Monday 20th July – Trabzon to Agri.

After a quiet Sunday, spent mainly on researching accommodation options in Iran, we were up early on Monday morning, getting ready for our 500km ride to Agri, 132km west of the Iranian border.

Our first stop of the day was to call in at Ihan’s Moto Garaj, opposite the Otogar (bus station) to collect the TKC80 tyres we had previously ordered from Bora in Bandirma. Fortunately I’d used Google Maps to locate the garage, as the GPS couldn’t find the street, and it was almost sheer luck we stumbled across it, tucked up a little alley behind some other workshops.

Ihan and his assistant were very helpful – we only wanted the rear tyre fitting as the front still has about 6,000km use left in it, so Ihan removed the rear wheel, and put it and the new rear tyre in a customer’s pick-up truck to take them around to a tyre fitter. In the meantime James – another customer of Ihan’s – had pulled up on his 1150RT and pointed out the transmission oil pissing out from the rear seal. I’d taken some photos from Google Images of the tyre pressure sensor inside the rim and showed these to Ihan, so despite the language gap he was made aware that the rim had a sensor inside.

When Ihan drove off with the tyres James invited us for breakfast, and so we walked back to the main road and had a bowl of soup with a piece of lamb in it, and a cup of chia. James showed us photos on his iPhone of his recent holiday trip to Europe, and pointing to an advert for high rise buildings in the daily paper explained that he owned that construction company. James insisted on paying for our breakfast before he walked off down the street, and we walked back to the garage.

Ihan had returned at this stage, so we strapped our new spare front tyre to the top box, thanked Ihan for his great service (20TL for the fitting), and a round of photos, we wobbled off down the road as I acclimatised to the additional load on the bike.

We retraced our path towards Sumela Monastery, but at the turn-off we continued south on the main road towards Ezerum. The road initially swept through green mountains before the countryside started to dry out and become more barren. We pushed on for about 100km before I started looking for fuel as at that stage we only had another 100km range, and after the first servo we stopped at said they had no benzine, the next one a few km the road did, so we filled up there and had a cold drink and a cup of chia.

We pushed on the next 200km or so towards Ezerum where we planned to stop for lunch, but the townsite was off the main road so we just pulled in to a servo for fuel and lunch at the adjacent restaurant. When we entered the large and largely vacant restaurant an Iranian gentleman and his wife waved to us, and a short while later they were inviting Karen and I to visit them in Qom, south of Tehran. They were lovely to chat with and we are looking forwards to accepting their invitation.

From Ezerum the road turns east and heads towards the border. We had another 200km to ride to Agri, where I’d again made an arrangement with Bora – this time to pick up a new rear tyre so I could carry that as a spare. Arriving in Agri just before 5:20pm I quickly pulled the iPad out to check on the address of the Continental tyre dealer in Agri, but then incorrectly entered the street number into the GPS, so that sparked a bit of a wild goose chase for a while. We were directed toward the correct street, but I couldn’t get onto it as it was a pedestrian mall, so then I tried to work my way around to it but was blocked at various times by one way streets, one way streets equipped with tyre-shredding metal teeth set in grates in the road, a contingent of police armed with automatic weapons massing in side street near a water cannon, and other obstacles. Once we’d navigated these and I’d got as close as possible to the location before I couldn’t ride any further I got off and walked whilst Karen guarded the bike, but I quickly realised that Number 28 was a mosque and not a tyre dealer, so it was back on the bike and off again in the crazy traffic to the right location.

Having found the dealer – the GPS was taking us in the right direction but Karen spotted the shop well in advance of where the GPS thought the shop was, collecting the tyre and having another round of photos taken, we wobbled even more precariously to our hotel, which ironically was only about 50m from where I’d stopped to go walkabout. Some men pointed out that I was trying to go up a one-way street the wrong way but I pointed to the hotel just 20m on the other side of a tyre-shredder, so they bent a street sign out of the way so I could squeeze the bike past without snagging the tyres.

We unloaded the bike and hauled our gear upstairs to our roasting room – no air conditioning and a baking afternoon sun had turned it into a sauna. A while later I was told that I could move the bike into an underground car park around the corner, so I shifted the bike and later that evening I was grateful that it was off the street, as around midnight there were young street kids running amuck outside, causing a bit of mayhem. Dinner that evening was the driest and most uninspiring doner kebab I’d ever endured in Turkey, but nothing could dampen our enthusiasm for tomorrow – as tomorrow we leave Turkey behind after almost four weeks here and cross into Iran !!!

Today was a scheduled off-bike day, after we clocked up 700km yesterday in our ride from Goreme to Samsun via Ankara. Karen was lauding the number of big rides we do, but I pointed out that based on a current sample of eight days we were only going to ride on four of the days, with a maximum distance of 700km in a single day and an average of 400km on a riding day. From the first moment that the 1200cc engine on the BM fires up and I click it into gear it just wants to keep on moving.

We had a small sleep-in today as we were both tired from yesterday’s long day, and had a pleasant Turkish village breakfast before heading out into Samsun, searching for the Archeological and Ethnographic Museum. I couldn’t find that museum but instead we stumbled across the Gazi Muzesi – Samsun’s museum in honour of Atuturk. Atuturk landed at Samsun in 1919 at the outset of the War of Independence, and the museum featured a lot of local memorabilia from his visits to the area.

After soaking up the history in the museum we wandered through the busy streets – they were absolutely jam-packed with people bustling around. Today is the last day of Ramazan I believe, and a festive spirit seemed to fill the air.

In addition to the shops that had laid out goods on trestle tables in front of their stores, a lot of the back-alleys had been converted into temporary markets, and we strolled down a number of these, taking in the sights and sounds. Some stalls sold chocolates by weight out of huge wicker baskets, and Karen bought a small assortment of these for us to nibble on, but Cadbury’s they weren’t.

Lunch was a tasty chicken, pasta and salad plate in a small bistro. Unable to read the menu as it was only written in Turkish, I did a bit of improv as we ordered – mimicking a cow and a chicken to help us help the waiter in figuring out what was what.

We stumbled across a shabby-looking cinema and enquired inside, but Terminator was only screening in Turkish, without any subtitles, so we passed on that idea.

During the heat of the afternoon we caught up on some emails and a bit of research, looking into accommodation in Iran which is usually organised by telephone as few places have websites or email, and then as the day started to cool we had another pleasant exploration of the street-side shopping district nearby, before finding an upstairs doner restaurant from which we could look over our balcony and see the chaotic mayhem in the street below.

During our walk we stopped at one of the many Islamic clothing stores where Karen had spotted a Mantou she liked….the sales girl came to assist and although none of them could speak English they were happy to help. When we explained we were going to Iran they became quite excited and very concerned with Karen’s hair …she managed to explain she already had a Hijab. They soon had Karen in a change room trying on sizes. When she emerged she did a bit of a mime act of “smiley face – thumbs up” or “sad face – crossed hands” ….they all gave her the “smiley face – thumbs up”…..I liked it too….so we parted with 80TL deal done. We thanked them for their help and Karen asked if she could take a photo….this made them all very excited and the girl who actually served us was hugging Karen. She will have to wear the Hijab and Mantou whilst we are travelling in Iran and Pakistan…we still have to figure out the quick change act from her helmet to Hijab as its too hot and not practical to wear under her helmet.

We’ve got a short ride tomorrow – only 300km – and that will take us to Trabzon, further east and also situated on the coast. Saturday and Sunday will be rest days – though with that said we’ll slip out to the Sumela Monastery 70km south of Trabzon on one of those days, and then on Monday morning we’ll have a new rear tyre fitted and then start making our way towards the border crossing between Turkey and Iran. Yesterday we clocked up 17,000km on our trip so far – so that’s three rear tyres we’ve gone through already.

The plan for this morning was simple – 07:15am wake up and breakfast, 08:30am call the local BMW dealer re spare parts for the bike (oil filter and crush washer), 09:00am attend local BMW dealer and purchase or order spare parts, 10:00am attend Indian Embassy and apply for visas, 11:00am return to Best Western Otel 2000 and pack bike ready for the 300km ride south to Goreme & Cappadocia.

As usual however, not everything goes exactly according to plan. No one was answering the phone at the local – Cankaya – BMW shop so we jumped into a taxi after showing four different people the address I wanted to go to, and we still got taken to a completely different BMW location – BMW Balgat – but that worked out in our favour as we met the very helpful Brock who (not only speaks great English after living in the USA for 12 years but also) helped order the parts I required (I need to do an oil change in Iran and you can’t get  BMW parts there). Brock was extremely helpful and courteous – I’m sure spare parts ordering aren’t his job, but he was very helpful and efficient. Have I mentioned how helpful Brock was?

We then took a taxi to the Indian Embassy, waited thirty minutes for them to open, and then waited another 60 seconds to get our second Indian-visa knock-back. What is it with India? Once again we were told to apply for the electronic visa-on-arrival – even though my reading of their website suggests that VOA is only valid if you enter India at one of nine stated airports – and given that we’ll be entering overland from Pakistan via the Wagah-Attari border crossing – I’m not so sure VOA will be accepted. Nevertheless we picked up our paperwork and passports sans Indian visa stamps and toddled off to get a taxi back to our hotel.

On the upside we were loaded up and ready to depart the Best Western at 11:00am – about an hour earlier than anticipated. We said farewell to Bora – manager of the hotel – as he’d provided great personal assistance as had all of his staff, and then we were off into the push and shove of Ankara’s traffic. We picked up a major road heading of town and I spotted BMW Balgat where Brock had assisted us with ordering our spare parts a couple of hours earlier so we popped in to see if they were ready for collection – which they weren’t – so we headed off after arranging to pick them up on Wednesday afternoon or Thursday morning before they close for the upcoming religious festival.

The ride down to Goreme was very pleasant – cruising on quiet country roads through the rolling farmlands on 110kmh – no interest in chatting to the Polis today – and a mild 24 degree ambient temperature  made for a relaxing ride, for a lot of the way if not all of the way. As usual I’d looked for a scenic alternative to the main road and once I’d found the start of this bypass we had a very bumpy and pot-holed ride for a good stretch before we rejoined the main road. I’m sure Karen loves these scenic diversions as she stops talking to me whenever we venture down them, engrossed I’m sure in the spectacular beauty of the countryside we are passing through.

This rural backroad passed through a number of small villages, collections of mud-brick houses that hark back to a much earlier period in time, sporadically populated with shawled women who didn’t flinch a muscle as we waved to them, but there’s always someone ready to wave back and that was the old gentleman sitting on a bench opposite the small cemetery just around the corner.

Before we went venturing down our scenic bypass we’d gone venturing off the main road through a large town – Kirsehir – in search of lunch. A loop along the main street showed how busy the town centre was but didn’t reveal any obvious lunch spots, so we rejoined the main road and peeled off a fraction later at a servo to refuel and get a snack. Here we met a bunch of servo attendents who were very friendly, and between them could scrape up enough English for us all to have an entertaining chat whilst we munched on our fresh bread rolls. The guys were very helpful and it was a pleasure to spend a bit of time with them, explaining our plans and showing them our route so far by pointing to the flags on Karen’s pannier.

Approaching Goreme we started to see the earth chimneys and other pointy-looking things that are synonymous with this area. We entered the touristic village of Goreme and struggled a bit to locate our accommodation – streets seem to branch and fork at times and each fork retains the street name, but a local man out walking with his son & puppy showed us the way, and a short while later we were unpacking our gear into our cave-like room.

After a quick shower we wandered the short distance into the town centre and had an early dinner at the Anatolyian Kitchen. We have an 03:50am wake-up tomorrow morning for our balloon flight so tonight will be an early night. I’ve been dreaming about flying over Cappadocia in a balloon ever since I first saw video of this amazing spectacle, and I can’t wait to experience it first-hand 🙂

Everyone we’ve spoken to have been absolutely glowing in their accounts of how much they have loved visiting Iran and meeting the friendly and generous Iranian people, and today our dreams of visiting this vast country came one huge step closer as we obtained our Iranian visa stamps at the Iranian Embassy in Ankara.

After our long ride yesterday we woke up early, refreshed completely by the luxurious bed and pillows at our Best Western 2000 Otel in Ankara, just a short 20 minute walk away from the Iranian Embassy.

Breakfast was enjoyed quickly, and then we made our way up to the Embassy. I’d read on an online forum that during Ramadan the Consulate Section opens at 09:30, an hour later than usual, but when we arrived at 09:10 there were already people waiting to be served.

Within ten minutes I’d discussed the purpose of our visit with an official, and we left the Embassy to make the necessary deposit at a nearby bank (100 Euros each for the visa plus an additional 50E/each for same day processing), before returning to the Embassy with the deposit slips as proof, before leaving our application forms and passports with the courteous and helpful official. As a footnote here I’d previously obtained the requisite Visa Reference Number, without which visa applications cannot be processed.

We were given receipts for our passports and instructed to return at 4:30pm, so we left the Embassy and had a coffee or coke at a nearby cafe, before dropping Karen’s DriRider adventure jacket in at a local tailors as recommended by the hotel staff, as the zip has broken and she hasn’t been able to close the jacket up for a few weeks now. We’ll collect the jacket tomorrow afternoon – either with a new zip, or perhaps the tailor may have misunderstood our request and converted it into six fabric place mats – as language was an issue and we were all communicating using sign language and pantomime.

After a cheap lunch in a small lunch bar not far from the tailor’s we returned to our hotel so I could work on the online application for our India visas – we’ll visit the Indian Consulate on Monday morning and submit our visa applications there, with hopefully more success than what we achieved in Geneva a few weeks ago.

About 4:20pm we collected our passports from the Iranian Embassy and were both thrilled – each passport now sports an Iranian visa stamp!

We walked back down the Main Street past the shops and all the cars – the street is three cars wide and the two right hand lanes are used for parking cars in, and only the left-hand lane is used for moving traffic. Parking ‘helpers’ usher car drivers into vacant slots, and then shuffle the cars around so that kerbside cars can get out if they are blocked by cars parked in the centre lane. It looks a little chaotic at first glance but upon closer inspection the system seems to work well, and all the locals seem quite adept at using it.

Dinner was a shared platter at ‘Professors’ – just up the road from our hotel, and this evening will be a quiet one as we plan our Ankara sightseeing for Saturday and Sunday. Today has been a huge success – numerous comments online suggest that it’s difficult and taxing to try and obtain visas for Iran, but we’ve followed the necessary steps and we’ve achieved our aim.

We clocked up a 760km day today, all the way from Bodrum on the SW coast to Ankara, the capital of Turkey. A couple of days ago the plan was to make our way slowly around the SW tip of Turkey and slowly cruise up to Ankara, but in a rare moment of forward-thinking it dawned on me that we’d be arriving in Ankara on the weekend – completely unsuitable as the primary purpose of our visit is to go to the Iranian and Indian embassies and organise our visas.

Last night we were packed and sorted, and this morning we were up at 4:00am and just starting to get lost in Bodrum’s back streets at 04:50am. Despite having the GPS I was still missing turns as streets it was calling out looked more like private driveways or vertical hill climbs, so we toured Bodrum for a while dodging stray dogs out for an early stroll before I could pick up a main road and start to make our way out of town.

A few km out of town we pulled over and had a quick refuel and drink stop. We had 380km in the tank to start with – approx 2/3 fuel load – but rather than get caught short we topped up the remaining 10 litres, had a water and a coco pop bar we’d purchased the previous evening, and then set off towards Mugla.

The first 50km or so of the ride we were retracing our steps from a couple of days earlier, and I couldn’t figure out why the road looked so dark until I realised that the spotlights weren’t on …. duh !!!

There’s no direct route from Bodrum to Ankara so we found ourselves zig-zagging south-east and north-east for a while. I’d chunked the ride into approx 150km – 200km sections so I could gauge our progress, and we made good time and distance in the first few hours of the ride.

From Tavas we made our way towards Burdur via the scenic road that runs south of the lake, and on this rural back-road we picked up a lot of roadworks so had a slow a bit over the wet and slippery gravel. When Karen en checked later the back of the bike was plastered in mud flinged up by the rear wheel – looks like she has some cleaning and polishing to do this weekend!

Arriving in Burdur we refuelled on the main road that bypasses the town, then slipped into the town to look for a cafe for breakfast. Most places were closed but as we were approaching the other end of town she spotted a small cafe with people in, so we spun around (actually we crawled around as I turn the bike slowly) and went back there.

The owner made us most welcome, and when he heard we would like some bread for breakfast he thrust ten lira into another man’s hand and sent him down the road to get some bread. When he heard that I would like a coffee he crossed the road and brought back some Nescafé, and proceeded to whip up a coffee for me.

Karen and I had a lovely chat both with the Turkish owner – he spoke excellent English due to his language classes in primary and high school – and his friends, whom he translated for. I lifted out my map of Turkey and we had an animated and largely incomprehensible discussion on Turkey. One man pointed out Van, and through sign language showed that he came from there. He had his shoe-polishing equipment next to the cafe so Karen asked him to polish her boots, which he did most fastidiously.

Another gentleman slipped into the conversation – with lovely English – and passed me his business card – “Ilyas – Police Translator”. Ilyas invited us to visit his police station just down the road to take some pictures, so Karen and I followed him to the station house where Ilyas showed us the memorial to fallen officers. In his office, Ilyas said that he planned to retire in two years, and hoped to buy a motorcycle and go travelling to other countries on it, with his wife on the back!

From Burdur we made good time heading north through Afyon. We cruised comfortably around 130kmh in light traffic for most of the day.  With that said, the early ride in the darkness was just slow and steady, and then as the sun rose I was riding directly into it and the lane markings here in Turkey are very faint and this section of the road was in poor condition – even a section of brand new road had collapsed – so again this was all taken at a slower pace.

The only scare of the morning was having a low-loader start to pull out onto the road just in front of us just after we left Burdur – a quick right-left flick had us clear the truck, and it was a good wake-up call that just because they look at you and see you doesn’t mean they have any intentions of stopping. We were sitting on the posted 110kmh limit, and he had clear visibility as he rolled out of his driveway, but I don’t think he had any intention of stopping at the stop sign that faced him. As a footnote here – the vast majority of truck drivers in Turkey are great – the other day when one truckie saw some congestion building up ahead due to a slow tractor pulling a trailer of people stopped in the fast lane he was straight onto his brakes and then flipped on his hazard lights to warn me – it’s the car drivers here that are dangerous – even Ilyas our police friend warned us how bad they are!

We slipped through Afyon and stopped a short distance up the road at what just looked like a truck-stop diner, but in fact turned out to be a lovely restaurant overseen by the most generous of managers – Kaan. Kaan was so generous he supplied us with water to pack in our tank bag, hand wipes, spare plastic bags and a small container of cloves for dissolving in water and re-energising ourselves. He had previously worked on some cruise ships in the Caribbean, but now married and with two young children he now works closer to his family.

The pump operator at the adjacent servo was less engaging, so without refuelling we got back onto the road and headed up to our next stop at   Polatli. The three young attendents there – Mustafah, Nurellah and Mustafah – were in awe over Karen and the bike, and were eager to line up and have their photos taken. A quick water and Mars Bar and we were back on the road for the last 70km into Ankara.

The traffic started to become a bit denser, which in Turkey is the perfect justification for everyone to start driving like knobs. The road was six lanes wide – three up and three down, but our side of the road had an invisible fourth lane that carried oncoming cars up our side of the road – possibly not completely legal but anything goes over here apparently. For a while I stayed in the fast lane but there I was getting swamped by cars so I switched to the slow lane, and that was working fine until I almost lost my head to a tow rope that snapped and was whipping around. In the lead-up to this I could see the slow lane was starting to bank up so I put the brakes on and was intending to just sit behind the slow cars ahead of me, until I saw in my mirrors a cement mixer bearing down on us at a rapid pace and unlikely to stop in time, so I pulled out to clear the slow cars ahead and at the same time their tow rope snapped – now that was a bit of a “what the f@ck!” moment.

What that said the traffic into Ankara was very tame after Istanbul – almost a complete non-event, and it helped that our hotel wasn’t far off a main road so we didn’t need to trawl through the backstreets for long. Arriving at our hotel – strategically located near the Iranian Embassy for our visit tomorrow, we parked the bike in the underground ballroom, sorted out some paperwork, had a cheap and cheerful dinner, and called it a night after a long but successful day.

As a footnote it was cooler and much less humid today – I noted a maximum of 32.5 degrees – and that made it much more pleasant to ride in as we weren’t sweating inside our riding gear as we had whilst riding along the west coast. After the 760km I was good for another couple of hundred kilometres I think 🙂

Indiana Jones – eat your heart out!!!!

Karen and I hit up the ancient ruins of Troy this morning, and we had an absolutely fascinating visit. The ruins are a few km off the main road, about 20km south of Canakkule. We parked the bike, paid our entrance fee (maybe 20TL each) and hired an Audio Guide each (10TL), and then started our self-guided, self-paced walk through history, using the map that accompanied our audio-guides and which showed where we needed to listen to the next narration.

A German man – Heinrich Schliemann is credited with discovering Troy, and for starting the science of archeology, but his early techniques which included digging a deep, wide trench through the hillside down to bedrock and destroying everything he encountered on the way down met with criticism at the time, and once he realised the damage he caused he started using other techniques to preserve things he found.

The ancient ruins of Troy consist of nine seperate strata, built up on top of one-another over the centuries. As old houses fell into disrepair they were just destroyed and new buildings erected on top, creating the strata effect.

Troy was originally a port-city and was located at a strategic junction at the southern tip of the Dardennelles, but silting of the port over time had pushed the sea back, and from the hilltop ruins we could look out over the farmers fields to the distant sea.

The audio guide provided a very interesting insight into the history of the city, and we thoroughly enjoyed our walk around the small site.

Once we’d finished and had cooled down a bit with a cold drink and an ice cream we rejoined the main road south to Bergama – the E87. Our ride distance today was only about 230km, but after our long day yesterday on the bike we were both looking forwards to arriving at our destination.

Again we had an idea for some accommodation options but hadn’t made a booking – that allows us to maintain flexibility and change our plans if necessary, so I pulled up in Bergama just up from the fruit and vegetable markets so we could check the addresses and plug them into the GPS. We headed up the cobbled street and made our way to the Athena Pension, and were immediately greeted by Angel, the young lady caring for the property – which we later learned was originally a camel trader’s mansion dating back to the 17th century.

I parked the bike inside the cobbled courtyard, and Angel showed us around the property, leading us into the garden and pointing out the Acropoli high on the hill overlooking the town below. Karen and I were stoked to be so close to the Acropoli, and when we pulled back the curtains in our cosy room we could look out the window at the same enthralling view.

After a shower and change of clothes we went for a walk into town. Iden – the owner of Athena Pansyion had recommended a small cafe to us for dinner and we went off searching for that, but couldn’t find it.

We walked through the Covered Bazaar and bumped into Angel, chatting with her Japanese sister-in-law outside her textile shop, and we were invited in for tea and conversation. Angel’s brother Yakoob soon joined us, and described in some detail the disappointment local businessmen and women were experiencing as they had anticipated a lot of tourist trade to arise from the Canakkule 2015 (2015 Anzac Day) celebrations, and in reality little if any tourists had ventured south from Canakkale to Bergama.

Karen bought a lovely lightweight towel from Angel’s sister-in-law and we carried on our walk, stopping for tea at a little eating place. Due to a small communication mix-up we ate our cold dinners there, when neither of us really wanted to eat there once we’d seen what was being offered, and how it was being offered. With that said neither of us got sick and we’ve now sorted out how we can quickly pull the pin on a restaurant.

We had an interesting stroll back to our pension via a section of the old town, and upon our arrival we were invited to sit in the garden with Iden and some of his other guests – a Dutch couple on a three week cycling holiday in Turkey, and enjoy a glass of Iden’s Turkish wine.

We had a lovely time chatting to Jaques and Monique, even whilst we questioned their sanity at riding push bikes for holiday fun – and especially when they said that their second overseas ride was in China, and had required them to push their bicycles for 18 kilometres through thick mud on an unmade road. They were a fascinating couple to chat with, and it was only when the wine ran out that we all said goodnight and retired for the evening.

After our nerve-wracking ride into Istanbul a few days earlier – right into the centre to Taksim Square – we were both keen to have an early departure to try and avoid some of the traffic on our way out.

We were awake around 4:00am, and had the bike loaded and on the road by 5:00am, just as the sky was starting to lighten with the first rays of the false dawn. We crossed the Bospheros Bridge almost completely alone, and could look to the right and see the full moon between the clouds and the bridge stays.

To put some distance between us and Istanbul we stayed on the E80 and made good time towards Golcuk, where we refuelled but couldn’t get a coffee or snack as it wasn’t yet 7am and the adjoining cafe/market was still closed. The servo operator offered us both a glass of Turkish tea however, and we enjoyed sipping that down as we had a short rest.

We pushed on for another hour and then stopped at a cafe that had customers seated outside, enjoying some sticky treats for breakfast, and a hot coffee for me.

Our interim destination for the day was to meet up with another Horizons Unlimited member – Bora Eris – at his tyre shop in Bandirma. Bora has arranged for a pair of new Continental TKC80’s to be waiting for us in Trabzon, and so it was a good opportunity for us to pop in and have a chat on our way through to Canakkale, our evening destination.

Bora and his staff made us very welcome in his shop, and we had a long and pleasant chat – not only about riding and tyres, but Bora spoke to us about his family history – showing us photographs of his father, grand-father and great grand-father, and a special medal his grand-father had received, and also showing us photos of his young daughters and his farm, as he discussed farming techniques he uses for his wheat crop. Bora attended a superbike training school in Istanbul a few years ago so we also chatted about riding techniques – both for racetracks and off-road, all between cups of Turkish tea.

After our long conversation and a few photos we bade Bora farewell and had a quick lunch in town before rejoining the E90 towards Canakkule. By the time we reached Canakkule we’d clocked up 505km for the day, and we were both tired from the early start and the long, uninspiring ride. We had considered stopping a little short but none of the smaller villages we passed through appeared to have a hotel nearby, and by overnighting in Canakkule that would place us just 25km away from the ancient ruins of Troy – our first destination for tomorrow.

We had pinpointed a couple of cheap hotels in Canakkale that offered bike parking via booking.com the previous day, and so we rode to the first place on our list but their bike parking was just the road verge outside, so we looped around the cobble-stoned block again and pulled up at the Hotel Helen Park where we could park in their secure car park off the road.

With the bike unloaded we had a stroll along the foreshore and saw the  Trojan Horse used in the making of the 2004 movie ‘Troy’. We stopped in at a little Italian pasta place for dinner but walked out again without ordering when we found out that they offered almost nothing that was featured on their menu. A pleasant stroll through some of the backstreets led us to a small diner where we enjoyed a simple but tasty dinner. After our long day of riding it was then back to our hotel for sleep as we were both knackered from our day.

Tuesday 30th June

Distance travelled today (approx) – 300km.

Refueled the bike in Eceabat, before heading north to Istanbul. The service station attendant offered us a tea but we’d already put our helmets back on so we politely declined and got rolling just after 10:00am. Took the D550 north past Gelibolu (Gallipoli) before veering right and picking up the bumpy D120 back-road to Sarkoy on the coast.

My hope was to pass along the hills called the Tekir Dagi as I’d read that they were the strategic objective of the assault on Gallipoli, and I wasn’t disappointed as the road first ran between the base of the cliffs and the Sea of Marmara, and then it climbed up into the mountains and at times seemed to almost fall off the cliffs into the sea below. Whilst the GPS was telling me that this road was unsealed it was beautifully sealed and an absolute pleasure to ride on.

We passed through a number of sleepy fishing villages before getting into a more coastal holiday region near Tekirdig, and it’s here we joined the dual carriage 110 running toward Istanbul.

I’d intended to stay on the more minor of the major roads but we got sucked onto the main E80 about 20km west of Istanbul and had a roller coaster ride into the this city of 14 million people, most of whom were out driving their cars this afternoon and few if any know how to drive safely. At times I rode down the breakdown lane as this was safer than being on the road, as lane markings mean absolutely fuck-all over here and collecting a motorcycle must score bonus points as some drivers seemed to almost target us deliberately.

The GPS peeled us off the main road and the manic driving abated for a few seconds whilst I was on the off-ramp, before long we were back on another shitmixer of a road, just now we had other things to contend with like trucks being serviced on the road and other obstacles. Again the GPS encouraged me to turn onto a smaller road, and we ended up riding across a confusing array of back streets that defied gravity – they were so steep I couldn’t even contemplate trying to turn the bike up onto them, so I baled out and tried to approach our hotel from another angle.

Finally pulled up outside the hotel as shown by the chequered flag on my GPS, but the hotel name didn’t match up with what we had booked via booking.com that morning and when Karen investigated we found out we were at the wrong address – I’m still learning how to read the way addresses are written here in Turkey. The hotel manager contacted the other property, explained our dilemma (I’d got us lost – just by about 500m – but in this spaghetti road system that’s as good as 500km), and the other hotel kindly cancelled our booking and we lobbed in where I’d pulled up, as quite honestly I’d had enough of the drivers around here and my good nature was wearing a bit thin.

the staff of the Emerald a Hotel helped us carry our gear to our room, and we’ve booked in for three nights – I fought so hard to get here I’m going to stay for a while, plus I need a chance to chill out before I go riding out there again. Parked the bike in a secure, undercover car park across the road, and after a shower and change into our off-bike clothes we walked a few hundred metres up the road to Taksim Square. I recognised this name as it was mentioned in an ABC news article just a few days ago.

Heaps of people were walking around the square – it’s obviously a popular place for both tourists and locals alike. We had a cheap but enjoyable and filling dinner in a restaurant just around the corner from the square, and Karen bought some small Turkish sweets as a ‘thank you’ for the hotel staff who helped us out this afternoon.

We’ve booked onto a 1/2 day walking tour of the ‘Byzantian Relics’ tomorrow morning, and will see some fascinating sights including the Blue Mosque and the Grand Bazaar, so check back tomorrow and see how our exploration of Istanbul worked out 🙂

Monday 29th June

Approx distance ridden today – 150km.

Karen and I had a pleasant breakfast at our Gune Hotel (I had Nutella on the freshest of breads whilst Karen had the traditional village breakfast featuring olives, cheeses and salamis), and then we went for a walk around the nearby markets to see the market life. It was fascinating watching the fruit and vegetable merchants hand-polishing each and every tomatoe with a cloth. We went to buy some bananas and cherries from the kind man who’d given is some bananas yesterday afternoon and we shared a cup of tea with him, but when we went to pay for our fruit he declined our offered money.

After loading the bike and a final farewell to Aladdin and the fruit seller – we’d given Aladdin our growing collection of loose change in the hope he may be inspired to travel or maybe just collect coins – we headed back to the D550 and south toward Gallipoli.

As it was approaching lunchtime I turned west off the main road and headed down a bumpy backroad to a coastal fishing & holiday village, and we pulled up at a little shady restaurant overlooking the beach. We got chatting to two young couples on holiday from their jobs in Istanbul – they are heading towards Greece, both of the guys ride bikes, and one guy said that the GSA is his dream bike, so we had a lot to chat about. Karen and I shared a delicious lunch of roast chicken and salad – the vegetables in the salads here in Turkey are so fresh it’s as if they have just been picked, and as we started to gear up to leave the young couples walked over and insisted on a round of photos with the bike.

After heading further down the main D550 towards Eceabat and a couple of false starts we found our way west, heading out to Anzac Cove. Without a detailed map and unable to read the Turkish signs it wasn’t easy to find our way there.

We stopped first at an area where I could see some large maps and informative panels, and from there I could get my bearings. We remounted and rode slowly up the coast to Anzac Cove – a narrow strip of beach that looks so peaceful. A bit further up the coast we stopped at the large comemorative site and read the placards there. We’d been leap-frogging one of the many tour coaches a few times and the coach driver gave me a large scale fold-out map of the area – a thoughtful gesture and one really appreciated.

I was quite surprised by the number of tourists and tour coaches – it appears to be a booming industry. The coaches and coach drivers were all local but they sported some Australian names – Crowded House Tours, RSL Tours, True Blue Tours etc – marketing for a purpose I guess.

We rode up to Lone Pine Cemetary, and had a contemplative walk around. One grave was marked with the inscription “He has changed his faded coat of brown for a shawl of white.” This soldier was 20 years old.

Karen was a bit incensed that no Australian flags were flying anywhere  – the only Australian flag we saw was inside the memorial tomb at Lone Pine, and this was a contrast to the war graves and memorials we had seen France and Belgium as they were flying German flags alongside their own flags.

We continued along the one-way road and stopped at a memorial featuring a gigantic Turkish soldier, and we had a welcome drink of cold water from one of the stalls nearby as we were cooking in the hot afternoon sun.

We bade farewell to Anzac Cove and headed back to the eastern side of the peninsula. Low on fuel I headed south to Eceabat, then suggested that we stay there for the night, rather than ride north as I’d originally intended. We cruised slowly through the dusty town and arrived at the ferry port, overlooked by the Grand Eceabat Hotel.

Karen arranged a room for the night and secure parking for the bike, and then after a shower and change of clothes we walked around the block and then along the beachfront, which was all restaurants and souvenir shops. Some of the restaurants had quite tacky names I thought – I wouldn’t dine at ‘Restaurant 1915’ on the simple principle of things.

Across the road and overlooking the beach was a chilling sculpture – a life size replica of the trenches, with statues of Turkish and Anzac  troops facing off against each other just metres away. Next to this huge sculpture, complete with bomb casings, was a large diorama of the peninsula, showing the location of the battlefields, cemeteries, and resting places of ships sunk off the coast. Overlooking these two features was a massive sculpture of perhaps a dozen Turkish soldiers, towering up and over the dioramas, and busts of the Turkish military leaders who led the defence. Turkish military pride runs deep around here, judging by the signs we’ve seen. At the same time, it was humbling to see the number of Australians and New Zealanders who have made the pilgrimage to Anzac Cove, and their pride was no less palpable.