Mediterranneo!!!

Another foreword - the last blog from Iran was a bit of a whinge-fest, which I thought would be a turn off, but people seemed to like the change in tone (or return to normal???). Once again, by the tıme the One Man Caravan left Iran, ıt was ın a state of socıal and polıtıcal upheaval (just lıke Thaıland, Nepal, Indıa and Pakıstan) - I thınk I've seen more electıons than a UN monıtor recently (not that there were many of them ın Iran). I can only conclude that a lot of Iranıans are readıng my blog and were spurred ınto actıon by my explosıve crıtıque of theır regıme...

*****

Anyway, I'm pleased to report that things have brightened up again in Turkey, figuratively if not literally. Turkey is a great country to travel through, with great biking, scenery, food and people. However, I had Turkey down as a 'hot' country, but within 5 minutes of crossing the border, some ominous looking thunderclouds formed, prompting me to don my Dryrider rubber suit for the first time the trip. No sooner that it was on, the heavens opened, but the suit fully justified being carried for 30,000km and I was dry as a bone. The only leak was from my gloves, which by now are looking very second hand (pun fully intended...).

Lake Van, Turkey

From the border, we headed west to Van. The countryside in the east of Turkey is very beautiful and makes for excellent bike riding. T-bone and I made good progress and found plenty of good places to camp. My only complaint about the country is the price of petrol - one pound fifty a litre!!! Quite a step-up after 30p a litre in Iran...

Improvised Turkish campsite...

Turkey is blessed with many historic sites, and first stop was Nemrut Dagi, a hilltop where King Antiochus built a tomb-sanctuary flanked by huge statues in the first century BC.

The heads of Nemrut Dagi

View from the top

The next day, we decided to cut cross-country to Cappadoccia across about 100mk of fantastic dirt roads. I came up behind a tuk-tuk, which seemed a bit out of place since it was the first one I had seen in Turkey. Just as I overtook, I noticed a big slogan on the back that read "Kolkotta - Paris" and as I cruised past, a couple of French guys waved at me! We stopped and had a good chat - Sylvian and Elred bought their tuk-tuk in Calcutta and are driving it to Paris to raise money for charity! Great guys, great adventure!

Calcutta to Paris by rickshaw - only the French...

More relics...

Later that day on the road to Cappadoccia, the rubber suit came out again. It takes a few minutes to put on and sometimes it's tempting to ride through light showers without it, but there was no mistaking the ominous grey clouds on the horizon. A few kilometres down the road, I was riding through a storm with hailstones the size of marbles! With no shelter in sight, there was no alternative but to plough on through, even though the hail was a couple of inches deep on the road...

Hailstorms in June? Not even in England...

I battled on, and by nightfall I reached Goreme, the so-called backpacker centre of Cappadoccia. I checked into the excellent Flintstones Hotel, where I enjoyed the most comfortable bed in about three months. I also passed the 30,000km milestone for the trip, and the Transalp still hasn't missed a beat.

Cappadoccia - surreal

Goreme by night

After Goreme and a night in Egirdir, I headed south to Olimpos where I saw the sea for the first time since Phuket - the Med may still be a long way from the UK, but İ'm definitely starting to feel close to home. Turkey is a great country for motorbikes - the hıghways are ın good condıtıon and not too busy, and wıth a few hours to spare, there's usually a back road or dırt track alternatıve to the maın road.

First glimpse of the Mediterranean

From Olımpos, I've just been workıng my way north along the Medıterranean coast, through Fethıye, Bodrum, Kusadası and Ayvalık. The mountaıns drop straıght ınto the sea, so the coast road ıs full of twısts and turns and has beautıful vıews of the blue sea and Greek ıslands just off the coast. Accommodatıon has been a combınatıon of pensıons and free campıng on the beach or ın the mountaıns.

Cross-country to Olimpos

Camping with a view

Spaghetti bolognese cooked on driftwood!

In Ismır I was fınally able to change the tyres on the bıke. The Brıdgestone on the rear that I pıcked up ın Shımla was defınıtely lookıng worse for wear, partıcularly sınce I had two punctures ın three days. The second tıme, I managed to pınch the ınner tube twıce, so I ended up removıng and replacıng the tyre on the rım three tımes. If you've never changed the tyre on a motorbıke before, the process ıs just lıke changıng the tyre on a bıcycle, only ıt ınvolves about 10 tımes the blood, sweat, tears, oıly fıngers, skınned knuckles and swearıng. So I was glad to see the back of the Brıdgestone, and the Contınental on the front had seen 26,000km (sınce Brısbane!) and had about as much grıp as a banana skın.

Slow crossing...

The source of the tyres, new brake pads, and other delıghts was Ergur Motors ın Ismır. The tyres were fıtted at a workshop round the corner by Barıs Tok, local motorcyclıng legend and reıgnıng Turkısh 600 Superstock champıon. Barıs then demonstrated the benefıt of years of racıng experıence by straıghtenıng my bent front brake dısk wıth a hammer... Izmır ıs defınıtely a cıty for bıkers - we spent the afternoon hangıng out at the workshop and talkıng bıkes wıth Hakan and Mustafa, a couple of other racers...

Slightly pleased with himself...

How a professional straightens bent forks...

From Ismir, I headed north again, with a quick stop to check out the ancient city of Ephesus. There are more ruins in Turkey than you can shake a stick at, and I must admit to blasting past most of them with a 'seen one, seen them all' attitude, but we were told that if you only see one, then Ephesus is the place to go. And I must admit that it was interesting to see a two-storey classical building - I was starting to wonder if the Greeks ever got beyond building the foundations...

The Celsus Library at Ephesus

The final run in to Istanbul began at Carnakkale, where we took a ferry over to the Gallipolli peninsula and finally reached Europe after almost 6 months on the road. I may only be a pseudo-Anzac, but it was still pretty powerful to see the Commonwealth cemeteries from WWI.

British memorial at Cape Helles

It was a great feeling riding into Istanbul - until we got completely crossed up with some terrible Turkish signposts trying to find Sultanahmed. But we got there eventually and found a room at Just Bar, where we were very well looked after by Ibrahim and his staff.

Just Bar (although it actually offers food and accommodation too...)

Istanbul is a fantastic city, but to me it had a totally different vibe when I first came here over 15 years ago as a teenage backpacker. It was my first trip outside Europe, and it felt very exotic back then, but this time I was amazed at how modern and European it felt (or maybe it's just me...)

The Blue Mosque

Istanbul was an important milestone for another reason. When I had originally planned the trip, I thought it would be a good idea to 'bookend' it with a trip to Glastonbury. That would neatly cap the trip at 6 months, and Glastonbury was significant because it was the last event I attended 7 years ago before I left the UK and moved to California. So I duly assembled a small crew (Pete, Caroline and Rich jumped at the opportunity - everyone else is too grown up these days) and forked out 185 quid for a ticket (ah yes! Back to UK prices!). But in Nepal, it became apparent that I would struggle to finish the trip in 6 months, so I reckoned that Istanbul was a realistic place to reach by the end of June, and booked a cheap flight back with Easyjet.

Now one thing I hadn't reckoned on was the complexity of Turkish customs. Instead of stamping the Carnet like most other countries, they record the details of the motorbike in your passport. By coincidence, I watched an episode of 'Long Way Down' in Pakistan where the intrepid explorers are prevented from flying out of the Sudan until their motorbikes are locked up in a customs depot. By sheer good fortune, I checked with Turkish customs when I entered the country, and sure enough, the same thing applies in Turkey (try figuring that one out on the fly...). So my last day in Istanbul was spent locating the special 'car customs' office, which doesn't have an address and is located on a motorway-under-construction, and then navigating my way through a convoluted process which required no less than 10 (ten) signatures, took 2.5 hours and made Indian immigration look efficient. But eventually the process was complete, and my motorbike was parked in a lot full of Mercedes that had either been illegally imported by drug dealers or totalled by tourists. To cap it all, I had to sign a form saying that if I didn't collect the bike within 30 days, it would become the property of the Republic of Turkey...

Don't worry, I'll come back for you...

The next day, T-Bone was due to head back to Germany, so it only seemed fitting to celebrate our three months on the road together with a few beers. We were having a bit of trouble finding some nightlife, when we met a couple of local guys who offered to take us to a club... After one drink we were joined by a group of Russian ladies, who ordered champagne, and we were then informed that we would be picking up the tab for everyone, which was 150 quid! We both found it hilarious that after chancing our luck in the snow of the Himalayas, with the Taliban in the Swat Valley, and with the Iranian secret police, that we should fall for the oldest sting in the book! We left the manager in no doubt as to what he could do with his bill, had a brief scuffle with some frankly disappointing bouncers, and walked off into the night - can't beat the taste of a free beer!