Sue Davidson, who with her husband Julian set up the Valdete Trust to help disabled young people in Albania, set off for Tirana last week in the minibus they have bought, towing a large box-trailer packed with wheelchairs and medical equipment. Sue’s friend, Pat Ferguson, went with her. Both of them grandmothers, they had worked together at Montrose House, often on night duty, so they were used to coping with emergencies, but the journey ahead of them turned out to demand all their stamina. Here is Sue’s letter from Tirana, after a 1700-mile drive that was not quite what they had expected.
Our overnight crossing from Hull was good, though the vibration of the engines disturbed our slumber. We arrived in Rotterdam somewhat jaded but Pat and I are used to sleep deprivation, so we carried on regardless. I have to say I didn’t really enjoy driving in the Rotterdam rush hour traffic with Pat trying to direct me - it’s not easy to make sudden turns when you are 8 metres long. It was good to be on the road for Cologne. A word of advice for European travellers, though - don’t leave the motorway for comfort breaks. It took us about an hour to find our way back onto the autobahn. From Cologne, we headed to Frankfurt, Regensburg and then Passau, our first night stop.
I’d booked a good hotel that had everything we needed, like free Wi-Fi and a place to park our bus and trailer, but we were very weary when we arrived there, after 11 pm that night. It had taken us longer than we thought but we were almost on the Austrian border so we knew we’d made a good start with 899 miles of our journey behind us.
We had a shock the next morning when we found our battery flat because, being so tired, we hadn’t closed the door properly so the inside light had been on overnight. This was not a problem as we had jump leads and only needed another car to start us up. None of the staff would let us use their car for this purpose, but they rang a few garages. One said they’d be there at 2pm, which was no good to us. This was only 10 am and we needed to be on our way. The engineer who turned up was very helpful, even escorting us to the autobahn. So off we went again, feeling quite euphoric as the weather just got hotter and hotter. Having a few days of constant sun was a novelty to us after a British summer.
Austria and Slovenia were beautiful, with good roads winding through mountains. We were heading for Opuzen, a town in Croatia not far north of Dubrovnik, and everything seemed fine. Until we reached the Croatian border. We were horrified to find that because of the physiotherapy equipment and disability aids we were carrying, we had to have transit papers, even though we told them it was humanitarian aid. We were directed to a block of mobile offices where five agencies were dealing with this documentation. They asked for a 2000 euro deposit and 200 euros for the transit papers. I don’t know why I asked if we’d get a receipt but when the answer was negative we realised this was in fact probably illegal. In countries where the government is corrupt, these things happen. The customs officer told us it was a private arrangement with the agent and unless we had this document he could not let us cross into Croatia. We seemed to have reached an impasse but I was determined not to abet corruption, so we went off back to the bus.
When I came back, the agent had changed his mind. He said he’d give us the necessary documents for 90 euros and we’d have a receipt for this amount. We weren’t exactly happy, but at least it was legal (probably). Having paid the fee we were soon on our way. The dispute had taken two and a half hours, so it was obvious we weren’t going to reach our destination that night. As it was getting dark we stayed in a motel near Zagreb and headed south in the morning.
Everything was going well until - guess what? Another border and another battle. The border authorities at Montenegro did not demand a bribe, but said we needed transit papers. This time the fee was 80 euros. Efficiency is not their forte, so this took two hours to deal with. We knew we only had about 180 miles left to reach our destination but it was getting late. Knowing what the roads are like near the border, I didn’t want to begin driving in Albania while tired and in darkness. We found a cheap motel that was clean and comfortable and felt quite happy, expecting to be in Tirana by about three the next afternoon. Little did we know!
The next morning brought a terrible storm. As we drove to the Albanian border, roads were inundated and fire engines were dealing with flooded houses. At times, water was cascading down from the hills like a river. In a car we might well have been stuck, but the large, heavy vehicle was an advantage. We needed cash to pay for a small ferry from Kotor. Sounds simple, but it wasn’t. Stranded vehicles had been left in the flooded square where the bank was and there seemed no way through. While Pat waded through 4 inches of water to the bank, I managed to turn the bus around with about an inch to spare. Traffic was chaotic because of the storm and it took us ages to get out of that town and onto the ferry. I’d told Pat to expect a lovely journey, but this time, it wasn’t.
As we neared the Albanian border, thunder was still rumbling, the sky was streaked with lightning and the rain was torrential, but it became hotter and hotter. We reached the border in blue sky and sunshine, feeling quite pleased with ourselves for weathering all the storms and difficulties. The border guard asked what we were doing, and when we told him, he was delighted. They wanted us to weigh the bus, even though we had all our weights written down to show them, we complied - and were asked to pay just 2 euros. When we asked if that was all, the official seemed to understand. With a broad smile, he told us nothing else was needed.
Almost at the end of a long journey and no problem at the border - we were ecstatic!. But after about 10 miles when the police stopped us. ‘Dogane,’ he said. ‘Wait here’. We thought it was quite funny, being arrested after only half an hour in Albania, but 4½ hours later we were still there and less amused. Thankfully, I had an Albanian sim card so was able to phone friends to help us. Albanian conversations went on around us, most of which we didn’t understand, but at last they decided we could go report to the Dogane (customs) in Tirana the next day.
By this time it was dark and the storm from Montenegro had caught up with us. We drove to Tirana on terrible roads, trying to avoid potholes in the pouring rain, but at least the flashes of lightning improved visibility. Our Albanian friends were concerned about us and kept ringing to check our progress. It was a relief to everyone when we arrived at our apartment just after 11 pm.
We knew that unexpected things can happen on a journey like that, but it’s just as well we had no idea what we’d have to go through. I chose the right companion, who was stoic and good-humoured, always managing to find something in our mishaps that we could laugh at.
Would we do it again? Well, not this year! But this is not the end of the adventure, just the beginning. Watch out for the next episode!