019 CYCLE TOURING AZERBAIJAN

 

19 AZERBAIJAN

929 Km – 18 Days

23 May – 9 June 2008

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23 May - Tbilisi, Georgia - Gazakh, Azerbaijan – 101 kilometres

Azeri visas in our passports, Ernest and I left Tbilisi and proceeded to the Georgia-Azari border. I wouldn’t have chosen this route if cycling solo. I imagined there was significantly more to Georgia and a more scenic route via the mountains. Nevertheless, a comfortable cycle of roughly 60 kilometres took us to the border.

Things were a tad haphazard on the Azeri side. Our passports were passed from person to person until, eventually, stamped. The first person I met was a Chinese cyclist who’d been travelling for the past 11 years! We chatted over a cup of tea and forty kilometres beyond the border, tiny Gazakh sported a derelict restaurant where Ernest and I pitched the tents in their overgrown garden. The clock moved on an hour, allowing an additional hour of sunlight.

 

24 May - Gazakh - Ganja – 99 kilometres

The route between Gazakh (Oazax) and Ganja was narrow and poor. It was better to cycle alongside the tarmac as it wasn’t as rutted. A headwind further hampered our efforts. Summer had arrived and the days were sweltering and dry. Towards the end of the day, a tir park (truck stop), where one could have a dollar shower, signalled the end of the day’s ride.

 

25 May - Ganja – Alpi – 120 kilometres

Not only did Ernest insist on biking this route instead of the picturesque mountain road, but we sped right past places of interest. It seemed the two of us barely ever agreed on anything. The way remained poor, and a headwind marred the day. At least the Azerbaijanis appeared a great deal more welcoming than the Georgians. Taking a break usually meant people soon started a conversation, and no sooner the entire village arrived to inquire about our comings and goings.

The language was easier to master than Georgian, as Azerbaijani, the official language, is Turkic. This allowed us to tell where we’re from and where we’re going. Shortly beyond Yevlax, we encountered a Turkish roadwork team at a tea stop who invited us to stay at their road camp. In true Turkish style, the tents were hardly up and food arrived.

 

26 May – Alpi – Alat - 123 kilometres

Our early departure was due to our tents being in the car park, and people started arriving at work. Once again, food arrived before we were even done. Good thing as the day turned out a frustrating one of cycling into a stiff breeze via a lousy road and in blistering heat. I wasn’t happy.

It appeared few foreigners frequented this area as villagers were genuinely captivated by our presence, and we barely ever paid for tea. By the time we’d finished our tea, the bill was generally already settled. One more incredible thing was that virtually all sported a complete set of shiny golden teeth, apparently fashionable at the time.

Still, we struggled on until pitching the tents behind a petrol station—a beautiful spot overlooking a dam. However, we soon discovered our mistake as mosquitoes came out in force. No sooner were the tents pitched than I noticed the pond alive with hundreds of slithering snakes (I’m not exaggerating). I could only stare wide-eyed at what must’ve been the worse place I’ve ever pitched a tent! If ever you were inclined to envy my life, this wasn’t a time to envy. Being already late, I crawled into the tent only to surface the following morning. It subsequently dawned upon me that they were likely eels and not snakes; still, I endured an uncomfortable night.

 

27 May - Alat – road camp - 88 kilometres

Encountering a headwind made me feel my problems were never-ending. But, at least the road surface improved closer to the capital. The country folk remained extremely welcoming, continually waving us in to have tea. Tea was drunk from a small tulip-shaped glass and served from a larger pot. Time was usually spent chatting if that’s what one could call our limited vocabulary.

Reaching the Caspian Sea sounded far more idyllic than it turned out to be. The coastline wasn’t only littered with garbage and oil-related industries but also with pipelines. By evening, tenting was by the side of the road, which turned out next to a rubbish dump! Not only was I tired, dirty and covered in mosquito bites but I hadn’t showered in days, and had run out of deodorant! Needless to say, I was in a foul mood, which wasn’t the country’s fault or its people’s fault.

 

28 May-5 June – Road camp - Baku – 68 kilometres

The short meander into Baku ran beside the barren Caspian Sea, the world’s largest lake. I’m not sure why it’s called a sea, not a lake, as the Caspian has no outflow and only a third of the salinity of normal seawater. Still, it’s a vast body of water and is said the largest enclosed body of water on earth. Moreover, being below sea level, it’s the second-lowest natural depression after Lake Baikal in Russia. I, therefore, feared a big climb out of this low-lying area at some point.

Oil-rich Baku, the capital, was a substantial and modern city sporting high-rise buildings, and heaps of designer stores, in stark contrast to the rest of the country. I say “oil-rich” as Baku produced one-fifth of the oil used worldwide during our visit! That’s a lot of oil and the poor infrastructure plaguing the countryside is quite inconceivable.

One got a distinct feeling Baku existed in a bubble, unaware of the poverty in the rest of the country. The Canub Hotel became home for the next few days. Even though the rooms were substantial, they revealed worn bedding and a somewhat springy floor, just the thing one would expect of budget accommodation. At least the room provided a shower and hot water, the most important thing at the time.

The plan was to take the ferry across the Caspian Sea to Turkmenistan and bike via Uzbekistan and Tajikistan to China. A dream which turned out far more difficult to arrange than anticipated. Obtaining visas to central Asia wasn’t easy as one needed letters of invitation to virtually all countries. Although this could be arranged online, the process was time-consuming and needed a full itinerary and money.

We operated in low gear and could explore Baku and its historical sites at leisure. As with practically all of the region’s countries, Azerbaijan’s history dates to the stone age. Near Umid Gaya, a prehistoric observatory was unearthed. It consists of a rock featuring images of the sun and various constellations and a primitive astronomic table.

The Old City, including Maiden Tower, dates back to the 12^th century, at least. Researchers estimate the construction dates to the 7^th century. Baku’s Maiden Tower was a landmark, and its origins remained a mystery. No one knew when it was constructed, its use, or how the tower derived its name. No written sources survived recording its construction or original function. Legend has it that a king fell in love with his beautiful daughter and wished to marry her. Horrified, the princess tried to delay the process by asking her father to build the biggest tower she’d ever seen. Once completed, she went up to admire the view from where she threw herself into the Caspian Sea. Today, the old city is a UNESCO World Heritage Site offering plenty to investigate.

During the week in Baku, I only achieved a “Letter of Invitation” to Uzbekistan. Receiving the visa was a procedure that took an additional 10–12 days. Only once one has the Uzbek visa could you apply for the Turkmenistan one.

As was our restless nature, we could no longer linger. So, as an alternative to taking the ferry across the Caspian Sea, a decision was made to cycle via Iran, to pass the time. We, hence, arranged for the Uzbekistan visa to be sent, NOT to the consulate in Baku, but Iran.

The Iranian visa only took a day to organise, but we were nearly flattened in the process. The staff operated from behind a window, and the lack of an orderly queue made shoving and pushing your way to the front. Once in front, one needed to stand your ground firmly, not to be driven away from the window. Being a well-mannered and polite South African gentleman, Ernest gave way, allowing the elderly ladies to go ahead. However, he soon changed his behaviour after being elbowed out of the way by a tiny and immensely wrinkly old lady. Unfortunately, good manners weren’t the way to go when seeking an Iranian visa.

 

6 June - Baku

Finally, Ernest and I departed Baku, but we were hardly underway when Ernest discovered his rim broken and we returned to the bike shop close to the Velotrack. Again, I used the opportunity to have my bicycle serviced.

 

7 June - Baku – Shirvan National Park – 113 kilometres

The following day we, at last, got underway and, aided by a good tailwind, headed south in the direction of Iran. After 110 kilometres and spotting a sign to a nature reserve, I stopped to inquire and was promptly offered the guest cottage, only paying the small park entry fee. The park was lovely, peaceful, and revealed loads of gazelle, birds and even flamingos!

 

8 June - Shirvan – Calilabad – 110 kilometres

By morning, we thanked the manager and resumed our quest. Once away from the capital, the road deteriorated and turned into a narrow, busy path with an inferior surface. Add a headwind to the equation, and conditions made for frustrating riding. Still, we were called in to have tea on various gladly accepted occasions. Surprisingly, the countryside turned significantly greener and was dotted with fruit stalls. One of the stall owners gave us a whole bag of fruit, free of charge.

During the day, the Azeri TV filmed us, and it must be mentioned that all this took place without us speaking a word of Azeri and them no English.

Towards the end of the day, our tents were pitched next to a teahouse under trees. Pitching tents in such a public place meant spectators soon arrived. I guessed to see what two people by bicycle did following a day of biking.

 

9 June - Calilabad – Astara - 107 kilometres

The poor road conditions persisted the following day as we ground into a gusty breeze. Still, I was surprised at how lush and green the area was, and the closer to Iran, the more trees emerged and the higher the mountains in the background.

We called it a day 10 kilometres before the Azerbaijan-Iran border and set up camp behind a petrol station. As the previous evening, it felt like the entire village came to observe us. Let me assure you there is nothing idyllic about sleeping between old oil cans and rubbish with petrol fumes up your nose whilst being stared at. At least the petrol station offered water and a toilet that only the brave would use.

 

10 June – Astara, Azerbaijan – Jokandan, Iran – 82 kilometres

The border crossing into Iran was no less hectic than others, and the no-mans-land a tad of an obstacle course. A misunderstanding regarding whether the bicycles needed documentation added to the confusion and delayed us for hours.

Once in Iran, I discovered, with shock, that foreign bank cards were useless due to American boycotts. If only I knew this, I would’ve drawn money in Azerbaijan. Adding to my dilemma, I spent my last cash buying a headscarf and long sleeve shirt as the law in Iran stated all women were required to cover their hair, arms, and legs. Even though I knew the rules and chose to visit, it didn’t make being in a male-chauvinist society any easier. I couldn’t believe I decided to cycle through yet another conservative Islamic country. In Iran, these restrictions felt worse than in other Islamic countries, as religion was enforced by law.

Furthermore, when speaking to people, they would entirely discount me and talk solely to Ernest. This behaviour infuriated me endlessly.

Welcome to Iran, where Islamic laws deny women equal rights in divorce and inheritance, prohibit women from travelling abroad without a male relative’s permission, or attending major men’s sports events!

018 CYCLE TOURING GEORGIA

 

18 GEORGIA
413 Kilometres - 10 Days
13 May–23 May 2008

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12 May – Pazar, Turkey – Batumi, Georgia – 72 kilometres

D-day arrived and, in great anticipation, Ernest and I biked to the Turkey-Georgia border. The weather was in our favour as the day became sunny and clear. However, two obstacles awaited: getting out of Turkey with our expired visas, and hoping it would be possible to purchase a Georgian visa at the border.

We nervously slinked into the Turkish immigration and were offered a seat and tea as our dilemma was discussed. The helpful border officials pointed out that we had overstayed our visa by 23 days and we were given two options. A fine of 300 lire allowed the offender to return to Turkey after three months, and a penalty of 81 lire banned you for five years. Pondering our finances, we opted for the latter. The whole process was significantly more straightforward than envisioned, and I will always love the Turkish for that.

Relieved, we set off to the Georgian immigration, where we were delighted to find one could indeed purchase a visa on arrival. Phew!

Not believing our luck, we were all smiles biking the 15 kilometres into Batumi, our first town in Georgia, via a highly scenic stretch of the Black Sea. Reaching Batumi, I drew a few Georgian lari and celebrated by taking a room in Batumi.

By evening, we found ourselves in the Caucasus, a region I knew nothing about and was excited to investigate. The Caucus region is situated along the border between Europe and Asia. It’s home to the Caucasus Mountains which contains Europe’s highest mountain, Mount Elbrus. The area includes Georgia, Azerbaijan, Armenia, and part of Russia. Still, we only planned to cycle Georgia and Azerbaijan as my travel partner seemed to be in a race around the world.

 

13 May - Batumi - Samtredia – 131 kilometres

Once in tiny Georgia, all things appeared different to Turkey. Georgia was less than a 10^th of Turkey’s size and far less populated. The country was home to only 3.7 million people, unlike the approximately 80 million in Turkey. As a result, everything was vastly different, including the food, people, and landscape. The misty, snow-capped mountains in the distance and wooded ravines featuring waterfalls and old ruins gave it a slightly medieval feel.

Our first day of riding led past numerous traditional homes upon massive plots suited to subsistence farming. The only things spoiling our vista were old, disused factories from the former Soviet 5- and 10-year plans. Several places looked forlorn, revealing dilapidated buildings and villagers living under the breadline.

Georgians were extremely reserved; to such an extent, they practically looked unfriendly. They stared at us, and we at them. Kids kept a safe distance, and even dogs were too nervous about giving chase. Our nightly abode was above a petrol station, without hot water and with torn bedding and I thought it best to use my sleeping bag.

 

14 May - Samtredia - Zestaponi – 81 kilometres

Georgia took getting used to. From the unsmiling people to the language. Georgian, the official language, was considerably trickier to master as it’s written in Georgian script, and not related to neighbouring languages. We could scarcely manage the essential words like hello, goodbye, and thank you.

The road which led to Zestaponi was picturesque, across rivers, through densely wooded areas and past small half-forgotten, depressing-looking settlements. The tents were pitched at an idyllic spot next to a river, so lovely I could have stayed a few days.

 

15 May - Zestaponi - Agara – 85 kilometres

Our late departure (10h45) was due to our tranquil site and a pleasant sunny morning. Roadside stalls sold heaps of cherries, neatly platted on a stick which made for easy nibbling while pedalling.

The route to Agata was enjoyable alongside a river, through mountains, over a pass and down the other side. Our stop in Agara was purely to eat khachapuri, the staple. A kind man suggested pitching the tents under a disused bar’s veranda as he predicted rain. No sooner were the tents pitched than his prediction came true, and rain came gushing down and continued throughout the night. However, I was happy with his advice as the shelter allowed for cooking and sitting outside the tents.

 

16-21 May - Agara - Tbilisi – 116 kilometres

By morning, the sky was overcast but luckily the previous night’s storm had dissipated. The route to Tbilisi went past Gori, the birthplace of Stalin, where we turned in to investigate. Surprisingly, an astounding number of statues of the man remained and a huge one dominated the town centre. (I believe these statues have subsequently been removed.)

It rained a bit each day but, being spring, the weather wasn’t cold and in such a lush green countryside, one could expect rain daily.

The day’s ride finished in Georgia’s bustling capital, Tbilisi, situated on the banks of the Kura River. Unfortunately, with its lively touristy trade, almost no budget accommodation could be located. Eventually, we chose a slightly pricey room sporting a buffet breakfast, something I assumed was a loss to the owners.

The subsequent day’s phone call to the Azerbaijan embassy revealed that no visa on arrival was issued at the border. One thus needed to apply at the consulate, which took three days. In the meantime, less expensive digs were sought nearer to the centre of Tbilisi. Nasi’s Homestay was an institution popular with budget travellers from virtually anywhere. Each nook and cranny were filled with beds and bunks. Nasi’s was where you were bound to meet a few interesting characters and we had a great time staying there.

Tbilisi was graced with a remarkable architectural heritage and historic Tbilisi offered numerous attractions. Not only was the city old (founded in the 5^th century AD), but due to its central location between Europe and Asia, every man and his dog wanted a piece of Tbilisi. To this day, Tbilisi is still an important transit and trade route. Like us, most needed this route to get between Europe and Asia overland.

The town provided a multitude of attractions, from beautiful old cathedrals and the fascinating and vast Freedom Square to the Narikala Fortress with its long history. The maze-like, cobblestone streets in the historic part of town came with an ensemble of restored buildings and many hours were spent wandering Rustaveli and Aghmashenebeli Avenues.

 

22 May – Tbilisi

After waiting the obligatory three days, we eagerly biked to the Azari embassy, where the queue was long and slow-moving. Once inside the building, the staff informed us the fee had to be paid at a bank in town. I thought this information they should’ve parted with earlier. Then, back on the bicycles and into the city where we had only minutes ago come from, and (receipt in hand) we returned to the embassy. Again, after waiting in line, we learned visas were only issued in the afternoon! Darn, I was under the impression they were given straightaway.

 

 

017 CYCLE TOURING TURKEY (2)

17 TURKEY (2)
3053 Km - 53 Days
20 March – 12 May 2008

 

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 PHOTOS

E-BOOK

20 March – Aleppo, Syria – Reyhanli, Turkey – 74 kilometres

Nervously, Ernest and I biked from Aleppo, Syria towards the Turkish border, wondering if visas on arrival were issued. It wasn’t possible a few months earlier, and I had to apply at the Embassy beforehand. This time, though, rumours had it that procedures had changed. Mercifully, this was indeed the case and, without delay, we were granted a 30-day Turkish stay. So delighted were we, we parked off in the nearby border town of Reyhanli.

Turkey was surprisingly different to the previous countries cycled. Thank goodness we were finally out of the desert, but the smidgen of Arabic picked up was of no use any longer. The incredible Turkish hospitality came as a welcome surprise, and it seemed, they continually wanted to feed us.

Our first night in Turkey was spent camping in a town park near a lake, resulting in regularly served tea. An invitation to a nearby restaurant was a fascinating experience. Not only were we treated to a meal, but I also had my first lesson in making Gözleme, a traditional savoury flatbread made with unleavened dough. The dough was rolled super thin and topped with various toppings. It subsequently became one of my all-time favourite snacks in Turkey.

 

21 March - Reyhanli - Belen – 74 kilometres

We said goodbye to our friendly hosts and pedalled over the mountains to Belen, where we bunked down in a proper hotel. As the room came with hot showers, towels, and soap, I showered twice and rinsed my clothes. Included in the price was a breakfast spread and I believe our stay was a total loss to the owner, taking into account the number of showers and the amount of food consumed.

 

22 March - Belen - Botaş – 87 kilometres

After breakfast, we ambled along a further 87 kilometres to Botaş. We pitched our tents on the beach, a beautiful spot, and the stares were considered par for the course. In Turkey, one could free camp practically anywhere without anyone raising an eyebrow, making the country a cycling paradise.

 

23 March - Botaş - Tarsus – 127 kilometres

The main road made it pleasant to ride to the historic city of Tarsus. We were not the first visitors to Tarsus as the region had a long history dating back about 6000 years. Turkey’s history was truly mind-blowing, and even the smallest of settlements had remains of days gone by.

I’m sure we weren’t supposed to cycle on the toll road, but being a public holiday, the way was quiet. So relaxed were we that we rolled into Tarsus way beyond sunset. Although Tarsus is a modern city today, it’s said to have been the meeting place between Mark Antony and Cleopatra, as well as Paul the Apostle’s birthplace.

 

24 March - Tarsus - Kizkalesi – 92 kilometres

The next day, we followed the shore which led through numerous settlements and past various ancient ruins until finally reaching Kizkalesi with its imposing castle off the coast. The town had a beautiful beach which made for perfect tenting.

Our impromptu campsite overlooked a historical island housing impressive ruins of a 12th-century Byzantine castle. According to legend, the Fortress of Kizkalesi was built by a sultan to protect his daughter, who was to die of snakebite. Tragically, a snake snuck into the castle in a fruit basket, and even this massive fortress couldn’t protect her.

 

25 March - Kizkalezi – Yeçilovacik – 71 kilometres

The Turkish landscape was exceptionally scenic but came with steep mountain passes. As a result, the day became one of wheezing my way up near-vertical inclines and descending at breakneck speed, only to repeat the process continuously. Finally, the windy weather forced us to call it a day on reaching an area sporting a protected spot next to the ocean.

 

26 March – Yeçilovacik - Aydinçic – 48 kilometres

Thankfully, the wind subsided during the night. The following morning, our route proceeded along the hilly road until finishing the day’s ride at Aydinçic, a meagre 48 kilometres later. But by then, I had enough of the hills. So, before losing my sense of humour, I thought better of it and located an abode overlooking the ocean.

 

27 March - Aydinçic - Anamur – 63 kilometres

How time flies! It was precisely a year since leaving South Africa, and the most significant thing I learned was how little I knew.

Turkey and its friendly people were a good place to celebrate our first year of travel. So generous were the people they ran after us with food. I kid you not - a scene as funny as it was kind. A few kilometres further, at a viewpoint, food once more arrived compliments of the other picnickers. Well-fed, we made our way past banana plantations and Mamure Castle to where camp was set up outside Anamur, close to the southernmost point of Turkey.

 

28 March - Anamur - Gazipaşa – 82 kilometres

Packing up, we were presented with a fresh eel by one of the fishermen, and I wasn’t sure what we were supposed to do with it. It subsequently dawned upon me that maybe he merely wanted to show the eel to us and not give it away. From Anamur to Gazipaşa was 82 kilometres, but the day was marred by even sharper climbs than the previous days (I didn’t think it possible).

Dead tired and with rain pelting down, Gazipaşa came precisely at the right time. Surprisingly, it was right there, in the waters of Gazipasa, where archaeologists uncovered a small bronze statue of Pegasus dating to 300 BC. It’s indeed an area with a long history.

 

29-30 March – Gazipaşa - Alanya – 50 kilometres

The short distance between Gazipasa and Alanya was picturesque, on a surprisingly flat road. The route took us along the coast the best part of the way, and one couldn’t help but kick back and enjoy a beer in touristy Alanya’s harbour area.

We’d barely booked into a room when a thunderstorm broke, a storm that continued through the night and the following day. We stayed put and filled ourselves with good Turkish bread, cheese, and olives, and it seemed Ernest had grown to fancy the Turkish sausage.

 

31 March - Alanya - Side – 64 kilometres

The weather cleared, and riding to the ancient port city of Side became a pleasant day. Once there, sufficient time remained to explore the ancient Hellenistic ruins. Modern Side is situated amidst an old town and there are ruins aplenty. However, the hugely impressive part was the well-preserved amphitheatre, Apollo Temple, a façade of a library, and a Roman bath.

 

1-2 April - Side - Antalya – 94 kilometres

Ninety-four kilometres of pleasurable biking along Turkey’s Emerald Coast brought us to historic Antalya. I miraculously managed to locate the campsite, where I had stayed a few months earlier—an interesting setup with treehouses and old wooden jetties, all slightly neglected but inexpensive. We stayed two nights as the establishment had a washing machine, a long-overdue job. Later we visited the ancient city of Antalya.

Antalya has been continuously inhabited since founded in the 2nd century BC. Like any good Turkish city, the town had its fair share of remnants from its heyday as a Roman port, and Old Antalya still surrounds the old harbour area. The historic district included many buildings dating to Ottoman and Roman times. Hadrian’s Gate was highly impressive, built in 130 AD. The 2nd-century Hidirlik Tower, with harbour views thought to have been constructed as a lighthouse, was equally remarkable.

 

3 April - Antalya - Bucak – 92 kilometres

Due to only being granted a 30-day stay, we needed more visa time. Extending a Turkish visa appeared problematic and, in general, backpackers hopped across the border instead.

We investigated various options, of which all required getting to Istanbul. Hence, we didn’t continue along the coast but veered inland over the mountains toward Burdur. Unfortunately, the interior’s late winter weather remained freezing and the road uphill. Moreover, the rain encountered made the going considerably slower than anticipated. We thus crawled into Bucak in the late afternoon, sopping wet and in arctic conditions.

 

4 April - Bucak - Keçıboru – 85 kilometres

How quickly circumstances can change. I received a message from my dear friend Esther stating she could meet us in Istanbul for a cycling holiday in Turkey. I was delighted and couldn’t wait to see Esther as I expected the trip would be great fun. We hence no longer had to rush to Istanbul and planned to extend the visas once there. Unfortunately, it subsequently turned out far more complicated than anticipated.

The route led past Burdur, climbed over more snow-covered mountains, and past green farmlands until reaching Keçıboru. Keçıboru was a small settlement and judging by the attention our presence created, not many foreigners overnighted in Keciboru.

 

5-7 April - Keçıboru - Sandikli – 67 kilometres

The following morning, we pointed the bikes in Istanbul’s direction. Still, upon reaching Sandikli, I weakened at the thought of a warm room as I had enough of mountains, cold weather, and rain by then. We subsequently stayed two nights, as the weather took a turn for the worse and the chance of encountering snow over the forward mountain passes scared us.

Sandikli resembled a ski destination and appeared cold year-round as the room was geared solely for cold weather. Sauntering around the village was a timeous affair, as there were numerous invitations to tea; even at the butcher.

 

8 April - Sandikli - Altintas – 110 kilometres

Ernest’s birthday came on a bright sunny day, and we loaded up and pointed the bicycles in the direction of Istanbul. By then, we’d been in Turkey for almost two weeks. Only on departing Sandikli did we discover the hours’ time difference between Syria and Turkey. It felt good being outside after being cooped up for three long days.

The way to Altintas was less mountainous, and after 110 kilometres, we pitched our tents in a farmer’s field in the company of a few cows. The spot was next to a petrol station. As a result, many came to chat, some brought tea and other Turkish Delight, and it seemed one couldn’t just pop in for a visit empty-handed.

 

9 April - Altintas - Inonu – 82 kilometres

The weather turned bitterly cold, and we woke to ice on the tent. Following more tea, the time was quarter to eleven before eventually departing. En route to Inonu, we met two cyclists from Germany (the first since Sudan) on a six-week holiday. Each year, they did a cycle trip, picking up where they left off the previous year, which I considered a marvellous idea, especially with limited time.

The Altintas and Inonu area was well known for porcelain production, and we encountered various porcelain factories. It started raining and we were offered accommodation by an older man living in a container divided into two rooms—how immensely kind of him as he was a man of few possessions.

We, nevertheless, opted for a roadside motel where the room was warm as toast. The light in the room was, however, fitted with an automatic motion sensor. Meaning one had to keep moving about. How strange. Ernest fixed (or broke) it, and we could at least read in peace without jumping up every few minutes, arms flailing.

 

10 April - Inonu - Inegol – 112 kilometres

Once again, it was late in the day by the time we got underway. The weather remained icy in the high-lying areas, and hard to make one’s way out the door.

Ernest had taken to picking up all kinds of things, mainly tools. He claimed a number ten spanner fitted all the nuts on his bike racks, and an adjustable wrench is a tool no man could cycle past.

We also met one lonely cyclist on his way to Beijing. The rest of the way mostly descended until we came upon a grassy patch suitable for pitching tents.

 

11 April - Inegol - Gemlik – 88 kilometres

Spring had finally sprung, and the day became enjoyable with flowers everywhere. At Gemlik, our chosen route left the main road and followed the scenic path along the coast. Albeit hilly, the area was blessed with fantastic scenery and a grassy parking lot next to the ocean made a perfect place to pitch the tents.

 

12 April - Gemlik - Cinarik – 70 kilometres

Our leisurely departure was mainly due to our reluctance to leave such a lovely spot. The path ran along the coast, offering stunning views of the Sea of Marmara. True to a scenic route, the road remained hilly until reaching Cinarik. A lay-by on a green hill overlooking the Sea of Marmara signalled the end of the day’s ride.

From our site, we could see Istanbul’s lights across the bay. The Sea of Marmara is an inland sea that connects the Black Sea to the Aegean Sea, thus separating Asia from Europe. So, officially, we were still in Asia.

 

13 April - Cinarik - Istanbul via Yalova – 21 kilometres

A short 21-kilometre cycle took us to Yalova, where ferries departed to Istanbul, sparing us the horrendous Istanbul traffic. Once off the ferry, we found the street from the port into the city centre surprisingly dead quiet, with us the only people. We subsequently discovered an international cycle race was taking place that day. A good thing we didn’t encounter them. Imagine what a spectacle that would have made!

 

14-20 April - Istanbul

The entire day was spent trying to extend our Turkish visas but to no avail. No one spoke English, and the staff seemed reluctant to lend assistance. The immigration office primarily dealt with the extension of residence permits which wasn’t what we needed. Ultimately, we gave up as it was far less troublesome to hop across the border.

The next day, we boarded a train to Bulgaria to cross the border and re-enter Turkey. Still, to our surprise, the train ended up in Greece, despite being marked “Bulgarian Border”. The Greek officials couldn’t stamp our passports, as we had no Greek visas. Hahaha. Visions of us stuck in the small no-mans-land between the two countries flashed before my eyes. Turkish officials thus couldn’t give us a new visa as officially we never left. They were, fortunately, prepared to cancel our exit stamp. We made peace with the idea of being illegally in Turkey for the remainder of our stay. A decision was made to deal with the problem when leaving the country, a risky option but the single one available at the time.

The following day, we explored the possibility of flying out. Still, the flight and the visa fee entering neighbouring countries didn’t make this a viable option.

The remainder of our time was spent visiting the cities’ numerous attractions and meandering the narrow pedestrian lanes and bustling markets. Istanbul is indeed a place filled with colour, smells, exotic produce, and a vibe that will stay with you forever once experienced.

Esther landed in Istanbul on 19 April, bicycle and all, and what a surprise to find, besides the bike, she only had one bag. Of course, anyone knowing Esther would know this is virtually impossible.

 

20 April - Istanbul - Riva – 45 kilometres

Getting out of the city and over the suspension bridge across the Bosporus, practically took the entire day. I am pretty sure we weren’t supposed to cycle across that bridge, but we gunned it across without being chased down.

Esther did exceptionally well on her first day and, having a new bike, didn’t even fall off once! The going was slow as the countryside was surprisingly hilly. Still, we managed 45 kilometres before finding a picnic area to pitch the tents.

 

21 April - Riva - Şile – 51 kilometres

We got going around 11 a.m. and again found the way to Şile extremely hilly. Esther freewheeled down the hills and walked her bike up the other side, and I imagined the heat a tad severe for a Scott straight from the frozen north. Still, Esther loved every bit of it. What a legend!

 

22 April - Şile - Agva – 37 kilometres

Şile was a mere 37 kilometres from Agva. We met two lady cyclists from Amsterdam (Julie and Mayo) on their way to Beijing. We all pitched our tents close to the beach that night, making it a pleasant evening.

 

23 April - Agva - Campsite – 67 kilometres

Together the five of us set out through the gorgeous countryside. The weather was significantly more suitable to Esther’s liking as it became slightly overcast, and we managed 67 kilometres. The evening was, yet again, a social affair.

 

24 April - Campsite - Unknown village – 81 kilometres

With all the chatting while packing up, it turned out between 10 and 11 a.m. before getting underway. Our route followed country lanes through farmlands and tiny settlements until we were spat out at the coast.

At each stop tea was offered; hence, there was no such thing as a quick stop. During the tea-drinking process, we missed Julie and Mayo. The weather changed and turned bitterly cold. Kudos to Esther who pedalled 81 kilometres to find a suitable spot to hide from the wind.

 

25-26 April - Unknown village – Akcakoca – 18 kilometres

Still cold, we rode the short distance into Akcakoca, where a room with a great Black Sea view became home that night. Then, finally, we could shower and rinse our clothes.

That night we went to a restaurant, where Esther settled the bill. In fact, she paid for virtually everything since her arrival! Our clothes were still wet in the morning, and we stayed put. Like nearly all places in Turkey, Akcakoca had an old town that sported well-preserved traditional houses made of wood and bricks.

 

27 April - Akcakoca - Eregli Camping – 55 kilometres

My camera got wet and stopped working but miraculously sprang back to life. Hallelujah! Against all the odds, we came upon a relatively flat stretch. Still, it didn’t last long and immediately past Eregli, it started climbing sharply away from the coast.

While searching for a place to pitch the tents, we encountered a picnic area. In true Esther style, she chatted with a family camping nearby. They promptly fed her grilled chicken, salad, bread and tea. Later, the fog rolled in and a freezing night was spent at the picnic area.

 

28 April - Eregli camping - Zonguldak – 34 kilometres

A good descent, with fantastic vistas along the coast and mountains, led to Zonguldak. Due to the short distance, Zonguldak was reached early. A comfortable abode was sought as this was Esther’s final destination. From Zonguldak, she planned on bussing to Istanbul to catch her return flight to the UK, and I couldn’t believe how quickly her time had run out.

 

29 April - Zonguldak - Bartin – 67 kilometres

Esther’s bus departed at 13h00, and we got her and her bicycle on the bus without any hic-ups. Once we waved her goodbye, Ernest and I pedalled onwards towards Bartin.

The route led via Filyos and an extremely hilly ride on a partly gravel path with narrow hairpin bends and loads of trucks. Shorty beyond Filyos the way, mercifully, levelled out as it approached the main road.

 

30 April - Bartin - Kurucasile – 75 kilometres

We woke to a beautiful sunny morning and, as could be expected, encountered more hills en route to Kurucasile. Nevertheless, we stuck to the shores of the Black Sea, where we had lunch, and shortly beyond that, caught up with Julie and Mayo.

 

1 May – Kurucasile – Doganyurt - 87 kilometres

For the next few days, the four of us cycled along the hilly coastal route, along narrow roads with numerous hairpin bends. The going was dreadfully slow, and though the way went up and down, the down always felt far shorter.

Following many cups of tea, the four of us pitched our tents at a beach and then proceeded to make a bonfire to keep warm. The fire wasn’t exclusively for heat, as it also made for easy socialising.

 

2-3 May - Doganyurt - Abana - 74 kilometres

The route between Doganyurt and Abana was another hilly but pleasant ride. Ernest had a flat tyre and fixed the tube while the rest of us watched the dolphins.

In the process, I learned one of the most intriguing facts about the Black Sea. The Black Sea’s anoxic water is caused by a lack of movement between the upper and lower water levels resulting in an absence of oxygen in the water. Marine life can thus not survive at the lower level. Only the Black Sea’s oxygen-rich surface waters can support aquatic life. Fascinating stuff.

With all that talk about marine life, Julie and Mayo bought fresh fish at the market in the small community of Abana. That evening, we made a fire on the beach, and they cooked it while we watched and chatted.

 

4 May - Abana – Ayancik – 67 kilometres

We must have gotten used to the hills, as the stretch from Abana to Ayancik didn’t feel half as hilly as the previous days. The sun was out, and the scenery sublime, with densely forested hills to the one side and the blue waters of the Black Sea to the other. The road followed the coast for the best part of the day. Not merely was the route scenic, but it came with less than 1000 metres of climbing, thus a good day all in all.

At Ayancik, we stopped to do our usual shopping and afterwards biked a further five kilometres to where we pitched the tents on a small beach overlooking the Black Sea. No sooner had we pitched the tents and we were presented with freshly fried fish and salad.

 

4-5 May - Ayancik - Sinop – 55 kilometres

The Black Sea was like a vast lake, not a wave in sight, as the four of us packed our bicycles and proceeded to Sinop. The route was less hilly than the previous days, and the rain encountered made me look forward to getting the ride over and done with.

Finally, Sinop was reached, frozen and soaked to the bone. A warm room and shower, the first in days, was an absolute pleasure, after which we set out to the nearest restaurant. From Sinop, Mayo and July took the bus further along the coast to Trabzon, as they had to enter Iran by a specific date and were running out of time. Ernest and I decided to stay in Sinop an extra day to do the usual rest-day housekeeping.

Being situated at the extreme northern point of the Black Sea’s Turkish side, Sinop was always vulnerable to attacks from across the water. The half-moon Pasha Bastion was constructed during the Crimean War in 1853 to protect the city against such attacks. Much older was the Sinop Fortress dating to the 8^th century BC. Turkey’s history never failed to amaze me!

 

6 May – Sinop - Bafra – 115 kilometres

The last thing I felt like doing was emerging from my cosy room and getting on the bike, as outside the weather remained overcast and icy. However, the wind was in our favour, and the hills were not as fierce as the previous days. So, we used the favourable conditions and kept going until Bafra where tenting was in a friendly farmer’s yard. That night Ernest cooked pasta with soy mince smothered in mayonnaise, a favourite at the time.

 

7 May - Bafra - Terme (via Samsun) - 125 kilometres

To our dismay, the wind direction swung a full 180 degrees during the night. Luckily, the day consisted mostly of flat riding of which good use was made. A Carrefour supermarket in Samsun made for stocking up on all items needed. As the day drew to a close, we pitched the tents in a picnic area under well-established pine trees, as always, along the shores of the amazing Black Sea.

There are many fantastic facts about the Black Sea. One is that the water level remains unchanged due to the lack of high or low tides. This lack of movement has brought about many unique features, including a high level of minerals and salt, making nearly all objects float.

 

8 May - Terme - Bulancak – 133 kilometres

A new road provided a wide shoulder and therefore easy riding, complete with tunnels, cutting out major climbs. We flew along with a tailwind, right past the ancient cave tombs of Ünye, believed to date between 7000 and 5000 BC. So pleased were we with the favourable conditions, we didn’t even stop to explore.

Enjoying every minute, we proceeded until reaching a suitable grassy patch to pitch the tents. As the spot was next to a restaurant, tea appeared in no time. It soon started spitting, and we turned in early.

 

9 May - Bulancak - Trabzon – 161 kilometres

We emerged to a drizzle, a drizzle that continued throughout the day. Understandably worried about our visas, which had expired almost three weeks earlier, we pedalled as fast as possible and pushed on towards historical Trabzon.

Arriving cold and drenched to the bone, a room off Atatürk Square made it a great place to have a warm shower and to wash the day’s drizzle-fuelled grime off my weary body.

 

10 May - Trabzon

Following 534 kilometres in four days, I called a rest day, as I wasn’t doing the Tour de France.

Trabzon was ideal for taking a break as the town sported a few attractions. It had dozens of mosques and churches, all dating to the Byzantine and Ottoman Empires. We even located parts of the old city walls which were still intact. I ate the last of the salty liquorice the Dutch girls gave me. I love the stuff and was surprised it lasted that long. But then again, I jealously guarded it and never offered Ernest any.

 

11 May - Trabzon - Pazar – 122 kilometres

On another cold and cloudy day, we pedalled out of Trabzon. Still, along the new highway, the unlit and pitch-dark tunnels made for hair-raising cycling.

Upon reaching Pazar, we, as usual, stocked up with foodstuff prior to pedalling a few more kilometres before camping. As luck would have it, a small harbour appeared suitable for pitching our tents between the boat sheds. No sooner had we done so and balik (fish) arrived, compliments of the ever-friendly Turks. Soon afterwards, an invitation to tea was extended. We were served tea and borek (a pastry filled with various ingredients and sprinkled with sesame seeds) accompanied by a fresh salad. We feasted upon these regional delicacies, making cooking unnecessary.

 

12 May – Pazar, Turkey – Batumi, Georgia – 72 kilometres

D-day arrived, and in great anticipation we packed up and biked to the immigration office. At least the weather was in our favour as the day became sunny and clear. But, first, two obstacles awaited: getting out of Turkey with our expired visas and then praying we could purchase a Georgian visa at the border. Again, images of being stuck in no man’s land worried me.

We slinked into the Turkish border, and in true Turkish style, were offered a seat and a cup of tea while our dilemma was discussed. The helpful border officials pointed out we had overstayed our visa by 23 days and were given two options. We could either pay 300 lire and be allowed into Turkey after three months or pay 81 lire and be banned for five years. Considering our finances, we opted for the latter. The whole process was considerably easier than expected, and I will always love the Turkish for that.

Relieved, we set off to the Georgian immigration, where we discovered one could indeed purchase a visa on arrival. Phew, the visa gods were indeed good to us! I almost kissed the ground!

We couldn’t believe our luck and were all smiles biking the 15 kilometres into Batumi, our first town in Georgia, via a highly scenic stretch of the Black Sea. I drew a few Georgian lari in Batumi and celebrated by taking a room.