Goodbye to Asia

Stage 17: Tusoço to Istanbul (1200km)
Day 1: 18.3km NW of Silifke
Day 2: 87.2km Nr Hakora
Day 3: 82.8km Below Başkoye
Day 4: 88.3km Nr Ucpınar
Day 5: 104.5km Beyşehir
Day 6: 93.6km Nr Aksa
Day 7: 135.5km Nr Şuhut
Day 8: 103.1km Kırka
Day 9: 101.1km Nr Dağküplü
Day 10: 120.2km Nr Taraklı
Day 11: 113.3km Nr Kandıra
Day 12: 69.2km Nr Akçakese
Day 13: 82.8km ISTANBUL!!!!

'Ujez Asha-uh-bo-as (Aşağıboğas)?'

Smiles all round as the people realise that the person who has just pulled to a stop wearing a bright red cycling jersey, atop a fully laden touring bike isn't actually a local.

I'll try again...

'Ujez Asha-uh-boas'

Titters of laughter. 'Uh, no Injeleeze speaky'

Muttered through clenched teeth:

'I'm not speaking foxtrotting* English, I'm speaking cotswaldian Turkish'

Here we go again:

'Ujez Asha-uh-boas?'

No, don't get on your phone, there's no need to call anyone. It's a simple question. Ujez means 'where is', and Aşaıboğas should be a town about 10km away that's directly in front of me. I only stopped for verification so that you could point in the direction I'm travelling and I can just continue, safe in the knowledge that I'm on the right path. Oh, you're taking a photo of me now. Fan-fallafel-tastic. Just as well you won't be able to see the difference between a smile, and clenched teeth.

Taking out the map:

'Ujez Asha-uh-boas?

After close scrutiny:

'Ah, Asha-uh-BO-as'

'Yes, Asha-uh-bo-as'

They have a little conference before pointing in front of me.

'Teşekkür ederim' (thank-you)

I make to push off, but only to a hail of protests. Oh yeah, I have to wait for that English speaker to arrive. 3 minutes later, a girl walks over.

-'Do you speak English?'
-'A leetle'
-'I am trying to get to Asha-uh-boas'
-'It is this way', pointing ahead.
-'Thank-you'

I push off, my blood pressure slightly elevated.

I can usually deal with these interactions by the side of the road without a smile fading from my face. On this particular day (Day 10), the smile was never present. It was meant to be a relatively easy 5km descent down dirt roads to the small town of Aşaıboğas where I could leisurely drink some çay before continuing on my merry way. Instead, after having asked for directions, I found myself, following a 10km descent, not in Aşaıboğas but with 20km of rolling hills still to do. I wasn't happy; anger had sat in. This was all after a 1100m ascent in the morning.

It was the kind of rage you get when you're happily padding round your house in bare feet. All of a sudden, as you pass through a door frame, you catch the little toe of your left foot on the side of the frame; just the little toe, none of the others. The anger wells up. It's an anger directed at the door, at your little toe, but most importantly, at you yourself. It was just so easy to avoid. All you had to do was move slightly to the right. You'd seen it yourself, you'd seen you were going to be close, you may have even thought of moving right just a fraction. But you didn't, you thought you could make it, and now the pain is about to hit and the blood begins to boil.

I knew the turnoff I'd gone wrong at, and if I'd only gone right, instead of left, I would have been a full 2 and a half hours beyond where I was right now. Still, I found the best motivation for getting up hills. Anger. You fly up them, oblivious to your body's protests.

I needed to get a big stage in. The Middle East was fantastic, and I don't regret heading on that little detour in any way, shape or form. But on returning to Turkey, I found myself in almost the exact same location I was over a month previously. I think one of the hardest feelings one has to deal with whilst cycle touring is the feeling that you are not actually getting anywhere. Psychologically I needed a boost.

So I decided to head direct to Istanbul.

I'd forgotten how much I'd liked Turkey the first time round. The scenery is sublime (particularly in the south), the people are fantastic and, this time round, the water was spectacular. Natural, unchlorinated springs are dotted round the countryside and have been piped into troughs to feed livestock - perfect for filling up water bottles and dunking one's head into.












There were some steep sections over the Taurus mountains which just confirmed my desire to have a bit of a refit for Sicandar in Istanbul. I've been using a front cog on the bike that has 28 teeth, but ones with 22 teeth exist. I can only imagine that the difference will be like having someone else do the pedalling for you. It's what I'm expecting, so will be disappointed with anything less.

Of all the days, one of the hardest was the final, relatively short day into Istanbul. So much of cycle touring is psychological. If you expect an easy day and have an easy day, it is an easy day. If you expect a hard day, and have a hard day, it is an ok day. If you expect an easy day, and have an ok day, it is a hard day.

The wind was against me. Hills existed that were too small to appear on the map, but real enough to make me angry. A dog had eaten my cheese and salami from my bag the night before and no shops existed to buy some more; I had to eat in a roadside cafe. They were widening the road so it was dusty, but my sunglasses were buried somewhere deep in one of my bags, and I didn't know which one. And worst of all, 60% of traffic on the road were 40tonne lorries transporting aggregate for the road. After 1100km of minor roads, with barely even other cars to worry about, thundering trucks were not what I wanted.

Still, I arrived into Istanbul intact. Made my way (across motorway in some sections) to the river, hopped on a boat, and now Sicandar and I and Mr Broom are in Europe (technically).

Which only leaves the final poignant point to make.

If I was a crow, I'd be home by now.

7289km


*NB this post is rated PG

It was a hilly start to the section

















We left our mark on the first snow we've seen since leaving the mountains of SE Turkey


















A well in the Lake District

















One of the many old-style villages I passed through
















The thought: 'wouldn't it be nice to travel over a dirt road' flashed across my mind before I could banish it. 30km of unconsolidated road construction!
















Still, there were some nice views from the partially made road.


















Sometimes you forget where you are. Luckily, there are usually some subtle reminders.
















The land opened up a bit in Central Turkey
















Back into hills

















Having gone wrong (but not knowing it yet - it's a real smile!)















Crossing the 7000km mark (I never reset my computer at the start!)



















Could be the rolling hills of Leicestershire
















Still looks blue to me
















I blame my parents for actually making me want to do this. It wasn't the cold sea I was hesitant about, more the knowledge that there was no hot water for the shower afterwards!
















It's amazing what you can do with a poncho and some string...and a fence, a broom handle with a personality, a tent peg, a small tree, a bungy cord, 4 bicycle panniers and an orange survival bag

















Crossing into Europe


















Fishing in İstanbul

















European Sunset