Day 33: Monday 14th September
An early buffeting from the wind after we retire to bed but this soon dropped away and the café nearby closed by 11pm so we were undisturbed for another good night’s sleep. Woke to sunshine again and as I peek through the window a brown shape flies by and settles on the clay cliff. Binoculars out, have a closer look – it’s a Little Owl perched now outside its nest in the cliff face, surveying the scene with his 360-degree swivelling head.
Then something else catches my eye – first one, then two, three, five, eight, fifteen – partridge-like birds skipping along the ground and coming close enough to the van to allow identification as ‘chukas’ – later heard on the cliff making just that noise.
We explore the immediate area after breakfast – a beautiful view across the bay to the mountains on the far side, down to the typical east European jumble of houses in the village below: modern executive detached alongside dilapidated apartment blocks and broken down houses with hundreds of lock-up garages.
On top of the cliff we find another example of a strange custom in this part of the world – a small tree bedecked with ribbons, bits of material and coloured cellophane, etc. We haven’t a clue what it’s about or how it started. Later we realise it’s a rag or wishing tree similar to ones we’ve seen in Greece.
Back to the van and the first task is to return to Feodosia to the car wash. Harry has realised the superfluous rubber washer with the filling hose must have come from the tap at the car wash. The lad is very appreciative when it is handed over. It wasted an hour but was the right thing to do.
Then south-west along the coast road. It’s slow but very pretty as we pass sandy beach resorts, cliff-top churches and views of mountains and sea. We have lunch on a grassy knoll looking across a valley to mountains in the distance. Up here the weather is changeable with wind, cloud and a spattering of rain. We have seen two motorhomes on the road from Feodosiya, to add to the tally of only three we saw in Russia on the long road from St Petersburg to the Black Sea coast – pioneering stuff indeed!
We reach Yalta by late afternoon. The traffic is horrendous and parking restrictions enforced – and one car is clamped as a warning. We park just outside the restricted zone in bright sunshine and rush to see the sights – without taking cameras, umbrellas, hats, or waterproofs. We change our roubles into grivna at a bank on the way and as we emerge it is obvious we were too hasty in leaving the van as clouds gather above. Just as we reach Lenin Ploshad it starts to spit. Then it’s raining properly and we pass Lenin with a cursory glance up, on the way to a café at the edge of the square where we have fruit teas and a piece of cake. The rain seems to have passed over so we come out to complete our sightseeing only to observe a massive dark grey cloudbank heading our way. Although we can see the rain advancing across the hillside it’s too late to do anything but take shelter – under the canopy of the local McDonalds, along with fifty or so others. It’s a real downpour that turns the roads and pavements into raging torrents after just a few minutes. A quarter of an hour later we decide it’s not going to stop soon enough for us to finish our sightseeing so we decide to tough it out and make our way back to the van. By the time we get there we are thoroughly soaked to the skin, every stitch from head to toe, literally and without exaggeration.
It’s good to have our little haven full of clean dry towels and clothes! By now the rain has stopped and the sun is down. We drive out of town and up the main road to seek a stopover spot as the darkness takes hold – the worst scenario. There are few options but luckily the first we try delivers – it’s a local fly-tipping spot again but it suits us fine in the circumstances as we manoeuvre to get close into the bank and on the right sort of slope.
Once stopped it’s straight into dinner with the chicken and salad leftovers. Buying that was a really good idea. Then Scrabble, cards and bed – but why is there traffic still coming up this cul de sac every hour or so through the evening?
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