Turkey wrap-up

Total Kilometres: 1052

Cycling days: 21

Average kilometers per day: 50

Camping days: 11

Longest Cycling day: Mersin to Taşucu - 102km

Istanbul

From Istanbul

Istanbul must surely be the most richly imagined city in existence. Layer upon layer of exoticised accounts by centuries of western traveler-writers lusting for something other than their staid and grey origins. It has been the aim and the end-point of many journeys, a natural full stop to traveling.

Probably the most overused descriptor for Istanbul – ‘East meets West’ – colours the background of our Istanbul, though has become somewhat abstract merely through repetition. For us, these antique notions of place and relation are a long way from our multiethnic home neighbourhoods, but have long drawn westerners to see the East and continue to inform the ‘western’ longings of this city.

Last legs

From Antalya to Istanbul

We sorely needed a detox from our 4 days of shameful, resort-style indulgence (despite its being interspersed with some actual medicine and learning). Back to basics, we said. So we hightailed it down the road to Antalya and beyond, chasing reports of forested mountains rippling down into the sea. Only about 15km beyond the city though, we found the new daylight savings time bringing darkness upon us earlier than we would like and we turned off the road to the beachside.

A fully sick conference

After an uneventful (read: nauseating for Ali) hydrofoil trip back to the Turkish mainland we backtracked from Tasucu to Silifke. We had a date with an Eurasian Congress and needed to cover some quick kilometers by bus to make it in time.

We successfully killed 7 hours in Silifke with the following ingredients: One Internet cafe. Two books: News from Tartary and Kim. One heavily moustached barber and two delicious kebabs. In no time we were nestled in the bus, staring at our personal TV screens watching what we aptly named ‘bus-cam’. ‘Bus-Cam’ is only marginally better than watching Turkish sitcoms (in Turkish). Thankfully, our bus-driver harbours no desire to become a script-writer. We passed the night away with incredibly boring episodes.

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.