Once bitten, twice shy. Right?
You may remember a somewhat controversial adventure I ‘enjoyed’ back in 2019 in the Audi R8. It’s a strangely conflicting memory. As I swore to never drive through those countries again, I can’t help but feel the main emotions of the journey were of wonderment and joy, not least the incredible memory of the Transfagarasan Highway – a once in a lifetime experience.
This time, things will be different though. This time….
What were the differences exactly? Well, most notably, this time I’m taking my recently acquired C8 Audi RS6. An obviously more sensible choice, but it’s a means to an end with my ultimate goal being to surprise my girls who are already out in Turkey mid-vacation. The one other difference is to obviously, and I mean obviously in every accent possible, to avoid not only Bulgaria, but Eastern Europe in general. And thank god for options.
The trip started with a channel tunnel crossing on what is the hottest week on record in the UK and it’s basically mayhem. Trains are cancelled, there are queues of HGV haulers up the M20 miles deep and Folkestone is an ugly mess of British incompetence. Every other train is cancelled for a multitude of reasons but after sharing a whole bunch of drinks with the crossing staff (I only managed to get on courtesy of an expensive Flexipass ticket) I was told how absurd the situation was. Tales of melted train doors, train tracks that had warped and electrical components fuzed, I was grateful to be on a train, ferried on before 100’s of onlookers with standard tickets who clearly were in for a long, frustrating, hot day.
Leaving the arid, humid, stale environment of the train (no air con was working nor were we allowed to use our car’s air-con with an external temperature of 40 deg +), I was grateful to be on the move with dual zone climate control cooling my ambient temperature and the awesome seating fans keeping my body cool on this journey, a feature that practically remained switched on for the entire trip.
With my ultimate goal being to get to Izmir, Turkey in the shortest amount of time possible, I planned a journey that would conclude that, whilst also accommodating a ferry crossing from Italy to Greece, allowing me to avoid the aforementioned chaos of Eastern Europe and more importantly, Bulgarian border guards. With Milan being the point representing equidistance between Calais and the ferry terminal in Ancona, I made my way across boring France, routes consisting of largely dual lane autoroutes and obnoxiously unaware motorists, into the north eastern regions where the spectacular vistas of Switzerland and northern Italy started to form. It isn’t, however, until my return leg with the benefit of daylight do I get to to enjoy the views as the dark in this region is black out dark.
It’s not until I venture into Italian roads that I start to really appreciate the breadth of the RS6. I’ve not had a vocal V8 that sounds like a V8 in a very long time. My 720s as immense as it is, is a little leftfield in the way it sounds. I’m not sure how exactly, but the RS6 does engineer some exhaust sound back into the cabin. It’s something I’ve noticed en route, but finally having some roads carved through mountains, the side walls were enough to reinforce the wonderful V8 and echo it across the close region in a way that was deeply satisfying.
There are a multitude of modes in the car. Efficiency, Comfort, Auto and Dynamic with the latter engaging full sound mode. There are also RS modes which allow you to tailor all the individual settings to suit the driver, but the dynamic mode dumps the suspension, stiffens the ride, improves throttle response and makes the car way louder and out here, navigating the tight, small roads between Switzerland and Italy it was here I realised I had picked the perfect car for my adventure.
One thing the car does punish you for is throttle usage. The fuel economy on this hearse is phenomenology bad with single figures often a normality, even when you think you’re being frugal. I know efficiency mode does cut cylinders or something so most of my city driving is done with this in mind, but it has a relatively small tank too with 70 litres to play with so fuel stops are a common activity. Doing this in Europe late at night can be a challenge with most stations closed with self serve, club card access only.
Autoroutes in Italy are goddamn hilarious with a popular activity being ‘keeping up with emergency vehicles’. The final 150 miles consisting of my very first cannonball run with a BMW 5 series and a E class Merc on Italian plates hooked on at 150mph chasing an ambulance almost the entire way. It was an exhilarating introduction into the Audi’s high speed temperament on practically empty Italian autostrada deep into the late of night. On dynamic mode, the car feels absolutely sucked onto the fast tarmac, deep three figures on speedo giving a somewhat eerie vibe into the night that was matched perfectly to a synthwave soundtrack pumping the fantastic B&O system, although it has to be said the audio was not as good as the R8’s. The lowered ride giving confidence on high speed bends and 600BHP enough to obliterate all but the mightiest of supercars.
After an hour later and the two companion Italians pull off into the dead of night into a service station, no doubt for an espresso and a slice, such is the incredible culture of Italian service stations. Shortly after, Autostade becomes A-road, becomes city high roads. Milan is a curious place – I’ve been once before by car and not much has changed. Even at 2am, the roads are active with mopeds carrying incredibly stylish men and women, many pulled aside in front of bars and cafes and the regular buzz of industrial activity abated in favour of a demographic of people obsessed with looking great and partying just as well. I love this country beyond words.
With the three lines of the autostrada stretched out before me, the RS6 is truly in its element. The ultrawide illumination of the RS6’s magical headlights made the experience all the more breathtaking. The Matrix headlights doing some unknown witchcraft in the way it isolates oncoming cars, and shines high beam around them, rather than directly at them. It makes for more focused driving, allowing you to leave your main beams on without worrying about blinding oncoming traffic.
I pull into the Delle Nazioni Milan Hotel late into the morning only to find the car park that was listed on their website is in fact an underground maze of pillars more suited to bikes than one of the longest cars in the world. 360deg cameras, rear-wheel steering and all round parking sensors makes it somewhat easier to navigate the tight spaces. The albanian hotel concierge doing his best to make me feel uneasy as I eventually turn my engine off to the loud response of a beating heart (kinda cool feature Audi performance cars do), the smell of the car from the outside comforting in the same way one may smell a racehorse after an event. Sleep, as always, does not come quickly having spent the best part of 14h behind the wheel.
I wake up to an incredibly beautiful day, with Europe at equal odds to the heatwave and although I have a very specific time to be at the port of Ancona for a 13.30 ferry crossing, I appear to be making fantastic time and the journey down the spine of Italy is enjoyable as it is uneventful. I take advantage of a multitude of coffee stops at the simply amazing boutique service stations and if you’ve never done this, it’s worth driving to Italy alone. The coffee is always fantastic with a large volume of baristas pumping out espresso after espresso as motorists take advantage of the delicatessens and bakeries that so often grace these locales with genuinely top tier food and drink.
The RS6 up until now is proving to be absolutely fantastic. It’s incredibly well put together and the seats are brilliant in providing just the right amount of support v comfort over the past 1000 miles. The panoramic sunroof is doing a great job of letting great light in and giving access to open air without the windows causing the turbulence at high speed. Of course, I need to tie my suitcase down because crazy at it sounds, it is being thrown around in the huge, cavernous, black hole of a boot that will show it’s true worth later.
It’s about now I’m starting to feel nervous. As I approach the port of Ancona, the massive industrial complex of the area makes its purpose well known and the sight of sea fills me with immense comfort and dread in perversely equal measure. You see, on one hand I’ve made it pretty much bang on time. On the other, I’m starting to remember the multiple pages of reviews I’ve read of the ANEK Italy – Greece service and let me tell you, it don’t make for great reading! With most people complaining about insane delays with people being stuck either in transit or abroad for hours, or poor customer service and terrible on board experiences, I joined the huge car park of cars ready to board. Also, I’ve done the Bulgarian border guards thing – surely it can’t be worse than that. Can it??
Well I can certainly say it’s an experience indeed. One word to describe the embarking and disembarking is chaos. But, as will be illustrated later in this story again, chaos in nature can often be the order of things. Attendees shouting and screaming, cars desperately trying to get in front of each other it was a period of genuine madness. However, despite the absurdity in the lack of due process, I was incredibly surprised to find everyone parked up in the guts of the gigantic ship in very short time indeed. In no less than 15 to 20 minutes almost everyone was already on board.
The ship allows camper vans to contain passengers and they can sleep in the vans on the overnight, 16 hour trek. However, everyone else is prohibited from remaining at their cars and they have to stay in one of four places.
- A pre-booked cabin for yourself that includes an en suite (very expensive).
- A shared cabin with strangers.
- A single airplane style seat in a dark room of 100 seats, not unlike a cinema.
- Anywhere you can grab a space and park up a sleeping bag.
I had a cabin all to myself because I didn’t fancy being murdered in my sleep. The cabin itself was spacious enough, but the toilets were up the brink and the entire ship appeared to be managed by a single handyman who was running around like a headless chicken with a coat hanger unplugging 100’s toilets across the ferry, I had the pleasure of sleeping with the smell of sewage that had crept out from under my toilet and chose instead to only use the shower in the next morning.
That night I satiated myself with only foods that were sealed from factory. Crisps, chocolates and biscuits. I daren’t touch the canteen food, not least because I have a bit of a phobia about eating food cooked on a ship in a contained environment with no exit for 16 hours.
Despite the above, it was a beautiful journey across calm waters with an incredible view of the Adriatic Sea. I enjoyed the period of rest, grabbing a seat on the bow of the ship, enjoying the cool breeze in 35 deg heat as I read a book, listened to some music and relaxed. It’s important to distance yourself from most other people on the ship as it can resemble a zoo. You quite often find people camping out under staircases, behind doors and even by the party pool on the roof with the bar. Bizarre, but I’m no one to judge.
I woke up at near 6am to the banging of doors and ringing of doorbells as the crew did their best to rally the passengers to attention. With the ship slowly arriving at Igoumenitsa, it began the slow process of handbrake turning itself 180 degrees to eject all the cars from its rear. I walked back to my car not without a little trepidation (the cars were jam packed and I had a nightmare about someone forgetting to put their handbrake on), but after navigating amongst some incredibly tightly packed trucks that made walking through vehicles both frighteningly hazardous and somewhat challenging, I was giddy to see my car immaculately parked up ready to go and, after another 15-20 minutes of being screamed at by engineers, navigators and workers, we were, at last, out on the grand road in Greece.
I’m now in the heart of the Mediterranean and there’s no mistaking the majesty of the region. I’m thrown into emotional turmoil as the Greek roads carve thick, black lines into the heart and soul of human civilisation. I feel in the presence of the Gods themselves as the Mediterranean landscape is interrupted occasionally only by broad strokes of a sky blue brush, as if Bob Ross himself had created the scenery. I’m enthralled by how much history this place contains as I feel isolated, having left all the other passengers of ANEK Superfast XI in my wake, the tremendous and prodigious torque of the RS6 churning through tarmac, connecting one mountain to another.
My goal is oh so close. My body simply does not know what to do with the sheer volume of endorphins that are pinballing the chemistry of my mind. The car is effortlessly devouring miles, I’m ecstatic as I’m enjoying the final leg of my journey and Greece is simply beautiful. There’s no description to tell anyone who isn’t a motorhead how content I am right now, palms gripping the alcantara steering wheel with Apple Carplay performing its duties as a valuable road companio, complimenting the gentle hum of the seat fans cooling my back.
I’m finally at the Greek-Turkish border and my heart’s on fire. This is the first time in a long while I’m at a checkpoint in far east Europe in a car. But my worries dissipate as I watch the queue of cars rapidly get dealt with by border guards who are equally moody, but less intimidating than those I’m used to. I pull out of the control booths into Turkish territory, nearly in tears as the armed Turkish soldiers carrying a variety of armaments, from snipers to SMG, respectfully and courteously with me a good journey.
I made it
As I avoid Istanbul in favour of a faster route to Cesme, Izmir, I’m literally alone on the magnificent 1915 Çanakkale Bridge, a newly constructed crossing opened merely two months prior to my crossing, and I’m awestruck by how alone I feel amongst a construction so vast and magnificent, figuratively connecting two countries together. And it’s this somewhat gormless, detached mood I’m in that makes me ignore Waze’s warning that a police trap is ahead. I do notice a white van parked up instead, but I ignore it much to my dismay. A mere mile later, there’s a Turkish police car parked up and I’m beckoned to the side.
Sir, I’m so terribly sorry to inconvenience you, just so happened to have sped past a speed trap – I need to give you a fine. But as soon as you’re out of the city, you can gun it again – just be aware that this time of the day, the police do look out for speeders, please take care.
Ridiculously kind and generous cop.
What just happened there? I got a polite telling off. A £30 fine and instructions on how to avoid further fines. How can my day get any better?
The roads in Turkey, especially the Otobans (motorways), are immaculate. I can’t understand how the UK has the worst road network in the world despite our purported affluence as a nation. Out here, the highways are smooth, wide and mostly empty – natural given the vast expanse that is Turkey. There are interruptions, however, with a major expansion plan of the roads in place, the occasional detour is in place as it pulls you off the almost empty highways onto more rural, country roads. With the only hindrance being a RHD car, the entire drive is a wonderfully cathartic process of overtaking one car to the next. The driving in Turkey isn’t that great, it has to be said, with a large volume of cars on the road that would fail simply safety tests, but again, the dominance of 600bhp makes short work of all types of traffic.
I text the hotel to secretly inform them that I am en route to surprise the family and instruct them to tell them that a taxi will be waiting at 6.00pm. However, as I approached the seaside resort I forgot one thing. I was bringing with me the evidence of having massacred 5 billion flies. The RS6 has a gaping maw and fiercely intense lights – this is not a good recipe in the path to world peace between insects and humans. And under the intense sun of 2000 miles of heatwave Europe, the carcasses of these flies were quite literally baked onto the paintwork. So I absolutely, 100% needed a detailer – stat.
With a polished car now resplendent yet again under the glory of a Mediterranean sun, my pride intact and no more evidence of a bug holocaust, I made my way towards the hotel, having made a near 3500 km journey only to arrive 10 minutes late to collect a shocked, bewildered and aghast family outside the hotel to tears of joy and surprise.
Worth it.
With mission complete, I spend the next few days lounging in hotels, soaking sun in pools and beaches and enjoying the best food the planet has to offer. Handy that it was also my birthday. Cesme, Izmir and Istanbul were our haunts in Turkey with some fantastic food experiences – Turkey has some of the best roadside eateries in the world, with notable mention to the random, parked 737 on the roadside masquerading as a kebab shop; honesty it had no right being so goddamn delicious.
Istanbul, though. Wow. Whatever road experience you have driving wherever in the world, nothing prepares you for Istanbul. After my 3rd road rage incident, I paused and reflected on what was actually not a series of personal slights at me, but rather an experience in what actual driving is like in Istanbul. Violent, chaotic, aggressive and absolutely not law abiding. But, as I hinted at before, this chaos in motion represents a way of life that is alien to me. It doesn’t abide by any rules, courtesy or etiquette – but, I’m witness to how it all seems to somehow work and amongst all the madness, everyone appears to simply co-exist.
Not me though. I park the car deep in the belly of my hotel, with the concierge doing his best to hide my car away from everything for the entire four days I was in Istanbul. I’ll stick to my chances on the trams thank you very much.
With a heavy heart, I leave behind the finest doner kebabs in the world and work our way into a city of immense cultural importance, Thessaloniki. One of the best cities I’ve ever been to, this city is deep in history and represents annals of tales steeped deep in politics and culture. As a base of operations for further exploration, the majestic Mount Olympus and the Meteora Monasteries have successfully imprinted themselves into the collective memories of us all until the day we die.
It’s one thing to witness these immense beacons of iconic importance, but another altogether one when combined with the freedom of your own car. Free from the shackles of any group tour, or touristic restraint, being able to wander around these locations at your own leisure, picking a perfect spot away from everyone else was magical. The RS6 became much more than a car at this point. It permits a connection between car and driver the likes this type of car should not be able to garner. It feels soulful, playful and menacing all in equal measure The vast number of toll booths in Greece became familiar with the almost comical squat the rear of an RS6 makes each time I punch the throttle, the V8 barking angrily with each, hasty departure meant to do nothing other than to flatter my own ego. A horse and it’s rider.
The narrow, steep chicanes of the region leading up mountains and monasteries made for fantastic driving and it wasn’t until I received permission from a car full of people that I was allowed to enjoy a short burst of energetic driving – at least until everyone became car sick. Still, 4 up, a car weighing 2000 KG unladen, it should not be able to entertain like this, but it does. It has fantastic turn in, with only very slow, tight bends causing the front tyres to moan as they skip and drag in a turn. The rear steering doing an even better job of pointing the front in the right direction, the RS6 is acting as darty as it is powerful in a way a car this heavy should not do. It helps that the sun is beating and the tarmac is close to become a soup of black asphalt.
Once atop the Monasteries, you can only imagine the feeling of immaterial existence as you contemplate the how’s and the wow’s of your responses to one of the most magnificent sights you could ever imagine. And to have the ultimate freedom of the car to enjoy them with makes it a sensational experience in being 100% purely present.
It really is a magical region and lost in the world of petrol heads – it’s not as obviously accessible to anyone from the west, but I really believe it hosts amongst the best mountainside roads I’ve ever seen. I take so many pictures and the size of the RS6 seems in tune with the vast, empty vista of roads and background scenery that appears to go on for 100’s of miles.
It’s now August 2nd and time to move to the next destination – Rome. Naturally, the return journey requires another crossing on the ferry, this time from Igoumenitsa to Bari. The 200 mile journey across Greece to the port of Igoumenitsa was a perfect redemption arc for the RS6. Four up in the car, 150 kg of multiple suitcases of luggage in the boot and acres of individual space, the environment in the car was unphased by anything I’d throw at it. At no point did it feel overladen or cumbersome despite the volume it carried.
The return leg of the ferry was equally as successful as the first one, with the only nag being an hour or two delay when we landed in Italy as we were kept waiting because of a queue of ships at the port. But with the spacious and majestic reach of Greece rapidly fading behind us, we turned our attention to Italy once again as we made our way towards Sorrento of the Amalfi Coast. As disappointing as this place was, it triggered some family memories we’d had of this place about 8 years ago and it had changed dramatically. It was full of casual tourists and no longer held the mystique and romance it used to so after a quick plate of pasta and some immense ice cream, we continued onto Rome where we’d spend three nights.
The San Pietro Boutique Rooms hotel in Rome was as perfect a place to stay as you can imagine. A stones throw from the Vatican, it encapsulates perfectly the ethos and spirit of Rome. Tall ceilings, grandiose designs and beautiful furniture, not least a fantastic bed (Italians really get beds) – I managed to find on-street parking within a stone’s throw. I had to be extremely careful in finding a good spot because anyone who knows Rome knows that parking sensors are basically the ‘thud’ a bumper makes when it makes contact with another car.
Thankfully I had nothing to worry about as it seemed upon my return a few days later that other people had the same school of thought and the cars I’d parked next to during this time had also remained in the same place I’d left them in.. However, Rome can be an incredibly dusty place and 3 days left roadside, on top of the v2.0 genocide of bugs from Greece to Italy, it sorely needed another bath. Nathan at Cambridge Autoglym will have a lot of work to do upon my return.
As a facilitator for my girls, seeing their faces light up the first time they drive through the French Alps is reward in itself as I slowly start to wind down the 5000 mile journey. A collection of snapshots, smells, tastes and emotions that an airplane cannot replicate. To say this was the greatest vacation I’ve ever had would do it a disservice, as it was so much more than a holiday.
As we approached the deep, finely carved valleys of the French Alps, Morzine awaits. The mountains growing in size the closer we get, permitting the occasional blast of sunlight through it’s peaks of snow and rock. A sure privilege to witness such grandiose magnificence and no amount of addictive technology will compel you to pull your gaze off its providence. It lectures us on our own insignificance, righteously and deliberately reminding us all of how none of our petty problems matter. Only that the mountains will be long gone after we crumble away to dust, informing us that deep down, nothing matters and the mountains simply don’t care.
This return journey was a self contemplative review in existentialism. I’ve oft enjoyed the solitary confines of my cabin on my long journeys back from Europe, reflecting on previous experiences and compartmentalising them in the vaults of my memory for future recall. But, in all honesty, having the memories shared with people you love made the journey that much more remarkable. This road trip across Europe, with it’s empty interstate roads, occasionally interrupted by the beautiful Mediterranean landscape can all combine to create a symphony of sound and sights that transport you to another plane of existence. It’s a journey that can make you feel alive and connected to the world around you.
With all the drama and magnificence of all the best Europe has to offer, western Europe suddenly revels in its mediocrity and silence. The route back to Calais is uninspired as it is flat and the M25 is a rude reminder as to why I embarked on the trip in the first place. As I begrudgingly fight my way through the worst standard of driving I’ve seen in weeks, I reflect on how my life could be so much better. Then I challenge myself on whether the grass is indeed greener on the other side.
And I care not to deliberate that fact, accepting my heavily biased and subjective view that I have experienced one of the best road trips of my life. One final thought permeates my mind as I reverse my absolutely devastated, yet unfazed, RS6 into the driveway. What other car could have possibly been as perfect as this Audi on this roadtrip? And no SUV’s. Because they’re lame as fuck. Shooting Brake’s FTW.
0
1 Comment