Cypriot almonds: a beginner’s field guide

Fresh almonds are a commodity to be seized upon. Thus after establishing a surefire way to be in possession a healthy bag of these appetizing kernels we felt it only fair to share the knowledge.

Bitches, pricks and ho's: recurring themes on a long-distance cycle tour

You know you’ve been cycle touring for a while when barks, barbs and brothels become a little mundane.

Avid followers of the blog (thanks, Dad) will remember our various entanglements with canines along the way. We gathered Mongolian rocks and harsh words to throw at the beasts that would launch from their gers towards us at a blistering pace. We learnt that stopping to square-off with a defensive dog was more effective than flight, unless you can hit about 35-40kph pretty quickly. Some cyclists have reported using water pistols with an ammonia or pepper component, but we found that barking back (we still do it in Mongolian) and keeping a rock in reserve was pretty effective. That is, until we got to Turkey.

Lapithos

See above post

Lapithos

The Road to Lapta

Cute little seaside cafes serving robust Turkish coffees to elderly gents. Winding ancient village streets giving way to isolated Mediterranean coastlines. A climb through orchards of lemon trees before reaching the quaint well-preserved town of my grandmother. Markets of ripe fruit, warm bread and fresh haloumi. Sounds a little too lovely? It was. Seems my idyllic version of my bike ride to Lapta was quite off the mark.

Cypriot History Lesson

In 1925, Angeliki was born in the humid Cypriot month of September. Sitting several hundred metres above the sea and perched at the foot of the Pentadhaktylos range, Lapithos gave some refuge from the thick Mediterranean heat patrolling the coastline.

Angeliki was born into a family of Greek heritage. Her father worked as a builder and her mother at home as a seamstress. Angeliki soon had 3 younger sisters and as the oldest helped her mother at home. It was in the family kitchen where she completed her mother’s apprenticeship in Greek Cypriot cooking. She was essentially responsible for preparing the family’s meals, and despite the workload from home completed her secondary schooling.

Finding Angeliki’s Cyprus

It was surprisingly easy to get to Lapithos. Especially when I think back to the planned border crossings, letters of invitations and visa applications required for the many countries we’ve passed through to get to this point.

It all fell together rather nicely. We pedaled south out of Cappadocia to the Turkish Mediterranean coast. Purchased a ferry ticket to Northern Cyprus. Cycled 100km to the port town of Tasucu and rolled our bikes directly onto the overnight ship. Border control was a non event. Then 16km and a few thick Turkish coffees later and there was Lapithos. The search is over.

Ç is for Çay

If there has been one constant in our cycle through the changing landscapes of Turkey it must surely be tea, or çay (ç is pronounced 'ch'). Throughout the villages and towns of Turkey are scattered tea salons and gardens (çay bahçesi) where people gather to sip this strong beverage and natter about daily life. Old men play cards, chain-smoking is the order of the day and çay may be the only item on the menu. In towns, tea-waiters (çaycı) ferry trays of small tea-glasses around the neighbourhood of their shop when they are called. For us, these tea houses were a welcome refuge, where we could sit under grape vines or watch the passing street life and give the Surlys a tea break of their own.

From Turkish tea

Puncture-rama

It was a cold 330am at the Kayseri bus station when the bikes were unloaded from our overnight bus. After farewelling the Black Sea Coast we had travelled by vehicle to the mystical land of Cappadocia. A couple of thick coffes saw us through to the dawn ezan, which marked the commencement of our morning’s cycling. Thankfully some kind tailwinds had us flying through terrain reminiscent of Mongolian Steppe. In no time 68km was behind us and a fine panorama of the pointy crimson Rose Valley was before us at our luxury camping ground.

My Beard and I

Ustalik beckoned me in with open arms and a thick well groomed moustache. His two-chaired barber’s salon was a cosy affair. Ferrari red leather seats, ample mirrors and an adequately sharpened tool kit occupied his domain. Salons like this are numerous in the sea-side town of Inebolu. Pide vendors, pastry sellers, cafes and barbers make up most of the commercial side of downtown. There are so many male grooming houses that the local gent must rarely have to lift his own razor. This is Turkey: secular, but strongly Islamic and yet another chapter in my beard’s journey from Mongolia.

Black Sea Climbing

It’s a good thing the Black Sea coast has a lot going for it, otherwise the arduous gradients would be near unbearable by bicycle.

The mountain belt running along the northernmost aspect of Turkey makes for an attractive patch of coast. Small coves and pockets of beach occasionally dot the landscape where fishing villages and petite harbours now reside. Infrequently a river will pierce the ranges and dive into the sea. Here road-makers have taken advantage of the topography to craft a road back into the centre of Turkey. Yet as waves crash on one side and rugged hills line the other, the Black Sea Coast is essentially separated from Central Anatolia (the big middle bit of Turkey). After the lapping sea and before the peaks get too rocky a narrow mountainous road laces its way across the coastline.

Transit Town

Tashkent to the Turkish Black Sea in 34.5hours

2300 Cycle to Airport. Pack up bikes. Have lively discussion with Uzbek air-baltic staff attempting to charge us a third and fourth fee for traveling with bikes. The long line of customers behind us eventually outweighs the benefits of continuing his discussion. We diligently witness the bikes being taken away.