The road out of Goreme was extra steep and made of cobblestones. We struggled up it in the hot afternoon sun, eliciting stares and thumbs up from passing cars. By the top we had decided to just take the fastest road to Kayseri, which meant getting on the main highway. It wasn’t the nicest ride, but we were racing our package and didn’t want any delays in the form of questionable roads. As we rode closer, the huge Mt Erciyes volcano dominated the sky, looming over the farmland on the outskirts of the city. We found a nice deserted orchard about 30km out and set up for the night, falling asleep to the barking dogs that had become a nightly fixture of camping in Turkey.
In the morning we were up early and before long had found the DHL office that we had used as a delivery address. Luckily, the man behind the counter was friendly, helpful, and spoke enough English to understand our predicament. “No Problem”, he said, he’d keep an eye out for the parcel and phone us if it came.
Feeling hopeful, we rode over to our hotel and checked in. The next stop was the central PTT Office, where all the mail would come before going out for delivery. This visit was more confusing, and a lot less helpful. After finding a kind stranger who could translate for us, the man in charge told us that we could not have our package until they had tried to deliver it. If the delivery was unsuccessful, we could try coming back here and maybe pick it up, maybe after a week. It was all very vague and didn’t sound too promising. Extra frustrating was that after we left, we saw our tracking information update that it was at the Post Office! We were literally in the same building as our mail, and couldn’t get it.
So, the next morning we decided we were going to run a stakeout on the DHL Office. We rode out early and set up on a bench across the street, eyeing every yellow vehicle that drove by in hopes it was the postman. We were prepared to wait all day, and the next day if necessary, but it didn’t come to that. After just over an hour, a PTT van pulled up and a man got out with a big box. This was it! Our DHL man greeted him at the door as we ran over. The postman was a bit confused as to why he had a package for a DHL Office and two random tourists were apparently the recipients… but our man smoothed it all out, signed for the delivery, and the now amused postman handed it over! I can’t really express how stoked we were that this whole situation had actually worked out. Over the last two weeks we had spent so much time and energy thinking about this delivery, that to actually have it in our hands seemed like an impossible reality. After many, many thanks to our DHL guy, we headed straight to the bike shop.
With our shiny new rims getting built into wheels, we were free to explore Kayseri. It’s an interesting and diverse city, with modern fixtures like escalators and shopping malls mixed in among old mosques, castle walls, and a huge covered bazar from the 15th century. We were staying right in the centre of town, so there was no end of shops and market stalls to browse through as we ticked off our big city shopping list. As much as we usually try to avoid big cities when biking, there have been a few that just seem to draw us in. Wroclaw and Sarajevo are two examples, and Kayseri was another one. It had such a fun, energetic vibe that we really enjoyed our few days there. Finding a Starbucks and sipping on some real coffee probably helped too.
It also helped that we’d managed to find an amazing bike shop, who stripped down our bikes entirely for a good deep clean while they were building our new wheels. On the evening before we wanted to leave town, they stayed open late to finish the job and make sure everything was perfect. We hung out in the shop, chatting about bikes through Google Translate and watching mountain bike videos, while they put the finishing touches on our wheels. If anyone reading this ever finds themselves in Kayseri needing a shop, go visit Zirve Cycles. You won’t be disappointed. They didn’t speak much English, but the mechanic has a friend in Antalya who’s fluent. Anytime we needed to communicate in detail, he’d dial up his friend who would translate everything. This friend even told us that for our entire time in Turkey, if we ever needed help with language or anything else, we could call him, anytime. It was just another example of how friendly and helpful so many people were in this country. Also, the wheels they built us were the most perfectly true wheels ever. They were by far the best bike shop of the trip.
Leaving Kayseri, loaded down with food, we climbed back up to 1700m, through rolling farmland and hills streaked with brown, red, and yellow. We were mostly on back roads, some of questionable quality. One was bad enough that multiple people stopped to warn us against going further. Stubborn as always, we continued bumping up over loose chunky rocks and steep grades. It was washed out in four places, two of which we had to push about 50m off the road, through the grass and bushes to avoid the mud puddles that threatened to suck us under. Once we connected to the main road again, we lucked out with a long, smooth descent that allowed us to break our all-time loaded-bike speed record, with an exhilarating 82.7km/hr!
After lunch we turned up another valley, heading in the general direction of Erzincan, but still trying to keep to the backroads. After a few kms, a car pulled over and the driver told us the road was closed. We had a nice tailwind, and really didn’t want to turn around and take the main highway. Also, we were feeling confident after the morning; a closed road for cars is just better for bikes right? We waited until he had driven off and then continued up the valley.
We passed through a couple of small towns, all strangely quiet and lacking the usual curious looks and waves we were used to. Further up the valley, another vehicle stopped, this time the driver was very insistent that we could not go any further. We especially didn’t want to turn around now, having come even further up this valley. Steve tried asking him why, and through a combination of hand motions and Google Translate he managed to say “Danger” and “Forest Terror” and something about guns. Well, that was it for us. We turned around and pedaled out of there so fast, right into the headwind, suddenly very eager to get back to that main highway. That night we hid our tent in some nice dunes, close enough to the main road that we felt safe from forest terror. We never did manage to find out exactly what he meant. Our best guess is clashes between the Turkish government and the PKK. There was definitely some instability going on in the neighbouring province of Tunceli/Dersim, which we had been avoiding for that reason. Even though we were about 200km away from that area, there’s a good chance it was related.
In the end, following the main highway was great. Roads in Turkey are some of the best I’ve ever cycled on. The highways are smooth and wide, with 8 foot shoulders and mellow grades, and never as much traffic as we expected.
If the theme of the first half of turkey was tea, then the theme of this section was ‘Road Gifts’. We were offered many things from windows, including a 2L bottle of coke (which we guzzled immediately) and pretzel sticks. There are two that stand out, though. As we grunted up a small hill, a car passed us, honking and waving frantically. They crested the hill and disappeared over the other side. A few minutes later, we reached the top, and saw them pulled over, scrambling around in the backseat and the trunk. As we got closer, a man started waving us down, obviously wanting us to stop. We did, and as we pulled up to them, a woman pulled a tray out of the backseat, presenting two steaming mugs of tea and some snacks. They had actually pulled over and brewed us roadside tea! In addition to the tea we were also gifted two mini bottles of wine, two cans of beer, some bottles of water, and a huge handful of candy. It turned out that they were from Iran, vacationing in Turkey, and he was a sponsored cyclist at home. He showed us pictures of his bike and the bike tattoo he had on his arm, as further proof. It’s always the fellow bike people who are the most excited to see us. After making sure we were well fed and hydrated, they wished us luck and drove off. It was lovely to chat with them, they were so friendly.
Later the same day, as we plodded up another hill, an ambulance pulled over ahead of us. “Do we look that tired?” Steve asked, laughing. Maybe we did, because as we approached, the medic hopped out with a box of pizza. He handed us each a slice to eat right then, plus a pile of extra slices for later. He made sure we were fine, we thanked him profusely, then they drove off, leaving us completely humbled by the generosity we had been shown today by total strangers. That night we enjoyed beer and pizza in our tent, courtesy of those kind people we’d been lucky enough to meet.
At this point we had a choice to make. We could ride out to the Black Sea and follow the coast to Georgia, or we could stay inland. Inland, as always, looked harder, and longer, but we decided to go for it anyway. I’m glad we did, because the next stretch ended up being my favourite riding in Turkey.
It started after Zara, when we found ourselves riding through a pretty, high valley with colourful villages nestled underneath huge snowy peaks. Since leaving Kayseri we hadn’t dropped much below 1200m, and had been doing most of our riding between 1400 and 1700m. The air was fresh and cool, perfect riding conditions. The open valley pinched down into an unexpected orange and red canyon, following a gushing stream in spring flood. Also unexpected was the pass we were starting up, already tired after a long day. We climbed up and up and up, I kept myself going by imagining that each corner would be the top, but was always disappointed. As it started getting dark, we passed a sign indicating more uphill for another 4km. Nope, too tired. I was done. We were above 2000m now, with patches of snow still on the ground, so it got cold fast. We tucked the tent behind a wind fence and crawled in while the full moon lit up the snow on the peaks around us. In the morning we finished the climb, finally topping out at 2190m, our new trip high point.
The next few days delivered much more climbing, with fun descents, but always followed by more climbing. There were more passes, and steep sided canyons, and quiet high roads winding through the mountains. We passed through the picturesque little town of Bayburt, which is tucked into a steep valley underneath a huge castle wall that wraps around a mountaintop. We had planned to climb over a pass here to reach the coast, but found out that it was still closed for winter. Instead we kept heading towards Aartvin, deeper into the mountains. The deeper we went, the steeper the grades got too. We would climb straight up and over ridges, and then drop steeply down to creek beds, only to climb straight up the other side. It was exhausting and really started to take a toll on our legs. We also started to get really, really hungry. There were a couple of days where we didn’t pass through any villages big enough to have a shop, and we hadn’t yet adapted to all the extra calories we needed to pull off these big days. I remember being so tired, and absolutely ravenous, and there were at least a few tear-inducing hills that I couldn’t pedal up, but the landscape was worth it. The camping was great, too. Night after night we’d find perfect little hidey-holes in beautiful places. One of the best ones was perched up on a knoll, with steep drops all around and small towns clinging to the hills nearby. We watched an epic moonrise there, which started out as a faint glow behind a mountain. We watched it grow and rise until it burst into the sky, reflecting off the backs of the clouds and casting a glow ever everything. One of my best memories of Turkey will always be all the great places we ended up camping, there’s too many to describe them all.
After Ispir, we entered a huge canyon. It was steep sided with big craggy cliffs rising over foamy green water. We passed brown rock, red rock, and bright purple rock, with light purple rock dust littering the road where it had come crashing down. Every time we thought it was ending, the canyon kept going and going. We ended up riding through this canyon for three days, it was so long. The road started descending and as we got lower, leaves and buds started coming out and the canyon turned lush and green. There were wildflowers and cherry blossoms everywhere and the canyon was full of life, both in the towns and in the trees. We rode through Yusefeli, a bustling and lively town of 7000 people. The Turkish government has plans to flood this entire canyon for hydro projects, which will displace an estimated 20 000 people and ruin hundreds of acres of agricultural land. It was hard to picture a place so vibrant having an end date, hard to wrap our heads around the fact that all this will cease to exist. Further down the canyon we saw the future, as we passed towns that had already been claimed by the water and flooded out. I read that when the project started, the people of this area were trying to fight the dams, to stop the construction. Now they have stopped trying to fight it and are instead just trying to negotiate good deals for their relocation. It was sad to think that our favourite part of Turkey is going to be destroyed, but sadder still to think of what the people who live there will end up losing.
A by-product of the dam construction was the rebuilding of the canyon road. This meant that towards the end, the rough goat –path we’d been following turned into smooth, contoured pavement. This also meant tunnels; lots of them. We rode through over 50 of them in 2 days. I know because we counted. The first few were awful; dusty, unlit deathtraps with no ventilation, but most of them were pretty decent. There wasn’t much traffic either, so we felt pretty safe going through. The most epic tunnel though, was the brand new masterpiece that took us through the mountains to the Black Sea. Until very recently, the only way to get from Artvin to the coast was to climb up and over the mountains via another high pass. However, as of March 1st, one month before we passed through, there is a brand new tunnel built to bypass this high road. It is 5km long, four-lanes, divided, and downhill the whole way in our direction. We zoomed through this epic tunnel at 40km/h without pedalling, loving every second of the brand new pavement. Is it possible we’re the first people to come through it on bikes? Maybe, I doubt there were many people riding this route in the month before we got there.
Popping out the other side of the best tunnel ever, we found ourselves in Hopa, the last town in Turkey before crossing into Georgia. The timing was less than perfect, because the sun was going down now and we were too close to the sketchy-feeling border town to find good camping. It was a gorgeous sight to see though, as the sun dipped down below the water and streaks of pink and orange shot across the sky. We debated finding a cheap hotel, but a quick internet search found the cheapest option to be more than we were willing to pay. Neither of us wanted to ride around looking for something cheaper, so we opted to dirtbag it. When we were riding in Spain a few years ago, our last night in the country was spent doing an open bivy on a muddy hillside in the rain overlooking the port of Algeceiras, and it was this memory that convinced us we’d be able to find something; not necessarily something comfortable, but somewhere to lie down at least and wait for the morning.
We rode into the night, along the busy coast road, passing a huge lineup of transport trucks waiting for the border. We tried one dark bushy area, but it turned out to be a swamp and we decided we weren’t that desperate. A few more kilometres, past the truck drivers, and we found a gravel road that led off the highway into the dark. Following it, we discovered that it was a firing range, with targets set up in an open gravel space. It wasn’t swampy and the headlights were blocked by a dirt mound, so we took it, opting not to set up the tent because it felt less conspicuous that way. We rolled our sleeping bags out on the gravel and bedded down next to the bikes, fairly certain that no one would be coming to the firing range at night. There was a building nearby with lights on and people pacing back and forth in front of the windows, so we tried to keep a low profile, which meant no headlamps and no cooking. Instead we tore through all our snack food and crawled into bed. I actually managed to doze off for a bit, until a giant floodlight turned on from near the building, lighting us up like a football field. I vaguely wondered if we should move, but in the end thought “screw it” and rolled over to hide from the light. I fell asleep thinking to myself, “Good job Elaine, you saved $30 tonight. Hope it was worth it...”
The benefit of the open bivy is that you’re up as soon as it’s light, which was good given our very public spot. We made a quick breakfast and packed up, glad it was daylight again. As we rode out, we passed a military compound, and realized the firing range we’d slept on was part of the military base. That explains the pacing figures! They must have known we were there the entire time, decided we were harmless, and opted to let us sleep. The soldier on guard smiled and waved as we passed the gate. We were only a few kms from the border, and the exhaustion was high. It had been 12 days since leaving Kayseri and we hadn’t had a rest day since then. The steep and endless climbs, day after day, had worn us out, but Turkey itself had been wonderful. Especially this last bit, through the mountains and the Neverending Canyon, had really confirmed that we made the right decision to keep riding.
We’ve cycled through some pretty amazing places, but it’s hard to find one place that has it all. Maybe a country will be wild and beautiful, with friendly people and interesting history, but you can’t camp anywhere because of landmines (Bosnia &Herzegovina). Or maybe the landscape and camping will be amazing, but the weather and winds will be the challenge (Iceland). I feel like Turkey might be the closest we’ve come to having it all, with friendly people, delicious food, great weather, gorgeous landscapes, and some of the best camping of the trip.
Our time in Turkey really reminded me of why we’re doing this, why we’re putting up with all the hardships and challenges of life on the road, on bikes, vulnerable to the elements and the world. It’s because on the good days, nothing beats the freedom that comes from travelling this way, and the connections you build with a place by moving through it so slowly. It can be an incredible feeling, rolling along, figuring out your life as you go, sleeping in a different spot every night, a spot that you don’t even know exists until you find it. Even on the bad days, you learn so much about yourself, about what you can withstand, how strong you can be, and just how much it takes to break you. After getting worn down by the winter, but toughing it out and pressing on anyway, it felt like we were finally back on track.
In the morning we were up early and before long had found the DHL office that we had used as a delivery address. Luckily, the man behind the counter was friendly, helpful, and spoke enough English to understand our predicament. “No Problem”, he said, he’d keep an eye out for the parcel and phone us if it came.
Feeling hopeful, we rode over to our hotel and checked in. The next stop was the central PTT Office, where all the mail would come before going out for delivery. This visit was more confusing, and a lot less helpful. After finding a kind stranger who could translate for us, the man in charge told us that we could not have our package until they had tried to deliver it. If the delivery was unsuccessful, we could try coming back here and maybe pick it up, maybe after a week. It was all very vague and didn’t sound too promising. Extra frustrating was that after we left, we saw our tracking information update that it was at the Post Office! We were literally in the same building as our mail, and couldn’t get it.
So, the next morning we decided we were going to run a stakeout on the DHL Office. We rode out early and set up on a bench across the street, eyeing every yellow vehicle that drove by in hopes it was the postman. We were prepared to wait all day, and the next day if necessary, but it didn’t come to that. After just over an hour, a PTT van pulled up and a man got out with a big box. This was it! Our DHL man greeted him at the door as we ran over. The postman was a bit confused as to why he had a package for a DHL Office and two random tourists were apparently the recipients… but our man smoothed it all out, signed for the delivery, and the now amused postman handed it over! I can’t really express how stoked we were that this whole situation had actually worked out. Over the last two weeks we had spent so much time and energy thinking about this delivery, that to actually have it in our hands seemed like an impossible reality. After many, many thanks to our DHL guy, we headed straight to the bike shop.
With our shiny new rims getting built into wheels, we were free to explore Kayseri. It’s an interesting and diverse city, with modern fixtures like escalators and shopping malls mixed in among old mosques, castle walls, and a huge covered bazar from the 15th century. We were staying right in the centre of town, so there was no end of shops and market stalls to browse through as we ticked off our big city shopping list. As much as we usually try to avoid big cities when biking, there have been a few that just seem to draw us in. Wroclaw and Sarajevo are two examples, and Kayseri was another one. It had such a fun, energetic vibe that we really enjoyed our few days there. Finding a Starbucks and sipping on some real coffee probably helped too.
It also helped that we’d managed to find an amazing bike shop, who stripped down our bikes entirely for a good deep clean while they were building our new wheels. On the evening before we wanted to leave town, they stayed open late to finish the job and make sure everything was perfect. We hung out in the shop, chatting about bikes through Google Translate and watching mountain bike videos, while they put the finishing touches on our wheels. If anyone reading this ever finds themselves in Kayseri needing a shop, go visit Zirve Cycles. You won’t be disappointed. They didn’t speak much English, but the mechanic has a friend in Antalya who’s fluent. Anytime we needed to communicate in detail, he’d dial up his friend who would translate everything. This friend even told us that for our entire time in Turkey, if we ever needed help with language or anything else, we could call him, anytime. It was just another example of how friendly and helpful so many people were in this country. Also, the wheels they built us were the most perfectly true wheels ever. They were by far the best bike shop of the trip.
Leaving Kayseri, loaded down with food, we climbed back up to 1700m, through rolling farmland and hills streaked with brown, red, and yellow. We were mostly on back roads, some of questionable quality. One was bad enough that multiple people stopped to warn us against going further. Stubborn as always, we continued bumping up over loose chunky rocks and steep grades. It was washed out in four places, two of which we had to push about 50m off the road, through the grass and bushes to avoid the mud puddles that threatened to suck us under. Once we connected to the main road again, we lucked out with a long, smooth descent that allowed us to break our all-time loaded-bike speed record, with an exhilarating 82.7km/hr!
After lunch we turned up another valley, heading in the general direction of Erzincan, but still trying to keep to the backroads. After a few kms, a car pulled over and the driver told us the road was closed. We had a nice tailwind, and really didn’t want to turn around and take the main highway. Also, we were feeling confident after the morning; a closed road for cars is just better for bikes right? We waited until he had driven off and then continued up the valley.
We passed through a couple of small towns, all strangely quiet and lacking the usual curious looks and waves we were used to. Further up the valley, another vehicle stopped, this time the driver was very insistent that we could not go any further. We especially didn’t want to turn around now, having come even further up this valley. Steve tried asking him why, and through a combination of hand motions and Google Translate he managed to say “Danger” and “Forest Terror” and something about guns. Well, that was it for us. We turned around and pedaled out of there so fast, right into the headwind, suddenly very eager to get back to that main highway. That night we hid our tent in some nice dunes, close enough to the main road that we felt safe from forest terror. We never did manage to find out exactly what he meant. Our best guess is clashes between the Turkish government and the PKK. There was definitely some instability going on in the neighbouring province of Tunceli/Dersim, which we had been avoiding for that reason. Even though we were about 200km away from that area, there’s a good chance it was related.
In the end, following the main highway was great. Roads in Turkey are some of the best I’ve ever cycled on. The highways are smooth and wide, with 8 foot shoulders and mellow grades, and never as much traffic as we expected.
If the theme of the first half of turkey was tea, then the theme of this section was ‘Road Gifts’. We were offered many things from windows, including a 2L bottle of coke (which we guzzled immediately) and pretzel sticks. There are two that stand out, though. As we grunted up a small hill, a car passed us, honking and waving frantically. They crested the hill and disappeared over the other side. A few minutes later, we reached the top, and saw them pulled over, scrambling around in the backseat and the trunk. As we got closer, a man started waving us down, obviously wanting us to stop. We did, and as we pulled up to them, a woman pulled a tray out of the backseat, presenting two steaming mugs of tea and some snacks. They had actually pulled over and brewed us roadside tea! In addition to the tea we were also gifted two mini bottles of wine, two cans of beer, some bottles of water, and a huge handful of candy. It turned out that they were from Iran, vacationing in Turkey, and he was a sponsored cyclist at home. He showed us pictures of his bike and the bike tattoo he had on his arm, as further proof. It’s always the fellow bike people who are the most excited to see us. After making sure we were well fed and hydrated, they wished us luck and drove off. It was lovely to chat with them, they were so friendly.
Later the same day, as we plodded up another hill, an ambulance pulled over ahead of us. “Do we look that tired?” Steve asked, laughing. Maybe we did, because as we approached, the medic hopped out with a box of pizza. He handed us each a slice to eat right then, plus a pile of extra slices for later. He made sure we were fine, we thanked him profusely, then they drove off, leaving us completely humbled by the generosity we had been shown today by total strangers. That night we enjoyed beer and pizza in our tent, courtesy of those kind people we’d been lucky enough to meet.
At this point we had a choice to make. We could ride out to the Black Sea and follow the coast to Georgia, or we could stay inland. Inland, as always, looked harder, and longer, but we decided to go for it anyway. I’m glad we did, because the next stretch ended up being my favourite riding in Turkey.
It started after Zara, when we found ourselves riding through a pretty, high valley with colourful villages nestled underneath huge snowy peaks. Since leaving Kayseri we hadn’t dropped much below 1200m, and had been doing most of our riding between 1400 and 1700m. The air was fresh and cool, perfect riding conditions. The open valley pinched down into an unexpected orange and red canyon, following a gushing stream in spring flood. Also unexpected was the pass we were starting up, already tired after a long day. We climbed up and up and up, I kept myself going by imagining that each corner would be the top, but was always disappointed. As it started getting dark, we passed a sign indicating more uphill for another 4km. Nope, too tired. I was done. We were above 2000m now, with patches of snow still on the ground, so it got cold fast. We tucked the tent behind a wind fence and crawled in while the full moon lit up the snow on the peaks around us. In the morning we finished the climb, finally topping out at 2190m, our new trip high point.
The next few days delivered much more climbing, with fun descents, but always followed by more climbing. There were more passes, and steep sided canyons, and quiet high roads winding through the mountains. We passed through the picturesque little town of Bayburt, which is tucked into a steep valley underneath a huge castle wall that wraps around a mountaintop. We had planned to climb over a pass here to reach the coast, but found out that it was still closed for winter. Instead we kept heading towards Aartvin, deeper into the mountains. The deeper we went, the steeper the grades got too. We would climb straight up and over ridges, and then drop steeply down to creek beds, only to climb straight up the other side. It was exhausting and really started to take a toll on our legs. We also started to get really, really hungry. There were a couple of days where we didn’t pass through any villages big enough to have a shop, and we hadn’t yet adapted to all the extra calories we needed to pull off these big days. I remember being so tired, and absolutely ravenous, and there were at least a few tear-inducing hills that I couldn’t pedal up, but the landscape was worth it. The camping was great, too. Night after night we’d find perfect little hidey-holes in beautiful places. One of the best ones was perched up on a knoll, with steep drops all around and small towns clinging to the hills nearby. We watched an epic moonrise there, which started out as a faint glow behind a mountain. We watched it grow and rise until it burst into the sky, reflecting off the backs of the clouds and casting a glow ever everything. One of my best memories of Turkey will always be all the great places we ended up camping, there’s too many to describe them all.
After Ispir, we entered a huge canyon. It was steep sided with big craggy cliffs rising over foamy green water. We passed brown rock, red rock, and bright purple rock, with light purple rock dust littering the road where it had come crashing down. Every time we thought it was ending, the canyon kept going and going. We ended up riding through this canyon for three days, it was so long. The road started descending and as we got lower, leaves and buds started coming out and the canyon turned lush and green. There were wildflowers and cherry blossoms everywhere and the canyon was full of life, both in the towns and in the trees. We rode through Yusefeli, a bustling and lively town of 7000 people. The Turkish government has plans to flood this entire canyon for hydro projects, which will displace an estimated 20 000 people and ruin hundreds of acres of agricultural land. It was hard to picture a place so vibrant having an end date, hard to wrap our heads around the fact that all this will cease to exist. Further down the canyon we saw the future, as we passed towns that had already been claimed by the water and flooded out. I read that when the project started, the people of this area were trying to fight the dams, to stop the construction. Now they have stopped trying to fight it and are instead just trying to negotiate good deals for their relocation. It was sad to think that our favourite part of Turkey is going to be destroyed, but sadder still to think of what the people who live there will end up losing.
A by-product of the dam construction was the rebuilding of the canyon road. This meant that towards the end, the rough goat –path we’d been following turned into smooth, contoured pavement. This also meant tunnels; lots of them. We rode through over 50 of them in 2 days. I know because we counted. The first few were awful; dusty, unlit deathtraps with no ventilation, but most of them were pretty decent. There wasn’t much traffic either, so we felt pretty safe going through. The most epic tunnel though, was the brand new masterpiece that took us through the mountains to the Black Sea. Until very recently, the only way to get from Artvin to the coast was to climb up and over the mountains via another high pass. However, as of March 1st, one month before we passed through, there is a brand new tunnel built to bypass this high road. It is 5km long, four-lanes, divided, and downhill the whole way in our direction. We zoomed through this epic tunnel at 40km/h without pedalling, loving every second of the brand new pavement. Is it possible we’re the first people to come through it on bikes? Maybe, I doubt there were many people riding this route in the month before we got there.
Popping out the other side of the best tunnel ever, we found ourselves in Hopa, the last town in Turkey before crossing into Georgia. The timing was less than perfect, because the sun was going down now and we were too close to the sketchy-feeling border town to find good camping. It was a gorgeous sight to see though, as the sun dipped down below the water and streaks of pink and orange shot across the sky. We debated finding a cheap hotel, but a quick internet search found the cheapest option to be more than we were willing to pay. Neither of us wanted to ride around looking for something cheaper, so we opted to dirtbag it. When we were riding in Spain a few years ago, our last night in the country was spent doing an open bivy on a muddy hillside in the rain overlooking the port of Algeceiras, and it was this memory that convinced us we’d be able to find something; not necessarily something comfortable, but somewhere to lie down at least and wait for the morning.
We rode into the night, along the busy coast road, passing a huge lineup of transport trucks waiting for the border. We tried one dark bushy area, but it turned out to be a swamp and we decided we weren’t that desperate. A few more kilometres, past the truck drivers, and we found a gravel road that led off the highway into the dark. Following it, we discovered that it was a firing range, with targets set up in an open gravel space. It wasn’t swampy and the headlights were blocked by a dirt mound, so we took it, opting not to set up the tent because it felt less conspicuous that way. We rolled our sleeping bags out on the gravel and bedded down next to the bikes, fairly certain that no one would be coming to the firing range at night. There was a building nearby with lights on and people pacing back and forth in front of the windows, so we tried to keep a low profile, which meant no headlamps and no cooking. Instead we tore through all our snack food and crawled into bed. I actually managed to doze off for a bit, until a giant floodlight turned on from near the building, lighting us up like a football field. I vaguely wondered if we should move, but in the end thought “screw it” and rolled over to hide from the light. I fell asleep thinking to myself, “Good job Elaine, you saved $30 tonight. Hope it was worth it...”
The benefit of the open bivy is that you’re up as soon as it’s light, which was good given our very public spot. We made a quick breakfast and packed up, glad it was daylight again. As we rode out, we passed a military compound, and realized the firing range we’d slept on was part of the military base. That explains the pacing figures! They must have known we were there the entire time, decided we were harmless, and opted to let us sleep. The soldier on guard smiled and waved as we passed the gate. We were only a few kms from the border, and the exhaustion was high. It had been 12 days since leaving Kayseri and we hadn’t had a rest day since then. The steep and endless climbs, day after day, had worn us out, but Turkey itself had been wonderful. Especially this last bit, through the mountains and the Neverending Canyon, had really confirmed that we made the right decision to keep riding.
We’ve cycled through some pretty amazing places, but it’s hard to find one place that has it all. Maybe a country will be wild and beautiful, with friendly people and interesting history, but you can’t camp anywhere because of landmines (Bosnia &Herzegovina). Or maybe the landscape and camping will be amazing, but the weather and winds will be the challenge (Iceland). I feel like Turkey might be the closest we’ve come to having it all, with friendly people, delicious food, great weather, gorgeous landscapes, and some of the best camping of the trip.
Our time in Turkey really reminded me of why we’re doing this, why we’re putting up with all the hardships and challenges of life on the road, on bikes, vulnerable to the elements and the world. It’s because on the good days, nothing beats the freedom that comes from travelling this way, and the connections you build with a place by moving through it so slowly. It can be an incredible feeling, rolling along, figuring out your life as you go, sleeping in a different spot every night, a spot that you don’t even know exists until you find it. Even on the bad days, you learn so much about yourself, about what you can withstand, how strong you can be, and just how much it takes to break you. After getting worn down by the winter, but toughing it out and pressing on anyway, it felt like we were finally back on track.
The Turkey Round-Up:
ODO start: 4860 km
ODO finish: 7162 km
Total: 2302 km
Actual country name: Turkiye
Cumhuriyeti (Republic of Turkey)
Days in country: 35
Nights camped: 24
Highest pass: 2190m
Flats: 1 (Steve)
Distance back-tracked to avoid forest
terror: 35 km
Loaves of bread eaten per day at our
hungriest: 4
Other cycle tourists met on the road:
Philippe, from Switzerland, heading towards Iran.
Cups of tea offered by strangers:
hundreds
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