8 - 15 August: Turkey (Part 2 around Cappadocia)

The idea of 'home' is a powerful one, having a place to come back to each night for over a week was a welcome change of pace from the last few hectic mile-crunching weeks. However, no sooner can you feel rested than the need to get moving kicks in and with a plan set for 3-4 weeks around Turkey with no shortage of sights to see, it's time to get moving.

Between Istanbul and the main bulk of Turkey, the landmass nips in to a narrow bridge of land with a huge motorway the only real way through. Apparently its a traffic nightmare so Ahmet from the club guided me to the Yalova ferry, comfortably away from the madness ready for a long-distance run across country.

Istanbul to Yalova ferry

Central Turkey. Big.

The first day was nothing but biking, excepting a half hour snooze under a road-side tree. Turkey it seems, is rather huge. Riding into the centre is to ride into a dry, dustry barren desert like series of small one horse towns and frequently unpaved roads. Interesting as this was in the setting sun (dust in the air makes sunsets spectacular affairs in dark burnt orange), the need to find a place to stay the night becomes a priority as it gets darker and darker. The often quoted rule number 1 of overland biking is not to ride at night... The speeds locals drive at coupled with no streetlights, road marking and ad-hoc headlight usage make it less than fun.

Luckily a small £10 hotel in Aksheir was open, if not initially easy to find. On the way into town, passing a gypsy camp, I was thinking, well I don't find anything, maybe they wouldnt mind me camping in the corner of their patch - fellow travellers and all that.

The next 5 days were what all the distance was about. Cappadocia. First though, the road winds past an enormous salt lake, Toz Golu. Before seeing it I was imagining more the American salt flats where they do all the speed tests riding across a pancake flat white bed of compact salt. Toz Golu rather is still a functioning lake that recedes in summer to reveal pristine white shoreline. Never missing a beat, a little tourist centre with trinkets, salt based health products and the like was in full swing. Luckily there's no parking or entrance fee, you just amble down to the shore and coo at the surreal bright white landscape thats near blinding you with mid-day mid-30s sun beating down onto the reflective salt all around. 

Toz Golu, Turkey

The touristy bit, Toz Golu

Too hot to linger

 

Onwards though to Goreme, stunning scenery rolling by as the road wound past Nevsehir and off the end of my Sat Nav's known world. How Garmin is missing out! The road to Goreme, a blank white screen, in reality is a sight for sore eyes. Sore eyes you will have though, riding open faced through dusty parched landscapes can only mean scratched eyes full of grit. Regardless, the drop down into Goreme must be one of the worlds great short rides as the scenery transforms from plateau to valley riddled with monolithic standing stones, wavy water cut buttresses, rose coloured canyons luminous in the setting sun's magic hour. 

Roadside stop on the way to Goreme

As per tradition, rode around town three times, back in and out before asking at a DHL office where the hell my cheapy hostel might be? 20 metres around the corner it turns out, either good chance hitting the right part of town or dumb luck not spotting the sign that seems so obvious once you know where to look.

The landscape of Cappadocia (Kapadokya) in Central Anatolia Turkey is full on geology from tens of millions of years ago (Creationists, better stop reading and go pop Teletubbies on). Volcanic eruptions created a pocked landscape of easily eroded material called “Tuff”. Cue years of rain, wind and temperature erosion and the lighter material has returned to dust and blown away (much is still in my eyes), leading to a bizarre lumpy terrain of natural monuments, cones and towers. Former residents of the region believed they were "fairy chimneys".Euphamism? Probably.

Walking here is easy, there are hundreds of paths and good free maps. On a night, everyone heads to the hills above the small town to watch the canyon walls of Rose Valley turn from pastel to luminous whites, yellows and reds in the sunset light.

Rocks near Goreme

Rose Valley, Goreme

Cave with a view

Walking through fantastical places

"Fairy Chimneys" in "Love Valley". No joke.

After two days of wandering, I took a bus tour because it's just too hot to be biking everywhere, and also it was cheaper than a full tank of petrol, so why not. We took in an underground city that isn't for claustrophobics. Years ago when wars were fought above ground, locals dug below their homes to create safe-havens that could support hundreds of people for up to a year. The nuclear bunkers of yesteryear. Moving on, we also took in a walk through an enormous canyon and a quick visit to a Star Wars set that no-one including the tour guide could accurately pin-point to actually being in any particular Star Wars film. Will have to re-watch.

Not for claustrophobics

Meeting room in the underground city

Ilhara valley

Cave-church paintings

Lunch break

After a few days, you do tend to get a bit 'stoned' if you will - when you've seen 1,000, you've seen em all -  and its time to move on. Not before a meal and drinks with Andy, an Ozzie painter / handyman who works 6 months and travels 6 months of each year. Swapping contact details and with a home in Oz if I ever head there, we put the world to rights over a couple of Efes beers before packing up and hitting the road again in the morning for what Ahmet from the bike club called the best road in Turkey, well lets see... 

[If you like rocks, I mean really, really like them, have a look on my flickr in a day or so for all the pictures]

31 July - 8 August: Turkey (Part 1)

Up early to make a run to Istanbul as the hotel guy said ‘is fine until 6 then it goes crazy as millions of cars converge from every direction’ full of people coming home after the weekend. So, Michele and I had agreed to get an early start, I with my British punctuality was loading up my bike for the agreed 9.30 start, Michele and Luiga popped down at half 10 to say it would probably be closer to 11 or maybe 12 by they’d be ready for off in their cheery Italian sing-song accent. 

Finally on the move, we hit the motorway heading to Turkey and set in for a steady ride at 100km. Ideally we would have picked up the speed to make up for lost time, however Luiga as Michele’s pillion was carrying a huge backpack on her shoulders and anything faster would be far too uncomfortable and likely quite dangerous.

At the border, either side of a river guarded for the first time on this trip by soldiers with machine guns, the Italians flew through as I got stuck at every point. Firstly it was for a Green Card, apparently the UK has gone off on its own and insurance companies no longer issue them, even if you phone every one and beg – some sources on the internet say they must, as insurers, provide one if requested, but nope not in England “because no-one uses them any more”. 

So it’s off to the Green Card booth you have to go. With all the urgency of someone who knows they’re the only sales point of said documents and you have no option to go anywhere else, half an hour later (5 minutes processing in-between 25 minutes of mobile chatting) I had a Green Card. Perfect, so I can go through now? Nope, Italians don’t need a visa, but Brits do. So off to the visa booth and 15 Euros lighter but now legal as a beagle, finally I could ride into Turkey, the bridge between Europe and Asia. 

The all important passport stamps

Green Card insurance

The motorway to Istanbul was easy going at first that incrementally became the most difficult and draining riding of the whole trip so far. About 100 kilometres from Istanbul the traffic started to become manic with three then four lanes of traffic forcing its way down the two lane motorway. Riding wise it was impossible to find the right response, if you held back, people would overtake you right and left side to force themselves into the space infront. If you rode hard through the gaps and closed down any space, then the frequent sudden traffic jams meant frequent uncomfortably hard breaking and hoping the traffic behind you was doing the same. I presume having “Death or Glory” tattooed to the inside of your eyelids replaces the theory test part of learning to drive here.

Adding to the fun, near Istanbul we came to a toll section of motorway, no problem on the face of it, but going through the gates there was no way of collecting a ticket like usual, only a swipe card system. Michele, Luiga & I puzzled over what to do and could only decide to go on and sort it out at the far side. The traffic madness kept up so we stopped firstly for a breather at a petrol station then at the side of a 10+ lane wide toll booth area. Asking a load of other people stopped at the side of the road what to do, including a happy group of lads in the back of a lorry, it turned out we needed an electronic card which a small building to the side of the control gates sold. About 20 Euros later we had cards in hand and went to pass through, Michele first set an alarm off despite having a green pass light, then the same happened to me, no point stopping to ask the police what it meant just needed to keep going because the sun was setting behind us and it was bad enough riding into the city in day, never mind at night. 

Hot Turkey!

Our mates in the back of a truck

We rode directly to the tourist part of Istanbul, Sultanahmet, to find a hotel. All the way feeling better as every time the arrival distance dropped by just 0.1 kilometre, we’d really had enough by now. Riding the wrong way up countless one way streets to find some hotels, the best option seemed to be a cheap hostel with 10 Euro dorm for me and a 25 Euro private room for Michele and Luiga. With that we chained the bikes up, unpacked and went out for food at the end of a hellish day. 

The next day was sightseeing in the morning at the Blue Mosque and Grand Bazaar. The Mosque more than impressive for all its hulking size it’s so light and finely detailed inside. The Bazaar less so, despite there being thousands of small shops, there was only really 5 types – jewellery, lights, watches & sunglasses, carpets/fabrics etc. I was really hoping it would be more like the madness of Moroccan markets and chaotic, but it’s all fairly easy going stuff. 

The Blue Mosque from outside

The Blue Mosque, Istanbul

Inside the Blue Mosque

In the afternoon I’d arranged to meet up with a motorcycling club in Istanbul, having exchanged a few messages on Horizons Unlimited. Kindly they rode out to the hostel so I could follow to find the way to their place where I could leave my bike. Over the next few days the club ratcheted up the kindness and hospitality to unbelievable proportions.

Not content with furnishing me with an apartment for free for the week (the hostel it turned out was really grotty so this alone was cause for joy bend measure!), my bike was booked in for a service, calls made to DHL to get a special club price for shipping to Delhi, a metro pass and phone cards were all found, and they even ran back to the hostel to pick up my clothes bag that was still there so I could spend some time looking through their photos of trips around the middle east. So every practical problem I had been taken care of, and there were really weighing on my shoulders (where do you even start, in a city the size of London, finding an English speaking shipping agent who can air freight your bike to India?), talk about a boost to morale! 

The Club's office / home

Parked up for the next week or so

No sooner in than the phone was in meltdown

Oil and filter change at Kuzgun Motors

Apo and Taylan, fantastic mechanics!

Michele and Luiga left for their long ride home after we had a final meal out. The luck of meeting such a nice couple completely by chance was the kind of thing I’d dared to hope this trip would throw up. The next few days were unfortunately fairly quiet as I came down with a bad stomach, though having a private apartment rather than a shared damp hostel room took the edge of it! Later in the week, being able to call home on my birthday using call cards rather than my mobile (c£2 per min) was fantastic as was a surprise trip out to the countryside for a BBQ and some off road enduro riding with a few friends of the club. Back from the trip out, a video message from friends at home was a perfect end to the day. Thanks again guys!

A bit of off-roading

chicken prepped

Getting a fire going

Delicious!

With more info on Turkey than its possible to digest, I’ve now got a plan for the next few weeks to ride a 3000km loop of the country before landing back here on the 4^th September to get my bike prepped for freighting. A complicated process in principle but with the promise of having someone to translate and run me round to each office (tax, customs, DHL etc) it all feels remarkably under control. I was really hoping to be in India a bit sooner, however the end of Ramadan shuts most of Turkey down for a week, so better to enjoy a few extra days here and sort it all out after the holiday than rush like crazy to get it all sorted before.

23 - 30 July: Bulgaria & Greece

Riding from Bucharest to the Bulgaria border was easy enough with some rare motorway section to speed things along, the only difficulty as per usual was trying to judge spending the last of one country’s currency before you hop over the border. The border with Bulgaria was a bit confusing to start with, a sure sign you’re closing in on one is a long tailback of lorries parked along the roadside. 

After passing these, the road split to pass a series of a booths as per usual at border crossings, so as I was asking as ever about needing a vignette for Bulgaria (I’d asked on Horizon’s Unlimited and got one definite yes, one definite no, and one I didn’t bother and was fine) but the lady just waved me through. Turns out it was just a toll collection point for a bridge over the river Dunarea and all the border details were on the other side. With roadworks closing one lane it was a hot half hour wait for the traffic to get moving. 

Though the scenery was similar, riding in Bulgaria was an immediate change from Romania, the most obvious one being the Cyrillic alphabet being used which makes understanding anything from road signs to shops almost impossible. I’d arranged to CouchSurf in Pleven as it’s always good meeting someone in a new country to get your bearings. The road there was interesting, in Romania, there are road markings, just not many people care about them, but in Bulgaria, more often than not there’s just tarmac and any lanes have either worn off and not been replaced or were never marked, so you make the best judgement possible about where to ride.  

A difficulty in writing about Bulgaria is that much of it, language etc aside, is fairly normal, you pass fields that look like much of Hungary and Romania and non-descript towns with hulking tower blocks that could do with a bit of maintenance, but nothing really extraordinary. Pleven was similar, a small town with a small centre albeit hardly any signed street names. Riding around town a few times looking for my CouchSurfer’s place, I had to give up as my sat nav had no information (main roads only), no other maps and only a street address and building number, but no way of finding it. 

Occasionally you could find a road name, but the flat blocks were seemingly numbered randomly with numbers and letters (in Cyrillic it can be hard to tell which is which), oh to be in Milton Keynes!! The best I could do was find a big hotel in the city centre to meet my CouchSurfing hosts and follow them back in a taxi, not the best arrival, dragging people across town and back, but we got there in the end.  

After all the hassle of finding their place, Radi, her Cousin and a host of Indian friends from university cooked up a storm of an Indian meal and talked all night about places to visit, Monty Panesar’s beard and how the Great Khali is from Himachal Pradesh, where “all the big Indians come from”. 

CouchSurfing host Radi

Radi's friends, I want to get to India ASAP now!

Despite mosquito bites from last night in Bucharest now swelling up and itching like crazy, it was time to get into my heavy biking gear again and head off for a few days in Sofia where hopefully they would calm down and I could get back to normal. The roads to Sofia were tricky in that long stretches were 50km/h for no apparent reason, though each one had a police car parked under the shade of a tree with a radar gun, and pretty much each one had a driver pulled over. 

I’d timed it to arrive on Sunday hoping the traffic would be lighter and it was an easy ride in passing the airport as clouds were building up. For the next two days thunderstorms broke regularly, and with all the mozzy bites, I stayed indoors mostly just taking it easy. On the last day I walked into the city which took a long time, you always have to decide between city centre hotels which are good for looking around, or ones on the outskirts that have better parking and are easier to find. 

On the 26^th walked into town which again was very ordinary albeit with some interesting moments, like the traffic lights at cross-roads being controlled by a man in a tennis umpire style high chair (OK a booth) pushing buttons and levers around. Like I said, it’s not really one for tourists! After the difficulty with walking in Romania, I’d got in touch with a group of CouchSurfers who are big outdoor enthusiasts and agreed to meet up for a drink that night. After a few nights in, it was the perfect tonic and the time flew by all too quickly.

My favourite view in Sofia, good paint work

Cyrillic signs make life fun!

A building in Sofia, I was hoping to have a 'photo day' but
the inspiration just wasnt there...

Normal apartment blocks in Sofia

Some good graffiti in a storm drain

Outside my hotel. The definition of 'not-central'

Philosophy on a bus stop

My man directing traffic

Out with local CouchSurfers

27-30 July Borovets: I’d arrived at Borovets, a ski resort that’s a start point for the walk up Musala, the highest point in Bulgaria. Bulgaria has a reputation as a cheaper alternative to ski-ing in western Europe and it shows this coming with a lot of tacky clubs, shops and generally a sense of being mafia run. Supermarkets sell no food forcing you to eat out all the time which isn’t a co-incidence though a bit frustrating as almost the whole village shuts down for the summer season, leaving you very little choice. 

"Boroland" at Borovets

The walk however was fantastic, it’s higher than Triglav in Slovenia but a gondola takes you up to an elevated starting point meaning you only climb 700 meteres which makes for a gorgeous days walking. There’s a lot of the best of the Lake District and Scotland in the mountains with lakes, grass and rocky sections, nothing anyone would overly struggle with but changing and challenging enough to make an interesting walk. 

Riding up to the start point

Starting above the clouds, a good head-start!

Mountain hut and lake on Musala

Looking over Musala from near the summit

On top of Mussala

Lakes on Mussala

Back down to Borovets

The day after I was feeling off colour and tired from walking, so put the England v India cricket on to catch some 5 live commentary (hurray, I didn’t think it would work outside the UK!) and had another lazy day catching up with putting photos online and some washing. 

The day after, 30^th July, I left Borovets for a long ride into Greece. I wanted to move quickly because of all the talk of India a few nights ago and the relative same-ness of Hungary, Romania & Bulgaria it was time for a change of scenery. Greece was good riding but there was nothing in this more industrial part to get me off the bike and Athens / the Greek islands were too far away. Despite riding over 500 kms, I’d had a great day with a nice e-mail arriving from Mum & Dad’s friends who knew me as a baby but I’ve never seen since, meeting Italian guy Michele and his girlfriend Luiga whilst looking for a hotel and England took 4 wickets for 0 runs in the cricket to level the game out a bit. 

Feeling so happy to have met other bikers just through pure chance while pulled up on the side of a main road, we all went out for something to eat together, found a back-street grill restaurant and ordered pretty much everything all of which was delicious. It’s a shame England doesn’t have the climate, because walking back at gone 11 at night, the sea-front was still full of families out for a stroll with little kids in the cooler air and people having a drink at outdoor bars. The sooner England stops shutting up shop at 7 and turns the evening economy in town centres over to pubs alone the better. 

Riding past Kavala, Greece

Families out for a walk in Alexandroupoli

Luiga and Michele demonstrating the loo roll like
qualities of our bread

Michele with me in Alexandroupoli, Greece

To be honest it's fair to say morale was flagging a bit by the end of Bulgaria, the trouble with slowing down the pace of riding is that you find yourself wanting to see something new and different, to make you stop and get the camera out because you just have to, and those moments were coming fewer and further betweem. Luckily then that meeting Michele and Luiga coupled with other things in Turkey put everything back on the right track!