The challenge: After a direct and fairly high-speed run down across Europe to the Greek island of Kos in an austere but sturdy ’80s Saab 900 (see part one), it was time to take the pretty route back via Bodrum and up through Turkey, following the coast where possible.

Note the phrase ‘where possible‘ – unless you have a spare six weeks, it turns out that following the Northern Turkish coast is not really an option. The only decent road mostly runs resolutely a few miles inland, but the odd stretch paralleling the beach does allow for a quick stop-and-dip. Which, as the old Saab had no air-con and it was July, was distinctly necessary. The rear footwells gradually filled with empty water bottles bought from petrol stations. Always an amusing experience, as Saabs were never sold in Turkey and young car-mad blokes thought it was some sort of unusual, exotic supercar.

Once out of Turkey, though, there were more opportunities to trundle alongside the sea – the detour through Nestos Delta national park is lovely – before kicking up past Thessaloniki and inland into Macedonia (now North Macedonia, due to political shenanigans). Skopje, the capital, is astonishing. It has huge ugly statues absolutely everywhere, some spectacularly horrid Soviet-style brutalist architecture, and by far the worst standard of driving anywhere on the planet. The locals, who are otherwise lovely, have truly awful road manners, somehow combining aggression, distraction and probably intoxication. It’s like dodgems for psychopaths. Terrifying but somehow thrilling. I very much enjoyed the city, but was glad to escape, somehow, with the bodywork still intact.

The next leg took a fabulous curvy switchback road over the mountains of Albania; the E-65 runs through the Mavrovo national park, alongside rivers and lakes, and offers very little traffic, atmospheric views and even the odd decent restaurant. Excellent.

Not something that could be said of that night’s stop, the grim, noisy and scruffy Montenegro resort of Ulcinj. Horrid. But at least on the Adriatic, and a good starting point for the truly gorgeous road that runs all the way along the coast via Montenegro, Croatia, about four miles of Bosnia-Herzegovina, and then (confusingly) Croatia again.

This is at least as good as many bits of the Pacific Coast Highway. It’s one of those roads where you round a headland to see the most beautiful view of your life, then get round the next one and it’s slightly better. It’s mostly labelled M2.4, then 8, but also E-80 and E-65. But just keep the sea on your left. You’ll be fine.

That day ended in Dubrovnik, which is utterly fabulous but has the most expensive and infeasibly cramped car park in the universe. A little old Saab just about fitted. If I’d tried to navigate the entry/exit ramp in a Range Rover I’d still be there now trying to get it out again.

The next day was a bit of a marathon drive – something I’d tried to avoid on this leg of the trip so far. The daily schedule had been: get up, eat breakfast, knock off a few miles fairly quickly, stop for a nice lunch and maybe a swim, work out where to stop that night and book it via one or other app, do a few miles at a more leisurely pace, book into the hotel/AirBnB/whatever, then find some dinner and a drink or two. Rinse and repeat.

Which worked perfectly until we arrived at places that were busier and needed more advance booking – like our last target, Venice. As we’d dawdled up to that point, there was a longish day’s driving to be done, but the main E-65 road is fairly quick, and we headed into Italy via Trieste in what turned out to be perfect timing.

The plan was to dump the car at Marco Polo International airport, then catch the water bus into Venice – the girl was due to fly home from there in a day or two to be back in time for work – and we timed it just right for a sunset cruise into the city. Gorgeous.

A couple of days later I rescued the car, waved off the girl for an evening flight and hit the road home. Across the top of Italy, skirting Milan and Turin, and up into the Alps. An overnight stop at a frankly odd out-of-season ski lodge somewhere near Briançon later, and it was time for the final leg; an autoroute blast across France. Starting by crossing the Alps, of course, which is always a fine thing, even on the main roads. If you have time (which I didn’t) to do the little roads near Gap, Barcelonnette or Sospel, of course it’s a fabulous thing but even so there’s not a terrible road in that direction.

Round the Lyon ring road, up the Autoroute du Soleil, the A6, then to Dijon, Reims and the frankly dull expanse of Northern France; a half-hour kip on the Shuttle, then up the A2 to London.

Amazingly little went wrong with the £600 Saab. The windscreen washers packed up, so I dismantled the whole assembly before realising that it was the switch. One squirt of WD-40 cleared it. The front speakers disintegrated. Possibly due to the sun, or me playing very noisy music, or just 30-odd years of wear and tear. Found a brand new 1980s-spec pair in the only car audio shop in Kos, and installed them. Perfect.

I still have the car. And, somewhat amazingly, I still have the girl. And the bicycle is probably still ferrying some resort worker around on Kos.

The whole trip took nearly three weeks, lasted somewhere north of 5,000 miles, and cost a fair bit of cash spent on fuel, food and hotels. Worth it? Christ, yes. If you ever have a chance to do a truly epic, probably stupid, road trip, don’t think too hard. Just go.

Words Chris Maillard Twitter
Photography Chris Maillard

ROADBOOK

• Class: Long haul

• Name: Carry on up the Balkans

• Route: Kos to London

• Countries: GREECE, TURKEY, MACEDONIA, ALBANIA, MONTENEGRO, BOSNIA, CROATIA, ITALY, FRANCE, UK

• Distance: 2,800 miles