Our work in Adventure Travel never really stops - especially when there is a crisis. Here we give you look at what goes on  behind the scenes when our team needs to handle a crisis

Friday 18^th Feb: There doesn’t seem to be a normal working day at the moment with demonstrations happening throughout the Middle East. Let’s see what today brings…

We have 2 groups heading to Libya this weekend, Leptis Magna Weekend (ALY) and Lost Cities Of The Roman Empire (LY). The FCO travel advice is not recommending against any travel to Libya.

 The ALY is a short break – focussed around Tripoli, due to leave at 1130 this AM, the LY departs tomorrow and is a more comprehensive tour of the country.

0900 – Meeting with the Operations and Product teams to discuss the imminent departures. We have called the FCO and our representative in Libya to get the latest updates. The FCO say that they have no plans to change their travel advice, our representative in Libya tells us that the area in the east of the country is troubling him, but that all is fine around Tripoli.

We agree that the ALY group departing in 1.5 hours will be OK to operate, based on the latest information.

0930 – more calls are made to the FCO and I call other tour operators to see if there is any other news coming out of the country. A call is made to our rep in Libya and although the FCO have not changed their travel advice we take the decision that it will not be safe for people to travel to Benghazi.

1000 – in a meeting with Ashley our MD we decide to cancel tomorrows LY tour. Details are circulated around the company so that customers can be called with what will be disappointing news.

As a follow up we let other contacts from other companies know of our decision.

1400 – Carolina our Head of Operation is in London and has a meeting with staff from the FCO. There is no extra news from Libya.

1700 – we check the situation with our representative in Libya – all is fine in and around Tripoli.

Later today the FCO amend their travel advice to advise against travel to Benghazi….

 

Saturday: Hopefully today will be quiet, as we’re not actually in the office, but we have 2 staff, myself and Rohan manning the emergency mobiles.

1700 – Whilst shopping with my wife I get a call from the Operations Director advising that the FCO travel advice has changed in Bahrain. A quick check with the duty manager I see that thankfully we have no groups there, nor anyone planning to fly through.

 

The situation in Libya doesn’t seem to be getting any better when at approx 1900 another call from the Ops Director lets me know that the FCO have just changed their travel advice for Libya and are now advising against travel to the whole of Libya with the exception of Tripoli. Our ALY group are in Tripoli….

I call our rep who tells me that the situation is deteriorating, and so after a conference call with the duty manage and the Ops Director we decide to get our group back to the UK ASAP. Our agent is advised to get the group to the airport first thing in the morning (Sunday) and to get them on a flight to the UK. The group are due to fly back on Tuesday morning and so no doubt will be disappointed, but we all feel that this is the correct decision.

The tour leader breaks the news to the group and prepares them for an unexpected early start tomorrow.

 

Sunday 0700:  Try to call Libya, but at this point communications have become increasingly difficult. I keep trying to call as does Rohan. At about 0800 I get a call from Rohan – the group have been put on a flight and should be back in the UK for 0900…

Whilst we are disappointed to have curtailed their holiday we know that this is in their best interests – the situation was so fast moving that judgements and decisions had to be made – we know that we made the correct one…I was good to know that our group wasn’t amongst the hundreds of people stranded at Tripoli airport.

Simon Grove, Head of Product, Explore

Mark Steadman led Explore's inaugural Mt Damavand trek in July 2010. Read first hand his experience of scaling the brooding mountain that is a 5,671m high volcano in Iran, and discover insights not only about the challenges of mountain climbing, but also the unique culture of Iran. "Mount Damavand, Iran.  An immense volcanic peak towering above the central Asia plateau, finally piercing the sky nearly six kilometres above sea level; The highest mountain in the Middle East.  Only the Himalayas to the east threaten it’s towering status on the plateau. It’s here that I had unfinished business with this legendary peak. 

  My taxi rattled me from the airport, past the huge shrine complex of Ayatollah Khomeini and into central Tehran. In the distance the pinkish glow of first light silhouetted Damavand, almost a perfect triangle, poking from the Alborz range, some seventy or so kilometres to the north east of the capital.  Two years ago I made it as far as the high camp, only for the first winter snows to end to my ascent prematurely.  Last summer the post election violence prevented me getting even that far.   This summer the unrest has moved underground from the streets to simmer among the youth in the coffee shops and internet cafés. Trekking in Iran has long been associated with freedom movements. The mountains were out of bounds during the Shahs brutal reign, too far from the SAVAK (secret police) watchtowers, which kept control over the populace. Now Iran’s ‘Green’ movement uses mountaineering as a physical metaphor for freedom.  Damavand’s history transcends the revolutions, overthrows and Islam, having remained at the spiritual heart of the nation from Zoroastrian times.   Tehran in the summer is no place to be, the 40 degree summer heat sets the streets ablaze with the pollution from 12 million residents, and the city chokes amid the fumes and haze.  Some welcome respite is found at Darband village, a forty-five minute drive up through Tehran’s leafy northern suburbs. Here we scheduled some acclimatisation time on Mount Touchal, a near 4000 metre peak, before the attempt at Mount Damavand.   From Darband an intricate network of pretty paths, waterfalls and tea houses leads up through the village towards the overnight shelter at Shir Pala. This area is popular with skiers during the winter, and also the young who come use the teahouses for a private cuddle and a kebab, away from the eyes of authority. From the shelters terrace the lights of the city twinkled a couple of kilometres below us. The following day we snaked back and forth across slopes devoid of vegetation for four hours to the peak. A small circular shelter, symbolically painted green sat on the top. From here it was a five-hour descent to the teahouses and back to the capital.

 

Next morning it was time to pack the heavy gear and head west of the city into the rugged foothills of Mount Damavand. This year I was  leading a group of adventurous travellers to the peak for Explore. When I asked them at the briefing why they chose Damavand, it was the combination of a seriously challenging peak and the uniqueness of climbing in an unfamiliar land that appealed.  With us on the mountain were my mountain guides and good friends Hussein & Arash.   After a couple of hours tailing mining trucks along dusty roads and through inhospitable terrain we reached Polour, one of the small towns that service the mountain. The nearby Lar lake provided us with fresh trout, and after lunch we arrived at the Iranian Mountaineering Federation lodge.  The shelter here provided a comfortable and friendly base for the first night of our trek. Later in the afternoon, as the sun began to cast huge mountain shadows, we headed out for an acclimatization walk in the foothills of Damavand. The air was wonderfully fresh and, despite still being summer, heavy snow had left the top 2000 metres of the volcano dusted in white.   Next morning, jeeps arrived to transfer us to Damavand’s second camp, Goosfand Sara ‘place of sheep’ - at around 3000 metres. During the summer months the sheep share their territory with mountain folk who make a living at the dusty interchange of four-wheel drives, mules, guides, luggage and livestock.   A huddle of heavily bearded men transferred our bulk to the mules, and we began our ascent to the 3rd camp, beside Goosfand Sara’s only structure, a gold onion domed mosque.   With acclimatization in mind, we ascended at a gentle pace up through the craggy veins of the volcano. For moments the peak was in clear view, before clouds sped across the upper slopes. Plenty of stops along the route gave us the opportunity to look back across the valley to a spine of 4000 metre plus peaks, shielding the azure waters of lake Lar.

 

After four hours of steady trekking we approached the high camp at 4200 metres. Conditions had changed dramatically on the ascent; fleeces and wool hats replaced sunhats and shirt sleeves.   As snow flurries whirled themselves into a blizzard, we just about made out the outline of the stone shelter standing out among a backdrop of white.   Inside the shelter the atmosphere warmed us immediately; Iranian tradition prides itself on hospitality and friendliness to strangers. Every new arrival at the shelter was universally greeted with a  ‘salaam’. Single burners with pots of food were heating way in the camps’ corners, and a huge communal kettle provided the tea.  Bread, biscuits, dates, nuts and fruit were shared around, and everyone wanted to know where we were from and what we thought of their country.  After a carb loaded dinner, several blankets and a quality sleeping bag made for a snug night - despite the sub zeros outside.                      

By morning, the weather has warmed and brightened, and a big orange sun began to thaw the pipes that brought water down from above.  A few headaches among the group reminded us that we were at altitude. Outside the shelter our eyes followed the blanket of snow that led up to the icefall, at about 5000 metres. This was the target for our acclimatization walk.  At altitude it’s important to climb higher each day, then drop down to sleep.  Without this system then altitude sickness will make progress physically and mentally impossible.

After breakfast we crunched the first footprints in several inches of snow.  The ascent was deliberately slower than the previous day and  we carefully placed one foot in front of the other expending the minimum of energy. Every forty-five minutes we rested for ten, keeping our energy levels up with nuts, dried fruit, seeds and chocolate. It took us three hours to ascend the 600 metres to a spot below the 12 metre frozen waterfall, which never thaws. At 4800 metres, we rest and acclimatize for forty-five minutes in the morning sun. An hour and a half later we are back in the camp, warming ourselves with soup before the sleeping the afternoon away.   The group appear briefly to be force fed carbohydrates before retiring to prepare physically and mentally for the summit attempt in the morning.                                               

After another freezing night, when outside temperatures reached minus ten, we left camp at first light, when the temperature was a little kinder. Despite clouds racing across a flickering sun, it was still extremely cold and the icefall was not visible from the camp. We walked in hour blocks, it took us two hours to reach the previous days acclimatisation ceiling. Each alternate step was accompanied by either a full lungs worth of air or audible expiring. It’s important to keep a rhythm going - to make the most efficient use of body energy and to keep warm.  Altitude and gradient slowed us - its nearly another two hours to the icefall at 5000 metres; the last 100 metre ascent took an hour.  The new snowfall is tiring us and we sank into virgin snow knee deep in places.  At times we found ourselves paddling with arms, scrambling to get a grip on the rocks to haul us from the snow.   This exertion proved exhausting and 300 metres above the icefall, two of the group decided to abort.  A combination of fatigue and altitude had conspired against them. Spiritedly they decided that to continue could impact our summit attempt, and they put group success before personal disappointment.  Muted farewells and good luck handshakes followed, and they started the descent to the high camp with my guide’s assistant.  

For the rest of us, with one mountain guide left, it was either all or none of us that would make the summit.  After the scrambling above the icefall the route flattened so we could see the peak in the distance.  Mentally this was good motivation - although it was still 300 metres up - and more than two hours away.   We were now inside the clouds, with a blanket of white both above us and under foot. The flatter expanses now welcomed a screaming wind across our path; fleece, down and Gore-Tex combined to prevent it cutting through me. As we stole another 100 metres from the angry mountain it had one more test for us - sulphur.  Despite 7000 years passing since Damavand’s last eruption, sulphuric gases spat from fumaroles as we neared the peak. If the wind is unkind the gasses can prevent mountaineers approaching the summit. We were fortunate.             

Almost overcome with fatigue, I sensed the summit was only a few hundred metres away - but dared not to look up.  Aside from a few words of encouragement the last hours had passed in silence; oxygen too valuable a commodity to waste on speech.  Hearing voices again meant I was finally closing in on the peak!  Nearly nine hours after leaving the high camp, we were standing 5671 metres above sea level, at the highest point in the Middle East and Central Asia.

 

Exhaustion and deteriorating weather conditions muted celebrations a little, and we were soon on our way back down to the high camp. The summit had become dangerous, a mess of dirty grey skies and white snow diminished visibility to about five metres ahead.  The descent had to be quick; it was imperative the person in front stayed in view, rather than disappear into the white abyss that now engulfed us. At times we struggled to find footing, as legs disappeared deep into fresh snow.  The quickened pace combined with exhaustion frequently dumped us on our backsides.  At times it was actually easier to ride on our behinds down towards the high camp, much to the bemusement of the mountain guide. Finally just above the camp the weather relented, and we were able to sit and rest looking down into a vast sunlit valley.  As the clouds lifted, Damavand’s peak was once again visible in the distance far above us.  Now we could fully enjoy the sense of achievement.  

Next morning mules were loaded, and we descended again to the camp at Goosfand Sara for our transfer back to the capital.  Our descent was slowed, not by tiredness, but by hundreds of Iranians filing their way up towards the high camp. It was Thursday, the start of the Iranian weekend, a time when local people leave their cities for the countryside. Traditional songs echoed around the mountains and a celebratory atmosphere commenced. Ladies headscarves were abandoned to the wind.  Everyone was keen to greet, congratulate and pose for photos with us. There can be no doubting that Iranians are among the friendliest people on the planet.   Lack of proper equipment and fitness meant most of the people wouldn’t make the summit - but that wasn’t really the point. The weekly pilgrimage predates Islam; they were here to make a connection with the legendary mountain of the Persian epics. The regime may still have a tight grip on the cities, but in the mountain’s people are rediscovering their freedom. I will be back again next year hopefully with a little less snow and that if anyone wants more info I'm happy to answer questions - if I’m not on tour!"

Mark Steadman, September, 2010

Manuela is our Americas and Polar Specialist for Explore Tailormade- and was lucky enough to take a Polar Voyage.  Here she describes the journey in her own words as she took to the Arctic waters in search of polar bears...

Highlights of Turkey: Gill Stafford Gill is one of our facebook regulars and sent us this amazing day by day blog of the Highlights of Turkey trip she did earlier this year... Day 1 Superb flight on wide-bodied plane to Istanbul. Some confusion getting through terminal as a “transit” passenger but linked up with several older gentlemen going walking in Cappadocia and we caught our domestic flight to Ankara. Amused at notice requesting passengers do not sit their animals on the toilet! Met Group, Ilhan, tour leader and Kamel, driver at Ankara; surprised there are only six of us, all older (but not old!), 2 couples plus 2 lone travellers. First meeting held in hotel but all too tired to go out for a meal – we were well-fed on both flights! Day 2 Early start with visit to the Museum of Anatolian Civilisations in Ankara. This was an ideal introduction to the sites we were to visit and put the whole tour in context. Onwards to the amazing landscapes of Cappadocia where, after a visit to the underground city of Kaymaki, we arrived at our cave hotel.

 

Spelunca Hotel, Goreme   Day 3 A magical day!  Began with an early-morning hot air balloon ride over the unique Cappadocian rock formations; not only did the balloon travel horizontally, we brushed the wild flowers and soared up high over the fairy chimneys.

Balloon ride   After a simple Turkish breakfast, it was off to Goreme Open Air Museum to explore early Christian churches carved out of the rock followed by a walk through Red Rose Valley.  After lunch we toured more outlandish rock formations before climbing high up inside the remains of the 13th century castle in Urgup.  Early evening we descended into a deep cave to watch a Whirling Dervish Sema. This solemn religious ceremony incorporates chanting, religious music, prayers and the twirling which the Mevlevi order are famous for.   

Fairy chimneys

Our evening meal was taken in yet another cave, where my friends from the airport were also dining – they ceremoniously presented me with a rose – a wonderful end to a truly magical day!

 

Rose Valley

           Day 4 En-route to Konya, we visited the well-preserved 13th century caravanserai of Sultanhani, a resting place for travellers on the Silk Road.  After a traditional lunch in Konya, we explored the museum, formally the headquarters of the Mevlei order before an unscheduled visit to the large city mosque followed by “special” baklava and ice cream.  Still full after our snack(!), we took our evening meal in a simple workman’s café specialising in lamb donor kebab.

Day 5 Our long journey over the Anatolian plateau was full of surprises; fields of storks, opium poppies and a flying display by the Turkish All Stars The latter kept us amused for many miles as the eight fighter planes practised their intricate moves blazing trails of red, white and blue vapour. 

 

Opium poppies

We picnicked on a shady riverbank before gazing in wonder at the Roman theatre of Aspendos, still used for productions today and admiring the Roman aqueduct used for supplying fresh drinking water to the ancient city.  Tonight’s stop at the Mediterra Art Hotel set down a narrow street in the old city part of Antalya took some finding but our trusty driver did us proud!

 

Aspendos Theatre

Day 6 A lunchtime picnic among the ruins of Phasellis, with time for a swim!  Established as a harbour city in around 690 BC, Ilhan gave us a fascinating tour of the ancient streets and ruins.  Time to explore Antalya before dinner in a sheltered square.   Day 7 Today we explored the mountain city of Termessos.  Set in Gullug Dag National Park, renowned for it’s insect life, lynx and brown bears, it was a steep climb to the ruined theatre atop the mountain.   En route to Dalyan, we visited the village of Kayakoyu deserted since the population exchange of Greeks and Turks in the 1920’s.  The setting for the book “Birds without Wings” by Louis de Bernieres, it is now a World Heritage Site.  Tonight we dined at our hotel overlooking the Lycian rock tombs at Dalyan.  

 

Kayakoyu

Day 8 Ilhan chartered a riverboat to take us through the reeds to the ancient ruins of Caunos dating back to 4000 BC.  Rejoining our boat, we sailed up to the mouth of the river, a breeding beach for loggerhead turtles.  After a swim, we rejoined our boat to sail to a newly opened restaurant before returning to Dalyan for an afternoon exploring the weekly market.  Dinner in a traditional café was excellent, the proprietor even fetching us home-made houmous from a friend!  

Unexpected visitor at Caunos Day 9 We meandered along rural roads to Pammukale stopping, en-route at what appeared to be a small roadside café – climbing stairs at the side, we found ourselves in attractive water gardens packed with local Turkish families out for their Sunday lunch.   The white travertine terraces of Pammukale can be seen some distance away and these, together with the ancient ruins of Hieropolis, made for an interesting afternoon walk. 

Pammukale    

 Hieropolis

Day 10 A fairly long drive today to Selcuk where we will spend two nights.  The site of Aphrodiasis proved fascinating, being an important artistic centre and supporting a training school for Carian sculptors.  The spacious museum held many examples of statuary by established and trainee sculptors.

Aphrodite’s Temple

Our Selcuk hotel is small and family-run, dinner on the roof terrace restaurant had us all gasping with the views of storks zooming overhead.      

Stork’s nest, Selcuk

Day 11 Our small group of six with our excellent guide seems a luxury when we encounter the huge coach parties visiting Ephesus.  Ilhan never hurries us and is an excellent historian only to happy to answer our questions.  Early summer’s an ideal time for a poppy lover like myself as there were masses among the ancient ruins. 

The Library at Ephesus

Wild poppies

Lunch today was taken at a Kurdish family café where we watched flat loaves being baked and hot bread just kept coming and coming….an excellent meal, followed by a shopping spree for the three ladies in our group!   Tonight we visited another village de-populated when the Greeks returned to their native land.  This time, however, Turkish families colonised the steep twisty lanes and today it operates as a craft bazaar with cafes.         Day 12 A long drive broken up with two interesting visits. Up a narrow twisting road to the remains of Pergamum, where parchment was invented.  The library here was the second largest of the Roman world.  The theatre here was set on a steep hillside and proved quite a frightening descent – thanks for your helping hands, boys!! An imaginative mock-up of the Wooden Horse greeted our arrival at the ancient site of Troy.  Comprising of nine ancient cities, each built atop the last, the ruins date back 5,000 years. 

The Wooden Horse of Troy

Not much time to see the town of Cannakale, arriving just in time for dinner at a harbourside fish restaurant and with an early start scheduled the following day   Day 13 Catching the 7 am ferryboat, we crossed the Dardanelle Straits before touring the battle sites of Gallipoli.  A long drive to Istanbul was enlivened by a visit to a service –café that had  it’s own zoo!  Dropping off our cases at our central Istanbul hotel, we said a fond farewell to our excellent driver, Kamel – whom we shall ever remember for making a flapjack into a sandwich filling! Ilhan walked us to the Grand Bazaar arranging to meet us later for dinner.  A spontaneous group decision was made to stick together both for safety and to ensure none of us became lost!   

We ate an excellent traditional dinner down a small side-street that none of us could have found without Ilhan’s help.

 

 

Colourful hats, hookah pipes and dishes in the Grand Bazaar

Day 14 A leisurely and more varied breakfast today before a foot tour of the famous Istanbul sites.  We marvelled at the Blue Mosque (though disapproved of tourists who showed such lack of respect that they refused to cover their heads/shoulders) wandered through Topkapi Palace particularly admiring the highly decorated rooms of the Harem and visited Haghia Sophia, now a museum.

Blue Mosque

Hagia Sophia  

Harem, Topkapi

Instead of the scheduled free-time, Ilhan took us on an extra special tour to show us the “backstreets of Istanbul”.  We walked what seemed miles, seeing Turkish traditional shopping areas, visiting a genuine spice market, tasting Turkish Delight in an old established emporium before calling in at the Turkish Railway Museum. 

Fish stall

We took a ferryboat across the Bosphorus, admired the interior of an Armenian Church, took Turkish tea, coffee and home-made lemonade at a café that only sold these drinks, wandered the streets and returned across the Bosphorus.  Squashing into a Taxi-dolmus we admired street performers in Taxsim Square before walking down steep streets towards the Gallata Tower.  Our final dinner was taken at a fish restaurant under the Gallata Bridge watching the sunset over the Golden Horn before a final tram ride back to our hotel.           Day 15 A paper bag of Raki (Aniseed) balls as well as a thank-you envelope awaited Ilhan at our final breakfast!  Waving us off at the airport, we all agreed that we’d been very lucky to have such a knowledgeable and affable young guide.  We’d eaten all our meals together as a group with Ilhan and Kamel, socialised together and stayed as a group until we were dispersed throughout the plane home.  I’m sure we’ll keep in touch and have already exchanged messages and photos.  I went on holiday alone, but not for long, as one of the group soon pointed out, I was really holidaying with friends!!

 

Eating together in Istanbul