017 CYCLE TOURING TURKEY (2)

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

 

MAP
 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. 

016 CYCLE TOURING SYRIA (2)

16 SYRIA
548 Km – 9 Days
11 March – 20 March 2008

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 PHOTOS

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11-13 March - Syrian border - Damascus – 115 kilometres

After mountainous Jordan, the lack of hills in Syria made for delightful cycling. The day turned out pleasant and sported views of green fields and distant snow-capped mountains. Finally, the weather was in our favour, and we rolled into Damascus at around 4 o’clock where two full days were spent.

Founded in the 3^rd millennium B.C., Damascus is one of the oldest cities in the Middle East and was an important cultural and commercial centre at the crossroads between Africa and Asia. Damascus’s old town is considered among the oldest continually inhabited cities globally and, therefore, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. I was in Damascus barely six months earlier and was thus super keen to show Ernest around this remarkable city. Unfortunately, he was disinterested in sightseeing and only visited the historic walled city and markets. As a result, I spent most of my time exploring the city’s remarkable and ancient sights and attractions.

Luckily, the Umayyah Mosque, known as the Great Mosque of Damascus, said to be one of the oldest and largest mosques in the world, was explored with my sister a few months prior. The fascinating part of the mosque was that it was constructed following the Muslim conquest of Damascus in 634 CE. The mosque was further built upon a Christian basilica dedicated to John the Baptist, honoured by both Christians and Muslims as a prophet. Legend has it the building contains the head of John the Baptist, which I considered pretty bizarre.

 

14 March - Damascus – Roadside restaurant - 74 kilometres

The tailwind we enjoyed departing Damascus soon became a howling crosswind, to such an extent I got blown off the bike, and landed in a ditch next to the road. After the third such incident, I shouted abuse at Ernest who seemed not to notice. Mercifully, a shelter was discovered at a nearby roadside restaurant. The owner offered us floor space above the restaurant to spend the night.

 

15-16 March – Roadside restaurant - Homs – 95 kilometres

By morning, calm conditions made for comfortable cycling to Homs, 95 kilometres away. At a roadside breakfast stop, a kind Samaritan invited us to a meal that became a feast of hummus, olives, cheese and various pastries. Afterwards, we set off with full stomachs, and I don’t know what Ernest was on, but he rode straight into a stationary minivan! And that in full daylight! Nothing was broken except his ego and the van’s taillight.

The Al Naser Hotel in Homs was easily the crummiest but the cheapest in town. The toilets were filthy, and one had to pay extra for the strange paraffin-heated shower.

The following day, a minivan took us to Krak Des Chevaliers, which I visited with Amanda only a short time before. The complex consists of an imposing Crusader castle and UNESCO World Heritage Site. The castle was initially built for the Emir of Aleppo in 1031 CE. In its hay day, it housed some 2,000 people including infantry, crossbow specialists and mercenaries. However, the actual number of brother knights was as few as 60, according to records dating to 1255 CE. Today, it remains one of the finest medieval castles anywhere. A few hours were spent marvelling at this magnificent structure.

 

17 March - Homs - Hama – 47 kilometres

From Homs to Hama was barely 45 kilometres, leaving plenty of time to explore the historic norias (wooden water wheels or “wheels of pots” in Arabic). Evidence of these ornate water wheels dates back to the 5^th century CE. They were initially constructed along the Orontes River to move water through aqueducts. Unfortunately, the old citadel was less impressive and was no more than a picnic area but had a good city view.

 

18-19 March - Hama - Aleppo – 144 kilometres

I didn’t expect to go all the way from Hama to Aleppo in one day. Still, Ernest had a bee in his bonnet and we pushed on, reaching Aleppo, the largest city in Syria, long past sunset. Fortunately, this was my third visit to Aleppo and I knew where to go.

Following a leisurely start and breakfast, we visited the world-famous souqs of Aleppo.

Aleppo had been at the crossroads of several trade routes since the second millennium BC. Thus, the old walled city has been declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The Citadel of Aleppo, situated right in the centre of town, had grand views over old Aleppo, and dates to the 10^th century BC.

Equally impressive were the souqs of AleppoThe Al-Madina Souq was situated within the ancient walled city. Its long and narrow alleys formed the largest covered market globally. The market stretched approximately 13 kilometres. Aside from trading, the souq accommodated traders and their goods in khans or caravanserais. Unfortunately, this arrangement made it a congested area where one had to push and shove your way along the narrow walkways and stalls.

 

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

By morning we resumed our ride to the Syrian-Turkish border, wondering if visas were issued upon arrival. A few months earlier, coming from Bulgaria, it wasn’t possible and I had to apply beforehand. This time, however, rumours suggested procedures had changed. Thank goodness, this was indeed the case, and without any delay, we received a 30-day Turkish stay. What a relief! So delighted were we, we parked off in the nearby border town of Reyhanli. 

015 CYCLE TOURING JORDAN (2)

Photo By Ernest Markwood

15 JORDAN (2)
624 Km – 18 Days
21 February – 10 March 2008

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21-22 February – Nuweiba, Egypt – Aqaba, Jordan - 28 km

From Nuweiba, Egypt one could cycle via Israel and Lebanon to Turkey, or take the ferry to Jordan and cycle via Syria. As it was difficult or near impossible to get into Syria with an Israeli stamp in the passport, the uncomplicated ferry to Jordan was a no-brainer. The ferry departed after five instead of three p.m., resulting in us arriving in Jordan after dark and leaving an hour’s cycling at night until reaching the city centre.

After a good night’s sleep, the next day was spent exploring our new country and Aqaba while strolling along the beach where Jordanians swam fully clothed. However, two surprises awaited: firstly, things were rather expensive as the Jordanian dinar was strong and, secondly, it became clear Jordan was another mountainous country.

Aqaba’s old town, where we bunked down, offered an exciting dose of ancient Arabia centred around a souq. These markets were fascinating and allowed a peep into the Jordanian lifestyle. Cafés were packed by men in kaffiyehs, smoking shisha pipes and sipping the local brew. I imagined a camel as a more appropriate means of transport than a bicycle. The market offered the best food in Aqaba including delicious hummus. Unused to the currency, I bought one JD’s falafel and received two full bags, enough for supper, breakfast and lunch!

 

23 February - Aqaba - Ras an-Naqb – 88 km

Ernest and I followed the King’s Highway, an ancient north-south trade route since prehistoric times, connecting Africa to Mesopotamia. This ancient route ran from Egypt via the Sinai desert to Aqaba and further north to Damascus.

As romantic as it may sound, the area was mountainous and the hills made it exhausting riding. Nevertheless, we pushed on until reaching Ras An-Naqib where we pitched the tents next to the road at more than 1,600m above sea level. I realised it wasn’t my imagination - it was an uphill trek.

 

24–26 February – Ras an-Naqb – Wadi Musa – 44 km

The next morning was an easy 44 kilometres to Wadi Musa. The Valentine Hotel, sporting pink walls, red curtains and a mirror above the bed, lured us in and became home for the next few days.

We parked off at Wadi Musa to explore the ancient city of Petra (known as the Rose City due to the colour of the sandstone cliffs). Although my second visit in a short time, Petra was no less impressive.

Petra is a remarkable place, and I failed to see how it couldn’t impress even the most seasoned traveller. Dating to 300 BC, it was the capital of the Nabatean Kingdom. However, the most impressive part of the visit was the entrance. Following a narrow canyon walk, it suddenly and quite unexpectedly opened, revealing a genuinely astonishing sight, the 45-metre-high temple with an ornate, Greek-style façade. Today a UNESCO World Heritage Site, Petra is considered one of the world’s most famous archaeological sites.

In its heyday, Petra was a major crossroad between Arabia (for incense), China (for silk) and India (for spices). While exploring Petra, one could easily be transported to the time of caravans and could just as easily imagine the chaos of trade and bargaining that undoubtedly took place in those years. Most ingenious was their clever water system and how rain- and floodwaters were channelled into cisterns and reservoirs. Being a desert area, none of this would’ve been possible without these channels and diversion dams that controlled and conserved the seasonal rains.

While returning from our walk to the high place of sacrifice, a sudden downpour and hailstorm made us seek shelter in a tomb. I thought taking refuge in an ancient tomb was quite a cool thing to do. Unfortunately, the rain continued all night and, with freezing weather setting in, we stayed an extra day.

 

27 February - Petra – At Tafilah – 91 km

The route out of Petra climbed steeply from Wadi Musa and continued uphill almost the entire day. Still following the barren, mountainous King’s Highway, we soon encountered the warned about stone-throwing children and I was mentally transported back to Ethiopia. The wintery weather brought snow and Ernest had to throw a few snowballs. On reaching the junction at At-Tafilah, the King’s Highway continued north and the At-Tafilah Highway turned down to the Dead Sea in the Jordan Valley.

Following discussing our options, the Dead Sea, which we believed had a milder climate, won. Already late, the tents were pitched at a viewpoint on the outskirts of At-Tafilah. The spot was a remarkable place to overnight as it was blessed with a terrific view of the surrounding barren mountains and the Dead Sea in the distance.

 

28 February - At Tafilah – Dead Sea - 112 km

In the morning, we raced downhill at breakneck speed, from 1,000 AMSL to the Dead Sea at 400m below sea level, the lowest place on earth. Before pitching the tents, we first had the obligatory swim, or instead float, in this unique lake’s saline waters.

Being under the impression that our chosen spot was well-hidden, was clearly incorrect. The many stray dogs soon discovered us. They barked continuously but were also quite aggressive, to such an extent that we feared they could rip the tents apart. However, chasing them only drew more attention to our illegal camp, rather than frightening them.

 

29 February-7 March – Read Sea -Suwayma – Amman – 174 km

The road climbed steeply out of the Dead Sea valley to Amman, located on a plateau at 1,000 metres above sea level, a slow process on a bicycle. In the process, we met Peter and Jill who recognised the South African sticker on Ernest’s bags and stopped to inquire about our trip. They promptly invited us to a braai, and we spent the following evening at their home, enjoying a great meal and plenty of red wine before being dropped off at our abode.

Two days were spent searching for a new rim but to no avail. There wasn’t a great deal one could do but order a new one. Thanks to my sister Amanda, Leon, and Jaco at Cycle Maintenance Centre in Cape Town, the parts were packed and sent to Jordan.

Ordering the spares made kicking back in a room until the parcel arrived easy. The best part of any accommodation was it usually had a bathroom. I considered this heaven. The freezing weather resulted in us biking and sleeping much in the same outfit, and you can thus understand my delight.

I should’ve used the time to do something regarding my appearance, as I was shrivelled up like an old prune. Instead, we did the tourist thing and visited Madaba and Mt Nebo, where Moses reportedly saw the promised land and then died at the age of 120. The world is clearly going backwards as the life expectancy in Jordan, at the time of our visit, was only 74. The place was a tad disappointing, and nowhere to place your feet and say, “Beam me up, Scotty”.

 

8-9 March – Amman

At last, the package arrived. Receiving a parcel is always exciting and it was eagerly opened. Not merely did it contain bike spares but my thoughtful sister included droëwors, cup-a-soup, pasta sauce, jelly babies and a buff for Ernest in SA colours. Thanks, Amanda!

Off to the bike shop, and although their technology was limited, the shop was accommodating and friendly. The following day, the bikes were as good as new.

 

10 March - Amman - Syrian border – 88 km

All smiles, we continued our journey towards Syria. The bikes ran well and the weather was good, making pedalling to the Jordanian-Syrian border effortless. We were slightly apprehensive, not knowing what to expect and whether obtaining a visa at the border was even possible. We were thus ecstatic to learn the process had changed and had become more effortless.

I did essential shopping (face cream and mask) at the duty-free shop. Then keen to use it, I found a room on the Syrian side of the border to relax until exploring Syria in the morning. That also brought to an end our rather short visit to Jordan. 

014 CYCLE TOURING EGYPT

EGYPT
27 December 2007 – 20 February 2008
2332 Kilometers – 46 Days

MAP

PHOTOS

E-BOOK

27 December - Wadi Halfa, Sudan – Aswan, Egypt (by ferry)

We were keen to get going as this was the day we purchased our ferry tickets and got police stamps to exit Sudan. Even after all the checking and stamps, no one said a word about our expired visas. We couldn’t wait to board the ferry and get out of Sudan before anyone noticed. The ferry was an overnight one that departed at four a.m. Ernest was lucky as I splashed out and took a cabin instead of sleeping on the deck.

The border between the two countries ran somewhere through the middle of the lake. Following a day of sailing, a speedboat came hurrying along, police jumped aboard, and our passports were nervously handed over. Mercifully, no one noticed the dates, and we were free to go. Phew!

Once all the formalities were done, one could unwind and enjoy a beautiful sunset over the Aswan dam.

The ferry from Wadi Halfa, Sudan arrived in Aswan, Egypt, around nine o’clock the following morning. We, nevertheless, only managed to place our feet upon Egyptian soil at about eleven. The saying, “Egypt was like a visit back in time”, seemed true in more ways than one.

Ernest and I cycled the short 20 kilometres into Aswan. The first thing upon our minds wasn’t the history or the magnificent monuments and sand-covered tombs, but finding a hotel, a hot shower and a beer.

Egypt came as a culture shock after spending a month in Sudan. Aswan was an overly commercialised madhouse with busloads of tourists and substantial passenger liners laying 4-deep on the Nile. The streets were jam-packed with hotels, stalls, curio shops, and touts selling felucca rides. Feluccas are simple, traditional Egyptian sailboats, a popular means of transport upon the Nile. We clung to each other staring at the madness wide-eyed. The aggressive haggling when buying anything from toilet paper to water was enough to send me scurrying to the safety of a room. My first day was thus largely spent indoors looking at the chaos through the window.

After three days of mainly eating and drinking; we were more accustomed to Egypt’s craziness and felt brave enough to face the Egyptians head-on.

 

30 December – Aswan – Edfu – 116 km

Three days and many Stellas (the local beer) later, we finally got underway and biked the 116 kilometres to Edfu. The route was a well-maintained tarmac road that ran next to the Nile. In stark contrast to Sudan, the landscape featured green crops of sugarcane, corn, rice, clover, and even mint. The way led close to the palm-lined Nile sporting excellent views more or less the entire day.

In the process, we cycled past the unusual double temple of Kom Ombo, constructed between 180-47 BC. It was further in this vicinity where more than three hundred crocodile mummies were discovered. The whole way felt like one endless village, and barely ever did one get the feeling you were in the countryside, the exact opposite of Sudan. Halfway through the ride, police insisted upon escorting us to Edfu, where our arrival was announced by sirens blaring. The Egyptians can make a meal of practically anything.

Edfu was known for its ancient Edfu Temple constructed between 237-257 BC and dedicated to Horus, the falcon-headed god. Ancient Egyptians believed the temple was built where the battle between Horus and Seth took place. So, arriving under police escort with flashing lights and sirens wailing, we ourselves felt like two Egyptian gods.

 

31 December – 2 January 2008 - Edfu - Luxor – 122 km

The last day of 2007 arrived, and I couldn’t believe it’d been nine months since leaving home. Looking out the bedroom window at a view of the Temple of Horus, I realised how much my life had changed in this relatively short period.

The way north continued along the Nile and had opportunities to escape police escorts by following smaller paths. It wasn’t that the police didn’t notice us, but more a case that if one didn’t pass in front of them, stopping us wasn’t in their job description. Finally, Luxor was reached in the dying moments of the day. Having the impression the campsite was on the opposite side of the river, we hopped onto a ferry to the West Bank. There was, however, no campsite and another ferry boat ride (this time a public ferry at a fraction of the cost) took us back to where a bed at the New Everest Hotel was home that night. I’m sure the name referred to the stairs one had to climb, not something I appreciated at such a late hour.

Three days were spent in Luxor, indulging in all the tourist attractions, including the Temple of Luxor, Temple of Karnak and the Valley of the Kings. Luxor was rightly known as the biggest open-air museum globally and contained a third of the world’s most important antiquities. That bit of information was such a mouthful. I read it twice before the words sank in! Unfortunately, even though three days were spent in the area, it would take substantially longer to visit everything Luxor had to offer.

I still claim the Temple of Luxor among the most beautiful in Egypt. It consisted of a complex constructed approximately 1400 BCE, and is one of the best-preserved ancient monuments in Egypt. Construction of the temple was started by the pharaoh Amenhotep III (1390-52 BC) and was completed by Tutankhamen (1336-27 BC) and Horemheb (1323-1295 BC) and then added to by Rameses II (1279-13 BC). I only mention this as I considered it a seriously long time ago.

The Karnak Temple was equally impressive and dated to around 2055 BC-100 AD. Being the largest religious building ever constructed, the structure measured 1.5 kilometres by 0.8 kilometres. The Hypostyle Hall, at 16,459 square meters and featuring 134 columns, is still the biggest room of any religious building in the world. In addition to the main sanctuary were several smaller temples and a vast sacred lake measuring 129 metres by 77 metres. One couldn’t help but stand in awe of these magnificent structures. The Egyptians sure had a vast workforce, time and money in those days.

The Valley of the Kings didn’t disappoint either. The ancient Egyptians didn’t just build vast public monuments for their pharaohs but went to great lengths to create hidden underground mausoleums. The Valley of the Kings was such a place and was made famous by the discovery of the tombs of Tutankhamun, Seti I and Ramses II. Walking around and crawling into dusty tomes admiring what remained of these places (even in the presence of hordes of tourists), made me feel like an explorer.

 

3 January – Luxor – Qena – 70 km

On     Luxor en route to Qena, the road again was dotted by numerous police roadblocks requiring convoy riding. We, nonetheless, ducked and dived along minor tracks and managed to avoid all the police blocks. Upon arriving at Qena and finding accommodation, food was next on the list and surprisingly reasonably priced as Qena was out of the touristy area. Our staple of ful, or foul, and aysh, a brown broad bean dish eaten accompanied by a type of pita bread, was inexpensive and could be found almost anywhere.

 

4 January – Qena – Roadside camp - 84 km

Qena was primarily known for its proximity to the ruins of Dendaralat, not visited as we were all ruined out by then. From Qena, Ernest insisted on cycling to Cairo via the Red Sea Coast, even though I surmised the coast would be extremely windy due to my previous experience. He was by nature a hard-headed guy and we made our way towards the coast. After nearly 84 kilometres, and upon reaching a settlement sporting a police checkpoint and a few shops, we called it quits as Ernest wasn’t feeling well. The tents were pitched off the main road, which turned out a tad in the eye and a noisy affair, to say the least.

 

5 January - Roadside camp – Safaga – 84 km

The next day was another 84 kilometres to Safaga through what was known as the Eastern Desert or the Arabian Desert. The area is a mountain desert and features astonishing and dramatic scenery and colours. The day started promising but the wind picked up, and by the time the port town of Safaga came into view, the wind was close to gale-force. Being a windy area, both Safaga and the coast were popular destinations amongst kite- and windsurfers. We hunkered down in the nearest hotel, hoping the weather would improve by morning.

 

6-8 January – Safaga – Hurghada – 64 km

Sadly, the weather didn’t improve and biking out of Safaga, the wind virtually blew me off the bike. On such days, there wasn’t a great deal one could do but battle onwards. In the process, I lost my sense of humour somewhere between Safaga and Hurghada. I didn’t regain it until turning in a westerly direction a few days later. The Red Sea coast was an unforgiving arid and windswept one. The two “desert rats” were travelling into the prevailing wind, a constant and intense wind, judging by the wind farms going ten to a dozen.

At times like this all one could do was put your head down and concentrate on one pedal stroke at a time until arriving at your destination. Hurghada was barely 64 kilometres away but took practically the entire day to reach. Hurghada turned out a nightmare, albeit a tiny fishing village until the 1980s. It by then stretched 40 kilometres along the ocean and sported thousands of tourist resorts. Ramped development by both Egyptians and foreign investors left the area dominated by a multitude of unsightly structures. A budget room in the old town was more to our liking. Ernest was definitely better as he finished off a substantial amount of Stellas.

Hurghada offered little more than scuba-diving, and as the weather was cold and windy, all one could do was eat and drink. Ernest claimed he still wasn’t feeling well, and we stayed an extra day. Maybe he’d a case of the “wine-flu”.

 

9 January – Hurghada – Desert Camp – 52 km

The wind wasn’t as ferocious as the previous days and we managed 106 kilometres before setting up camp. But, being winter, it became dark by six o’clock, making short cycling days, especially when setting out late.

 

10 January – Desert Camp - Ras Gharib – 52 km

The route took us to Ras Gharib, an oil production town along the Red Sea coast. Unfortunately, the day was again marred by a gale-force wind. Although a mere 52 kilometres to the next place, it was considerably further than what I cared to go in such conditions. Moreover, I weakened at the thought of a clean and warm room.

 

11 January - Ras Gharib – Desert Camp - 72 km

The following morning the panniers were packed reluctantly. I suggested waiting out the weather, but Ernest wanted nothing of it. I’m unsure what his hurry was as we weren’t going anywhere.

I subsequently discovered this was a typical mindset amongst cycle tourers early in their journey. Many bicycle tourers are first destination-minded, and time and distance all-important, allowing little time to sightsee and explore. That said, everyone cycles in their own way; some go slow, exploring and experiencing new cultures, food and sights, others go fast and challenge themselves. For Ernest, it was very much about the latter. These are minor differences that, if not discussed beforehand, can ruin a cycling partnership.

Seventy-two kilometres were all we could manage and towards the end of the day imagined a huge dune could give shelter from the howling wind. However, the dune did little to stop the wind and instead created a whirling effect and in no time, the tents, bikes and sleeping bags were covered in sand. Eventually, Ernest managed to light the stove and as could be expected, the food had a generous sprinkling of sand. Chewing our grainy meal, I was grateful we’d something to eat, and when darkness fell, we crawled into our sandy beds.

 

12 January – Desert Camp – Zaafarana – 40 km

From our sandy home, the distance was a mere 38 kilometres to Zaafarana, more a truck stop than a village. I couldn’t believe the wind was even stronger on this day. I honestly didn’t think it possible.

I complained nonstop. Ernest never said a word, only put his head down and grinded into the unforgiving conditions- me following in his wake, swearing to the wind.

I read the wind farms of Zaafarana and El-Tur were the windiest stations in Egypt. I surmised something like that!

 

13 January – Zaafarana – Desert Camp – 84 km

I was long-lipped getting on the bike, but the day held a surprise in meeting the Tour D’Afrique riders heading in the opposite direction and flying south powered by a tailwind. Wimpy, Errol and Thor, from my 2005 tour were still with the tour, and super awesome seeing them. As soon as the road reached Sukhna, a surprise awaited. The Cairo road turned onto the new highway heading west and thus brought a tailwind.

Grinning from ear to ear we proceeded a few more kilometres before pitching the tents, hoping the wind direction wouldn’t change during the night. That night, I made sure to toast the wind and performed a little wind-dance.

 

14-20 January – Desert Camp – Cairo – 130 km

The breeze was still in our favour the next morning, and I thought I should be named the next Modjadji. Unfortunately, packing up was at the speed of light before the breeze could change direction.

Cairo was reached after 130 kilometres and in rush hour traffic. No one wants to be in Cairo with its 9.5 million inhabitants in rush hour traffic, especially not by bicycle. It took ducking and diving through the horrendous traffic before miraculously arriving downtown.

Being already late, the first budget hotel spotted had to do. So, following a quick shower, we took off to a popular beer joint, which Ernest rightly deserved on reaching one of his primary goals. Still, I didn’t think his celebrations would last an entire week, but that’s Ernie!

Our days were spent trying to obtain visas to Europe but it was a waste of time as one had to apply in your home country. The next challenge was extending our Egyptian visas, an arduous task. Finally, after many filling in forms and being shunted from office to office, we were informed the process took ten days. Phew.

The next few days were spent visiting Cairo’s well-known sights, of which there were plenty. Our exploring brought us to the Great Pyramids of Giza, the Stepped Pyramid south of Cairo, as well as the well-known Bent and Red Pyramids. As, in my mind, no one could leave Cairo without visiting the Cairo Museum, I dragged a very reluctant Ernest to the museum. The museum was mind-boggling, and it was best to hire a guide. One could only stare in amazement at the items on display, from the famous Rosetta Stone to the items recovered from Tutankhamun’s tomb. It’s pretty amazing what was deemed necessary in the afterlife. Then, back to our favourite drinking hole where beer was cheap and accompanied by a plate of hot fuul and salad.

 

21 January - Cairo - Desert Camp – 122 km

Having itchy feet, we moved along and returned later to collect the visa extensions. Getting out of Cairo took the best part of two hours. Still, our chosen route spat us out along a toll road, making comfortable and effortless biking. The way headed north towards Alexandria and after about 120 kilometres, camp was set up by the roadside.

 

22 January - Desert Camp - Amriah – 97 km

To my surprise, it started raining during the night and I could hardly believe it ever rained in the desert. Upon second thoughts, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise as our route was fast approaching the Mediterranean. The way north continued past farmlands and many pigeon lofts, as grilled pigeon was a speciality found on nearly all menus.

 

23-25 January - Amriah - Alexandria – 42 km

The short distance to Alexandria resulted in a leisurely start, and we soon arrived at the Mediterranean coast. Alexandria was a vast and ancient city, formerly home to one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, a 120-metre-high lighthouse, built by Alexander the Great. There was, nevertheless, no sign of it except a few terracotta lamps in the museum. Alexandria was famous for its Great Library, considered the archive of ancient knowledge in its heyday. But, once again, no sign of its past grandeur remained and appeared replaced by traffic more chaotic than in Cairo. It was scarcely possible to cross a street on foot and even more difficult by bicycle. Nonetheless, the city sported a fancy modern library, incorporating both the old and the modern in its design.

A vicious storm picked up, and the wind blew at over 30 miles per hour, accompanied by horizontal rain. Ernest and I stayed put and waited out the storm. Day after day, the storm continued without any sign of abating. We cleaned and oiled our bikes (let me rephrase that: Ernest cleaned and oiled the bikes), repacked our bags, read books and watched the same movies repeatedly.

Our visa extensions were ready by then. So we hopped on the express train to Cairo and returned that evening (the train covered the 250+ kilometres in under three hours).

 

1 February - Alexandria - Baltim – 140 km

Finally, the stormy weather cleared, and we could resume our journey. The coastal route led 140 kilometres east in Port Said’s direction, along a flat road with a tailwind. I knew it had to happen at some point. In the process, the route passed over the Nile delta, where the river drained into the Mediterranean, an unimpressive place for such a mighty river, consisting predominantly of farmlands along canals. Tailwind-assisted Baltim was reached in good time, primarily a holiday resort in summer, but then deserted without a soul in sight. The digs discovered were dusty and one could tell the room hadn’t been used recently.

 

2 February - Baltim - Port Said – 140 km

The next morning, the weather was mild and the breeze still in our favour and we gunned it to Port Said.

Port Said was the place one could stroll along the Cornice to view giant cargo ships and tankers move through the Suez Canal, an impressive scene by anyone’s standards. Ernest was fascinated by ships and staying another day to eye these giant ships going in and out of the canal came naturally.

 

5 February - Port Said - Ismailia - 87 km

Departing Port Said was on a beautiful sunny day, and biking was pleasurable as we picked up a slight breeze from behind.

Ismailia made an excellent midway stop en route to Suez. Ismailia was established while building the Suez Canal in 1869 and named after Khedive Ismail, the founder of the canal. The city was initially created to house European engineers and labourers who worked on the channel. To this day, Ismailia has a European atmosphere and French architecture.

 

6-7 February - Ismailia - Suez – 115 km

Getting away early wasn’t difficult as the room must’ve been one of the filthiest in Egypt, and we were on the way before nine o’clock. The streets were dead quiet as, typical of a desert country, the Egyptians slept late. Nearly all business was done after sunset. Biking along the canal sounded a great idea but wasn’t possible due to police roadblocks. No other option remained but to head to Suez’s seaport town at the mouth of the Suez Canal along the main road. A few days were spent watching in awe as the massive ships and tankers moved through the narrow canal.

More impressive than the modern-day channel was, a canal dug linking the Red Sea and the Nile way back in the 7^th century AD. This little-known fact blew my mind.

 

8 February - Suez - Desert Camp – 113 km

Departing Suez was via a tunnel that ran underneath the canal. I subsequently discovered most foreigners didn’t realise Africa was connected to Europe and the Middle East. In fact, I considered the tunnel underneath the Suez Canal more of a subway.

The Sinai coast was uniquely beautiful and even more so when powered by the wind. Looking back, the unique thing was that one could see huge ships moving along the canal, but not the channel, resembling ships sailing through the desert—an extraordinary view. A great deal of the day was biking through desert terrain dotted by farms cultivating olives and tamarinds. The area appeared predominantly inhabited by Sinai Bedouins who lived in settlements throughout the region.

By evening camping was a couple of kilometres past Ras Sedr.

 

9 February - Desert Camp - Desert Camp – 130 km

Spectacular desert mountain landscapes greeted us as we pedalled along, stopping ever so often to enjoy a cup of tea. Eventually, the route left the ocean and turned inland, soon reaching the turnoff to St Catherine. Interestingly Bedouins still lived in the area and wouldn’t be offended if one sought shelter with them. This was, after all, the Sinai Desert. They were generally honoured to offer hospitality to travellers. If you do, don’t overstay your welcome. Bedouins believe a reasonable stay is three days. The first day is for greeting, the second day for eating, and the third day for speaking.

 

10-12 February – Desert camp – Saint Catherine – 106 km

St Catherine is situated 1,570 metres above sea level, and the 106 kilometres were almost all uphill. We barely noticed as the landscape was unique, and the mountains changed colour from white, red, blue, black and purple. En route, the way led past Ferrin Oasis, Sinai’s largest and broadest wadi covered by plenty of palm trees. The uphill ride made reaching St Catherine, located at the foot of biblical Mt Sinai, long beyond sunset.

Being winter and at altitude, the weather was understandably freezing by the time we pulled into Fox Camp, and tents pitched in a tremendous hurry. Ernest made food, while I remained curled up in the sleeping bag.

There was no getting out of bed the next day before the sun warmed the air, and 9h30 before we surfaced. Instead, the day was spent lazing around, solely leaving camp to visit nearby St Catherine’s Monastery, constructed between 527–565 AD. Saint Catherine has an old and fascinating history, important to all three major Abrahamic religions (Christianity, Islam and Judaism). It’s rumoured the place where Moses received the Ten Commandments as well as the site the Prophet Mohamad wrote about in his Letter to the Monks.

Fox Camp was fascinating, and by evening, we joined the other travellers in a massive Bedouin tent where a fire was lit and it turned out surprisingly warm inside.

The following morning, we didn’t defrost until midday and thus late when we started up Mt Sinai. The walk up the mountain was beautiful, featuring stunning scenery and views of the surrounding mountains. At the summit was a mosque, still used by Muslims, as well as a Greek Orthodox chapel. After exploring, we hurried down the mountain to join the others in the tent already warmed by the fire.

 

13 February – St Kathrine’s – Desert Camp – 91 km

Waking to ice on the tent indicated time to seek warmer weather. Once again, it was midday before getting underway and onto the east coast’s hilly road. Our late start made wild-camping along the way, only reaching Dahab the following day.

 

14-18 February – Desert Camp – Dahab – 45 km

Dahab was a smallish town along the Gulf of Aqaba and considerably warmer than the mountainous interior of Sinai. Years ago, pleasant Dahab was a Bedouin community, but today it’s a major (but still low-key) diving destination. It had a real holiday/hippie/Goa feel featuring a turquoise sea, palm trees, waterside restaurants, and plenty of budget accommodation, just the thing needed. Our choice was an abode practically on the beach, and the upstairs bar with its happy hour made it a perfect spot. The warmer weather, snorkelling, an abundance of books and good food made us linger.

 

19 February – Dahab – Nuweiba – 82 km

Laid-back Dahab made kicking back easy. No wonder many got stuck there. A breeze picked up, signalling time to move along. We did precisely that and set out to Nuweiba along a hilly and windy section. The wind made a late arrival in Nuweiba and Dolphin Camp was an excellent choice, located right on the seafront. Nuweiba was as close to paradise as one could wish. A few days were spent watching the sunrise over the Hijaz mountain range of Saudi Arabia and the Aqaba Gulf, a truly spectacular sight.

 

Nuweiba, Egypt – Aqaba, Jordan

From Nuweiba, one could bike via Israel and Lebanon or take the ferry to Jordan and cycle via Syria to Turkey. Being difficult or near impossible to get into Syria having an Israeli stamp in the passport. The uncomplicated ferry crossing from Nuweiba to Jordan was a no-brainer. I was sure a boat sailed from Taba to Aqaba, which would’ve been significantly cheaper, but I could not confirm its existence. Moreover, the ferry departed after 5 p.m. instead of 3 p.m., resulting in reaching Jordan after dark. Out late arrival further meant an hour’s riding at night before getting to the city centre.