We’ve made it!!  Colin and I cycled into the centre of Aleppo on Friday and are thrilled to finally reach our destination. It’s been 192 days since we left northern Scotland, rowing and cycling over 7,000 km through twelve countries all the way to my father’s birth place in Aleppo, Syria.  

The contrast between Colin’s and my ancestral homelands couldn’t be more pronounced.  In Aleppo’s outskirts the earth is dry and cracked with only hardy olive trees offering respite.  Beige stone homes blend into similarly coloured surroundings, their design essential for reflecting heat and protecting people from the sun’s intensity.  The expedition’s terminus is a different world to the snow, rain, gales and rolling fields of heather we encountered at the start in Caithness, Scotland where Colin’s family is from.

 Aleppo is a bustling city of 3.7 million.  The crowded streets are honking smoky chaos, overwhelming for visitors on bicycles.  Invariably, whenever we paused to consult our nearly useless map someone would stop to point us in the right direction - often accompanied with an invitation to join their family for dinner.  Although we had to decline these offers, I was pleased to see that the people of my homeland continued the tradition of generosity that we had experienced in neighbouring Turkey. It is especially delightful to share homecooked meals now during the month of Ramadan when Muslims fast from sunrise to sunset. The meal they break their fast with, dinner, is often a special event with dishes such as kebabs, humus, salads and roasted eggplant.

Soon I’ll visit my aunt, uncle, and cousins who live in Aleppo, many of whom I haven’t seen for more than two decades  (or haven’t met at all). It’s a surreal experience to be here, immersed in a culture that is part of my heritage but so different from my home and upbringing in Canada. And it is just as meaningful to have experienced the  ménage of cultures and landscapes that connect and unite two disparate lands, Scotland and Syria; two random places in the world, but for Colin and I these distinct cultures form the foundation of our new family.

As this expedition draws to a close we’ve been reminiscing about all the places we’ve been and people we’ve met, and have collected some of our favourite photos that span the last 7 month to share those memories with you.  Please click here to see the slideshow. 

We hope that you’ve enjoyed travelling with us and thank you for all your supportive e-mails throughout the trip.  - Julie

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We have been making steady progress through Turkey on our bicycles.  The roads are busy and wend through mountain valleys and over high passes, but the scenery makes it all worthwhile.  We have travelled almost 700 km since leaving Istanbul one week ago.  In that time we have traversed mountains, plateaus, a great salt lake and, of course, busy cities including Turkey’s capital, Ankara.

We are currently in the city of Aksaray and have only 500 km to travel before reaching Julie’s ancestral homeland of Aleppo, Syria.

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Well, not us, exactly, but we were marooned on the desolate Turkish coast for a few days waiting out adverse weather.  A few hundred metres from our campsite lay the wreck of a cargo ship which had succumbed to the forces of the Black Sea just a few years earlier.  Even our camping spot was tentative, and we twice moved the tent to avoid waves clawing up the beach.

Our period of relative inactivity waiting out the storm was a stark contrast to the difficulties of crossing the Turkish border from Bulgaria a few days earlier.  After conversations with numerous parties including the Canadian Embassy in Turkey, Turkish Embassies in Bulgaria and Canada, and the Bulgarian border police, a solution was finally reached allowing us to pass from Bulgaria to Turkey with our rowboats.  A big thanks goes to Vladimir and Dessie, two locals we met who helped us immensely with the process.

As usual, our crossing of the border offered an immediate change in culture, architecture, and, somewhat coincidentally, geography.  In Bulgaria the shoreline was mainly sandy beaches interspersed with occasional rocky headlands and cliffs.  In Turkey intimidating rock walls predominated over the beaches, a danger not to be taken lightly.  In small villages we sampled the local cuisine, and were excited to note the exotic Middle Eastern influences. Kafta is the local specialty here, small beef patties grilled over an open flame and served with tomatoes, onion and bread.  Surprisingly the popular drink isn’t Turkish coffee, but strong tea served in small glasses. 

In rural Turkey we found the people to be extraordinarily friendly, generous and always ready to lend a hand if necessary.  We’ve been treated to dinners, teas, fruit, sweets and so much more.

Now we are in Istanbul, a metropolis of 12 million that was once called Paris of the East and is crowded with breathtaking domes and minarets dating back to Byzantine and Ottoman Empires.  We will spend a week to prepare our boats to be shipped back to Canada and apply for our Syrian visas.

Our voyage along the Black Sea coast in our boats is the final aquatic leg in our journey from Scotland to Syria.  We have opted to cycle the last leg to Aleppo instead of voyaging the Mediterranean Coast.  This will ensure we get back to Canada in time for my October book tour for Rowboat in a Hurricane and also allow us to explore some of the inland treasures Turkey has to offer. 

- Julie

Click here to see photos from the Turkish Black Sea coast and Istanbul. 

Read more about our adventures with a beach umbrella in the National Post and about border woes in the LA Times.

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We have reached the Bulgarian seaside town of Tsarevo, 25 km from the Turkish border. It has been a challenging week rowing almost 200 km along the dramatic coast of Bulgaria. The shores are composed of jutting capes and rocky headlands with beige fine-sand beaches tucked in between. Many of the beaches are lined with holiday resorts carpeted with umbrellas and sizzling bodies, while others, where there is no road access, are lonely wild places.

It has been important to pay close attention to the weather and to have back-up plans in case of equipment failure. In some areas cliffs and exploding waves stretch in an unbroken line for many km. The remains of broken ships remind us of the power of the Black Sea. The town we are currently, Tsarevo, has lost five swimmers in the past two weeks due to strong currents and powerful waves.

Camping has been much easier than in Romania, and we are usually able to drag our boats onto a secluded beach to set up the tent. Crystal clear waters are ideal for refreshing dips at the end of sweaty days behind the oars.

In total, since reaching the Black Sea we have voyaged almost 270 km along the coast. From here we have approximately 170 km until reaching Istanbul in the Bosporus Strait (the channel connecting the Black Sea with the Mediterranean). We are still working on the tricky logistics of entering Turkey by rowboat.

We will do our best to post an update from Turkey next week, but there is a possibility we will not have the means until reaching Istanbul (in about two weeks).

- Colin

PS.  You can read more about our adventures rowing the Danube river in the L.A. Times Travel Online and about misadventures with a G-string celebrating our first anniversary in a Bulgarian spa in the National Post Ampersand.

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We rolled our boats down the rutted sand road towards the Black Sea, desperately dodging Romanian tourists who flocked to Eforie Nord in unimaginable numbers. Curling waves washed against the beach 100 metres away when the gunshot sounded. Shrieks filled the air, and staff from the nearby kiosks came out to investigate. It turned out to be Colin’s trailer tire exploding – a final indignant retort to the weeks of torture we had put it through. This didn’t matter though, for we would be on the water from here all the way to Istanbul. Or so we thought.

The Black Sea is an enormous body of water, several hundred km across. Consistent winds create an ocean-like swell, and we would be encountering conditions similar to the West Coast of Vancouver Island in the summer. The shoreline itself alternates between sandy beaches, cliffs and rocky headlands. Today the winds were perfect, a mild breeze from the northeast creating two foot waves, which our boats could handle easily. We launched our vessels quickly through the surf break and began pulling long strokes towards Istanbul 400 km distant. Except for a few speed boats and jet skis, we had the sea to ourselves, a stark contrast to the overcrowded beaches. Purple-rimmed jelly fish crowded the waters beneath us and hissing swells broke over occasional offshore reefs.

Our main concern was how we would camp. Any areas safe for beaching the boats were also prime resort destinations crowded with Romanian tourists. These regions are liberally adorned with no-camping signs and security guards to enforce the rules. An obvious solution would be to catamaran the boats, anchor them and sleep on the water. The catamaran platform, however, is designed to use two poles from our trailers, and unfortunately one of our trailers had been stolen in France. Luckily, we had been able to find a large beach umbrella with a pole approximately the right size.

We camped comfortably the first night in a small sheltered bay, and our plan worked well. A large rock was used as an anchor, and we placed an air mattress over the catamaran platform for a comfortable bed. Apart from a slight fear the pole from the umbrella might collapse under our weight, it was a peaceful night.

Our excitement of departing Romania for Bulgaria was short lived. Upon reaching the border we were stopped by guards who informed us we could not cross the frontier by boat. Instead we would have to haul our boats overland on the road. The blown tire was fixed with duct tape and a pop bottle and we finally pulled our boats into Bulgaria.

Within one hour of arriving in Bulgaria a family invited us in for lunch and gave us a tire. They wouldn’t accept a penny in exchange. As we continued back towards the sea people gave us friendly waves, and one fellow, a photographer, gave us a beautiful coffee table book of the region.

We are currently in Kovarna, Bulgaria and expect to reach Turkey in a week. Unfortunately, the Turkish border crossing is looking very challenging. The authorities have informed us that we cannot enter Turkey by water, and there are no roads paralleling the coast at the Turkish/Bulgarian border. We will continue working on a solution.

- Julie

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We’ve been working hard for the past few weeks, and our efforts have finally brought us to the shores of the Black Sea. Perhaps the toughest part of the expedition so far, began only 60 km from the sparkling waters of this inland sea. Instead of rowing on the Danube to its terminus, we opted to follow the “Canal of Death”, a sixty-km waterway built with slave labour and costing a staggering 100,000 lives (almost 2 people per metre).

In the town of Cerdavoda, Romania we bade goodbye to the mighty Danube and turned into the harbour leading to the canal. We were not allowed to row in the canal, so opted to cycle (pulling our boats) on the track that paralleled the waterway. As we readied our boats for land travel, a poodle-sized rat scurried brazenly around our boats. Local residents, enduring an economy ranked as one of Europe’s worst, fished beside the outfall of the nuclear power plant for their dinner. Children pressed around begging for money, and packs of vicious stray dogs only granted passage if we brandished watermelon-sized rocks.

If we’d know what was ahead, we probably would have continued on the Danube to its delta. Instead, though, we pedalled through a dusty no-man’s land of empty scrub beside the canal. It soon became apparent why human-powered craft weren’t allowed on these waters. The channel is a death-trap with sheer concrete walls rising eight feet out of the water with no ladders or stairs. Exiting the water would be impossible once underway. People or animals unfortunate enough to tumble off the edge edge would be required to swim for tens of kilometres to save themselves.

Fortunately, we weren’t in the canal, but the difficulties on the track weren’t much better. Bogs, ponds, collapsed bridges, boulders, and blazing heat made passage all but impossible. Our equipment is tired, and we did our best to massage shredding tires and rusted components to complete this final land leg. We spent two nights camped aside the canal and they were a time of sleeplessness, where we took shifts guarding the tent (heavy pipe from the trailer in hand) from wild dogs, and anything else our imaginations could conjure up.

Even reaching the Black Sea was an anticlimax, as the canal led into a huge industrial loading port and the entire region was barricaded with barbed wire. In order to skirt the loading cranes, factories and giant docks, it was necessary to pull our boats along a congested freeway to the town of Eforie Nord, a holiday town on the Black Sea. At last we reached the golden beaches! The water and beaches are beautiful, but the throngs are beyond belief. It seems all of Romania has come to this tiny seaside village, and it is hard to see the sand for the people.

We are excited, however to launch our boats on this crowded beach and head along the coast of Bulgaria and Turkey. Ahead lies a convoluted coastline of cliffs, promontories and beaches and despite the challenges of travelling through Romania, rewards have come through chance encounters with kind strangers and experiencing the beauty of sandy beaches on the Danube and now the Black Sea.

See our slide show from Bulgaria and Romania here.

- Colin

Ps. We’re sorry we weren’t able to post an update last week from Bulgaria.  It was a great country to travel through with the most amazing grilled meat dishes.

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Much of this week has been spent voyaging the Iron Gates Gorge, one of the most dramatic parts of the Danube River.  Sheer limestone cliffs drop 2000 ft to the river’s edge, as the Danube follows a sinuous route through the Carpathian Mountains.  Historically this was a dangerous part of the river with fast chutes, rapids, and jagged shoals.  Now it has been tamed by the Iron Gates Dam, which has raised water levels giving the river a lake-like temperament. 

The area is steeped in history and recently Europe’s oldest agricultural village (8000 years) has been discovered near the banks.  As Julie and I rowed between towering cliffs we saw plenty of evidence of the region’s active past.  A 2000-year-old tablet, inscribed by the Romans, was placed at the base of a cliff marking the beginning of a road they created through the canyon.  An archaeological dig came to the river’s banks, and hundreds of caves in the limestone were home to Europe’s first inhabitants. Castles were numerous – perched on cliff tops, or semi-submerged in waters raised by the dam.  We felt we were passing through a great outdoor museum constructed of limestone and water.

After reaching the end of the canyon we traversed the giant Iron Gates Dam through a double lock system, sharing the great chambers with a cargo barge and a cruise ship.  We are now in the lower Danube region with Romania on the left bank and Serbia on the right.  In two days we will reach Bulgaria.

Click here to see our slideshow from this week.

- Colin

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From Slovakia to Serbia, through Hungary and Croatia, this last week has been a whirlwind of new experiences as the Danube led us through four countries.  We left Komarno, Slovakia somewhat hesitantly, reluctant to leave the thermal spa across from our Soviet-style “sport hotel” and the abundance of cafes and ice cream shops that proliferate in the charming city centre.  But within hours we rowed into Hungary, a country that embraces the Danube more than any we’ve seen so far.   The river churns with activity—kayaks, canoes, rowing shells—while the beaches are crowded with bikini and speedo-clad bodies playing volleyball, splashing in the warm waters, and simply enjoying sand so fine it looks more like a Caribbean Island than the shores of Europe’s largest (by volume) river.

Every night we camp on one of these sandy beaches, quite often on a tiny island isolated from the beach goers, although the occasional fisherman stops by.  It’s warm and idyllic, even if sand does work its way into our dinner, sleeping bags, and just about every nook and cranny. 

On our third day out of Slovakia we rowed through Budapest, which rivals London as the most stunning metropolis we’ve rowed through, with turreted buildings crowding the shore and an abundance of bridges connecting Buda with Pest.  Just like London has the Tower Bridge eclipsing the neighbouring spans in beauty, Budapest has the Széchenyi Chain Bridge built in the 1800s of stone, cable and cast iron to enchant those passing near.

From Budapest it didn’t take long until we reached the Hungarian border and we were staring at the shores of Serbia to our left and Croatia to our right.  Wooden, flat bottomed fishing boats replaced kayaks and canoes, and small fish camps sat on the beaches instead of sunbathers.  But besides that, the landscape was unchanging – endless forests of poplar trees dotted with white beaches. 

We’ve now reached the Serbian town of Novi Sad in the middle of Serbia which is home to Europe’s biggest music festival, EXIT.  Next week we will be passing through the infamous Iron Gates Gorge between Serbia and Romania.  Finding internet connections to post our weekly updates has been increasingly difficult, so if you don’t hear from us next week, don’t worry.

Click here to see our slide show from the week.

- Julie

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(Komarno, Slovakia)

Progress has been steady this week, and we have continued rowing and cycling through Austria and into Slovakia. Although no official border exists between these countries, there is no mistaking that a line has been crossed.

Austria’s weedless farmer’s fields, pruned trees, freshly painted homes, and grass that looks like it’s been mowed by a military barber suddenly transformed to weedy overgrown verges, cracked pavement and large apartment blocks of crumbling concrete. Almost fifty years of Soviet rule has left Slovakia with a battered economy, and some rather dismal architecture.

The good news, however, is the country is rapidly going through a state of transition as the European Community’s latest addition. Slovakia’s assets – friendly outdoorsy people, pre-Soviet architecture, and good food – come shining through and we have enjoyed our time in this former Eastern-Bloc country. All around construction is taking place with stylish new buildings being erected and roads re-finished as EU development funds facilitate a national makeover.

Julie and I have been travelling on both the river in our boats and along the adjacent bike paths giving us a well-rounded perspective of farmland, villages, lowland forests, and shipping along the widening Danube. Next week we will be travelling through Hungary. Bike paths have come to an end, so we will be exclusively on the river all the way to the Black Sea.

See cliff-side castles on the Austrian Danube and the charm of Slovakia in this week’s slide show.

- Colin

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The Danube isn’t really blue at all, as Johann Strauss’ famous “Blue Danube Waltz” would have us believe, instead it is a milky brown like most great rivers. It is wide and fast-flowing, and gushes across Europe all the way to the Black Sea. In fact, it is the only major river that cuts eastwards across this continent, and is historically an important transportation corridor. Now barges continue to ply its waters but conveniently for us, they are much less numerous than on the Rhine River.

We launched our boats in Regensburg, beside an impressive stone bridge that was once the only fortified bridge to cross the Danube. Church spires and onion domes faded into the distance as we rowed away from medieval architecture and into forests and farmland. The weather was delightfully hot and according to the barometer on our Suunto watches we knew it wasn’t about to change anytime soon. As dusk approached we pulled our boats over the boulder-lined river’s edge and onto a secluded grassy bank. A white distance marker was situated near the edge indicating it was 2369 kilometres to the Black Sea. It was a beautiful spot, but sadly others had discovered this place and left it less than pristine. The ground was scarred with a fire pit and trash overflowed its perimeter. But the view across the river was still awe-inspiring. A small town sat on the other side and the evening sun set its church spires ablaze, fish jumped nearby sending ripples across the water, and storks flapped awkwardly overhead.

In the morning we discovered that our ideal camping spot was also a fishing hotspot. It was only 6 am but we already had company. A man in his 50s sat on a collapsible chair a few metres away, his fishing rod propped up and dangling in the river. He cast sullen looks towards us and responded to my “Hallo” with silence. As soon as we pushed off from shore, he shifted his chair to the spot we had just vacated and continued fishing with a dour look.

We have come to realize that many of the fishermen on the canals and rivers of Europe are a very different sort to the rest of the people we meet. They are remarkably unfriendly, coughing or grumbling as we row near them, worried that our creaking oars are scaring the fish or their line may be compromised by our boats but never retracting their monofilament an inch. They fish just as frequently in waters lined with factories belching malodorous waste or dripping with bloated rodent corpses as they do in more inviting settings. And most of them never catch anything. On this trip we have seen hundreds of fishermen but only one hooked fish.

Three days after launching in Regensburg we reached the edge of Germany and the border town of Passau. Three rivers converge here and the Inn and Ilz pour water into the Danube, more than doubling its volume. This was a special place for Colin and me. On our last expedition we had cycled through Passau, and now we rowed under the very bridge we crossed almost three years earlier. Passau has to be the most beautiful city on the Danube. It is crowded with church spires, majestic domes, and the type of medieval architecture that takes fortunes to build. Being in a boat has many advantages and that night we were able to camp on a small sandy island providing the best view of the city.

We are now in Enns (just past Linz), the oldest city in Austria. From here we’ll continue on the Danube, making our way through Austria and into Hungary.

Click here to see this week’s slide show of Germany and Austria.

- Julie

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