almost at Parity with the euro, so not hard to calculate. The toilets are another matter though. We’re quite near the Italian border, so we s

Arrival and night in Cherbourg - very close to the site of the Normandy landings. Utah beach next morning is beautiful - wild, cold and windswept. The museum brings alive the horror of what went on here, there's plenty to see, far more than the time we had allocated. Lots of stuff outside as well - old landing craft, artillery and memorial statues. But we had an assignation that night, just north of Paris, to stay with Annie and Olivie. It was a bright morning and good driving conditions. so, as we had a long way to go we skipped our planned visit to the Bayeux tapestry, which was on our route. Olivie was leaving the next day and had a delicious seafood supper planned for us. It took us more than five hours to get to Chris's friends' lovely home, just near Chateau de Chantilly, where Annie used to work. It's a pretty village house with a quirky collection of 'objets d'art', a lovely dog with an unpronounceable name and an aloof black cat. They have their own

  Chris - The following day saw us lost somewhere attempting to get to Dublin. I was not anticipating any problem as I had travelled in the other direction on a previous trip. Afterwards we figured out the confusion was that as far as English signage is concerned Dublin and Eire are barely worth a mention. So we never located the Irish motorway going north to Belfast until we stumbled across it half way to Dublin. Dublin is a thriving place and it took us a while to locate Jo's parents in Stoney Batter near the centre. We were late, but Ros had the situation under control with a pile of sandwiches and a big pot of tea.  Jacky was to stay with Ros and Mark. I headed further out of town to meet Brian and The Lads, who have sailed with me before and after covid. I had a fine Friday night on the town. My, those Irish pubs can be boisterous. We took the Tram back at the end of the evening. Saturday was a longish day down to Cork and stay with Jeff and Jackelin. Cork is Ireland's sec