Bıg Mılage
Turkey ıs huge.... massıvely huge. Sometımes I rıde for hundreds of mıles and at the end of the day, ı sıt there drınkıng my tea lookıng at my Turkısh road map thınkıng wow that was some crazy long rıde. But then I look at my zoomed out overall map of Turkey and I suddenly realıse that I havent even moved! Its that bıg. Every so often though I have to cover some bıg mılage to get somewhere when I decıde that I dont want to vısıt anythıng ın between... So ı thought I would wrıte out thıs report so you guys could see a typıcal, solo rıders ordeal whılst crossıng some long lonely rodes ın the East.
So, the camera is partially fixed and I can take a few photos but the quality is poor and it depends if the camera feels up to it. So unfortunately I can't decorate the blog with pictures as before! I'll try though.
After entering Turkey I made my plans to ride all the way north to Georgia. I was banking on the weather holding out until I got there. I had the option of two routes to Tatvan, my destination for the night. East or west, west being a long old ride over some serious mountain roads and the east being quicker and straighter. As there had recently been some heavy shelling on the east by the Turks trying to flush out kurdish terrorist groups hiding there I thought it would be smarter to take the western road. It felt like I was continuously ascending for 6 hours. I met and saw all sorts of interesting people along the way. I rode through villages that were extremely rural. As usual, the thumping sound of my bike would mesmerize and attract the attention of the village kids who all run to the road to watch the bike pass through. Occasionally I would stop, otherwise I would slow right down and wave to the children. To the congregated men sitting in groups drinking tea I would nod, put my hand to my heart then to my head as a mark of respect. This was always met with a reciprocal action.
I did stop to take a photo of this handsome dude. I had not passed a single car, vehicle or person in over an hour but then saw him happıly trottıng along. He had a huge smile on his face when I passed so I though I would stop for a chat. He walked with me to the othersıde of the road and shouted something out loud... I looked down and saw another guy emerge from the bushes carrying grapes and nectarines. We all sat around eating freshly picked fruit and laughing at I don't know what. I tried to swap my bike for his donkey but he didn't want to. Maybe the donkey was worth more.
After solitudely riding for hours and hours I really got into the mountain riding and the twists and turns, the sweeping bends, ascents and descents. You kind of develop a rhythm after a while where you become synchronized with the road. If you stop the bike or break your rhythm even for a moment you have to start all over. I was thinking that I'm not stopping for anything, I was in the zone baby. Then I narrowly swerved past a moving rock... Then I had to stop... Rocks don't move? I rode back and sure enough there was a tortoise slowly crossing the road. Bear in mind this is really high up in the eastern mountains of turkey and no where near water or anything other than sand. A couple of miles back I had passed a load of lorries and this little dude was going to get run over. So i parked up, picked him up and went and dangled my feet of the side of the cliff edge with Turk (I thought it was a good name). I had a couple of nectarines left over and so cut one up for my new friend. He popped his little head out of his shell to eat. We both sat there gazing over the mountainous terrain that lay ahead of me eating fruit...
10 miles from Tatvan the weather became unbearably cold. I was freezing my ass off and the wind was becoming pretty strong. I didn't want to pull over to put more clothes on because it was getting dark and I just wanted to get there. I made it and found a dark and dingy motel in the centre. A guy that resembled Eagor showed me to my room. As the foyer was so small I couldn't wheel my bike inside. Instead I chained it up outside. The guy behind the reception desk was a complete nutcase. I asked him if my bike would be okay and safe outside as he was copying down my passport details... His reply was:
"If ANYONE fucks with it... I WILL FUCK THEM!!!" And as he shouted those last four words he punched the air then slammed my passport down on the table, breathing heavily....
My reply was "okay brilliant... well, goodnight then"
The next day I set of for Van. The weather became very bad. The rain was absolutely bucketing it down and the wind was again very strong, the cold mountain air compounded this. I pulled into a petrol statıon to check my map and ı was hungry. As ıf they knew, I was quickly ushered inside by the petrol pump workers and was fixed up with a big breakfast and boiling sweet tea. Of course thıs was all free, I was their guest for breakfast! It was all laughs, tea and smoke inside the petrol station office for breakfast, I believe the over- landing biker gets a kind of special treatment as they can appreciate how tough it can be navigating and dealing with the elements solo without a guide or gps just a soggy old map. To back this theory up: a tour bus arrived on their way to Van, when it arrived with foreign tourists and their plastic rain coats whıppıng ın the wınd, the staffs smiles dropped and i saw them hazily walk outside and deal with the customers as quickly as possible with absolutely no interest and no genuine politeness. When they got back ın they grunted whılst tıltıng theır head towards the bus ın a dısmıssıve way ,urgh... tourısts... then we all laughed.
I rode pretty much the whole way to Van. By the time I got there I was freezing. My fingers were numb and my legs were soaked. I have owned my bike boots for 4 years and they have never leaked, that was the first time my feet were wet too. I pulled over on the side off the road and told myself to make a decision right there. It was only going to get colder northwards, the tour bus driver told me that they had come from the north and it was layered in snow. I was not enjoying it, I had not packed properly for winter riding, I have nothing to prove to anyone and have done a great deal of snow and ice riding in England so I know whats ınvolved. This is kind of like my holiday and so I made the decision that this was not the right time for another hell ride and I would rather have fun in the sun. I set a new course heading south west to Cappadocia.
It took around 3 hours to get out of the raın and for the weather to return to a reasonable temperature. It was aslmost an ınstant change ın weather after passıng through one gıgantıc tunnel through a mountaın. On the other sıde of the mountaın the sun was shınnıng! I couldnt take any photos of the condıtıons of Tatvan or Van as the camera would have got soaked... I dıd take thıs congratulatory, vıctory stance photo once the weather cleared though after conquerıng the freezıng mountaın!
I visited and stopped off in Malatya and Diyarbakhir before making my final push to Cappadocia.
The road to Cappadocıa from Tatvan was extremely long and took me 3 days of rıdııng... on these types of rıdes whıch have to be done every so often, one must entertaın the mınd!
I also decıded to start takıng photos of the countless overturned lorrıes and trucks I fınd all over Turkey; by doıng so i am not ınsınuatıng that the Turkısh lorry drıvers are not capable skılled drıvers.... no not at all....
heres a couple;
Just outside the city of Kayseri I stopped at a tiny little taxi booth. There was one guy sitting inside with his taxi parked up. Pulling up next to him caused him to rush out. Typical looking Turkish taxi driver, he came out to see what I wanted. Once I took of my helmet and said "hello, how are you?" in Turkish, a huge smile immediately drew across his face as of course he could tell I was a foreign overlander. He immediately shook my hand and gave me the traditional Turkish greeting of touching each side of his head to yours whilst shaking hands. Like the European kiss on each cheek but instead there's no kissing and it's just your temples which touch. I fınd I am contınuously greeted lıke thıs all over Turkey whıch ıs quıte nıce. I was pulled inside his tiny little shed which could fit possibly 3 men as it had a stove and a little couch and a chair inside. Hot coffee was brewed to warm us both up. I ended up talking and joking around with Aftik for about an hour, despite the fact that he could not speak a single word of English. He wanted me to stay with his family that night but I had to push on that day and politely declined. Very nıce bloke though, we dıd have a laugh!
The wonders of motorcycle travel!
