Leaving Beirut we were back as two, something we hadn’t experienced since arriving in Istanbul. After Tim had suffered a cracked rim back in Turkey and consequently exploding flat tyres, we decided to head to the capital of Syria to collect a new one which, was supposed to arrive within the week so we could return to Aleppo and collect our bikes.
On the way back out of Lebanon we thought to take a detour, stopping off at the Roman ruins of Baalbek. unfortunately the weather took a turn for the worse and winter was beginning to catch up with us again. Full up on breakfast, we headed out on a training run before planning to hit the Roman temples in the afternoon. People cheered us on, “Run, Run” as we made our way through the surrounding villages but, half way through the heavens opened and with in a matter of five minutes our nice morning jog had turned into a slog through the driving rain. Soaked we jumped into a hot shower before huddling around a small diesel stove which dominated the centre of the room.
Passing on the ruins that afternoon we thought we would try again in the morning but, as Tim opened the doors to our balcony his expression said it all “well its snowed!?!”. The streets now resembled a slush puppy disaster and the sleet and snow kept on driving down. Slightly disappointed we cut our losses and made the decision to head back to Syria but, what was supposed to be an easy 2 hour bus ride turned into a mammoth journey which involved changing vehicles 3 times.
It started in a slightly uncomfortable position in the back of a taxi. Heading towards the border with the already heavy snow beginning to settle as it fell from the swollen grey sky. We began to pass cars which were beginning to get stuck, endlessly spinning there tyre’s in order to gain traction. Suddenly our taxi was in the same position, with all the people inside, now outside pushing it uphill. Eventually the decision came to get out the snow chain’s, great i thought but, not when the guy’s never installed them before. After half an hour he had managed to get one on and we carried on pushing uphill whilst freezing our b******ks off. Just about managing to get to the border the Syrian customs officer’s were slightly more helpful this time and we had our visa’s within minutes ready to head back into the blizzard. Sadly for our taxi and us it was one hill too many and the driver burnt out his clutch.
Flagging down passing vehicles, we crammed into an already overflowing mini-bus as our journey started again to look promising, if a little painful crushed in between seats made for children. The driver this time was in no time for traffic jams but, his impatient tactics would bring his own demise. Driving past a que of static traffic and into fresh snow a foot thick we ground to a halt, in vain he revved his engine but, the wheels were not spinning and yet another clutch fell victim to the conditions.
Quick off the mark to notice this, Tim and i grabbed our bags and flagged down a taxi as the traffic began to move. Finally we felt assured we would make it to the city centre. Cold and wet we really had, had enough. Our luck was in as the other passenger was an Australian who was heading towards the luxury of the four seasons hotel and offered to pay for our trip and the onward fare . The taxi driver had other idea’s, complaining that the money wasn’t enough so, after a five-minute chat with the Police and a dramatic drop in the intended price we arrived in old Damascus (cycling was never this hard!!).
For the first few days the ancient city of Damascus swelled as the snow and rain began to melt, and flow down from rooftops as we walked through pulling up our hoods to avoid the icy water. Waiting for Tim’s new wheel to arrive gave us a few days to relax and take in the atmosphere of the Old spice scented souks and the majestic Umayyad Mosque which is now considered one of the holiest in the world but, was converted from an old church in 705AD. Apart from the minor incident of having my wallet stolen from a pesky pick-pocket our time in Damascus was amazing and we found time in between visiting the sights to pick up our training for the Marathon as well as meeting up with the boys we had met on the border before they flew their separate ways. Even though condition’s for running ie dodging cars, bikes driving up the wrong way, ladies walking far to slowly with bags of shopping and big piles of rubbish all were not ideal we tried our best to clock up the miles.
Annoyingly, Tim’s wheel didn’t arrive in time and with the post office being closed at weekends and our visa’s diminishing one day at a time we jumped on a bus back to Aleppo. Bodging the original rim with good old gaffe tape we intended to make it back to Damascus for Christmas. The road should we say wasnt the most scenic, fumes belched out from old Mercedes trucks as they passed us by and musical horns drowned out even my Ipod.
Arriving in Hama we met up with Sella and Sam, two Australians who were on holiday from working and studying in Qatar. We did a quick tour by mini-bus taking in the ancient caslte of Crac de before continuing our blur like ride on the Highway down to the capital. The last nights camp brought us back to the snow and a clear nights camp under a moonlit sky.
Round two of Damascus and it already felt like home as we were greeted like friends back to our hostel in time for the festive celebrations. A big meal was put on by the owners as the spirit of Christmas flooded the streets of the christian quarter in the old city.
The ancient city of Palmyra was our next port of call. Cast way out in the desert towards Iraq the landscape changed dramatically as we left behind the mountains for flat open plains. Heading there with Bjone and Anna clara who we met in Damascus, our imaginations were put into over-drive as we walked around the spread of columns and arch ways which lined the original main street. Everything was ornately carved with care as it seemed the word impossible was a word no architect wanted to hear. It must have been such an amazing time in history if one could travel back as city’s like Palmyra, Babylon and Memphis all tried in vain to out build each other in grandeur and expense.
It was also time to get serious about our marathon. With only 6 weeks to go we had to put in at least 2 half marathons before the big day, we came up with the plan to do one in Palmyra and the other in Dahab in Egpyt. It was tough as we kept the pace slow but running past the ruins made the perfect backdrop before we headed out along the desert highway.
Returning to Damascus for the third and final time we bid farewell to all our friends and headed towards Jordan stopping off to sample our last piece of Rome in Bosra.
Arriving in Jordan we made a bee-line for the dead sea in search of warm weather and dry clear nights. If deciding to skip Petra due to the mountains and ludicrously high entrance fee, which now stands at over one hundred euros for two people was a huge disappointment to myself, the Jordanian people quickly made me forget the place even existed. It started with our first cup of coffee on our first morning being kindly paid for by a man who owned a garage nearby and was followed by our lunch with a larger than life character who went by the name Niefe. Stopping in his car and calling us to his house his family produced one of the best meals of our trip so far. The dish consisted of a huge plate of “mansiff” (chicken and rice with a yogurt and buttery sauce) out of this world!!. This was on our first full day but throughout our stay in Jordan we were offered tea from police, a free coke with our food shopping and yet more tea and warm homes to sit in to keep us out of the cold and wet weather which swept the north of the country.
Arriving at the dead sea we descended out of the mountains and left behind a wet new years eve for warm dry air. Camping among the big hotel chains, for free of course, we were later joined by a group of local men who pulled up in a car. It wasnt long till we were invited to join in their evening of tea and shisha pipe whilst they baked potatoes on the remaining hot coals. A quick dip or a “float” in the morning and we were off towards Egypt and the Red sea through the desert along highway 65. Ahh the desert i love it!! clean, warm, dry and quite. The cycling too takes on a meditative state as the km’s blend and the only concern is whether you should stop for yet another tea or coffee at the next police check post or truck stop and of course a quick check on water levels.
Upon reaching Aqaba after a night’s camp just outside the city which, saw us kindly moved on by the army our plan was to take the ferry to Egypt after collecting our visas on the same day.
The wait took longer as always and the morning had soon passed as the processe of stamps took control and we missed the afternoon boat. Slightly annoyed at having to stay overnight one thing which Aqaba did do well was food!!! something Tim and I would like to say we are pretty good at consuming. Big plates of Hummos with bread and again Manssif all demolished in a matter of minutes.
The following morning we made our way to the ferry port six km down the coast. Paying our departure tax ect we sat waiting drinking numerous cups of tea and coffee, trying in vain to spend the last of Jordanian Dinars.
Four hours on the ferry and our wheels rolled off into Egypt and Africa. A new country is always great and as Egypt had been our first big destination i felt a great deal of excitement. It was also my Birthday in a few days so upon reading our guide-book the town of Dahab seemed the perfect place to relax, well relax and try to fit in our last half marathon in preparation for Luxor.
Tomorrow we leave for Cairo, heading around the Sinai coast, trying our best to avoid the big resorts whilst hoping to fit in as much beach camping as possible.
