Good morning everybody, and for my Muslim readers Ramadan Kareem or as they say here, Ramazan bayramizim! Trips off the tongue doesn't it? The faux fast is over and business as usual continues with the addition of a week's holiday which began yesterday. So, not unlike Christmas in the west! This is just a quick update to say "hello", with more to follow later, and yes Redcoat, there will be Billys!
Before I return to the Lycians and provide a beautiful tapestry of ancient life some three thousand years ago I will mention our latest two hops, yesterday's being the penultimate before we are teenager/guest free and we hit the road northwards with a dog and two rats as co-drivers. The rats have to wear weighted Bergens when they assist the dog with driving - she can do the gear stick and steering but they need sufficient weight to depress the pedals. Kaspar often falls asleep and is quite insulted when the dog kicks him awake to sit on the brake!
Lancelot was fully laden; the rear full to the ceiling, baggage on the top (why do teenagers need so much kit, particularly perplexing and five people inside, with cool boxes between the passengers feet and the dog, correction, Her Imperial Majesty, stretched across the front passenger's legs with her head sliding ever closer to my left knee, a nose width from the gear stick.
We covered 247 km in five and a half hours, including two breaks along the way. This may seem slow, yet the road was a constant serpentine, flowing along the contours of the coast, mimicking the dry riverbeds which have carved their paths down the mountainsides. The route over the top of the mountains is shorter in both time and distance but we decided to avoid the 1600 metre climb Lancelot did so well four times last week both to reduce the strain on his brilliant engine and to appreciate the incredible Mediterranean views to the south (our left) as we pottered along. Interestingly enough the roads were empty, devoid of crazy overtaking and no stopping at police checkpoints, although we passed through three on our way.
Everybody who was awake in Lancelot had a moment's reflection when we got close to the coastal town of Demre. A steep road takes you down towards the final approach to there city and it is steep and deceptively fast enough to warrant two descending lanes, a double Armco barrier and a five by three metre electrical sign which flashes at you until you are driving at 50 kmph or less. As we came towards the corner a police car appeared to us, on our side of the road, facing up the hill. As we neared we could see a huge gash in the Armco, some six or seven metres wide with disappearing wheel skid marks going over the edge. The wheels dug in two fiercely that they left an impression centimetres into the tarmac. The drop at this point is three hundred meters and sheer.... Gulp. It is impossible to imagine what the last thoughts of the driver were and judging by the skid marks he was unable to jump from the cab. There but for the grace of God go we.
The rest of the journey was uneventful apart from a fault which falls squarely into Eric the Electrical Elephant's bailiwick; stopping for a spot of lunch I was asked by a local if I had jump leads - picture a skinny Turkish guy with 70's Porn 'tash standing in front of me and doing scissoring hand actions accompanied by "akku, akku, buzz, buzz!" So, first use of our industrial jump leads and off he went with them for his friend to give him a boost.
An hour after this all was well and then the battery light came on! On arriving at our destination the GPS tracker reported a battery condition of 12.1 V. I have now driven a further three hundred km and the light has not come back on and is at 14 V plus! Karma....
On a serious note any thoughts? Alternator issues ahead or battery condition? I have no prior Defender experience with batteries...Series I, Range Rover (Classic and Vogue), problems aplenty!
Two delightful days spent in a small house in the countryside surrounded by goats and chickens, an inquisitive Russian Blue cat and a slack-handful of Buckshee dogs that were always very interested in what we were eating, as was the only goat which escaped its night-time tether. Still Poly-tunnels abounding yet no so intensely and a very different atmosphere pervaded there; no modern supermarkets, everybody smiling and waving as you pass and our hosts were delightful old Turkish people who were at pains to ensure our stay was pleasant. The old gentleman even came to the house to wish us bon voyage as he was leaving before we did, dressed as he was in his Sunday best and smiling, showing excellent white teeth. Teeth! awe passed a shepherd on the road the day before, a huge thick-set man, built like a wrestler who clearly lived in his clothes, yet he waved and smiled showing us immaculate and huge teeth as he did so. Wehere we were previously everybody's teeth were less than healthy (ok, clearly an exaggeration and perhaps I am incorrect yet the teeth in the countryside east of Antalya appeared to be better than those east of Fethiye).
With that dear friends I will say goodbye for now and post some pictures shortly. Standby for the next instalment of Lancelot's Lycian journeys.
T
, rather just have the lamb ,FIDO
