I had no idea what to expect cycling into Turkey. To tell the truth I knew very little about this country except that i could find plenty of kabobs to eat and that the men love their mustachios. At first i was shocked to see how modern this country is, i was expecting something on par with Morocco. But of course you have both the BMW's and the donkey carts wheeling down the same road. You realize that some people are living the same as their ancestors did a few hundred years ago, except with a cell phone in hand. This was starting the adventure for me, entering Turkey. This bridge of land connecting Europe and Asia with so much diversity and history proved to be both uplifting and rewarding as well as disappointing at times as i cycled over 2,000 kms from Greece to Georgia. Here's my little report.
The night before I was gearing up, washing my clothes and organizing all my important documents, making sure I had enough cash to reach the next city and checking that I had all my belongings. I do remember locking the door before dosing off to some music playing on my itouch. A common thing that took place during my stay was that one of the servers that worked at Yassars restaurant would come and shower when he finished his shift at night. I was assured that he was a good friend of Yassars partners and a trustworthy fellow. So it was no different on the night I was robbed; their was knocking on the door, i let him in, and then i fell back onto the bed and passed out. When i awoke it took some time to notice what had happened. I started packing the dried clothes and brushed my teeth. Then I looked to the table where my Otlieb handlebar bag was with slr camera, credit cards, passport (with Chinese visa), International vaccination card, 400 TL$, and about 3,000 photos of traveling Europe. Gone. I looked to the smaller table next to my bed for the itouch and it too was missing. What was going on?! Did someone come into my room while I was sleeping and take my things? Was I set up? I started to freak out and Osgar, the DJ eventually heard my yelling and ran upstairs to find out what was going on. He looked stressed as well saying both his phones were missing but his laptop was still in his room. How can I know this for certain or if he's just pretending to be another victim so im not suspicious? I lose it saying that i want the police here NOW! I want the waiter/server here NOW! I wanted to know how/why this happened on the last evening of my stay, which I made clear to Yassar the day before. Why did the server not lock the room door when he left my room and then why did he leave the downstairs door unlocked as well, which he admits doing. It was later that we found the camera footage of the man who stole my things. He entered the building about 40 minutes after the doors were unlocked by this server early in the morning according to the statements and the timed footage. The man on the video was clearly not the server and in my opinion the image quality was so poor that I doubted any possibility of ever identifying him in person. What to do? Im thinking this is so sketchy, where to begin? OK lets go to the police station. I go and notice that everyone from the restaurant has been there for some time, given their statement, and now are joking with the two policemen now in from of me. Osgar is translating what the police officer is saying and now evidently its my turn, last but not least, to give my statement. This is somewhat painful as im now reliving the experience of loosing so much, photos i cant buy, bla,bla, bla. Osgar is telling me as I write out a list of items I no longer have that the Turkish government is giving refunds to tourists who have been robbed and that i shouldnt worry. Im about to crack.
I still look back and wonder what really happened, was i set up? I dont blame Yassar or believe he could do something like this, but i doubt the credibility of the younger men working at the bar and restaurant downstairs. I stayed another four days with Yassar waiting for a replacement passport and cash sent from Alaska via Western Union. The cash took time and Yassar and Osgar fed me and took great care of me during this difficult period. It felt strange not to have a single penny or any ID in such a large city as Istanbul and i was certainly feeling depressed. When the temp. passport was delivered by UPS I noticed immediately that it wasnt going to work and that I would have to request for another full passport. But not in Istanbul, at this point Istanbul was driving me crazy. I just needed to move forward and put this town and experience behind me. So I left that afternoon after good by's with some of the locals and Yassar. Time to cross the Bosphorus into Asia.
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| Blue Mosque, Istanbul |
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| ferry across the Bosphorus. I tried to force a smile but couldnt manage it. |
My first objective was to cycle out of Istanbul without getting hit by a truck or car. Sounds easy enough but from Greece it took two full days of combat cycling through outlying cities and Istanbul to reach the center. The traffic was so bad I had to take these "Pow-Wow's" to regain my composure, then try again with my toes crossed. In hindsight I was incredibly lucky to only have a lot of close calls and a few stories to tell my nephews. All in all it was a stupid idea. So how to exit Istanbul(ALIVE) on the bike going east? On my dodgey map it indicated a ferry service about 70kms east from the center, from the Bosphorus. From there it was a quick hop, about 10 kms across the edge of the Marmara Sea to a much quieter place with farms and small villages. I was happy with this decision. After day one of cycling out of Istanbul I had a great campsite in the foothills alongside Lake Iznik. What a dramatic change in landscape and atmosphere to my restless days above a dance club with no other option but to count the hours. Free at last, free at last.
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| A change of pace. First night out of Istanbul. |
The temperature got warmer everyday as I traveled southeast into interior Turkey and I wondered if my continued route through the south was a good idea. My daily routine was based on how to maximize my time on the bike, to stay out of the sun as much as possible, to cool down using the water springs along the road, and of course, hydration with Coca-Cola products and water. The last part is no joke. I feel like now having cycled 40,000kms around the world in difficult places; Western Sahara desert, western Bolivia, northern Argentina and Chile, Namibia, and now Turkey(Placing as the hottest) that now I have a little experience of what works and what does not. For example, a pint of yogurt followed by three cups of strong tea is a bad idea to pound before a ride. Iv tried beer as well but it turns out that this causes detrimental effects on your system when pedaling in 100 degree weather. Its trial and error man.
So I arrive on another sizzling day in Cappadocia with not a lot of expectation but some curiosity. It was definitely worth the trip and much larger in scope than I had originally thought before coming. Is this not why we travel, to know by direct experience.
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| erosion is an amazing force. Wind and Water |
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| an old church carved into the rock |
Later that evening I stayed at a campground and took a much needed shower. Im amazed how dirty and grimy I get traveling on the bike. Im usually willing to pay exorbitant amounts of money just to bathe and wash my clothes. This is how it goes when you are wild camping every night and dont find a clean stream or lake to bathe in. You deal with it. I will be the first to say that bike touring is not as glorious as it sounds. Maybe its just my style of traveling. Your usually dirty and tired and hungry and people are usually looking at you like your crazy IE (dirty, tired, hungry). But the rewards are so gripping and intense that you soon find yourself hooked and on the other side of the world from your home exploring more. So here I am.
After the second day in Cappadocia I pedaled off toward Malatya, the apricot capital of the world. If you have ever had the opportunity to taste the dried apricots from Turkey than this is where they are coming from. It was during this stretch of road that the heat really started to effect my "Lance Armstrong Performance" or my LAP. With this pace there was no lapping going on and this is unacceptable. I would get off the bike after a long session in the heat and realize i couldnt walk in a strait line, like i was drunk. No joke. I needed to be more respectful of the climate I was in. Unfortunately the respect came in small doses and after I committed to a line through southern Turkey(Too little too late). My prediction; The heat will be bearable. So apricot country was beautiful and no matter where I stopped along the road people insisted I take more and more of this fruit. Both my panniers and my belly were full with apricots and I also had plastic bags full on front and rear racks. So much weight but so tasty, a perfect meal for cycling. You must see it to believe it, the size of the sub valleys and main valley, the number of trees, the number of apricots on one tree. Many trees with stilts supporting the branches heavy with fruit. The people camped out in small communities in the fields working day and night, picking the fruit, drying the fruit. Enjoying the shade of an apricot tree while having an afternoon cay. Men, Women, Children all taking part in this work. Hard work. Honest work Its funny though, even after my apricot gluttony in Malatya I still long for another bite. |
| the Kurdish road construction crew |
The Kurdish people represent a significant number of people in Turkey even though they are a minority. They inhabit the east and southeast of Turkey and the core is located in southeast Turkey, west Iran, northern Iraq, and northern Syria. Unfortunately, the man who drew the map overlooked this and now you have a people divided, who are being forced to assimilate under there separate states of government. What is the out come? History will show that the Kurds have been here longer than the Turks, or Ottomans. They have their own language(Indo-European) and culture, which the Turkish government has tried to forcibly assimilate to Turkish, starting in 1930s. This was actually one of the conditions that Turkey had to fix in order to gain favor with the EU and make it possible to join the European Nation. Of course this will never happen but Turkey did make changes to this particular policy, maybe even for the wrong reasons. So now you have an aggressive force on the Kurdish side who call themselves the PKK, it stands for something like the workers rights movement. I must make note however, that not all Kurdish people are for this kind of action and want peace above all things. They do not support the PKK. The PKK are considered a gorilla force and have been laibled by America and the EU as a terrorist organization since the late 80's. The Kurdish people above all things want equality and to preserve their culture and dont take an aggressive stance. During my ride through Turkey there were many clashes in the south and southeast between the PKK and the Turkish Amy. Solders on both sides were being killed and I realized that I needed to be extra careful cycling this stretch of road. Let me just say I was far from these areas and in no danger.
By the time I had entered Malatya I was in Kurdish territory. There was no sign or checkpoint, you just notice how people refer to things. For example, the tea is no longer Turkish tea but Kurdish tea. Wow, OK, no problem. This sorta came as a surprise as I was expecting the Kurds further east and south. It all became crystal clear one day traveling on a small back road to Nemrut. Do I have to explain again how hot it was? I cycled by a road worker and asked for some water because I had ran out and started to feel a little desperate. I was parched and according to my map the next village was another 30 kms or so. He was a tall middle aged man with a clean shave and a cigarette in his hand. He gestured that he had no water than looked me and the bike over. Noticing the Turkish flag on my bike he gave me a strange look and said, "This is Kurdistan not Turkey". Strike two. I rode off a little disheartened and still in need of water. One thing was for certain, that flag had to go.
It was a last minute decision and my last opportunity to travel directly south about 200kms to a place called Namrut. I was wanting to explore more of the back roads in the mountains in western Turkey but none of them led through a region, only ending at a village. From the looks of the map this road too looked as though it dead ended only 80km from the main road near Malatya. I started to ask the locals if the road led past Namrut to Severik which would make it possible to continue east without double backing my route. Everyone agreed on this point and so I made the correction on my map and after receiving an armload of apricots was on my way. The route proved more difficult than expected. This is mainly due to my poor map which showed only 50% of the mountain passes, a real problem when your counting on water from village to village. (A high mountain pass or two between villages when your spent and thirsty can pose a little problem.) After the third pass I new I would have to dig deep on this one. For as far as I could see I was looking at the most rugged terrain with road inclines up to 10%. It was unbelievable that with each mountain pass and decent the hotter it got. The mountains were certainly barriers between the warm air in the north and the hot air in the Syrian plateau. The question was, how hot was it going to get? I still had plenty of passes and mountains to climb as I pedaled south. It was too late to turn back now and I was determined to see what lay ahead on this route over Nemrut and down to the Adiyama province.  |
| so beautiful the Kurdish mountains are |
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| a Kurdish campsite |
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| Nemrut |
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| represent'n |
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| Antiochus ancestors |
Its special moving through the world under your own power, making your own decisions, choosing a path your clueless about, overcoming obstacles. No doubt this is what we are all doing in life.
Nemrut is located on a mountain top over 2000m in the southeastern region of Turkey. This place is believed to contain the sacred tomb of Antiochus I. It was during 62 BC that Antiochus had built a "tomb sanctuary" with statues of himself, two lions, two eagles, and a list of Greek, Armenian, and Iranian Gods. The statues each inscribed with a name of a deity. One stone slab shows the oldest know image of two figures shaking hands, between Antiochus I and Heracles.
It was unreal to see these carvings in such an environment, atop a mountain. There was a cool breeze and I took my time up there imagining the work and skill involved to build such a site. Trying also to imagine the statues as they were, unmolested by people and nature, thousands of years ago.
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| ferried across Ataturk Lake, (dammed river). |
So I stop at a gas station just out of Severik and ask the attendant if its ok for me to camp behind the station. He looks at me as though nothing could be more normal and fitting. Naturally. I scavenge the shelves inside for any worthy calories. More biscuits, chips, liter of juice, chocolate donuts, crackers, soda pop. Definitely not the South Beach diet. I take all these goodies outside where the man has a half dozen lawn chairs and enjoy this interesting meal. BON APPITITE! I was exhausted and retired after the junkfood binge.
I managed the next morning to make it into Severik. By 9 am it was too hot to cyle in the sun. I found a local cafe were I was planning on killing some time and was then invited into the owners house directly above the cafe for breakfast.
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| In the shade. proved fairly accurate when compared to time/temp signs in EU |
The low point of this trip was the stretch between Severik and Cermik. The road was literally melting and bubbling, making cracking and popping sounds and looked like an oil slick. I could feel the weight of the bike sink into the asphalt and bog down requiring twice the effort to keep moving. I was now fighting a direct headwind that was so hot i literally was laughing to myself, maybe I lost it a little too. Breathing now became difficult and I started to worry a little if I was able to get out of this environment under my own power. I never amagined that it could get this tough on a bike. And people say roadbik'n easy.
I continued until dark that first day out of Severik and then camped off the road out of sight from drivers or any people. The temperature drops so slowly and I admire my surroundings. Im in the badlands with rugged rocks and gorges, some farmlands and fields here and there mainly growing grain for cattle.
Im awoke by five men outside my tent, all have flashlights, and two I notice have rifles. A man kneels down next to my tent and holds out a sheet of paper with some writing on it. He starts speaking in english, "Its not safe place for camping you must come with us." Im awake now. I ask whats going on? why is it not safe? But its clear he only speaks Turkish. I indicate that I want to see identification cards, not that I have any control over the situation or any choice, I just wanted to see how they react to this. The man who read the card promptly pulled out his wallet and showed me what looked like an ID but it was hard to tell in the dark. I was starting to get worried. How did they know I was hear? Im so stealth when I seek a campsite and I thought I had mastered the art of wild camping. Im a fool. I start packing my things and hand my bags to the men I assume are solders who in turn shuttle this gear to a car parked back on the road a few hundred yards away. Im following this procession and then start loading my things into what looks like a taxi. OH, NO! I hate taxis in far away places. The last time I got into a cab was Congo Kinshasa and that was a crazy experience. The last thing they loaded or tried to load was the bike. We tried many different methods but it just wouldnt fit. The man in charge(with the english letter) pointed down the road and leaned the bike up against me. It was at this point that I started to cool down and relax a little, after all, they weren't about to stuff me into a taxi in the middle of the night, off in Timbuktou. I pedaled forward with the car lights shining from behind illuminating the road not knowing my destination. Every so often a giant scorpion would try his luck crossing the road. Maybe I had some luck coming my way. About seven kms of hilly road led to the Turkish military base and I sighed a breath of relief. The place they recommended for camping was a little too close to the road but at this point I just needed to lay down and process what just happened, maybe even get some sleep.
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| My first hotel room out of Istanbul. Elazig. mirrors are a great source of entertainment. Forget weight watchers, join my program today. follow me & loose 20lbs in less than a week. |
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| Traditional Kurdish food at the music festival in Tunceli. |
My route was through the mountains from Elazig to Tunceli and then up to Erzurum to collect my passport before crossing into Georgia. I stayed in Elazig for one night at a hotel in the center of town. It took three hotels, as I had no passport or ID, before one German owner looked at me and allowed me to stay one night. Its against the law in Turkey and most countries to let forengers stay for lodging without procuring a passport. I knew my predicament and if it wasn't possible I was willing to cycle out of the city and camp. But I was persistent and thanks to that German fellow I had a bed to sleep in if only for one evening.
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| Kurdish band from Istanbul |
Never cycle in a county where the people are practicing Ramadan. Not that this poses any serious problems but for your enjoyment as a cycle tourist who needs food and water to get from point A to point B, trust me. During August most Muslims are in the holy month of Ramadan, a month of fasting lasting from sunrise to sunset. Its during this time they refrain from eating, drinking, and having sexy time. It is in this way they come to know humility and sacrifice.
I was surprised to discover that this month also grosses the most profit from grocery stores. I have no issuse with this as im just an observer but the amount of food I saw people carrying home was amazing. I admit I would do the same if I was in their shoes. I just got a little frustrated how people treated me during this time. Like your almost not welcome. We are doing "this", what are you doing. A little holier-than- thou attitude if you ask me. Very cold. I would cycle into a town soaked with sweat and eventually find a store where I could buy some food and drink. It was obvious Im in need of calories and water. But I always got dirty looks from people and sometimes the men would come up to me while I was eating and repeatedly say "RAMADAN! RAMADAN!" What can I say to this but "OK,OK". "How about this? not everyone on this planet is the same, with the same opinions and beliefs. Whats important is that we respect one another. Right? I respect you and your beliefs, can you respect me and mine." Let me make note that at this time I had crossed back into Turkish territory. My point is not to make the Turks look bad and the Kurds look good. Im just making observations as I go.
And I did go. Strait to the hospital after getting hit by a small cargo truck. The impact to the lower left back and butt was intense and I was sure something was messed up or broken down there. I had woke up early that morning to be able to reach Erzurum before it got too hot. Had breakfast, then pedaled down the road. The road had very little traffic and was in my opinion pretty safe. One moment I was pedaling the next moment I remember a sharp pain, then being airborne in the superman position heading toward the ditch. I looked over to my bike which was now upside down in the air parallel to me, head high, and to the right. Im thinking this cant be good. It turns out I was right. The landing was just as painful and I lost a little wind and a little skin before i came to a complete stop. I was in shock for a while then started feeling and moving around to check the carnage. All in all I was more worried about my bike laying about 20 yards off the road in a field. How did the bike manage? Could it still be ridden? " I,I,I!" Then my attention was back on me and my body. How could I get hit that hard and not have any serious problems? It took some time before the man who hit me walked over and drug me to the side of the road. I told him I wanted police and an ambulance. He said no and started collecting my bags that had tore off the rack and were now laying next to the road. I noticed I was breathing deeply and getting more concerned about this whole situation. Next he walked over to where my bike was and wheeled it over to his truck and loaded it along with my bags. I was feeling a bit helpless lying there wondering if I could even walk. The man came over and helped me limp to his truck. "Ok, I deffinitely cant walk." "Thats painful". Im in his truck looking for any ID while he finishes loading my stuff. I find his truckers time card with his picture and name in the slot in the dash. I feel safe now but still in pain. At the hospital the x-rays showed no broken bones. I sustained only scraps and bruises and my back still feels a little kinked. I was lucky. From then on Iv been sketched out by passing cars, flinching so hard one time I almost fell off the bike. Im currently looking into getting a mirror for the bike. So back to the hospital. They cleaned me up and sent me on my merry way with the Military to give my statement of what happened and who was at fault. So im there at the station (Military/Police) wrapped in bandages and one of the officers ask for my passport. I hand him the crumpled up paper that Iv tried so hard to use as an ID (My statement of what happened in Istanbul, my name, nationality, and some bullshit stamp) for almost a month. He reads it very carefully and then looks up at me in disbelief. I raise my arms and say "my Turkish holiday". |
| Kurdish herders in norther Turkey, before entering Georgia. |
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| returning from working the fields |
