I have recently changed jobs which means my best weekend egress airport is now Luton, and given I am the chief holiday booker in my house, Luton airport it was, on Wizz air to head to Tirana. I arrived after a seamless 25 minute taxi ride from the office, cruised through security in ten minutes and then got some work done at Benugo. Hubby was less impressed with the airport choice, after a train, a shuttle (which they now charge for) and a rather less seamless transition through security. He was less than amused on arrival, with his mood somewhat restored by a hot salami sandwich. Mood was swiftly deflated again in the Wizz boarding queue, which was an example of budget airlines demonstrating their finest customer service, with a lot of shouting and tears as customers were ‘invited’ to contribute to airline revenues by paying an additional €25 for oversized baggage. Oh well, we got on the plane in the end
We were off to Albania as part of our commitment to a monthly date night somewhere interesting. We arrived in Tirana around 9pm and got a taxi to town (mercifully they are all fixed fares these days, as the Albanian cabbies are legendary), to the remarkable plaza hotel, a modernist tower in downtown Tirana. It’s been a long time since I have seen a black toilet and bidet! After a late supper and some tea we retired for the evening
The old town and old men
Woken by the clock tower chiming 7am, even though it was 6am, and eventually managed to surface around 10am to a glorious sunny day. We went for an extended stroll around downtown hitting off the major ‘sites’, Skanderberg square, the National Gallery, the Opera house, the Orthodox Church, the Friendship monument and Et hem Bej mosque (being renovated).
Crossing the river to see Hoxha’s pyramid – originally a museum about the legacy of the long-time leader of Communist Albania (41 years), who had died three years before it was built. The structure was co-designed by Hoxha’s daughter Pranvera Hoxha, an architect and when built, the Pyramid was said to be the most expensive individual structure ever constructed in Albania
Recrossing the river to see the Cathedral and the enormous Namazgjah mosque (under construction, and it will be the biggest mosque in the Balkans when built), before grabbing a coffee in a cafe populated by ancient Albanian men in excellent hats, right next to parliament. Hubby was sure they were mafioso.
Bunk’art – totally bunkers
Taxied to Bunkart – an extraordinary museum complex housed in a bunker that was built to protect Hoxha from the Russians and Americans. Apparently during his rein he built over 110,000 bunkers, one for every 11 Albanians. It is now a wonderfully restored museum to the era, and we had it almost to ourselves. It is pretty eerie wandering through Hoxha’s bunker apartment, the filtering mechanisms for tear gas and long concrete hallways.
Dajtit express to the hills
Next stop the hills, which surround Tirana majestically. The Dajtit express is located right next door to Bunk’art, so we took the cable car 15 minutes up the mountain for a late lunch at the Ballkoni Dajtit – excellent bean stew, burek and lamb chops. The view was amazing and the evidence of autumn becomes more apparent with altitude, the leaves were lovely, like the side of the range was on fire.
We meandered around the hilltops and then took the cable car back to town, for another stroll around town.
Traditional Albanian fare
We then went to the famous Oda for dinner – for lambs intestines (hubby only), Fergese (cheese and peppers), Stuffed eggplant, yogurt, pickled vegetables, Lakror (spinach pie), and excellent scone like bread. We probably had enough food for four people for the princely sum of €20
Next morning, a slow Sunday start and a reprise with Bunk’art 2, the second installation of bunkart but in the central city. It was ok, but the first one was better. It was a useful insight into the secret police and how they ruled with absolute fear during Hoxha’s reign.
Arty farty at the National Art Gallery Onwards to the National Art gallery where we had been hoping to see the permanent collection which has some spectacular examples of communist propaganda. Unfortunately, the collection was closed for refurbishment, so instead, we saw a mixed media installation by Adrian Paci. I normally don’t like video installations, but there was a surprisingly hypnotic video about a marble pillar being made on a ship that was utterly transfixing and hubby and I watched it for 20 minutes.
Blloku – the communist posh quarter Art satiated we strolled around the Blloku, the historical residences of the communist party leaders, admiring the unique graffiti, and saw Hoxha’s original residence, which was very similar to a Californian bungalow.
Communist architecture Strolling further past the National Congress, and the presidential palace, further past mother Theresa square. Mother Theresa is an Albanian hero (the airport is named after her), but I am not a huge fan given her views on contraception.
Albanian Gastronomy at Mullixhui !
We eventually ended up at our lunch destination, an Albanian gastronomical experience – Mullixhiu, opened by a local who had trained at Le Gavroche and Noma. The restaurant was a study in rustic chic. Hubby valiantly over-ordered, and we had a very robust lunch of soup, dark bread so hard it would knock you out if someone threw it at you, trout, baby goat and coffee. The service was simultaneously ‘two soups’ haphazard, but also the best we had in Tirana. Gastronomy isn’t expensive in Albania, a seriously large lunch cost is €40.
More strolling ensued, and then a cheeky afternoon nap before the 6.20pm flight back to Gatwick.
Cheap easy flights with Wizz and BA from London
Stay at the plaza – a steal at €110 per night
We didn’t eat anywhere amazing, but everyone recommends Oda, Ballkoni Dajtit and Mullixhui
Its a long bank holiday weekend and I am getting more of a danish fix with a visit to Faroe Islands. The Faroes are a self ruled territory of Denmark, with a bustling population of around 55,000 (the same as Greenland but on a lot less space). Subsidised by Denmark, the Faroese have had self rule since 1948, and they have rigorously preserved their culture and their language. They are apparently pretty conservative, alcohol was only allowed to be imported from the 1990s, and even now you can only buy alcohol in six shops in the whole country. There are no direct flights from London, so we got a bonus breakfast of herrings and cinnamon rolls in Copenhagen airport after our crack of dawn flight from Gatwick. We boarded a ram-packed flight to the islands, which have apparently had a huge uptick in tourism in recent times. Flying in was stunning with views of vertiginous cliffs, improbably waterfalls and luminescent green hills. It’s only about 8 degrees when we land, and yes it’s August, so I suspect it is pretty chilly here in winter.
The bustling capital of Tórshavn (Thor’s harbour)
Driving to Torshavn we admired the amazing waterfalls on every corner – both for their almost perfect form, like well graded steps, – but also as we couldn’t figure out where the water was coming from…. it wasn’t raining and none of the hills are that high or snow covered….hmmm a mystery to be solved on other days. (So it turns out that the soil retains the rain water for a long time, so the waterfalls will run for several days without new rainfall, albeit less energetically than when it is raining)
We found our hotel in town… a run down and pretty shabby affair that had seen better days, but still came with an outrageous price tag. We headed out to investigate town. It’s tiny and lovely and takes about three minutes to walk anywhere. We strolled around parliament Tinganes (some red wooden houses with grass on the roof), checked out the black wooden houses that locals still live in, and the lovely harbour at Vagsboten. By this time it was 4pm and we were hungry so we made a beeline to Emilias fast food for one of our favourite Nordic treats – a hot dog with all the fixings! There is nothing quite like fried crunchy onions.
An unsuccessful outing to photograph a road
I’m travelling with the hubby**, which means we have a tripod and a bunch of camera gear. He had done his homework and had four photos he wants to take in the four days we are here. The first is of a particular piece of winding road (really not kidding). The light was lovely at 5.30 so we hopped in the car and went to see it. Half way there the fog rolled in and the rain started, so we made it to the spot and ended up sitting in the car for half an hour waiting unsuccessfully for the fog to clear…. oh, well better luck tomorrow.
The oldest cathedral in the Faroes
We backtracked down to the south of the island and back at sea level there was some visibility, so we went to Kikjubour, to see the Magnus cathedral, which was apparently never completed as it never had a roof. We also visited the cute Olavskirkjan church which was open and had a lovely altar with a row boat. We gave some Romanian hikers a ride back to Torshavn as they weren’t convinced the bus was coming (and it’s good hiker karma as I hitch often when I come off the mountain, so that’s one in the bank). They did tell us they had been here for a week and it had been bucketing every day, but for 15 minutes every day they normally got some visibility, and in those moments the islands were stunning – I guess we better be ready for that 15 minutes. The rain had been pelting down in Kirkjubour, it was cold and we were jet lagged so we beat a retreat for some dinner (in a hilarious restaurant that didn’t have most of the menu available) and an early night
Trying to see the sea stacks through the sheets of rain
After a robust Nordic breakfast we were off in the pelting rain to explore the islands. I had planned a bunch of hikes, which neither of us were super enthused about as the rain was coming down in sheets and visibility was poor. We optimistically headed up to Eioi to see if we could see the sea stacks at Risin and Kellingin off the north of Esturoy island. The sea stacks are apparently the remains of a couple of Icelandic giants who had come to drag the island away but got turned to stone when the sun came up. There’s no risk of that today as I doubt the sun will make an appearance. Hubby is in full photo mode so we sloshed down through the boggy fields with the tripod for a better view.
All the tourists in Gjogv
We rolled onto Gjogv, with what seemed like every other tourist on the island, the tiny car park packed with well branded rental cars. The village is named for the natural gorge which is used for a harbour, and the views from the cliffs are quite lovely, probably even lovelier if there is a bit of sun. After a gentle stroll up a steep cliff with the wind pushing us sideways…. we retreated sensibly to head down to Funningur to see what I think was one of my favourite churches of the trip
A light snack in Klaksvik
Still bucketing down, so we decided to abandon our plan to walk along the ridge of Vidoy to the sea cliffs at Enniberg, which is apparently a bit sketchy on a good day, so we headed over to Klaksvik for food. We stopped at Fridas for a ‘light snack’ knowing we had a Michelin dinner to eat that night….but both of us were too cheap to turn down the half price offer on the brunch offer so we ended up having a huge lunch! Oops
Tunnels and villages on Kunoy and Bordoy
Then off to Kunoy, traversing another of the Faroes bonkers tunnels, this one 3km and single lane with passing spots. The Faroes has 18 onshore and two sub sea tunnels. A third one is being build to connect Stremoy and Esturoy at a different point than the causeway, and another one is being build to Sandoy. Apparently these will cost Euro 50,000 per inhabitant.
For a few brief moments the sun pierced the clouds and we had brief glimpses of the stunning ridge line on the neighbouring island. It really is improbable landscape….. crazy cliffs plunging into the sea, waterfalls galore and a green so bright it almost hurts your eyes. The grass clings to the tiny bit of soil that is on top of the steep black volcanic rock slopes. It’s like the effort of holding on so tightly to the ground makes the grass glow. And there are no trees, unless lovingly cultivated by tenacious human hands. It is also improbable that people eked out an existence here for so long, and continue to do so….its August and it is cold, rainy and windy, you would have to be pretty hardy to survive the winters here. Not all the villages survive – Muli is now deserted but it was once home to 30 people. The last two elderly couples in their 80s and 90s survived until the road was built and then they moved away. We went to see it and were rewarded with stunning views over neighbouring Vidoy when the sun came out.
20 amazing courses of blubber and hearts at Koks
After a quick change at the hotel we headed up to Koks, a two Michelin starred restaurant in the middle of the island. The directions were a bit cryptic, and we were told to park our car and meet at the fermenting house after which we would be driven to the restaurant. The fermenting house was a lovely sauna smelling room where a friendly young local gave us a Kombucha, and then we were bundled into 4wds and driven across the foreshore of a lake, veering well into the water and then up a lively river bed to a beautiful wooden house with a turf roof where all the staff were waiting outside for us. Dinner was an exceptional 20 courses which ranged from whale blubber and local roots, raw sea urchin, raw clams with herbs, raw langoustine brains accompanied by steamed langoustine tails, tartar of halibut with cavier, fried gills with cod liver mousse, and bacalao with parsley sauce and smoked mussels with a sandwich made with fried cod skin and a terrine of cod brains. Then onto the fermented part of the menu with dried cured lamb, crackers and lamb stomach fat, roasted fermented lamb with onion mousse and pickled onions, chopped pilot whale heart on sheep’s blood cracker (pilot whales are not endangered and are caught in the Faroes in traditional whale drives), and lambs brains and tail with celery. Then we ended with sorbet and rosehip gel, thyme mousse with caramel and frozen blueberries, salad of foraged flowers with compressed rhubarb and charcoal cream, and then waffles with rhubarb jam, whipped cream and chocolates! Yup we will be waddling tomorrow
Seeing the bird cliffs of Vestmanna
I am not a huge fan of group tours, but the only way to get to Vestmanna is on a boat, so we hopped on board and chuntedout into sea. It’s quite a sedate trip, and the photos don’t do it justice, but watching the birds dive bomb from the 350m seacliffs is fabulous, and it was almost equally amusing to see all the sheep blithely going about their lives on the sides of the improbably slopes. Some of the farmers come and get them from the top of the cliff sides, others get dropped off by boat and climb up to get them. It was a nice way to spend a couple of hours.
Bour and Gasadalur
We headed back to the island of Vagar (home of the airport) to go check out Mulafossur waterfall, and stopped for an eye wateringly expensive lunch £35 for two coffees out of a thermos, one meat platter and a tiny piece of cake. And then we meandered around the sweet village of Bour taking photos.
Refusing to pay to hike
We had planned to hike around the lake at Sorvagsvatn to the Bosdalafossur waterfall, but the local farmer had recently started charging people about €25 for the privilege, and neither hubby or I could fathom that, so instead we headed out to see the houses at Saksun. It was obvious too in Saksun that there is some tension between the locals and the tourists. A hike in Saksun which was previously free on the info board has had an €8 charge instituted. Elsewhere, there was an angry note telling tourists not to trespass (It sounds like there is quite a backstory, check it out here). It feels like there should be a happy medium. Charging a reasonable fee for a one hour hike of €5 makes sense to me, but these prices seem exorbitant. I am perhaps biased coming from a country richly endowed with national parks
The road revisited
On our way back to Tórshavn we thought we would give hubby’s road another go. Today was the only day that there was no rain forecast, so of course it was worth a shot. And unsurprisingly the heavens opened up about ten minutes before we got there and it was a total white out. Perhaps third time lucky tomorrow. We headed out for another huge, delicious and eye-waveringly expensive meal at Futastova…., and had an early night
And one more go
We awoke in Tórshavn to yet more rain, and after a final wander around the shops, we optimistically went back to the road for one more look en route to the airport. Still a total white out. For those of you wondering what the fuss was about, here is someone else’s picture of the road. images.app.goo.gl/egZcZAM2zT6UEG9h6. Hubby is still quite keen on the photo so perhaps will come again, but his plan is to wait to book a ticket until he sees a rock solid weather forecast.
Net, the Faroes are quite lovely, but also quite pricey….. I made the foolish error of totting up the bill for a long weekend and I could have bought a very nice new racing bike for the same amount. It just doesn’t seem great value for money, so while I am glad I went, I wouldn’t go back, ironically Greenland was a better deal in terms of joy per £.
Sørvágur, August 26, 2019
stayed at the Hotel Torshavn, which was pricey and not super clean. I would try somewhere else
booked months in advance to get a table at Koks, which had a Michelin star. Honestly you need to book all your dinners in advance if you want to eat anywhere decent. The day we arrived we were surprised by how few places had a table. We also ate at Futustova. Failing that emilias fast food in Tórshavn makes an exceptional hot dog
we rented a car from 62N, it was expensive (£100 a day), but worth it
fly to CPH or Edinburgh with any low cost carrier and then buy separate flights with Atlantic Airways – it will work out cheaper
** for new readers, ‘hubby’ does have a name, and he is pretty lovely, but he has no social media presence and doesn’t want any, so he is always incognito on the blog, but at least he allows the odd photo of him. Also note he takes brilliant photos, but he takes an age to edit them to his perfecting standards, so when he is happy with them, I will post a link (in about 18 months I reckon :-))
Greenland – the largest island on earth and the most sparsely populated place in the planet. 85% of the land is covered in the ice cap, the population is c 55,000 (largely Inuits), in summer there is no night, and in winter there are no days. Technically it is part of the North American continent, but it is a self ruled territory of Denmark (yes I am ticking off another territory).
The main purpose of the trip is to hike the Arctic Circle trail from Kangerlussuaq to Sisimiut – c. 165km of epic trail through remote wilderness with a few ramshackle free huts available for hikers use and not much else. Apparently there are ferocious mosquitos and pretty challenging weather at the best of times, but this year there have been wildfires blazing for about four weeks, and while the fires aren’t dangerous (peat fires burn low and slow) the smoke can kill you. On top of this, I broke my wrist four weeks ago, and am not 100% sure I can put my tent up without the solid use of my left hand – this is going to be fun!
Day 1 – Half day Kangerlussuaq Airport to 3km past Limnaeso Lake (c.25km)
I landed from Copenhagen at lunch time to a lovely clear sunny day. The airport was tiny and not super efficient, so I had time to pop across the road and buy gas, as well as sort out a locker in terminal before my bag arrived on the belt. I loaded up my gear, and hit the road, walking the 13km from the airport to Kellyville along the tarmac, as it is technically part of the trail. I suspect I was one of the few hikers who took the road, as I was overtaken by numerous hikers in taxis in the 2 hours it took to get there. Never mind, I overtook 20 of them pretty swiftly once I hit the trail proper. Once off the road, the landscape was stunning. No trees, but endless lakes and lovely wildflowers…. it was like a sunny Scotland.
I passed the ramshackle collection of caravans and sheds and Hundeso and pushed on to a lovely unnamed lake where I stopped for dinner and a chat with and Aussie hiker, and then given it was still light, I kept strolling until about 8pm where I pitched my tent (pretty wonkily given the wrist disadvantage) in blissful solitude and passed out (once I realised it was actually midnight Denmark time and I had been up since 6am in Denmark)
Day 2 Hiked to 10km past the canoe centre and camped above the beach on lake Kangerluatsiarsuaq (c.45k walking)
I woke up a bit cold as had gone to bed in shorts, not realising that the temperature would drop so much overnight. I was too cold to sleep and too tired and lazy to put more clothes on. It is also pretty awkward sleeping in a sleeping bag with a broken wrist. By 5am I gave in, made breakfast, broke camp and was walking by 5.40am. I passed numerous stunning white Arctic Hares – they obviously think they are camouflaged as they stand stock still when they notice you, thinking you can’t see them (which you couldn’t if it was snowing), but they stand out in the green and red scrub.
It was a stunning morning walk – I passed one tent near the ford at the stunning lake Qarlissuit, but apart from that it was totally still and quiet. After about three hours and 15km I arrived at Katiffik Hut at the head of lake Amitsorsuaq – its a typical Greenlandic hut and I was going to go and take a look but I could see about 20m down the path that one of the occupants had decided to do their morning ablutions 2metres off the trail, and that was more bare butt than I had planned on seeing in the morning, so I kept walking past down to the lake shore where I made myself a coffee and had a second breakfast.
The day heated up as I ambled the 20km down the side of the lake to the canoe centre only passing three people on the way (still packing up their tents at 10am). My feet were getting a bit sore, and I was getting a bit grumpy so I stopped for an hour at 2pm, ate some salami, and soaked my feet in the ice-cold lake. I motivated myself back to action by promising myself an early stop at the lake head in 7km. Unfortunately the lake head wasn’t particularly lovely, it was boggy and windy, so I loaded up with 3 litres of water and planned to dry camp the first nice sheltered place I saw. Unfortunately that nice sheltered place didn’t arrive until about 10km further on at 7.30pm when I had been on my feet for 14 hours and had a sunburnt nose. I tried to pitch my tent around 6.30 at the lake side but it almost blew away. At. 7.30 in the first sheltered spot, I literally pitched my tent one metre from the trail on top of some scrub on a hillside, albeit with a lovely view of Lake Kangerluatsiarsuaq …. with no more mojo to continue, and then started shovelling food in my face for 45 minutes until I konked out.
Day 3 hiked to Innajuattoq and stayed in the lovely hut (c.40km walking)
My sense of humour was somewhat restored after 10 hours sleep, and I woke up at 7am to a lovely view. It was a stunning cool day, just as well as there was a nice 500m climb up from the valley to start the day. The first 2.5 hours to Ikkattooq hut were idyllic, lovely alpine lakes, tonnes of ambling reindeer, impressive views from the plateau, and some rugged cliffs, and then eventually the incongruous hut came into view. A couple of danish doctors were in residence and they shared their hot water with me for my morning coffee and we debated the route. All hikers had been advised to take a southern diversion from the main trail as there was a risk of smoke in the northern valleys. None of us really wanted to do the diversion as there was no trail, limited cairns, and I personally am terrible at navigation. I took some confidence from the fact that they, like me, were planning to go north and see what it was like, and potentially use an escape route if required that someone on the arctic circle Facebook group had mooted.
The next three hours was a bit of a mountain scramble and then a steep descent down to a wide river valley with a ford. Unfortunately, my brain wasn’t turned on, as while I forded the river like a kiwi expert, I forgot that my phone and camera were in the pockets of my shorts, so both were drenched, and neither have worked since – hence the paucity of photos from here on in. oh well! I eventually reached Eqalugaarniarfik Hut around 2pm feeling pretty hot and knackered. The hut was full and surrounded by tents. I met some local girls inside who advised me to go south but told me everyone else had gone north. They were from a children’s home in sisimiut, and were out in the wilderness learning how to hunt reindeer, and they were very proud to show me their gun. They invited me for lunch, but I decided to keep going….., I probably would have stopped for lunch if I had realised there was another big arsed hill to climb straight up from the hut….., it was slow going. I am pretty unfit at the moment, so did have to have a talking to myself half way up ;-).
Once up the hill, the views were stunning and the rest of the path for the afternoon was a pure delight, going around the lakeshore of three beautiful lakes and then following a river valley to Innajuattoq hut. I past three Czech students heading in the other direction to me who assured me the trail was smoke free, and then I passed a trio of guys with enormous 25kg bags (a greenlander, a Parisian and a dane) but more on them later.
I arrived at the Innajuattoq hut at about 6.00, and decided to stay inside for the night. This was widely touted as the best hut on the trail, and the three occupants already in residence were delightful – Theo and Linea from Austria/Netherlands, and Jens from Denmark. I promptly started devouring a four course meal of soup, fish and potatoes and two desserts, a cup of tea and a cup of cocoa, and then started feeling normal, as the trio of guys I had passed earlier arrived. Bo, Brian and Goran…. they were like a comedic trio, with amusing riffs and they entertained us all until 10pm, well past my bed time when I finally called it a night. I slept wonderfully – sleeping inside on a mattress is a heck of a lot easier with a broken wrist even if you do have to put up with gentle danish snoring.
Day 4 hiked to Kangerluarsuk Tullek Hut (short day, 34km walking, finished at 3pm)
I woke up at 6.30 and headed out by 7.00, packing up quietly so as not to wake up my fellow hikers. Most people on this trail take 9-10 days to walk the trail, so don’t start early. They also carry huge bags – with the average weight being c. 20-25kg, compared to my 10-11kg (including all my food).
It was an easy morning 17k hike to Nerumaq hut along a river valley with steep cliffs on either side and a few lovely lakes. I have realised the walking here for me is always easy in the morning when it is cool and the sun is at your back.
I arrived at Nerumak around 10am and make some pasta for an early lunch, had a coffee and then headed further up the valley. This was crunch time as this was the smoke zone. I covered the first 10km without any worries, but then did start seeing the smoke billowing up from a neighbouring valley. Fortunately very little of it was coming my way and I knew I was walking into the wind, so if I made it a few more kms, then I would be fine. I pressed on, but couldn’t help stopping to check out the aftermath of the fire on the far side of the river.
By about 2pm I was through the worst of it and at the lake just before the ford at Kangerluarsuk Tulleq. The worst hiking hours here are in the afternoon with the sun in your face and sweat in your eyes and tired feet. I knew the hut was uphill and it is quite dry at the moment so I couldn’t guarantee there would be water, so I loaded up with 3kg of water and slogged (very slowly) up hill to the hut. I took two wrong turns, as there were very few cairns, had one sense of humour failure, and finally made it to the hut at 3.30pm having done 34km. I could have kept going, but I really couldn’t motivate myself, and I only had 20km to get to sisimiut the day after anyway.
I entertained myself in the hut with Anders the German backpacker, eating more food, while he made do with soup and instant potato (I was nice and gave him some tuna and boiled his water for him), and we watched the smoke billowing from the other side of the ford. Two German ladies arrived a little later, Irena kept me entertained with the weight of the gear in her pack – she had a mattress made of down that weighed 1kg and required a special apparatus to blow it up – it was quite something. It was a tiny hut so we squished in together. I am not normally a fan of huts over my tent, but with the arm busted, it is definitely easier. I was in my sleeping bag by 8pm, and we were all asleep by 8.30pm – a big night in the bush
Day 5 last 22km to Sisimuit (arrived at 11am)
I woke up at 6 thinking the hut was surrounded by fog, but it was actually smoke, so I roused the others, packed up and headed out by 7am (after taking a wrong route for 20 minutes).
The trail sidles along the mountain side next to a fjord and there were stunning views, and then the trail veers sharply up to do a nice steep climb up to Qerrortusup Majoriaa. These high sections are beautiful, lots of little lakes and stunning views. There were a few tents dotted along the route. I met a Belgian guy about half way to Sisimiut who was making breakfast outside his tent at 10am accompanied by a very adorable local husky dog. Apparently she adopts hikers and walks them up and down the trail. Lucky for me, Snowy (as I named her), guided me most of the rest of the route to Sisimiut. Well perhaps not so lucky, as not far from the last descent (perhaps an hour from town), I forded a river, slipped on a boulder and fell hard on my broken wrist, and managed to get a great graze on my knee and as I would find out later, chip off a bit of bone in my little finger, fracture the joint and tear a tendon. Oh well!!!
I made it to Sisimiut just before 11, happy that I completed the trail in less than four days walking time. Less happy that I didn’t have a phone (and therefore didn’t know where my Airbnb was as didn’t have the address and there is no Internet cafe in town) :-). The universe always manages to sort me out, and I stopped in the first hotel I saw, got a map, and directions to the phone shop and the hospital. Sorted myself out an excellent 40 euro smart phone, got some X-rays on my broken finger, ate some pastries, and had a shower. I also had the good luck to meet Bo, Brian and Goran again. They had arrived at Nerumak hut in the evening on the same day I passed and there was a lot of smoke, so they pushed the sos button did the rest of the trail in a helicopter :-), which was nice for me as they were excellent dinner companions in Sisimiut.
Postscript – the Ice cap
I overnighted in Sisimuit, and then flew back to Kangerlussuaq. My plan had been to take a tour to the icecap and then walk the 40km back to the airport in time to catch my flight out. However, the weather had turned, my little finger was blue and difficult, and I decided to just be lazy and go on the tour and come back in the nice warm bus and stay in the excellent airport hotel. I highly recommend heading out to the icecap – its amazing and the Russell glacier is also lovely
This really was an amazing trail, and we were blessed with fantastic sunny clear weather all day, and unusually no mosquitos. Apart from the fire worries, the weather couldn’t have been better. I loved this trail and would be very happy to do it again!!!
Trail resources – I would highly recommend Paddy Dillons cicerone guide, the Greenland gps app (free), and the invaluable Facebook group hosted by Jesper and Huw
Food – take all your food with you, everything will be cheaper in your home country, and it also means you can get walking straight away. Gas and fuel are available in multiple places in Kanger, including the Isusishut which is 15m from the airport door
Gear – I took more or less what I took on the kungsleden (list here) except I took a poncho instead of waterproof pants and a jacket; and I now have a lighter mini in reach (highly recommended). I also took an extra fleece for the evenings and my heavier sleeping back (an extra 1kg in total max)
Tour – I booked with https://aac.gl to go to the icecap
Now I am finished with the 197 countries, I am quite keen to get a lot more hiking in…. so decided to sneak in a cheeky few nights in my tent and try and cover 70% of the West Highland Way over three days…. cheeky as I snuck what feels like a week of hiking in between leaving the office Friday night and arriving back Tuesday morning like nothing happened.
Day 0 – Ben Lomond. 15km 1100m of climbing
I finished a board meeting in Glasgow, changed into my hiking gear, offloaded my work gear on a colleague and hurriedly made last minute purchases of a lighter and some midge spray. I headed north in an Uber ( more expensive but three hours faster than the bus alternative)
My entertaining Uber ride to Rowardennan on the shores of Loch Lomond took an hour. My driver was a retired restauranteur who was born in Islamabad and raised in Glasgow. He had only seen the Loch once in his 38 years there so he was quite happy for the ride. We had a broad ranging discussion about the woes of the world covering everything from how the impact of the British partition of the subcontinent continues today to the Chinese expansion in Africa
It was a gloriously sunny day so I shouldered my enormous pack, with 10kg of gear and headed up to Ben Lomond. I am out of shape and the going is slow, though I did manage to overtake a few day hikers on the way up. I did a lovely loop route coming back along a ridge line with some lovely tarns and there were spectacular views down the loch.
Back down to the lakeshore and I strolled a few kilometres past Rowardennan to pitch my tent on an idyllic spot by the shore with a stunning view, and amazing phone signal. A luxury dinner of packet asparagus soup, pasta and decaf cappuccino with a slice of millionaires shortbread I had taken off the buffet lunch in the office, and to bed. Fortunately the midges weren’t too horrendous
The rain started around 10pm and continued all night! It didn’t bode well for the next day
Day 1 – Rowardennan to Inveroran 52km
I roused myself at 5.30 am and eventually got going after a coffee and a muesli bar around 6.15. The first 7k were a pretty relaxed stroll along the lake shore which ended with an excellent bacon bap and a latte at the Inversnaid hotel.
I left the hotel at the same time as some mountain bikers who zipped off at pace. I was amused to overtake them less than 2km later carrying their bikes over the rocks.
After that it was more lovely lakeside strolling past some abandoned farm buildings and a bothy until the top of the lake at Beinglas where I stopped for some toffee crunch and a Diet Coke, but was swiftly chased off by the midges.
Then – gentle steady uphill stroll following the river, overtaking lots of hikers through Crianlarich forest. The forest was lovely but the last 5km to Tyndrum was interminable, flat and boring, made worse by the rain pissing down.
My mood was restored by soup and excellent orange sponge at the real food cafe in Tyndrum. I used their power, sat out two rainstorms and finally summoned the courage to leave at 4pm
It was a long flat 11 k to bridge of orchy on a hard roman road, at least the sun was out for the first hour. I hadn’t meant to go that far but in the 10k from Tyndrum there was nowhere to camp as you can’t camp near livestock.
I stopped for pint of cider at the bridge or Orchy hotel and watched all the posh hikers who were staying in the hotel. Oddly I much prefer pitching my tent in splendid isolation on the hill with the midges and no facilities than being in a hotel – maybe I am a wee bit feral.
It was hard work going up hill after a pint (I never drink and had been quite dehydrated so it was an odd choice but I felt like one at the time). I mildly regretted it as I swayed up the hill. There were scant camping options, After dismissing the first two sites for being too boggy and windy, I found a perfect location on Mam Carraigh with a little bit of shelter and pitched the tent in the evening sun. By this time it was 8pm and I had been on the move for almost 14 hours. I had soup and pasta and some chocolate – all cooked in my tent to avoid the midges. I put all my clothes on and bedded down for the night. The sunset was spectacular through the tent doors, reflecting bright red in the lake below but the midges discouraged me from getting out of the tent to take a photo
Day 2 – to just after Kinlochleven – 32km
I woke up late at 7 and decided to make a coffee and then opportunistically hit up the Inveroran hotel down the hill for breakfast. I broke camp, the worst part is always putting on your wet clothes and socks from the day before, and was rewarded with a bacon buttie and a latte at the hotel.
The sun was shining as I set off for the 15k to kingshouse, but it was hailing when I arrived. The trail was awful on the feet, like a lot of the WHW its an old roman road so it is both hard underfoot and rocky. The landscape was bleak but striking. The hills are black, fierce and gloomy and look imposing even when the sun was shining on them.
I rolled into kingshouse hotel soaking wet and with no feeling in my fingers. I didn’t really warm up while I was there, but the welcome was tremendous. They weren’t bothered that I was soaking wet and also charging my devices. I had two pots of tea, an excellent fish finger sandwich and a scone with jam and cream and watched the torrential rain through the windows. All of the people I passed on my way to Kingshouse from Inveroran eventually rolled in, and all of them were staying there for the night. I couldn’t! A 15 hiking day would be an embarrassment. So, I geared up and headed out shivering into the rain….. Scotland must of been smiling at me as the rain stopped about ten minutes later and I eventually dried off.
This section to Kinlochleven started off badly with 5km following adjacent to the main road, but with stunning views of Buchaille Etive Mor (which I had planned to climb today but the weather was too iffy). The trail then left the road and climbed up the ‘devils staircase’ over to a more remote trail to Kinlochleven. We had half an hour of torrential rain, but the sun came out as I rolled into town.
Given I skipped my side trip today and my feet are a sodden mess I decided to stop early and camp near Kinlochleven….. but it would have been rude not to stop in town, so I spent two wonderful hours at the excellent Bothy bar in Kinlochleven eating cheesy fries, goujons and a brownie! That bar was amazing! It was warm and my shirt even dried for the first time in three days! I had to tear myself away, but I slogged uphill with three litres of water until I found a sheltered spot about 1km from town to pitch my tent with a view of Lochleven peaking through the trees.
Day 3 – 22km to Fort William
I woke up at 5am and it was raining, again at 6am, still raining…. and so on until 7.30 when it was still raining but I decided to make coffee. I eventually headed out in a break in the rain at around 8.30.
It was lovely landscape, grey and broody in the rain, which came and went for the 20km to Glen Nevis. Ben Nevis finally peaking through as I can down the final stretch towards town. I stopped at the foot of Ben Nevis for a burger. I had planned to hike up but the weather was foul and I had been up before. So instead I wandered the final 3km into town for cake 🙂
The verdict on the WHW
Pros – quite a few good pubs with excellent food, plenty of cake stops, lots of good wild camping, some stunning views and landscape, impossible to get lost as the trail is a highway
Cons – too flat, as you walk past the mountains rather than go up them, too many people for my liking, and the trails are mostly 4wd type trails which are hard on your feet
Best cake – Real Food Inn
Best cider – Bridge of Orchy hotel
Best welcome and fish finger sandwich – Kingshouse hotel
Best bacon bap and walkers charging station – Inversnaid hotel
Best sausage bap – Inveroran hotel
No need to buy a guide but the OS maps app is helpful
Definitely take midge spray and a net and make sure you understand the Scottish access code for wild camping and heed the relevant bans eg the south part of Loch Lomond. Easy access to Glasgow on the flights and back from Fort William on the Caledonian sleeper
The stunning towers of Ingushetia and the Georgian Military
After an astounding breakfast buffet –
astounding both in its profusion of choices, but also in the uniformity of
taste of the food (like the detergent the plates were washed in), we headed out
for a long back track to Vladikavkaz to visit the Georgian military highway and
the famous towers of Ingushetia. The Caucasus are like the alps and the
road was cut in a river valley for much of the way with steep peaks on either
side. Turning off the road to Georgia to run along the side of the
mountains we were held for an hour while the FSB quadruple checked our permits.
I understand why people rebel here, it’s suffocating to live under
In pictures of the region you tend to
see the same two groups of towers at egikal, but what I didn’t know in advance
is that there were hundreds of towers in various states of repair along the
road. We stopped at all the big ones and they were quite lovely. A
couple, our guide had never seen up close as none of his tourists had wanted to
climb up the hill to get to them. The best was probably Egikal and the
two towers at Bashenny near the army base.
The landscape and towers were really
wonderful and I spent a lot of the day dreaming about hiking from tower to
tower along the route of the Caucasus mountains, but I suspect that won’t be
feasible while putin and the FSB have a hold on the territory.
A long drive to Kezenoy Am – the highest lake in the Caucas
It was a long drive back through the
mountains to get to the border of Dagestan where we spent the night at
Kezenoyam- the highest lake in the Caucasus – it used to be where the Russian
rowing team trained A late dinner of shashlik and salad and to bed.
Waking up to a stunning day, I managed
a half hearted 20 minute jog along the lakeside…. stunning. And then
we had a very ottoman breakfast of tomatoes cheese and cucumber before heading
to republic no. 5 – Dagestan
Dagestan – the wild west
A quick trip to neighbouring Makazhoy –
an abandoned village perched on a river gorge. The village was emptied
when Stalin deported the Chechens in 1944. 15 years later the returnees
where not allowed to resettle here. Now people are allowed to live here
but few want to as they worry that the Russians are more likely to commit war
crimes in remote places with no witnesses.
Entering Dagestan the roads became gravel and were winding up and down sheer mountains. We stopped often, partly because of the FSB checkpoints, but also because of the frequent cow roadblocks. The whole family would be out herding the cows. Mums and grandmas in skirts and headscarfs, the men in baseball caps and rip-off Armani t shirts. The drive was stunning – sheer dusty red cliffs on either side of narrow river valleys which are lush green with fruit trees. It isn’t all lovely though, environmental issues don’t appear to be front of mind here – the outdoor toilets in riverside villages are effectively long drops perched above the river with human waste going straight into the river. Rubbish is burnt, but plastic is chucked off the side of the mountain. The rivers were frequently damned, no doubt for electricity, creating some quite lovely lakes – like at Irganay. The mountains were phenomenal – a mix of Utah, Arizona, NZ and Morocco – with thick slabs of rock thrust out of the ground with the lines running vertically. The roads were winding and mad men in ladas would come hurtling around the corner on the wrong side of the road. Cows used the road for perambulation and more than once we almost hit a mad kid riding a horse on the median strip. It was a bit like being in the Russian wild west.
The abandoned village and towers of Kakhib
Our goal for the day was Kakhib – an abandoned
village about 2 hours from Gunib. It
is a stunning abandoned village that appears to be utterly disguised in the cliffside. The rock houses and watch towers are well
camouflaged and my photos don’t do it justice.
Our guide had never actually walked through the ruins as none of his
tourists to this point were willing to do the walk – it was only 15 minutes
strolling. Tourists do make me
laugh. To fly to a country, drive for hours
off road to get somewhere and then not be willing to actually walk a few
minutes to see it properly. We saw lower
Kakhib, and then the neighbouring higher Kakhib – which was stunning in the
afternoon light, though you did have to watch your feet to avoid all the cow
After weaving our way back down the mountain on a track made for 4wd Ladas, we also stopped by the Karadakhskaya Tesnina – a nice hour round trip walk to see the narrow gorge. And then to Gunib. We were invited to Iftar half way to Gunib, but decided to keep going. We made it 20 minutes after Iftar and went to a restaurant with world class crap service. We asked for a menu and were told we didn’t need one. We eventually got one, and we asked for a few dishes, and then the waiters told us we could have pizza or nothing. Hilarious! The pizza wasn’t bad, but it did take 40 minutes. Stephane and I were fine, but poor Abdylla had been fasting since 3am
Gamsutl – the Macchu Picchu of Dagestan
Another day, another abandoned
village at the top of a mountain. Gamsutl
is probably the most famous of the abandoned vilalges in the region and is a gentle
stroll up through the forest. It was
actually pretty popular and we met quite a few Russian tourists hiking up. I had
assumed Russians were not that welcome in this part of the country, but as Abdylla
rightly pointed out, he was much happier to see Russian tourists than Russian
soldiers. It was a lovely hike, and I got
my morning jog in on the way back down.
Local sports competition
When we reached the bottom there were crowds of locals and it turns out they were having a sports competition between local schools. Things are pretty basic here, so there wasn’t much in the way of equipment! The long jump was actually a standing jump – the longest about 2.5 metres. There was no shotput, so they threw a 16kg kettle bell instead, swinging from the legs. The girls could do the jump but not the weighted throw, so instead they did dancing. And this was all done on a patch of field covered with rocks and cowpats. We were like local celebraties, and a few of the ladies took photos with us, and the local English teacher came and had a long chat to practice her English – which was remarkably good.
We had a restful afternoon and another huge dinner. Some locals were eating cake at the next table and I mentioned it looked good, so they gave me some (weirdly they had bought the cake from elsewhere). The next morning, we farewelled the lovely old lady who owned the rest house and headed to Derbent.
Dodgy Derbent – Derbent is an interesting town. On the edge of the Caspian Sea its an absolute no go on the FCO list, avoid visits at all costs, but we had a lovely time. The fortress is amazing and with the old town formed a narrow wedge between the sea and the Caucasus range.
We wandered around the edge of the Fortress, avoiding most of the Russian tourists as none of them were willing to walk around the steep walls. After a stonkingly good lunch we then wandered around the old town and the Shia Mosque. It is the oldest mosque in the country. It was interesting with our guide who was a Sunni, who told us all the differences between Sunni and Shia….., but stopped when I asked if they were sufficient reasons for them wanting to kill each other.
We then went down to the Armenian church, which has bullet holes and shrapnel in the walls. It is no longer a consecrated church, it is now a carpet museum, as the christians were run out of town years ago.
After checking out the Lenin statue, we found the public gym….. and amused the local girls by practising our pull ups and leg lifts. I don’t think most old ladies swing around on the playground equipment.
Next up, the synagogue, which was closed for shabbat. But the cafe next door was a thriving hub of jews and muslims drinking tea (those not fasting) and playing aggressive dominos. We were like local celebrities so were forced to stop for tea!!!
We went to check out the town cemeteries – they were quite extraordinary. We then had a wander to the beach, which ended the journey from sea to sea (black to the Caspian)
Iftar was an amazing half a side of lamb cooked in a tandoor, with exceptional seabuckthorn tea, The food has been surprisingly good. We are heading home from Makhachkala tomorrow, but we are already planning our next trip back
Makhachkhala, May 12, 2019
Books recommended to me on the region – Let our Fame be Great by Oliver Bullough; Caucasus – Mountain Men and Holy Wars by Nicholas Griffin; Cry Wolf by Vanora Bennett; The shoemaker and his daughter by Conor o’Clery
We booked through a UK agent, who outsourced to Caucasus Explorer, who outsourced to Caucasus Odyssey for the non Abkhazia portion. I am sure this meant there was a lot of extra margin in there. You can book direct with Abdylla through his Instagram, or with Dimitri at Caucasus explorer
Leaving Sochi we took an amazing overnight train to
Mineralnye Voda. £55 for first class, comfy bed, nice duvet, free
chocolate, free tea, and a well dressed lady who was in charge of the carriage.
Amazingly they also had excellent onboard WiFi with free movies and an
amazing app. I am contemplating travelling across Russia now by train as
I enjoyed it so much.
Deporting an entire population
Abdylla, our Chechen guide was there to meet us, and we headed off to Nalchik – the capital of Kabardino Balkar. It was an unremarkable but lovely town with lots of trees. We visited a monument commemorating the deportation of the local Balkar population. It was to be a theme for the next few days. At the tail end of WW2, the Russians deported the whole Balkar population of 40000, ostensibly for supporting the Germans.
At the same time they ‘cleansed’ the entire populations of Chechnya and Ingushetia in operation lentil. (C.500,000 people). This was to clear the region of Muslims so Russia could attack Muslim Turkey if they wished. Most of the deportees were women and children whose husbands were conscripts fighting in the Russian army. 60% of the deportees didn’t survive the transit and the first year. When they were eventually allowed to return 15 years later they had to buy their land back from the Russians and Ossetians Sobering!
We went for an excellent sour cream laden lunch, though felt
somewhat guilty eating in front of Abdylla who was on his first day of
Ramadan fasting. (We did tell him he could ditch us and come back but he
wouldn’t). Then we strolled around town, saw a few monuments to Lenin
and then hit the road.
Drunk russians, a swift escape and a lot of check points
As we were driving to Ossetia, we made Abdylla stop to take
a photo of a mt Rushmore-esque monument. There was a coach tour of
Russian military retirees drinking vodka who forcibly invited us for some
shots. We chatted for a while and then had to scarper as we made the
mistake of answering one of the Russians who spoke to us in Pashto.
Purely because we knew the words ‘thank you’ and ‘how are you’, meant we
must of been spies.
Escape made, we still had to endure regular check
points, as the FSB have a strong presence in these ethnic republics. We
also had to endure endless billboards of Putin in various glamorous poses.
Horrifying Beslan – 400 deaths in a high school hostage siege
We stopped at Beslan to see the memorial of the school siege in 2004. More than 1000 people were held hostage by Chechen terrorists for three days in a high school gymnasium, Russian ended the siege by firing rocket launchers into the building. 400 people were killed.
The memorial was beautiful but harrowing with all the faces
of those killed. We went after to the town cemetery which had a section
for the graves, the saddest was a block of six graves of children all from the
same family. I always find it shameful to think about these conflicts
happening in our lifetime….., and it reminded me that even today there are
1.5 million Uighur Muslims being forceably detained and ‘cleansed’ in China
Vladikavkaz – capital of Ossetia today but once the capital of Ingushetia
We rolled into Vladikavkaz, a peaceful soviet town watched
over by Fatima and the mountains in the distance, with a lovely mosque.
We had iftar with Abdylla, waiting until 7.03 to eat – excellent
khinkhali, chebusara, and fish and then headed to bed.
After a wonderful breakfast of cottage cheese pie, sausages,
beetroot, cottage cheese pancakes and cherries (they like cheese here), we left
the pretty town of Vladikavkaz and drove from Ossetia to Ingushetia.
Visiting Magas – the artificial capital of Ingushetia, and waiting for the FSB
The border shifted 50 years ago. When the entire Ingushetian population was deported in 1944, the ossetians extended their territory. When the Ingushetians came back the Russians reset the historical borders. Its not a dumb idea from Moscow, as the more the regions infight amongst each other, the less they fight with the Russian government. Today Ingushetia is an autonomous region with its own government. The border shift though, left Ingushetia without a capital, so the new town of Magas was created. It’s a bit like Milton Keynes or Canberra.
We visited the Magas museum which is a faithful reconstruction of an Ingushetia tower. Abdylla said it would take 40 minutes to climb to the top so we decided to jog the sloping ramps around the castle walls to see how long it would take. Abdylla stopped half way, wisely recognising that trying to race while fasting probably wasn’t that sensible….. it took me 8 minutes. Hubby did a creditable effort only walking and made it in 13. At the top is a glass balcony with a glass floor showing the 100m drop which was a bit vomit inducing.
We then had to go see the FSB (formerly named the KGB).
We needed permission to visit the famous ingushetian towers on the
Georgian military highway. After a frustrating hour for Abdylla, permits
were secured but only for tomorrow so we would have to make an extra four hour
round trip – oh well, at the mercy of the FSB.
Monument to deportation, whitewashed by the Russian government
Before leaving Magas, we visited a monument to the Ingushetian deportations. First built by the locals, the Russians intervened with a re-characterisation of the monument, by making it also about when the ingushetians ‘ceded’ their territory, and a monument to the wars in Germany and Afghanistan. The Ingushetians haven’t fully accepted the whitewash and there is a harrowing museum under part of the memorial showing the Russian deportations.
The most shocking thing were gravestones that were purposefully pillaged from Ingushetian cemeteries and used to build roads and farm sheds, a collection of these had been recovered and installed in the museum. It’s amazing to me that I hadn’t ever heard of this before, but I guess I hadn’t studied Russian history and the victor normally writes the history in any case. (Again, my normal caveats apply, I don’t profess to have an actual clue on the history and who was right or wrong). We also managed to find some food, not always straightforward during Ramadan. Lunch was an excellent Chechen pasta (like spätzle) with broth, onions, and chicken.
We meandered our way to Grozny in the secondary roads.
Abdylla was playing Crowded house in the car and with the endless flat
fertile fields it felt like being home in the Waikato. Well, except for the
women in their traditional clothing and the streams of tanks going by. We
were not sure if they are mobilising troops or preparing for victory day on the
9th of May, either was possible. My favourite stop was the Achkhoy Martan
mosque, which was incredible.
Grozny – capital of Chechnya, about which I had only heard bad things….
We arrived in Grozny, with its obligatory ‘I love Grozny’
sign (every Russian town has one). Grozny can feel like a monument to
Kadyrov – the Russian appointed leader who is wildly unpopular with Chechens.
His house, visible from the observation deck of the tallest building in
town is ridiculous! We couldn’t take photos though, as you are banned –
apparently too many people were posting photos and the comments were vicious
about how hopeless he is.
Wandering around was lovely, checking out the archangel Michael church, the flower park with the AstroTurf animals and of course ‘the heart of Chechnya mosque’. Strolling for an hour before dinner, the locals here are extremely traditional – most of the women have their heads covered and are in long dresses. Beards and hats are de riguer for men. We bumped into lots of Abdylla’s friends in the street and of course none of the men would shake my hand. Its an interesting town, and a thriving recruitment ground for ISIS after years of Muslims being mistreated by the Russian government .
Iftar was at a very traditional Chechen restaurant – haggis,
dumplings, broth, pumpkin pancakes and sea buckthorn tea. The pumpkin
pancakes were amazing…. I was less thrilled by the haggis.
Strolling home we popped into the mosque. Clearly my
long skirt and headscarf weren’t sufficiently Islamic, so I was loaned a
stunning tablecloth ensemble and directed to the women’s prayer area. The
mosque was lovely by night, and amusingly set against the ‘high rises’ of
Grozny with their neon signs. Off to bed, tomorrow to Ingushetia
Abkhazia (population 240,000) is wedged between the Black Sea and Caucasus mountains, and neighboured by Georgia and Russia. Abkhazia broke away from Georgia in a bloody war between 1992-93, shortly after the Soviet Union fell apart. In 2008, after a five-day conflict between Russia and Georgia, Moscow officially recognised the republic as independent. It is a complicated conflict, and I won’t profess to have a clue about who is right or wrong (in all of these situations there tends to be right and wrong on both sides in any case). Georgians represented more than 50% of the population prior to independence and abkhazians less than 30%. The population is now 40% of what it was. Today the UN still consider Abkhazia to be part of Georgia. Abhkazia is only officially recognised by Russia, Nauru, Nicaragua, Syria and Venezuela. The economy is largely held up by the million or so Russian tourists who come every summer for a cheap Black Sea experience (it feels like the British equivalent of going to Benidorm).
The lottery of life
Many Abkhazians only have Abkhazian passports (unless they are lucky enough to have a Russian parent). Technically they can get a Georgian passport, but apparently that isn’t really allowed as ‘the security services will come after you’. I had never really contemplated what life was like as a ‘citizen’ of a largely unrecognised state. Officially this means that they can only go to the countries that recognise them. Practically this means they can only go to Russia, as there are no direct flights from Russia to any of the other places that recognise them, and it isn’t obvious that airlines would even recognise an Abkhazian passport as an official ID. I have always felt grateful for having passport(s) that allow me relative freedom of movement, but even with passports from less popular countries it is still feasible to get a visa to go to many places. I can’t imagine not being free to travel – such is the lottery of birth! I am grateful every time I travel that I was born when and where I was.
Sochi,Gagra and Russian tourists
We arrived in Abkhazia via Sochi – a Black Sea resort for working class Russians, now famous for the Winter Olympics. It took an hour to get through Russian passport control, we were apparently the fifth (non Russian) tourists the border chief had seen that year, so he had to ask us a few questions. On the Abkhazian side, they waved us through but I made our guide stop so I could get a passport stamp. They tried to talk me out of it, as they were worried I would have problems in Georgia, but we eventually persuaded them.
Our first stop was Gagra, a soviet beach resort, starting with a visit to the Tsereteli playground. Zurab Tsereteli is a famous Georgian artist, still alive today and with a whole museum in Tbilisi dedicated to his work. He is famous for his use of mosaics and curves and as well as the playground he was responsible for some of the finest bus stops in Abkhazia. We had a stroll along the beach, stopping for an excellent Turkish coffee. We visited the abandoned cinema and an excellent abandoned villa (formerly home to the princes masseuse).
Ritsa national park
We headed up the gagra valley to the Ritsa national park. The valley becomes a stunning gorge carved out over centuries by a fast flowing snow fed river. The road culminates at Stalin’s dacha, a place he only visited five times, on the banks of crystal blue lake Ritsa. It was nice but was somewhat marred by the presence of a road (I am a kiwi and prefer to walk in the mountains than go by road), and somewhat marred by the presence of a lot of Russian tourists, but probably mostly marred by the animals tied up on the side of the road for tourists to take photos with. Eagles, peacocks and monkeys on leashes less than 20cm long. It was awful, and the practice would die out pretty quickly if the Russian tourists weren’t paying 100 rubles to have a photo taken with the peacock.
Dinner and finding a husband
On the way back we stopped at the abandoned train station in Gagra – the architecture is amazing. And we checked out the old abandoned soviet market and the beach.
Dinner was shashlik and kachapuri (excellent Georgian cheese bread), followed by strudel. Service wasn’t brilliant, but was typically Russian, with the food taking an hour to arrive and it was delivered by a grumpy looking waitress. They drove us out of the restaurant eventually by pumping up the volume on bad Russian pop. Dinner conversation was amusing. Our guide, Diana, is fiercely proud of being Abkhazian, with every sight being introduced with ‘isn’t it amazing? Isn’t it the best thing you have ever seen?’. The sights weren’t normally that amazing, but her enthusiasm was commendable. Somewhat incongruently, she wasn’t a great cultural fit with the locals. By her account, abkhazians are still very conservative, especially in villages. Women are apparently not allowed to work outside the home, date any man they aren’t going to marry, speak too much to their husbands in public, divorce or generally bring shame to their husbands or fathers. And as a thank you, the men do nothing to contribute to the house. It sounds fantastic. But Diana is stuck here and can’t travel as she doesn’t have a Russian passport. We did spend some of our time figuring out how she could get one, marrying one of her more trustworthy cousins who already has a Russian passport is apparently the best idea.
Donuts and bus stops
The next morning, we had an excellent Russian breakfast, eggs, bread, and cottage cheese donut things which were amazing and a few Turkish coffees each and then headed out for a meandering journey to Sukhumi. Sergei our driver had gone home last night and had bought his lovely daughter Katia back with him, she was trying to improve her English, but was as shy as you would expect a 12 year old to be. The morning started with some incredible bus stops by Tsereveli – the Whale/dolphin, the Spaceship, the Fish, the Cock, and the Creature of the sea.
We then strolled along the coast at Pitsunda, it was like being transported back to how I imagine 70s Russia might have been. Incredible architecture!
We also visited an incredibly cool cathedral with a mildly interesting exterior but a very groovy interior with an incredible Art Deco organ and seats that looked like they were stolen from a 1950s cinema.
We passed by the ruined church in Miusera, which was a bustling picnic spot. The church was surrounded by platforms of Georgian houses that had been destroyed during the war, it was eerie. The area has now been turned into a national park.
Lunch cooked over the fire with the hunters
Our lunch stop was with a family in the village of Achandara. We couldn’t find their house so the matriarch despatched her son in a battered Lada to come and find us. We ate in a wooden cabin adorned with bear and wolf skins shot by her sons, and she cooked us a kind of polenta above a wood fire which we ate with spicy beans, pork knuckle and homemade cheese. We finished it off with feijoa jam and bread (she made everything herself).
Stuffed to the gills, Sergei took us to the cosmopolitan Sukhumi. We visited two abandoned railway station (Sukhumi and Baratashvali) and the botanical gardens.
We also saw the main square which is famous for the abandoned Georgian government building which the Abkhazians burnt from the inside and have vowed to leave as a monument. It was been covered with hoardings commemorating 25 years of independence.
Glitterati in Sukhumi
Dinner was a surreal experience in the ‘top’ hotel in Abkhazia. We had borscht, kebab and local honey cake. Everyone around us was ordering off the extensive sushi menu. I have never quite seen sushi like it – oversized, elaborately decorated with mayonnaise and lurid sprinkles…. I am not sure what the Japanese would have made of it. Our fellow diners were clearly the glitterati of Abkhazia with Chanel bags and very high heels!
Morning run along the seafront
I woke up early enough for a run and headed out along the seafront. In the distance I spied what looked like several men in black shell suits loitering around a kids playground…. it all looked quite dodgy and I was contemplating turning back. As I got closer I realised it was an outdoor gym area and the blokes were all doing press ups! The promenade was busy with (mostly) men strolling and a few more doing squats and push ups. A great way to start the day.
The benefit of the run was quickly destroyed by breakfast, a ridiculously large spread with porridge, sausages, eggs, vegetables and more of the incredible cottage cheese pancakes with a couple of cups of coffee. Fortified we headed to the bazaar for a wander around. Apparently the opening of a big supermarket nearby is ruining trade, and the bazaar is largely run by Armenians. There was a spectacular array of merchandise, my favourites being the camouflage gumboot shoe and the nut sugar strings.
Setting an FKT on Anakopia
The tourist highlight of Abkhazia (for those who are less obsessed with soviet bus stops) is the Anakopia fortress and the new Athos monastery. Diana, our 25 year old guide assured me it was a 40 minute hike to the fortress, I took the challenge and made it in 12 (somewhat miffed as I had taken one wrong turn and lost a minute or so, I was even more miffed on the way down as I found all the shortcuts so reckon I could do it in 8 now). The view over the Black Sea is stunning, and I lay in the sun like a lizard on a rock for 20 minutes waiting for Diana :-).
We climbed the tower, took a photo with the Abkhazian flag that Diana had carried up for the purpose – it is the hand of peace, seven stars for seven districts and green and white stripes to demonstrate Christian and Muslim harmony. We also visited the tiny and mostly ruined Orthodox Church along with a few smartly dressed elderly local ladies who had made the climb. The downhill took 7 minutes (and I still missed a few shortcuts).
Soviet tourism in the cave of New Athos
After that we went to see the ‘famous amazing cave of new athos’. It was large! Sadly, it was a tourist production where the tourists are put on a train, and then we had to walk very slowly for an hour and a half through the caves, in a big crowd. I put a podcast on and stayed at the back…. waiting until the lady who was responsible for turning out the lights came behind me to move to the next spot. On the bright side it was an anthropological exercise in Russian tourist watching.
We also had the pleasure of visiting another abandoned station – Psirtskha – beautifully located on the river.
Lunch followed with more kachapuri, stew, grilled pork and a nut and cabbage dish and more Turkish coffee. From there we wandered to perhaps my favourite abandoned train station – Psirtskha station – it was more like a posh gazebo, and was beautifully located on the river. Then we headed up to the old Monastery. It was more stunning from a distance when you could see all the gold cupolas reflecting the sunlight. There was an old man painting icons for the tourists. We had a chat, and he asked where I was from. I said NZ, and he asked if I was Maori. I asked him if he knew New Zealander’s, he said I was the first one he had met but was curious about polynesians as he was a fan of Gauguin. Is a stunning monastery, with incredible paintings inside.
Back to Russia
After that we meandered back to Russia by way of a bonus palace and church on the way and one final bus stop. Exiting was slightly tricky as I had to rustle up the guard to get my exit stamp, he was very impressed with my greeting and thanks in Abkhazian. Entering russian took a bit longer, as my passport seem to raise a few red flags! I would recommend Abkhazia for 3-4 days purely for the bus stops and the train stations. The monastery was lovely also. We didn’t see everything and next time I would quite like to do a lot of hiking in the high mountains.
For the kiwis they have feijoas here – it’s amazing, feijoa juice, jam, it was amazing…. that’s a reason to visit
It’s very cheap here. Abkhazia is deceptively poor. The average teachers salary $250 per month, a flat in Sukhumi cost $65k to buy, which means property is very unaffordable. For foreigners, everything seems cheap.
We booked this as part of a bigger holiday through native eye in the UK, but you could probably book direct with Dimitri at Caucasus explorer. If you wanted to go off-roading, you could also contact Sergei at off-roading Abkhazia.
We stayed at Hotel Abaat in Gagra and Hotel Leon in Sukhum and both were good
I would suggest learning a few words in Abkhazian, the locals were always thrilled when I said thank you very much (itabob idootsana) and very good (dar ibzyo)
Harar is considered by Ethiopian Muslims to be the fourth holiest city in the world (after Mecca, Medina and Jerusalem), and the old city has 88 mosques within its walls (a mere few square kilometres). Apparently, there are almost as many bars as mosques in the old city, and one of the busiest chat markets in Africa. I was looking forward to wandering around the old city alleys and seeing the famous hyenas be fed in the evening. Our flight was markedly different to earlier flights this week, with many fewer tourists and a marked shift from Christians to Muslims.
Landing in Dire Dawa was quaint- a tiny terminal almost overgrown with trees. We couldn’t find our driver and were grateful for Ethiopian airlines awesome investment in WiFi in every airport, as I was able to contact the agent and track down the driver through WhatsApp. The friendly guard at the airport did offer to lend us his phone though.
Endale (the driver) located, we hopped in his 4wd adorned with a painting of Che Guevara and headed off into the night to Harar. Halfway we passed through the town of Awaday – home of the all night chat market. Traffic was bonkers, headlights on high beam, crazy tuktuks and lots of evening shoppers. It was like Oxford Circus at rush hour. We eventually made it to Harar after a bumpy and swervy 90 minutes and checked into the Hotel Winta – it didn’t have great reviews but it was apparently better than the other hotels in town. The hotel would win an award for the most hilarious bathroom in town – there is a tile painting of a huge tiger in the shower. The bedroom is fit for a princess – with sparkly pink curtains and a matching bed cover. We went downstairs for dinner – a choice of omelet or shiro, and a bucketload is cinnamon tea. We then headed up to try and sleep through the noise of the mosquitos buzzing energetically around the room and the light shining in from the hallway.
Monkeys and marvels The muezzin kindly woke us up at 5am, and we snoozed until 7.30. We had an excellent chilli omelette for breakfast and some excellent local coffee. The plan for today was to visit the largest livestock market in Ethiopia in the town of Babile (cutely pronounced ‘bubbily’). We drove for an hour, located the town, walked to a walled market where there were a few goats, oxen and cows, but a distinct lack of camels. Our hapless guide Hamdi seemed quite confused, and said ‘no camels’. Hmmmmm. Oh well. We drove further to the misnamed ‘valley of the marvels’ which apparently has stunning rock formations. Hmmmmmmm, not so stunning. However, the road in the marvels was somewhat redeemed by the presence of hundreds of monkeys. Apparently the locals feed them here, and every truck that went by seemed to throw a load of peanuts out the window. It was kind of amusing.
Finally some camels…. While we were there, Hamdi made a few calls and figured out that the camel market had moved to near the Somali refugee camp at Qoloji which is further into the Ethiopian region of Somalia (not to be confused with the country). I must confess, I was entirely unaware that there was a large scale humanitarian crisis in this region with around 1 million displaced Oromian or Somalian people who have been feuding for many years. Qoloji is one of many camps in the region. We found the camel market! The owners lounge around in makeshift shelters chewing chat while the brokers do the selling. Male brokers sell camels, women sell goats.
A maze of pastel alleys Back in Harar, we strolled around town. There isn’t much to do except get lost in the pastel maze of alleyways. We wandered down Machina Girgir -the famous street with old Singer sewing machines were the tailors could whip you up a hijab in a few minutes. The camel meat market in town was amusing, if smelly, and there were eagles circling overhead waiting for camel scraps. We dropped by the tomb of Sheikh Abadir – founder of Harar, and had a chat to the local ladies about their kids who are now all living in London or Canada. After sufficient strolling we went for lunch at the ‘best restaurant in town’ – the fresh touch. Ordering was fun ‘no ambo, no bread, no eggs, no pizza, no pancakes’. Steph ordered injera, and I went across the road to find some bread rolls.
Hyenas and the Quran After a relaxing siesta, we headed off in the dark to see the Hyenas being fed. This is apparently the highlight of any visit to Harar, though there is something incongruous about driving down a dirt road to join a line up of tourist vans pointing their headlights at a man feeding semi rottten camel meat to 30 or so hyenas. The tourists took it in turn to feed the hyenas, who were surprisingly docile and afraid of humans. I know hyenas are supposed to be ‘evil’ but I find them quite adorable. After that Hamdi took us back to Sheikh abadir’s tomb to see the Thursday celebrations. We spent a blissfully relaxing hour listening to 20-30 people chanting melodically from the Quran while chewing methodically through their bags of chat. I was most amused by the haughty cat who strolled around the mosque like she owned it. The worshippers were all pretty zen and didn’t seem at all offended by the presence of three random faranjis who didn’t know any of the chants. Apparently they chant well into the night, using drums from about midnight to keep them awake. It was quite a treat to sit there and enjoy the locals.
Museums, my favourite! I have managed to avoid visiting museums in most cities, but we had kind of run out of things to see. First up, the Haile selassie museum. Haile selassie was born near Harar and he was the last emporer of Ethiopia. The museum was full of pretty random artefacts but it killed an hour while Isiah the enthusiastic guide explained every item. Then we wandered to the Rimbaud centre – not actually where the famous poet lived and as far as we can tell it was built after he died. But it was a beautiful house and we whiled away some time sitting on steps watching the eagles soar above us… the locals feed them leftover camel meat from the meat market.
The best coffee in the world? We then went to the coffee factory and bought 2 kg of coffee, which made us thirsty so we wandered up to the Mermaid cafe and had two cups of the best coffee I drank in Ethiopia – zebras, as they are black and white. Outstanding! It’s busy in town today, its ethiopian good Friday for the Christian minority and Friday for prayers for the Muslim majority. The beggars are out in force, lining the streets in the shade chewing chat and hoping for alms from those en route to the mosque. We stopped by the local pool hall and cinema – a dank large room with broken plastic chairs. The enthusiastic audience were watching Bollywood on the tele while they waited for the 1pm screening time. A group of competitive old men where on the terrace playing rapid games of dominos. We had a chat – the whole group are Man United fans, which made Jess very happy, and there was a lot of debate about who was going to win next week. Football definitely is the universal religion for most of the world.
Chat, Kyat, Kat…. We retreated from the heat to the Res Hannan hotel for an average lunch in the shade, and then made our way back to Diredawa via Awaday – where the chat market was still very much in full swing. Locals were buying and selling, men were chewing, and the goats were eating the leftovers. Side note – I was shocked to learn that it takes 500 litres of water to irrigate enough chat for one persons daily consumption. Apparently 40% of the water usage in Yemen is for chat irrigation – it’s an ecological nightmare. https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Khat
It was my first visit to Harar and it was fascinating but honestly wouldn’t put it on the top of my travel list. We stayed at the Winta hotel which was away from the old town but good and clean and friendly – though read the trip advisor reviews, some people have had issues with their bills. We rented a car and driver for the time we were there, honestly that wasn’t necessary. just get a cab from dire dawa and sort arrangements when you arrive.
The Tigray was one of my favourite regions in Ethiopia. Rock hewn monasteries perched on top of steep mountains, to be closer to god and protect from invaders. I was looking forward to revisiting the lovely monastery of Maryam Korkor and also managing to visit Abune Yemata – I didn’t make it last time, but more on that later ..
We were met at Mekele airport by Zaray our guide, and our driver Fish. As coincidences would have it, Fish had been my driver last time I was here (he was brilliant then, and has aged well though his English hasn’t improved one bit). We popped by to see Dawit, the owner of covenant travel, who had organised my last trip here as well, several years ago, and had treated Tamara and I to his house for lunch with his family). And then we headed a couple of hours north to the Gheralta escarpment, passing through towns that were quite unrecognisable. The area is growing, half built hotels and office blocks were sprouting in Wikro Agula and there appears to have been an explosion in tuktuks- apparently several hundred thousand have been imported from India in the last five years – you can tell.
Fortunately the landscape hadn’t changed, and it had retained its spaghetti western qualities, made more moody by the storm clouds and the humidity. We had arrived early evening, and driving at nighttime is always a bit dicey anywhere in Africa. No one really understands (or follows) road rules here, passing is at will, and headlights are largely optional, though if you are going to use them, you must remember to high beam all oncoming cars. On the bright side, the Chinese work crew I saw on my last visit had clearly done their job and the road from mekele to hawzien was now entirely asphalted. On the downside I saw at two dead goats and one dead dog who obviously didn’t understand the road rules.
We would be spending three nights at the Gheralta Lodge – the first ‘boutique’ hotel in Ethiopia, I had stayed here years ago and it was lovely. Set up by an eccentric Italian, they grow their own veg and make excellent pasta. The rooms are lovely but the organisation was and still is chaotic (an interesting blend of Italian and Ethiopian organisation). Dinner was hearty and delicious and I got mildly drunk on the honey wine (the upside of barely drinking is that I can get drunk on half a glass of anything).
Conquering old demons at Abune Yemata After a leisurely lie in until 7.15, and one of the best showers I have had in Africa, we had a healthy breakfast of eggs, homemade bread, apple cake, and homemade guava jam. Zaray, Fish and Dawit picked us up and we bumped along the gravel track to the entrance to Abune Yemata (see a great BBC video about it here and another sweet video here
Abune Yemata is a high monastery carved into the top of a rock pillar. I have terrible vertigo and last time I was in Ethiopia i weighed significantly more than I do now, and I was too frightened to climb up the cliff face with toeholds. This time I am fitter and stronger, but if anything my vertigo has gotten worse with age. But they do now have a harness and a rope on the hairiest part of the climb so that was something. Well I made it. I tried to turn back once half way up the rock face but the scouts blocked my way. And then I had a moment when I climbed onto an exposed flat rock with steep drop offs on all sides and I lay on the stomach and the poor scout had to say ‘stand up’ four times before I could get up. And then I bottled it on the ledge inching along to the entrance. But I made it.
The priest was adorable and is clearly used to freaked out faranjis (foreigners) arriving at the door. The paintings are stunning and ancient and worth the trip. And Dawit (our local Tigray guide) assures me no one has died here (though people have fallen).
Hiking up to Maryam Korkor Feeling triumphant, we decided to head straight over to the climb to Maryam Korkor. We acquired another volunteer scout as we headed off and just as well as I was in the mood to go fast. Dawit told me it would take fit people an hour and 20 minutes to get to the top so I decided to try for 30 minutes. We started off too slowly, but I got my new friend Gabriel Giorgis the scout to jog the flat bits, so we made it up in just under 31 minutes (Strava here). Steph wasn’t too far behind in 54 minutes, but in fairness he was handicapped by stomach pains from last nights chilli. Gabriel was most amused and asked Dawit the guide when he arrived if I worked in sport. The view out across to Abune Yemata was fabulous.
The church of Maryam Korkor is lovely but the highlight for me is the tiny monastery of Daniel Korkor which is carved out of the cliff face and accessed by a narrow ledge. It has stunning paintings, and an outstanding view. For entertainment (and to the annoyance of the tourists coming up hill), Gabriel and I decided to try and beat our time down the hill and so we ran down in just under 21 minutes pretending we were airplanes. He was fun and apparently I was the first tourist who had jogged down with him. After that we retired for a lazy afternoon in the lodge, hubby drinking lots of mirinda to deal with his ailments (it is his miracle cure). And yet another substantial Italian dinner and a good night sleep
Visiting the Danakil depression I had wanted to visit the Danakil for years, but last time it was off limits due to safety concerns. Several groups of tourists have been shot or kidnapped over the years (always blames on the Eritreans). Things have settled down some (the last incident was in December 2017), and the local afar tribe have now made an industry out of tourist security. Everyone is obliged to have an afar escort in the territory and it isn’t cheap. The Afar are the local people who have carved a living out of the desert hacking out salt and transporting it on camel trains to Mekele. It’s a tough region, temperatures average 35 degrees and the ‘depression’ is 100m below sea level (the lowest spot in Africa). This is one of the poorer areas in ethiopia. The roadside huts are built of plastic and branches, and are far from any obvious water or sources of food. The afar have a challenging relationship with the Amhara and it feels more like Djibouti here than Ethiopia.
One advantage of visiting now is that there is now an asphalt road most of the way to Dallol (thanks to the Chinese) so what once would have taken 5-7 hours now took 3.5. The drive was stunning, leaving the yellow rock of the Gheralta, descending down through the lush green gorges around Agula, arriving in the black moonscape of Berhile and then finally the stunning white salt plain of the Danakil.
We stopped in Berhile to do some paperwork, and then again closer to Dallol to pick up our ‘guards’. One of them was young, with a serious face and a battered Kalashnikov. The other was much older and only had the use of one eye. I was assuming that the ‘toughness’ of our guards correlated with the potential of any actual danger, and wasn’t expecting anything much to happen.
A large group of camels and men were hard at work on the side of the road, hacking salt from the earth in the same way that the locals had done for centuries. Big blocks of salt which they took on long camel train to Mekele, each camel would have 30 slabs of salt (c.200kg) and in total each camels load would be sold for c. 500 birr (under $20)
Not far away from the camels were the main reason people visit the Danakil, a spectacular geothermal area with incredible pools of sulphur in amazing colours. The guard matter of factly informed us a German tourist had died on the site a few days ago, falling behind the group, fainting and slipping into the sulphur. We were pretty careful with our foot placement after that.
The area is stunning, we stopped by some incredible, if phallic rock formations and also the large shallow salt water lake. The landscape is very similar to the Bolivian altiplano, but much hotter with the temperatures reaching 36 degrees before lunch.
We retreated back to the car, blasted the air con and still sweated buckets (apart from Fish who was as cool as ice and was still wearing his sweater)….. it was an hour or more before we started climbing out of the depression and we finally opened the windows. It was a long day, almost 8 hours of solid driving but totally worth it. It’s our last night at Gheralta – more pasta for dinner and a big nights sleep before heading to Harar tomorrow
So, I can’t quite believe I have finished, and have visited 197/197 countries (193 UN members, 2 UN observers, and two countries who I think should be UN members – Taiwan and Kosovo).
Earlier this week, I had a fascinating 24 hours in Riyadh on a work trip visiting my colleagues in Saudi stores, and that was country 196 (and yes I need to go back at some point to see Mada’in Saleh when it reopens).
And then, given I was in the region, I spent today in Yemen with Azam. It is almost impossible to get into mainland Yemen as a tourist, so the cunning day trip was the best option. I am hoping to go and visit Socotra island soon (a safer part of Yemen), when can work out the logistics.
A few thoughts….,,
Every country in the world is worth visiting. I learnt something amazing, or saw something incredible everywhere I went. I wish I had had more time in most places, and will go back to lots of them. If you have the time, tenacity and the resources, I would definitely encourage you to give visiting every country in the world a try.
Most places are safer than you think – I always joke that I am much more likely to die being knocked off my bicycle in London, than when wandering around war zones in Africa. Even in war zones, people are living their lives – mothers and children, brothers and sisters, normal people going about their business. Wherever I see kids, I feel safe….. people don’t normally take their kids to unsafe places. I got held up at gun point once, and had a few sketchy cab drivers. Thats not bad for 25 years of travelling.
There are great people everywhere you go (and a few dickheads also). This is not dictated by religion, ethnicity, wealth, age or gender. Some of the friendliest people I have met, I have found in unexpected circumstances. The generosity of people I met in the poorest countries often floored me, those with the least to give would often offer the most.
I placed full confidence in the goodness of humankind everywhere I went, and having faith in others didn’t let me down anywhere. Assume most people are good, treat them accordingly, and you will get the same treatment back.
And a few thank yous
Of course, a huge thank you to my incredible husband who has been supportive (if occasionally perplexed) by my desire to achieve this goal. I also empathise with him for the ridiculous number of conversations he has had with other people who ask him how he can ‘let’ me travel to dangerous places. As if I need permission or he would ever think it is his to give! He is a remarkable human being, and it has been fun to have him along on many of my adventures (even when he told me off for driving the van in the dark in Afghanistan!).
My eternal gratitude to the legion of African and Arab men who have safely driven, guided and sorted me out in some of the worlds slightly sketchy locales. There is nothing more important than having a good driver and fixer – from Peter in Juba, Youssef in Libya, Kausar in Afghanistan, Mamadou in Bandiagara, Tekeste in Asmara, Fish and Zeray in Ethiopia, and so many more. These men all treated me with the respect due to an aunty or a sister or a daughter and kept me safe. I will always be grateful
To my fellow nutters on Every Passport StampandNomadmania – thank you for the tips and suggestions for the remote corners of the earth….. where else can you go to get a recommendation for a hotel in Bangui? Keep travelling!
So, because everyone always asks, I have updated my list of favourite countries in the world now that I am done. See it here Feel free to come up with your own list……
And what’s next?
Well, next week I am visiting a bunch of breakaway Russian republics (Dagestan, Ingushetia, Abkhazia, and Chechnya). And there are still lots of territories or non sovereign state countries I have planned to visit (like Greenland, Faroes, Svalbard, Tibet etc) so I am unlikely to stop travelling. I have a lot of hiking trips planned (Israel and Jordan National trails, the Haute Route in the Pyrenees and eventually the Continental Divide Trail). I also have a few places I want to spend more time in, including Yemen (Socotra and Sana), Albania and Kosovo (the Peaks of the Balkans trail), and Mali (I never made it to Timbuktu). I don’t think I will be hanging up my backpack anytime soon. (Oh, and I have a full time job and that takes up quite a bit of time also).