It was around 11.30pm and we were climbing up into the Turkish mountains for several hours when the headlamps picked out two men ahead in a dusty haze. I was driving again and Bob was trying to sleep and was nodding off from time to time, when I gave him an urgent shake. The two men ahead had rifles and were waving at us to stop.
It is at times like this you think, “What am I doing here, is this it, does my life end here and now?” People say things in such circumstances and that time slows right down and it did in this particular case for me. Were the British papers to be headlined, “British tourists killed by bandits in the Turkish mountains”?
Bob told me not to make any sudden moves as I was seriously thinking of doing a U turn and going back away from any potential trouble, but I decided they could have probable picked us off if that was their intent. The road was blocked and these two scruffy men waved us into their campsite. Our hearts must have been pounding and there were people everywhere and suddenly I realised this was the Turkish Army keeping everyone off the roads for the night. We parked the Porsche up and shut the engine off and just took in a few deep breaths sitting in our seats gathering ourselves together.
We got out and soon started chatting to a couple of truckers and they told us this was par for the course in Turkey, so we relaxed, had some food and both fell asleep shortly after in the Porsche with the seats reclined as much as possible.