The Big European Odyssey: Exploring Asia in a Motorhome

It’s not like we ever planned on heading so far east, not least in the first instance. But, one thing led to another, and before we knew it, our eyes had wandered past Istanbul, and we began dreaming of an adventure without parallel. It had already been proven that you could get a small convoy of leisure vehicles to Istanbul, so why not carry on across Turkey to Georgia? It’s not that much further, at least not on the map. The reality is a little different.

Crossing northern Turkey from Istanbul is akin to driving from John O’Groats to Land’s End – not your average trip. But then, the Big European Odyssey has never been about the average; it’s focused on expanding horizons, venturing to places some (many) people might not imagine possible in a motorhome. But when we look past those blurry edges where our belief in what we can do starts to morph into self-doubt and uncertainty, we realise that, as George Herbert rightly said, ‘to him that will, ways are not wanting.’

That is unless you have the wrong vehicle paperwork and documentation at the Turkish border, and then no amount of will or want can help you. Thankfully, that was a hurdle we avoided, allowing us to dare to dream and plan a summer in Asia. Yes, Asia, in a motorhome. It has a certain ring don’t you think? It beats ‘summer in Torquay,’ at least – no offence meant to those who frequent the English Riviera. Maybe that’s one for next year, assuming we make it back by then.

The great difficulty with Turkey is that once you cross the Bosphorus Strait and head into Asia, certain decisions must be made. Black Sea or Aegean coast for starters. For many, the Aegean coast wins out, with its idyllic beaches, ancient history, UNESCO World Heritage sites, and multiple natural wonders. Only for us, all that would have to wait until later in the year and the return journey. There’s only a small window in which to reach the high mountains in Georgia, something that’s been on the travel bucket list for several years, so it was the Black Sea coast for us.

Safely across the north of Turkey, another border crossing awaits. You’d think by now we would be more at ease with leaving one country and heading into another. And yet the same nerves and anxiety pervade now as they did when we successfully navigated our first ‘hard border’ crossing last summer. There’s something about officialdom. Perhaps it’s the knowing that they can, if the mood takes them, make life difficult for you. No such issues with the Georgian border control, thankfully, where we are bade safe travels and waved on our way.

The contrast between leaving Turkey, a Muslim country, and entering Georgia, an orthodox Christian country, is stark. Within a handful of meters of the border control, and even before you reach the various booths for vehicle insurance, local SIM cards, and currency exchange, sits a casino, which, judging by the steady trickle of people entering at 8 a.m. on a Sunday, is rather popular. Then there are the shops selling every imaginable alcoholic drink known to man. With no desire to gamble or drink, we focus on the essentials: insurance for the motorhome, which is compulsory, and local SIM cards, before merrily setting off into a rather British drizzle.

As we will come to realize over the following weeks, Georgia is a country of contrasts, especially when it comes to its topography. The stretch along the Black Sea coast is subtropical, with dense swathes of lush green trees, huge gargling rivers, and an unexpected humidity that we are not quite prepared for. Thankfully, our first campsite, Dumbo Eco Camp, has a large fan we can use in the motorhome at night, as well as private access to a river that becomes a daily focal point for us.

We quickly fall into a routine of lazy days on the riverbank. Cooling waters and picnics of fresh fruit and lavash, the most delicious bread cooked in brick ovens. A crisp outer edge and soft, chewy centre. Best enjoyed fresh and warm, it will become a staple of our diet over the coming weeks. The contrast of the Adjara region is that if you take any of the mountain roads and head for higher ground, you emerge into a different world, although thankfully still within easy reach of lavash.

Less than twenty kilometres from feeling like we are in a jungle, we find ourselves in alpine meadows surrounded by rolling green hills, wooden houses, and grazing cattle. The Greater Caucasus and high mountain passes we’ve longed to see are calling us to head further east still, but for now, this will do us just fine. Warm, dry days spent hiking and exploring and nights cold enough to put a jumper on. Not too dissimilar to a good day in the Lake District really, just without the 4000-mile journey.