Ankara to Capadoccia

My route from Ankara eastwards follows a similar course to that of the ancient 'Silk Road'. From the modern cosmopolitan Capital city, the next 1,200km to Iran would be more and more remote and will be the furthest East I'd ever been. Truly a cycle into the unknown. 

My day leaving Ankara began by finally picking up my Iranian visa. An arduous experience in all, which is probably familiar to most travellers venturing to the country. Mine came a week late, and for the princely sum of €180. Ouch... And they also now have my fingerprints, despite my best efforts to smudge them. I shouldn't complain as I met one Czech cyclist in the embassy who'd been waiting 6 weeks in Ankara to get his visa. The poor guy looked a shell of man, just shaking and nervous and like he hadn't seen soap in a while. I never saw him again so I'm guessing his long wait finally came to an end.

As a side note, I did really like Ankara. It may not be the most tourist friendly destination like Istanbul, but I think that's why it appealed to me. A real place with actual Turkish people, where you can live comfortably without someone trying to flog you some tat or ripping you off because you're a tourist. I'd met great people and was welcomed everywhere I went and when the time came, I was sad to leave. But time waits for no man and the clock was ticking to be in India by Christmas.

Back in the saddle, it was tough going. The days are short now but still very hot. The sun sets at around 16.30 so you want to get most of your miles in before then. The quality of the road surface isn't great either, little more than tar sprinkled with jagged stones - like a rustic pebble-dash akin to pedalling across a 1930s semi-detached. So this, coupled with rusty legs and a head wind made it difficult to get that far. So night 1 was road side. A small clearing about 50m down a side path amongst some trees. I should add that I have a harmonica now so I'm spending most evenings learning country songs in the attempt to be Jonny Cash. 

The next day I stopped in Bala after around 40km for breakfast. Lamb kofte with rice and tea. Muesli and croissants are now a distant memory. Whilst there, I was approached by a man who, in perfect English, asked me where I was from and where I was heading. He too was a keen cyclist (very rare in Turkey) and said he'd like to help out as much as he could. He said he knew people along my route and he'd let them know I was coming. We exchanged details as usual and I thought nothing of it. Later that day I received a torrent of emails and Facebook friend requests from people with bikes in their profile pictures. Turns out he'd alerted half of Turkey, so I had all these folk offering up places to stay. Result! Just shows, you never know who you'll meet next...

On the evening of the third day, with weary legs I pulled into a BP garage to have a rest. Whilst perched on a step, a man came over to give me a cup of tea. He asked the usual questions and where I was sleeping. He insisted I stay here tonight. 'Here' being the petrol station. My room was pretty much a conservatory, which was being used to store old freezers, but at least it was warm. I thanked him profusely and that night I ate dinner with the men from the forecourt. Turkish petrol stations are the same as ours: de-icer, windscreen wiper blades and compilation CDs (no charcoal briquettes however) so after a browse I began to feel like I was in an episode of Alan Partridge so I headed to bed. I didn't particularly sleep well, as tiled floors aren't the most forgiving and the walls being glass, the room illuminated like a lighthouse every time a car pulled in to the forecourt. But there you are, my first night in a petrol station and as it would turn out, not my last.

The next day I was to meet one of my new Turkish friends. He'd heard about my trip through the guy I met in the shop and wanted me to come for breakfast. I had no idea where he lived however, so when he pulled up behind me beeping his car horn just outside of the town of Hacibektas, I was particularly confused. "Benjamin!"..."yes?..." "I am Serkan's friend, I saw you cycle past!". "Oooooh...Hi!". So after this bizarre first meeting he led me back to his "office". He was a vet so his office was in essentially a religious abattoir. He gave me a tour of the place, complete with full cow dissection, and served up lunch. Fresh from the slab...

I stayed with him that night. Volkan was his name and he spoke basic English but enough for us to chat and celebrate me passing 5,000km in style. 

So a major landmark and 3 times further than I'd ever attempted before. From

here, I'm off to desserts of Capadoccia on my journey East. See you all soon 

Ben 

The roads out of Ankara

Worryingly a man making a bonfire in a petrol station

The last British stronghold out here 

Burning fridges. Great

Operation Desert Storm

Houses built into the rock

Man with broom

Volkan and I

The boys down the abattoir pose for a photo. 

Rustic lunch. And yes it tasted pretty much how it looked 

5,000km! Onwards...

Izmit to Ankara

It is said that a picture speaks a thousand words. You can't argue with tht conversion so lets stick to it. Here's a selection of memories from my trip to Ankara. 350km through small villages, over mountain passes, open plains and on to the big city. I've had floods, baking sun and sub-zero temperatures but above all, I've enjoyed a beautiful country, wonderfully warm people and amazing food. All from the comfort of my saddle...

My stay in Kucucek

The calm before the storm 

The heavens opened and it rained for 3 days straight. Luckily I was taken in by a kind family and they adopted me. Figuratively speaking.

They owned beautiful horses

And sheep

And guns!

And the rain continued...

So I spent most of my time in Mustafa's hardwear shop

This is Mustafa. I never did work out who the other man was...

I mainly sat and watched people fix things. But people came in and out of the shop all day long and I was proudly introduced to everyone as the mad cyclist from England!

I was even treated to a proper Turkish shave as I was starting to look like a vagrant

By the end I was running the joint. "Pack of tungsten tip screws? That'll be 10lira mate"

When not running the hardwear shop I tried my hand as a tobacconist

And taking the kids for a ride

And then after 3 days the rain stopped and the sun shone. It was time to leave :(

But not before getting a convoy out of town to the main road. It wasn't easy to race a truck after 3 days of eating and not moving.

What an amazing family. They looked after me and were truly amazing. I felt very touched by their kindness and warmth toward me.

Back on the road again

But back on my own again, it was business as usual. I pedalled all day along the main road east from Izmit. It was pretty flat as the sun began to set.

And then it got hilly

Within 5km I had climbed over a km and the temperature dropped sharply. I had to put on all the clothes in my bag. I eventually found a camp spot in a town called Bolu and my night was a cold one.

Outside my tent in the morning. My drinks bottles were frozen solid until lunchtime 

It was chilly but very crisp. I put my tent up in the dark on the only bit of decent grass around. I found out in the morning it was in fact a graveyard. 

Out of town with Snow-capped peaks to my left and right

The road continued upwards to around 1,300m. My first bit of dangerous road-kill - a mountain cat

Beautiful lakes on top of the plateau 

From the town of Gerede I headed south towards Ankara. 

The road was pretty wild but the backdrop was stunning. Only me and the truckers for 150km. 

This was a great stretch of road and I was awe-struck with the savage beauty around me. For nearly 2 days I was a cowboy, out on the range.

Ankara

The big city 

And so I arrived in Ankara. I was kindly put up by a friend I met in a hostel named Miguel (to my right). For one week I got to know the city and his friends. He was a teacher and so were most of his friends. I even found time for a hair cut

My Turkish tea party. This was my room and also their prayer room. They looked on in amazement as I dunked my biscuits in the tea...

The few older districts left in Ankara

Hiding from the sun...

I joined Miguel and friends on their national holiday down at a nearby lake. The autumn sun was incredible 

So after 8 days of relaxing, socialising and meeting new people, I was ready to head east once more. Next stop Iran.

But not before one last thing...

After a week of bureaucracy, waiting in queues, paperwork and finally fingerprints at the Iranian embassy...

You beauty!!!

Back on track again, I'll see you all soon :)

Oh and a quick one for all those who have sponsored me. Thanks so much! Xxx

  

Wednesday 16th October - South side psychling

I haven't posted for a while and that's for a few reasons. Mainly because I sent my iPad mini back with Lauren when she came to visit thinking that I wouldn't need it and I could write everything on my iPhone. But it's not quite the same and my thumbs are too fat. Like Homer Simpson I need a phone with extra large buttons. I also just realised I name-checked two apple devices in the same sentence.

Anyway, despite the length of time since my last post, I have been wanting to update you all. Ive decided to post them in a series - a trilogy, a quadrilogy or an epic opus depending on my creative juices. It will a bit of a highlights package of the best and least "thrilling" bits. Role VT...

So here it is: ISTANBUL - ANKARA. 500km. By me.

One day out of Istanbul and I'd only made 45km. The going was slow, I didn't really have the motivation and my bike felt heavy. The next morning, after waking up to find myself very much alone in a waste land, I took the decision to take my bike down to the coast and see if I could find a boat to take me over the Sea of Marmara. It's only about 50km across at this point so would be a short trip and in doing so ill be away from Istanbul and I could relax again. There's only so much A road a man on his own can take. 

So I arrived port side early in the morning with the sun already pricklingly hot. I soon found a sign to a ferry port. And the price of the fare? 60p. My bag of nuts from the kiosk cost more.

I always enjoy the ferry bits. It makes a change from pedalling and pedalling all day. This one was pretty basic with a cabin to sit in to drink tea and I was over the water to the other side in about 45 minutes. Enough time to charge my phone and fill my pockets with complementary sweets. 

The crossing was to a place called Topcular and on the other side, I think I was expecting a lovely empty coastal road. Annoyingly it seemed no different to the road i was on before. The same crumbling hard shoulder. The same dusty clouds kicked up by the lorries and I did ask myself whether it was worth the effort and sea crossing but I didn't have much time to dwell, just crack on as ever. Best not to think to hard in these situations. 

That day was a real low one. I was exhausted from seemingly little effort. I was just having a bad day and really crawling along. The bike just feels heavy and you want to stop all the time. As soon as you hit the slightest stretch which isn't pan flat or downhill you just want to throw your bike down and wait for a lift. These happen some days. Either you're not properly rested, you didn't eat enough the night before or you're body is just telling you it's had enough. I think I was just tired and also my brain wanted to be somewhere else. I frankly could not be arsed. The faceless grey towns didn't help to motivate me. The road was like military alley. Every 10 miles there was an army base with runtish soldiers wearing helmets falling over their eyes. Each one I passed I gave a little nod to get a reaction. They looked as painfully bored as I was but subtly I got a tip of the head back. I think we shared eachother's pain that day. 

Anyway, I had little idea of my best route to Ankara still so I just carried on east a bit hoping it would become apparent. At least the weather was nice. The day reached a new low later in the afternoon as I was caught short and forced to take care of business in some trees behind a football stadium. Sorry if this is too much but I feel you should know really what life is like living on the road. Glamorous it is not. 

So that night id made it away from Istanbul, I'd crossed a body of water, and was now very much in land. Probably only a modest 100km but it felt like more. I found a field near a town called Izmit to camp. It was dads birthday so went back to a Carrefour I passed earlier and sat and called him on Skype. Was nice to speak to him and with the rain pouring down outside I felt a long long way from home. As I sheltered inside my tent that night, the rain lashed down and the tent creaked in the wind. And little did I know where this downpour would lead me to over the coming days.