#vanlife movement

[fromrusttoroadtrip]

Lately, if we could sum up our emotions in one word, it would be thankful.⁣

Usually upon returning to the UK after many months of stimulating, enriching travel, with more experiences under our belts than we could put into words, it would be with heavy hearts a deep sense of melancholy.⁣

This time however, we’e feeling relieved to be back on British soil. We’re grateful not to be trapped abroad with no means of supporting ourselves. We’re grateful we have a safe place to stay. And we’re grateful to have found work in these trying times doing something positive for the community.⁣

Our hasty return to the UK was a long and epic tale of border crossings and breakdowns, but that’s a story we will tell in due course.⁣

For now we’re safely tucked away in our little cosy home, living on the bare minimum as always, patching up the rust holes and mending broken parts after another incredible adventure.⁣

Stay safe out there, you guys.⁣

⁣

[We will continue to post photos and stories from our travels until our feed is up to date as we still have a huge backlog 📸]⁣

Tell us: what have you been doing this weekend in isolation to keep yourself occupied? We need some tips!⁣

[fromrusttoroadtrip]

We felt truly privileged to be here, soaking in our second hot spring in just as many days. There were very few in North Macedonia, but we’d managed to sniff them out, and it wasn’t hard when they smelled as pungent as this one.⁣

Along with the sulphurous fumes a noxious gas was spurting from the pipeline that fed the pool; enough to make you light-headed. The water erupted with a deep gurgling sound as the earth spewed hot water at just the perfect temperature for bathing.⁣

We’d camped on the river nearby, watching boys herd their cows across the water and a local man who came to dig up soil and load it into his vintage tractor as the sun went down. We were somewhere in the rural lands of North Macedonia, a landscape interspersed with hills and agricultural land untouched by the mountains that imposed over the rest of the country. We’d taken a series of confusing dirt tracks and arrived at this hidden spot just before sunset, and as the dawn broke through the clouds we were ready and eager for an early morning soak.⁣

Our relaxation was short-lived however; as we left the warmth of the hot springs, not an hour down the road our van came to a sudden stop in a cloud of smoke.⁣

It took us three days, five mechanics and many headaches to figure out what was wrong. It wasn’t a question of our van’s reliability, despite being 18 years old and having done over 150,000 miles; no, what it came down to was 10 litres of dodgy fuel, laced with water from a dodgy garage.⁣

Thankfully we had the help of some extremely kind Macedonian men, who felt so bad that this had happened in their country they didn’t even want paying for the work, not even after one of them siphoned the contaminated fuel out of our tank with his mouth.⁣

Unlike our previous breakdowns, of which there are many, this time we felt in control. This time it wasn’t a case of leaving in the hands of a garage; we understood the problem and we knew what we had to do. But sometimes when you’re stuck out on the road, in a country where you don’t speak the language and every problem can feel overwhelming, all you need is a helping hand and a push to get you going in the right direction again.

[fromrusttoroadtrip]

The Call To Prayer rang out, piercing the hazy yellow sunshine, echoing through the cobbled streets from a dozen separate mosques.⁣⁣

These were the sights and sounds of Prizren, Kosovo’s melting pot of ancient cultures, religions and ethnicities; although Kosovo was still in dispute with Serbia, Prizren appeared as a beacon of tolerance with countless Mosques and Orthodox churches sitting happily side by side.⁣⁣

We’d spent the past few days here and in the nearby city of Gjakova, getting to know the minority communities of Kosovo. We’d met a journalist, an artist, a charity for education, a radio station, a potterer and a group of Muslim dervishes from across the Roma and Balkan Egyptian communities, listening to their stories and their points of view. We were struck by how much support and acceptance there was for minorities here compared to other countries, and although Kosovo was such a young country it seemed to be rapidly progressing forwards.⁣

We began our final day in Prizren with yet another Turkish coffee served in a traditional copper cevzhe before wandering around the Sinan Pasha mosque and the castle. As we walked around we were approached by many people who wanted to know where we came from, and gave us tips about the area. This was the kind of heart-warming reception we’d been given all across the central Balkan countries, a sense of warmth and curiosity that only added to our appreciation of them. Kosovo was quickly rising to the top of our list of favourite places, and a week here wasn’t long enough to even scratch the surface.⁣⁣

With our final day in Kosovo we decided to explore the Šar mountains to the South, incredible snow-capped peaks that rose high out of the ground, painted fiery gold by the setting sun that licked the horizon. We spent a chilly night tucked below the snow line, just off the icy road, before setting out in the direction of the North Macedonian border early the next day with our hearts full to bursting with love for this incredible little country.

[fromrusttoroadtrip]

When we arrived in Albania on an unseasonably warm January day our hearts were fraught with a mixture of emotions: comfort, familiarity, but also a degree of hesitation. We had fond memories of our time in this country, but were they simply painted bright by nostalgia, and would our second visit live up to expectation?⁣

Our answers to these questions came on just our second day here.⁣

We’d spent the day basking in sunshine, washing our van and dipping our bodies into the icy waters of Lake Prespa, and were just beginning to enjoy one of those spectacular Albanian sunsets which painted the mountains the particular shade of purple that was so ingrained into our memories. We went to fire up the engine but our van refused to start; the batteries were too flat, the air too cold. The engine got slower and slower until it had no juice left to give. We were now faced with the prospect of a night here with no power, no heating and no light; we’d seen approximately three cars all day and the light outside was rapidly fading.

Yet somehow, whether by miracle or fate or pure coincidence, a car approached just two minutes later. We waved them down, explained as best we could what had happened, and the man along with all six members of his family came over to help us. We had no jump leads but this didn’t deter him, and in the most Balkan display of ingenuity and problem solving he had our van running in no time by swapping our battery with the one from his car, starting the engine then swapping them back around while it was still running. He even fixed the loose positive terminal with a screw.⁣

Feeling like we’d been a burden we offered him a shot of rakia as a thank you and his face lit up; they then immediately invited us to join them for their son’s birthday party at a nearby restaurant. Instead of spending a cold, dark night in our van we spent the evening drinking, sampling local cuisine, having conversations via Google Translate, eating homemade baklava and birthday cake and toasting each member of the table with a hearty, “𝘎ë𝘻𝘢𝘶𝘳!”⁣

What a welcome back into Albania.

[fromrusttoroadtrip]

“Lucy, it’s snowing outside.”⁣

Like a kid on Christmas morning, those four words are all it took to shake me out of my stupor and have both of us jumping out of bed and pulling our clothes on.⁣

It was an unexpected gift, having parked up late at night after a long cross-country drive and barely getting a glimpse of the view before it was swallowed into inky blackness.⁣

On our first day in North Macedonia this was the last thing we’d expected, but then if constant travel had taught us one thing it was that the best things in life were the unpredictable ones.⁣

We clambered out of our van, once blue but now dusted in white and painted black with the dirt and grime of months on the road, donning our hats and our cameras. It only took a few minutes of excited snapping before our hands were frozen, and we just stood and admired what little of the view the grey snow clouds permitted. Sloping ridges trailing down to the faintest glimmer of lake waters, each ledge fading into a paler shade of grey as they were gradually swallowed by the horizon.⁣

We sat inside and admired the scene outside our windows, hands clasped around coffee cups and heater cranked up full, watching those little flecks of white gather into snowdrifts and feeling eternally grateful for the little surprises that make these moments on the road so memorable.

[fromrusttoroadtrip]

Here we were on this nameless piece of road that was rapidly deteriorating into no more than a track, covered with ice and mud and all the things our concerned friends and family warned us not to drive on, filled with ancitipation.⁣⁣

After spending three days of our very short time in North Macedonia broken down we were itching for an adventure, and an unnamed, unmarked dirt track that meandered roughly in the direction we were heading was just what we were looking for.⁣⁣

The early morning sun shone bright and soft across the snow drifts, melting the patches of ice on the road into a slippery slush. Our van’s tyres crunched on through, sliding from side to side in a fashion that I found terrifying and Ben found exhilarating.⁣⁣

Soon enough we were laughing and cheering in disbelief at our humble van’s capabilities, jumping out to snap photos of the monochrome landscape before us as each bend we rounded brought more impressive views.⁣⁣

Then the tarmac ran out. It was a slushy, muddy descent into the forest down a track that we quickly realised would be impossible to climb back up; our van might’ve handled well on snow but mud was another story. So the only way we could go was onwards, whatever that entailed.⁣⁣

Our SatNav refused to give any indication that this was a route, our phones had no signal, yet this impossible little track wove its way through the pine trees and down the mountainside. For hours we drove, dodging rocks, puddles as deep as our wheels and sharp corners. At some points Ben was inside the van while I navigated him through the deep ravines that water had carved out of the track; one slip and the van would be beached.⁣⁣

We saw no one, not even a 4x4, apart from two men in a tractor-trailer whose eyes bulged as we slid past; had we stopped to talk to them they would’ve probably warned us about what was next.⁣⁣

The arching of the trees was too narrow to accommodate a van of this size so the next few km’s were spent scraping our way through branches that whipped at our faces through the windows and left deep scratches in our paint. At one point Ben had to axe down a tree branch that refused to let us pass.⁣⁣

We could’ve kissed the tarmacked road when it finally reappeared in a tiny abandoned village, our van and our nerves battered and bruised from the drive.⁣⁣

But what an adventure it had been, and what a feeling of adrenaline that courses through our veins and makes us feel alive when we come out the other side.⁣⁣

The only question left was: 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘸?

[fromrusttoroadtrip]

“𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳? 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥, 𝘯𝘰?”⁣⠀

This same question had been posed to us countless times on our journey across the Balkan Peninsula, and for good reason; the Balkan countries were usually covered under a thick layer of snow this time of year. These countries so hot and lush in the summer became rather inhospitable during the winter, and tourists became a rarity.⁣

So many mornings we’d awake to find ice on the insides of our windows, or icicles beneath our van. She would cough and splutter into life as we turned the key, as reluctant to make a start on the cold mornings as we were. But once our van was fuelled up on diesel and us on coffee we were ready to begin the day’s adventure together.⁣

⁣We thought we would see no one atop the snow-covered roads which encircled Mavrovo’s peaks, but our romantic ideology of aloneness was interrupted by an SUV full of men who pulled up beside us as we stopped to take a photo.⁣

“Where are you from?” they asked, and were delighted when we told them. They stared incredulously at our van and the thick snow between its wheels, although we’d wager our six wheels could handle the snow better than their four.⁣

“May we take a photo? We want to take a photo with the English people!”⁣

We were flattered and happily obliged; the people of the Balkans had a way of making you feel welcome here, whether it was through their hospitality or their intrigue, it was nice to feel like one of few and not one of many. Or perhaps they thought we might never be seen again if we drove even deeper into these inhospitable conditions.⁣

They wished us a safe trip and turned back; we waved goodbye and continued on our adventure ever deeper into the snow.

⠀

[fromrusttoroadtrip]

Travel in the Balkans is never a case of where you’re allowed; it’s only a case of how far you’re willing to push your van.⁣

With the wood cabins and lake shores of Mavrovo deserted for the winter we had the realms of the National Park to ourselves, and we were free to take whichever trails piqued our interest and climb as close to the peaks as we dared.⁣

We wound our way through the empty villages, following the road as it began to climb through the forest. Sunlight filtered through the trees and warmed our cheeks through the windscreen; Balkan music crackled across the radio in short bursts until the impenetrable cliffs around us swallowed up the radio waves.⁣

Then there was nothing to listen to but the crunching of ice beneath us as our tyres hit snow. We contemplated turning around at this point, doubtful that the conditions would improve; in fact they only got worse, but we had already committed ourselves to whatever the mountains had in store for us. Often they posed challenges, sometimes insurmountable tasks, but always, always they presented the most indescribable views which could make your breath catch in your throat and your heart stop for just a moment as your eyes try to comprehend what you are seeing.

Beneath us was Mavrovo Lake, impossibly blue, snowless, and encircling us the jagged, angular mountains sloping downward in perfect geometric formation.⁣

We stopped the van, crunched ankle-deep through the snow to the viewing point, and basked in the glorious views.⁣

⁣While we enjoy the thrill of perpetual motion, we also need to remind ourselves to stop once in a while and just be, in order to truly appreciate where we are and how far we’ve come to be here.