Day 57 - Safranbolu - 60 miles
Nearly 2 months into my bike ride from the UK and day 14 in Turkey. Andre and I had stayed in a campsite in the UNESCO heritage town of Safranbolu last night in an attempt to recover a little after our first week riding in Turkey. So far this has without a doubt been the hardest country we've covered. Communication is difficult, culture and social expectations are very unfamiliar, the sun exposure is intense, scenery often underwhelming and the dogs are mental. Setting off on my own in the early hours, it felt like I was riding in a whole new Turkey. Instead of trash-lined roads connecting building sites and rundown towns by the coast, I was now riding on the most pristine tarmac highways that seem to deliberately take the scenic route through all mountains rather than the fastest or most direct route. Taking in the surroundings and singing along to my tunes down the highway, Turkey definitely has a lot to offer but you have to take it at a manageable pace (which I didn't).
Andre caught up to me in the afternoon and we rode together the rest of the day. We'd been climbing steadily since yesterday morning, and by the end of the day we'd be at just under 5000ft of elevation. We planned to wildcamp somewhere up in the mountains, figuring the drop in temperature would be welcome at night as we were getting tired of sleeping in pools of sweat at sea level every night. The higher we got, the less civilisation we had to pass through as towns were now 15 miles from one to the next, with just the occasional petrol station along the way as our only chance to refuel.
A flash on the ground just ahead of me caught my eye as we got close to the top of the mountain. I looked down to find we were riding over rounds and rounds of unused 9mm bullets. We could only assume that these had been left in a hurry, maybe thrown from the window of a speeding car. Guns are about as alien as it gets to someone from the UK, so it was genuinely quite interesting to hold, and get my innocent fingerprints all over them. This wouldn't be the last of my interactions with guns this week.
As the sun was getting lower, I asked at a petrol station if we could camp in their grounds. He said not next to the station, but gestured to the other side of the road as if to say we could camp there. Not thinking much of it, we wandered over and found a spot set back from the road and slightly hidden by trees, which felt pretty safe at the time. We got on with the usual routine: shower out of a bag hanging from a tree, change in to my butter-covered clothes (see last post) and cooked up a pasta feast. Halfway through our meals we started hearing barking in the distance, and we could see 5 dogs near the petrol station on the other side of the road. We figured that they wouldn't cross 6 lanes of highway traffic to get to us, so ignored them. Turns out we were completely wrong about that, this pack of dogs knew exactly how to skip across 80mph traffic to get what they wanted and by the time they made it to the central reservation, it was clear they were coming for us.
I'm still not sure if they were wild dogs or roaming farm dogs marking their perimeter but they were all big boys to say the least, with one much bigger Kangal that seemed to be leading the group as my foe in this twisted anthropomorphised Disney movie. Andre and I stood with knives and pepper spray in hands watching as they stopped 50 metres away watching us. After a minute of silent standoff, all 5 jumped into a full sprint towards us whilst barking with teeth on show. I remember feeling instantly freezing cold and saying 'here we go' under my breath to Andre. We'd both heard the horror stories from other bike travellers in Turkey. They all skid to a stop a couple of metres from our feet and carried on intimidating us. It definitely didn't just feel like a 'here I am' kind of bark, they were really wanting to intimidate. After a few minutes of this they abruptly turned and walked away over the hill behind us, we reasoned that they must be okay with us now and so we should be okay to stay the night.
At 2am I was lurched from deep sleep into immediate adrenaline by a shotgun like bark of a dog less than a foot from my head, all that was separating us was a paper thin tent lining. To this day I still wonder if I had some form of heart attack, for 10 seconds I couldn't breathe and knew that my heart wasn't beating with any kind of rhythm and all the while I was trying not to move or make a sound in the hopes that the dog would move on. Thanks to a comically placed street light in the distance casting shadows on the foot of my tent, I was also able to watch as the silhouette of 2 other dogs sneaked around the perimeter of my human taco shell. The group had surrounded my tent and we were a long way from any help.
After a nerve racking 30 minutes of barking and the occasional tug of my tent as one would trip on a peg, they left and I was able to fall asleep for an hour before it happened again. This time though I saw the paws of a dog attempting to move under the outer layer of my tent and inside. I quietly sat up trying not to ruffle the fabric of my sleeping bag, unfolded both of my knives and held them akimbo waiting for one to make a move, which never came. They were there for 30 minutes again, and this time I knew there was no way I could sleep again, so I decided I would wait until first light, then break camp and get down off this mountain as quickly as possible. This was the scariest night of the trip, maybe the scariest night of my life.
Day 58 - Kastamonu Merkez - 77 miles
I listened to podcasts for the next few hours until just before sunrise and I'd preemptively eaten my breakfast, so as soon as it was light enough outside that I'd be able to clearly see my immediate surroundings, I got out and packed down camp in record time, ready to hit the road and try to put last night behind me.
We were aiming to cycle 75 miles to the city of Boyabat in the East, which was just before what would be the biggest mountain pass we'd cycle over in Turkey. After the mayhem of last night, I was extra twitchy on the road for the first few hours and not at all rested enough for a full day of riding, so thankfully after cycling uphill the last 2 days straight, we now had 5000ft of elevation in the bag for today. Within the first 10 miles I hit all new speed records for the trip, whipping along at just under 40mph.
The whole day was a bit of a blur for me really. I'd decided pretty early on that I'd stay in a hotel tonight to recover from yesterday and that my camping days in Turkey may be behind me all together. Boyabat was a hectic little city, where we went to a restaurant for a tasty yet questionable spread of food where, of course, the menu had no prices on it. We'd started loving this part of getting ripped off in Turkey. I's quite funny seeing the cogs turning in the minds of restaurant owners when you ask to pay and they consider how far shall I push it?, even though we knew were paying a lot more than locals, it was still extremely cheap compared to Europe.
Day 59 - Boyabat - 69 miles
The hotel breakfast was an interesting mix of fruit, soft cheeses and really greasy chips, the ultimate yin and yang balance needed to prepare our bodies for the longest climb of the trip so far. Ahead of us was around 4000ft of elevation to pedal up in the first 30 miles. The reward for getting up and over the mountain was that we'd be rejoining the Black Sea coastline for the first time in over a week near the large city of Samsun and the remaining stretch of Turkey from there on is almost completely flat.
After a few hours of riding up the mountain I got a text from Andre to say that he'd taken the wrong turn and had been riding for an hour in the opposite direction to me. Usually I'm used to hearing the distinct clanging sound of his broken pedals approaching behind me around 10am and we ride on together from there but we'd both be going solo from here on, at least for today. At the top of the climb I was surprised with a 2km+ tunnel cutting through the rock, which was the longest one so far in Turkey. The pathway was completely crumbled so I had to join the trucks and cars as they sped past me without their lights on. Straight after the first I was back into another but at least the second had a wide enough pathway to stumble along.
As quick as I'd risen to 4000ft of elevation, I then descended to sea level in half the distance. New trip speed records were set at over 43mph whilst I was followed by the burning smell of my brakes the whole way down. I stopped to grab water from a roadside tap to cool my brakes down and fill my bottles, from my left I heard a yelping noise and looked over to see a local waving me in to his home. I should say that this is an incredibly common occurence in Turkey, in every other town you ride through you'll have at least one offer to join locals for some food, chai tea or Turkish coffee. I sat with the man and his friend who both owned small farms on the side of the mountain. Through Google Translate we spoke about the similarities between Christianity and Islam, and their dislike for gypsies... not typical first date chat but they were both very friendly.
10 more minutes of screaming my way down the mountain and I emerged at the Black Sea just outside of Gerze. Unlike the Black Sea coast of the northwest of Turkey, the water this side of the country was a bright blue that didn't look half as polluted. I really pushed the pace for the rest of the day averaging 18mph for over an hour on the coastal roads and I couldn't believe how strong I was feeling. A month ago the idea of riding 60+ miles with a 4000ft climb in the middle would have been enough to wipe me out for the day, let alone following it immediately with an hour of fast riding. I'd been really struggling with the stress of Turkey until now and this gave me a new goal: now that we were back to flatter roads and close to completing the country, why not push myself for the next few days to see if I can set some new records for myself and push the biggest riding days of my life?
I camped at the beach next to a group of locals who were doing the same, It wasn't an official campsite but no one seemed to care. The guy next to me treated this as more of a permanent holiday home, with potted plants and sofas out the front of his tent, as well as a huge fire pit which I should have considered a red flag. Just as I lay down to sleep, I saw a flash of white light and felt the heat of fire instantly, I scrambled out of my sleeping bag thinking in my daze that someone had petrol bombed my fabric house (one of my irational nightmares on this trip) only to see that my neighbour had started a bonfire a few metres from my tent. I reckon the inside of my tent was above 40° at 11pm, fair to say I didn't sleep well.
Day 60 - Fatih - 104 miles
Following through on my new plan to set some records for myself I woke up at 5:30 and immediately hoofed down the biggest bowl of overnight oats I could stomach, a banana, a yoghurt and an iced coffee... This ride was going to be as big as my, now alarmingly urgent, bowel movement. On my sprint to the beachside toilets I caught the sun just as it was rising over the empty beach. Turkey seriously has its moments.
I can't really remember much of the ride from today, as it really was more of a race for me than a holiday but I really enjoyed it. For just over 6 and a half hours of cycling, I was pushing myself as hard as I could in the heat, eating constantly and weaving through traffic as I passed through a few major cities including Samsun, the most hectic cycling experience of the trip. Along the way I munched through 2 bowls of overnight oats, 1 kebab roll and 7 breakfast bars... probably not what my body needs, but it did the job.
Arriving in Ünye just after 17:30, I checked into my €8 hotel complete with unlockable room doors and toilet paperless bathrooms and headed out for dinner by the beach. 104 miles is 2 miles longer than the furthest I'd ever ridden before in my life, and this time I had nearly 30kg of luggage to take along for the ride. Fair to say I was both chuffed with completing the ride and also in a 6000 calorie deficit so I ordered 2 main meals and in hindsight probably could have had a third.
Day 61 - Ãœnye - 76 miles
Unsurpringsingly I struggled to peel myself out of bed after yesterday's mammoth ride so I had to change my route a little as I'd likely only make it around 80 miles before dinner time. At my first petrol station of the day to stock up on iced coffees, I was stopped by another cyclist as I walked into the toilet who seemed shocked to see me. How did he know I was a cyclist? Because I have to wear my helmet even when taking a wee apparently. How did I know he was a cyclist? That moustache & wrap around sunnies combo tells me you either love bikes or own a microbrewery. Turns out he'd been speaking to another cycle tourist from England who was just a day behind me heading the same direction that he'd offered to host at his house for the night and he'd mistaken me for him. He put me in touch with my English shadow in Turkey and warned me to avoid the upcoming tunnel if I wanted to stay alive.
The diversion around the tunnel took me through a handful of tiny fishing villages as I traced the outline of the peninsular. In all it cost me nearly 2 hours of extra riding, but It was a really refreshing change. Some of the roads felt like I was in a southeast Asian country, winding my way through thick wooded areas, flanked by small islands just off the shore the whole way.
Before my detour, Andre had been trailing just a little behind me except he didn't have the same serendipitous meeting with a hipster angel to advise him to avoid the tunnel and so he cut straight through the mountain and overtook me. It turned out that the tunnel was pretty good compared to what we'd been up against so far, so I could have just followed my gut. This is often the case speaking to locals in any country - they'll have a very different standard for what they'd consider safe or comfortable compared to you who's cycling for over 6 hours every day for months on end. Sometimes you just have to see these obstacles for yourself, though granted this isn't true about sneaking through secret military bases like last week... Pick your battles.
Giresun was my finish line for the day, a larger city that felt a lot younger and more liberal than any others outside of Istanbul with bars serving alcohol outside, music on every corner and a distinct lack of hijabs compared to the Turkey I'd gotten used to. The other main thing that stands out about Giresun was how much the town loved Turkey, literally everywhere I looked I'd see Turkish flags draped across and in between every building. It's nice to be in an intensely patriotic place coming from the UK where displaying the St George flag on your house is just as likely to ruffle as many feathers as it does spark joy for others.
As I'd arrived in good time and had energy to spare I haggled my way out of paying tourist price at the least appealing 1 star hotel I could find (why award yourself 1 star?), €7 for a standard room which I later got upgraded to a suite with a balcony at no extra cost as my air conditioner was broken... They definitely hated me. I went out for dinner with the intention of finding something different from kebab but alas, if you're cycling through Turkey you really do just have to accept your fate on this one.
Day 62 - Giresun - 83 miles
The last few days riding on the coast had been on the D010, a major highway that would now be my only option right up until the border with Georgia. Speaking to others on reddit forums about my route through Turkey I'd been warned a few times that the D010 gets worse and worse the closer you get to leaving the country and I was seeing that first hand now. Throughout Turkey I'd gotten used to riding on a wide hard shoulder running parallel to the insane highway drivers, after heading east out of Giresun often times the hard shoulder will disappear without warning and I was left to merge on to 3 or 4 lanes of impatient traffic and no plan B if I needed to bail out. Aside from being more dangerous, the road was also a lot less interesting to ride through now as it felt with every city we passed through everything got a little more industrial.
At around midday I came to an unavoidable 3km tunnel that had a particularly bad sidewalk, bad enough that I'd have been walking the bike for 30 minutes to get through. I could see ahead that this was one of the poorly lit, older tunnels and so I donned my high vis jacket and all 3 lights I had on my bike and cycled on. I really can't describe just how unnerving it is riding in this scenario, the noise of all of the traffic currently inside the 3km tunnel accumulates in an orchestra of deafening echoes that make it impossible to judge how close trucks are to you until half a second before they blast past.
About 500 metres from the end of the tunnel a speeding lorry (HGV/truck) scraped past me going well over the speed limit. I didn't sense it coming before it brushed past me so close that I still think there's a chance that it scraped my pannier bags, this was definitely the closest call of the trip and even writing about it now more than a month later it's tough to think about for too long. Thankfully my instincts kept me riding in a straight line whilst the cars following immediately behind sped past a few feet away from me. In an effort to keep my adrenaline under control I was screaming and swearing until I finally saw light at the end of the tunnel.
I pulled into the first petrol station after the tunnel so I could take a breather and try to calm down, 5 minutes later I saw everyone's favourite German cyclist rolling in to the same spot. It turned out that Andre was just a few minutes behind me before I entered the tunnel and he also had a very close call and needed to pull over to calm down. Not only had Andre nearly been hit by a car in the dark, he also retold the story of his last night in the tent where lightning struck so close to his tent that he felt the explosion through the ground, poor chap. A chai tea and an ice cream later and we set off together for the rest of the day taking it easy until we made it to Trabzon.
We both needed to seriously recharge after the ride so went across the road to a pizza restaurant, the first I'd seen in over 3 weeks of cycling. I ordered 3 main meals and a 1.5 litre bottle of fanta before calling it a day.
Day 63 - Trabzon - 73 miles
This was my last full day of riding in Turkey, I'd cross into Georgia tomorrow and by this point I was feeling very ready for the change. On the plus side this last week of riding had been the biggest of my life cycling well over 500 miles and the equivalent elevation change of 2.5 Everests, definitely felt like something to be proud of and was helping me take my mind off the mental attrition of busy Turkish roads.
I'm sure that like a lot of the other challenging parts of this trip i'll be able to look back on Turkey fondly once I'm past it, as I passed through the now dwindling final towns and cities of this huge country I tried to make an effort to stop and notice some of the uniquely Turkish sights that I'd been living in for the best part of a month now. Unlike Turkey, Georgia is predominantly orthodox Christian and also for the most part a lot less conservative. I'd really enjoyed being a part of this very different culture for some time but was feeling excited to move back into a country that feels a little closer to home.
Andre caught me just before lunch on the highway and we continued together for a few hours. At one point we were flagged down by a policeman who to our thankful surprise just wanted to force us to sit down with him and drink chai tea whilst he told us about his rock climbing adventures. As kind as it was I think both Andre and I really just wanted to get on with chewing through the last few miles of Turkey but it's a bit harder to say no to an armed policeman than a random village farmer.
My final stop for the day was ArdeÅŸen, the last major settlement before the border a little over 40 miles away. Andre decided to ride a little further than me, I felt like I had nothing left in the tank by 5pm as I pulled into town so called it quits. I found a cheap apartment to rent in the centre of what felt like a bit of a rough town compared to the other cities I'd stayed in. Half of the buildings were crumbling and I was definitely attracting some looks that weren't quite just the normal delighted curiosity, more of a leering.
After dumping my bags I went out in search of my final Turkish meal in town. I found a one man run restaurant where there were no menus, only photos of Turkish politicians on the walls so you know it's good stuff. I was the only person in the restaurant whilst the owner grilled me up a feast, using google translate I simply ordered 'big food, very big hungry' and accepted my fate. The food was great, my only gripe was the drinking situation, no soft drinks, no water, just concentrated vegetable juice and yoghurt.
As I lay in bed drifting off thinking back on what had without a doubt been the hardest month of the trip and maybe my life, I was bolt awake by the sounds and bright flashes of what i'm pretty certain were gunshots just outside in the car park adjacent to the hotel. A month ago I'd have been awake for hours worrying but it was surprisingly easy to not care about this now... you've gotta love Turkey.